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  CHAPTER IX.

  THE CASTLE OF SAGAN.

  The broadly flowing Kofn forms part of the north-eastern boundary of theState of Maasau. Its dark waters rush tumultuously from the gorge belowthe Castle of Sagan, and fling a vast enclosing arm about the bleakplains and marshes of which the wastes of the frontier consist.

  It is a land where even summer dwells coldly.

  To the north a chain of hills rises black against the sky, and there,set upon a boldly jutting spur, the Castle of Sagan dominates theinhospitable landscape like a frown upon a sinister face.

  The whole spur and the hill behind it are rough with ragged pine-woods,and, below, the banks shelve to the river with a broken scattering ofdeciduous trees, that leave on the eye the chill impression of leaflessbranches tangled against a background of grey and stony slopes.

  Some two or three miles south of the Castle the river breaks across astep-like outcrop of rock, and thus forms that famous ford, across whichthe Counts of Sagan used in the old days to lead their foragingexpeditions over the border.

  Simon of Sagan, the present Count, inherited in an unmodified degreethe more predatory and uncivilized instincts of his forefathers.Illiterate, brutal, and cunning, the thin veneer laid by the nineteenthcentury upon his coarse-grained nature was apt to rub off on the veryslightest friction, bringing the original savage to the surface.

  He was at once the terror and the pride of the stolid, silent peasantrythat lived under his rule. A fierce and fearless sportsman, hisdependents delighted in boasting of the prowess of a master whosecapricious cruelties they never dreamed of resenting. With Sagan,throughout life, to desire was to have, and in his pursuit of thewished-for object, he was hampered by no new-fangled sentiments ofhonour, truth, or loyalty. Like other savages he quickly tired of hisfancies when once gratified. Not four years ago he had been possessed bya frantic passion for the beautiful young wife whom he had now come toregard with something dangerously near hate.

  In dealing with such a temperament as this both Elmur and Selpdorf werewell aware that they were handling an explosive that might at any momentwreck their most carefully laid plans. They would very much havepreferred to have made a tool of the reigning Duke, but Selpdorf, whohad been plying him for more than a month with a ceaseless andexhaustive course of innuendo, discouragement, and veiled temptation,was at length convinced, by the Duke's reply on the day of the review,that nothing further was to be hoped for in that direction.

  For this reason the German party was obliged to fall back on CountSagan. That he was untrammelled by principle, and was, moreover,prepared to meet them half-way, rendered their schemes no whit safer.The only hope of security lay in clinching the matter as quickly as itwas possible to do so. Once the German grasp had been fairly laid uponthe State, the nominal sovereign might struggle as he liked, he couldhurt no one but himself.

  M. Selpdorf's chief contribution towards the new plot--which was to becarried out at the Count's own fortress, the Castle of Sagan--consistedin sending an urgent letter after his daughter, begging her to fall inwith von Elmur's wishes.

  Valerie received the letter in Madame de Sagan's apartments. TheCountess lay on a couch, reading a French novel and yawning.

  'What a devoted papa!' she exclaimed, glancing up.

  Valerie did not immediately reply. She was standing at the deep embayedwindow that looked out towards the river and the apparently endlessdesolation beyond. She only moved very slightly, thereby turning herback even more completely upon her companion. The girl had not lived solong in an atmosphere of diplomacy without learning the wisdom ofkeeping her own counsel.

  She had for some time been aware of Baron von Elmur's admiration, butonly of late had he seemed anxious to make his aspirations manifest tothe public--a much more significant fact. For the German was in one waya universal admirer, he made qualified love to most of the good-lookingladies about the Court, and also, perhaps, more pointedly, to some whowere not so good-looking, thus gaining much profit and some pleasure.His high-shouldered, portly, personable figure, his handsome face withits close-set narrow eyes, rose before Valerie's mental eye. Her futurehusband? How absurd, how impossible! And she suddenly laughed a soft,throaty ripple of laughter.

  Isolde moved noiselessly, and coming behind Valerie, caught her by theshoulders and swung her half round.

  'What are you laughing at?' she asked over the girl's shoulder.

  Valerie moved away gently from under the slender hands.

  'Can you imagine yourself in love with Baron von Elmur?' she asked.

  'Were you laughing at that?' inquired the other incredulously.

  'Yes,' with another little laugh.

  'Ah! the devoted papa has been writing of Baron von Elmur?' said theCountess, with an arch smile.

  'But, I can understand being in love with von Elmur! He is--difficult.Men no longer in their first youth are much the more interesting. Thelove of a young man is simple, he says what he means; but when he growsolder it is not so. By that time he has gathered memories,enlightenment, experiences; and he begins by thinking he knows onethrough and through. And why?--because he knows other women--and themhow imperfectly! As if we were not as various as the colours in the oldSagan diadem! Each woman is made differently, and each reflects her owncolour. To teach a man--old enough to appreciate it--this little factabout ourselves is, I assure you, never a dull amusement.'

  Valerie paused before she spoke.

  'Now I know why you are married, Isolde!'

  'Ah, yes; but I was too young to realize that Sagan is a bear who cannotbe taught to dance. I had just left school. I could not choose. But you,Valerie, you have a future before you! Poor Anthony, like all otheryoung men, is desperately in earnest, he gives one the blues. I know healready bores you; but von Elmur----Ah, that is altogether anotheraffair!'

  Madame de Sagan sank down beside a little buhl-table, and tapped on itimpatiently with her slight fingers. Against the light of the afternoonglow she watched the outline of Valerie's cheek. For Mdlle. Selpdorf hadreturned to her contemplation of the landscape. A curl of blue smokefrom among the trees on the nearer bank of the Kofn held her gaze andsuggested thoughts, which she was taking up one by one, as it were, andexamining soberly enough.

