I was not the only one who felt the monotony of that existence, made up of receiving and transmitting reports, coding and deciphering messages, poring over maps, and otherwise taking part in the office work of the General Staff. Some of my brother-officers were perhaps more patient and philosophic than I was, but I am convinced there was not one of them who, at the bottom of his heart, was not heartily sick of this vegetating life at the end of the telegraph wires, far from the actual scenes of operations.
But I am wandering a little from my story, and mentioning my brother-officers brings me back to the main theme. Whom do you think—to the infinite satisfaction of a man yearning for congenial society, no less than to his great surprise—they included? Of all people in the world, no other than Count Seilern!
Retrospection—backed up by a nature essentially fatalistic—forces me to the conclusion that I was destined to meet this man again and to play a prominent part in his life. How can one set down to a mere coincidence that second meeting and the blossoming of our acquaintanceship of the International Club of C—— into a close friendship, any more than one can think that it was due to mere chance that I should then have learnt so much (for my future guidance) relating to his private history, in which, again, I was to be, in such strange circumstances, both actor and historian?
Since Fate, then, has made me the historian of this tragic tale, let me come at once to the facts and so relieve my mind of some part of the burden which I fear will always oppress it.
Count Seilern held the rank of first lieutenant of cavalry. Being the bearer of one of the noblest names in Austria, he benefited by a certain amount of protection. His duties were much less onerous than ours, but on that account the monotony of his existence must have been all the greater. More than once, indeed, he confessed to me how much he felt it. Coupling certain remarks of his with information which came to me from a sure source, I saw clearly the principal reason which, as Christmas drew near, made him sadder and sadder. It was evident that he was filled with an ardent desire to see the Archduchess Valeria once more. Taking advantage of the unsettled state of the nation's affairs, the lovers had found a means of once more corresponding with each other freely, and, as was shortly to be proved to us, of concocting one of the most daring of plans.
It was undoubtedly the fertile brain of the Archduchess Valeria which conceived a means of putting the much-relaxed vigilance of the Court authorities off the scent. All difficulties were removed by her patience and veritable genius for intrigue. On the plea of taking an active part in war work, she succeeded in severing all relations with her ignoble consort, and—having obtained a first-class training as a nurse—secured an engagement in a Red Cross hospital train circulating in the very sector, at the rear of the armies, where we were stationed.
IV—THE DRAMATIC LOVERS' MEETING IN THE HOSPITAL TRAIN
At last the day arrived when a meeting between the lovers was possible. It was but a week to Christmas (according to the eye-witness who related these dramatic incidents to me) when, one morning, the hospital train stopped at the nearest station to the headquarters of the Army of the Carpathians. Count Seilern was waiting on the platform. He mounted into one of the compartments. The train, naturally, contained neither sick nor wounded men—only her Royal Highness, accompanied by a small and discreet suite. Nobody had been told of her presence, not even the Chief of Staff himself, General Conrad von Hoetzendorf.
The interview lasted a long time, and it was, doubtless, whilst the lovers were forgetting the fleeting hours that some diligent spy went to inform the General. Before the train continued on its journey, the Archduchess Valeria descended on to the platform to spend the last few minutes with the Count. Suddenly Conrad von Hoetzendorf appeared on the scene and immediately recognized her Royal Highness, in spite of the simplicity of her Red Cross nurse's uniform.
"I shall never forget that scene as long as I live," said my informant; "a scene rendered all the more dramatic owing to the fact that its opening passed without a word being spoken. General Conrad von Hoetzendorf, in the presence of a scandal for which he might be rendered responsible, went white with anger. After making a well-nigh imperceptible bow to the Archduchess Valeria—who almost at once bade the Count adieu, and mounted into her compartment—he fixed his cold, grey eyes upon Seilern and kept them there until the train moved out of the station. As he stood there, like a statue, we who were around him could see the nervous twitching of the fingers of his clenched fists, and could interpret the thoughts passing through his brain. His heart was raging—first of all at the idea that his authority as the military chief had been set at naught; secondly, because he saw a danger to himself in the incident; and thirdly, on account of being placed, as it were, in a position of inferiority as regards the man whom he had detected in what he regarded as a flagrant breach of discipline. In brief, belonging, as he does, to the new nobility, he was jealous of the good fortune of his subordinate—this simple first lieutenant, who turned not a hair, caught, though he was, in the act. But, like a wise courtier, Hoetzendorf refrained from giving verbal expression to these feelings, and it was not until the train—with the Princess waving her handkerchief to her lover from one of the windows, and Seilern replying with a salute—passed out of sight, that he opened his lips. Even then, it was merely to order Count Seilern, in the iciest of tones, to come to see him at headquarters. In the presence of his entourage it was necessary for him to make an example of the offender—if only for the purpose of ridding himself of responsibility. With the words, 'Lieutenant Count Seilern, you will come to see me this evening at five, without fail,' he turned on his heels and strode away in the direction of his car."