  Rallywood had been stationed at Kofn Ford when first Isolde made hisacquaintance. The girl recalled a description she had heard of the tallyoung Englishman galloping along the flat road to the rescue of thepretty, terrified Countess, whose Arab had been merely cantering along,capering now and again from sheer light-heartedness and withoutmalicious intent, until its timid rider chose to scream, when it rearedand started with flying hoofs towards the marshes. Valerie went on topicture Rallywood holding the trembling woman on her saddle till herescort and grooms overtook them, and at the picture the girl's lipcurled and quivered with angry scorn--of a sudden she hated and despisedthem both, but especially she despised Rallywood for having succumbed toIsolde's shallow beauty! Thus it will be seen that Mdlle. Selpdorf wasinclined to under-rate Madame de Sagan's points. Isolde was not onlywonderfully pretty, but she was endowed with a superficial cleverness,and kindliness and tact, all of which rendered her irresistible to ninemen out of ten. A moral chameleon, Isolde almost always believed inherself and her own moods, therefore it was little wonder that the menwhose phases of humour she reflected believed in her also, and moreoverthought her as adorable and as full of delicious changes as Cleopatra.

  Isolde had told the story of her adventure to Valerie, dwelling on thefacts that the hero detested--absolutely detested--all other women, alsothat in physique he followed the most approved English pattern, and wasan exceptionally good specimen at that. Altogether Valerie had found thedescription sufficiently attractive to induce her to pay Rallywood thatcoquettish little visit in the ante-room of the Hotel du Chancelier.

  While these things passed through her thoughts her eyes were still fixedupon the blue plume of smoke that rose and melted over Kofn Ford, forits position indicated the whereabouts
of the block-house used by theFrontier Patrol, and there Rallywood had lived during the early part ofhis acquaintance with Isolde.

  'What are you thinking of?' inquired Madame de Sagan suddenly; then, asValerie made no immediate answer, she added, 'Shall I tell you,Valerie?'

  The other turned, with the pink of sunset lighting up her pale face.

  'I don't imagine you can guess,' she said, with a faint smile.

  Madame de Sagan's little trill of laughter was not quite so childish andirresponsible as usual.

  'But I can. You were thinking of Rallywood. You think rather often ofRallywood, my dear girl.'

  The guess, so near the truth, startled Valerie, although she gave nosign. What could have suggested such an idea to Isolde? InstantlyValerie was on the defensive. Her delicate nostrils quivered slightly,and her hand--a larger and more capable hand than Isolde's--closed morefirmly upon her father's letter, as she replied, with that firmdirectness which was so surprising a trait in her father's daughter:--

  'Yes, I was thinking of him--and you. The block-house where he lived isdown there, I can see the smoke. That reminded me of it all. By the way,Isolde, it seems that some young men have a shade of interest aboutthem.'

  'This one is rather unlike all the others,' returned Madame de Sagan,with gravity. 'He saved my life, and, well, he is different to anybodyelse. He assumes nothing.'

  It is a fact worthy of consideration that while a man rarely establishesa claim on a woman by rendering her a service, a woman alwaysestablishes a claim on a man by being rendered a service. Perhaps thisis as it should be.

  'No,' repeated Valerie, thoughtfully, 'he certainly assumes--nothing.'

  'What do you mean by that, Valerie?' exclaimed Isolde irritably. 'Youare in one of your incomprehensible moods to-day. What do you think ofRallywood?'

  'I hardly know what to think yet. Very likely I shall never come to anyconclusion about him. He is not my affair, and what can be moreuninteresting than a man who has saved some other woman's life?' Shelaughed. 'You have recommended von Elmur to my notice--I shall certainlyspend my time to more profit in studying him.'

  A servant entered.

  'His Excellency Baron von Elmur wishes to wait upon your ladyship.'

  Elmur advanced bowing. After greeting his hostess, he turned to Valeriewith a manner that was new in their intercourse. He dropped from thecourtier to the man pure and simple.

  Kissing the girl's hand he said earnestly:

  'I feared you were not to arrive until to-morrow.'

  Madame de Sagan, who had raised her eyebrows and made a little grimaceat Valerie behind the Minister's back, here interposed:

  'I persuaded her to travel here with me. I hope, Baron, you feel howgreatly I have befriended you!'

  'You will find me grateful, Madame. In the meantime, I have been sent towarn you that his Highness has already arrived at the foot of the hill,and to beg you to descend to the great hall, where the Count is waitingto receive him.'

  'Come, Valerie,' said the Countess, with a little catch in her breath,and an added fleck of colour in her soft cheeks.

  The great hall was half-filled with servants and retainers, rangedaccording to the fashion, which has obtained at Sagan during the memoryof man, for the ceremonious reception of the reigning Duke. Half a dozenhuntsmen held in leash as many couples of huge boarhounds at one side ofthe hall; on the other, servants, carrying gold trays of refreshments,stood in line. Above these, again, clustered the numerous guests who hadalready arrived.

  As the Countess, looking very young and fair and slender, walked downthe centre, Sagan, who had been draining a goblet of wine, thrust thecup back upon the tray, and catching his wife's hand roughly, said, withan audible oath:

  'You're late.'

  She shrank back, suppressing a cry, from his angry grasp; but few hadtime to notice the incident, for the outer door clanged back upon itshinges to admit the Duke, who, shivering in his furs, entered upon thearm of Colendorp.

  Sagan advanced to meet him, but the Duke, glancing round the hall with ashudder, cut his formal greetings short.

  'Sagan wears a more gloomy and cut-throat air than ever, Cousin,' hesaid, irritably.

  Sagan's response was covered by the entrance of the suite, the wholeparty being brought up by Rallywood and a couple of troopers of theGuard. Then Sagan, with a scowling face, offered the Duke the customarycup of wine, and, comparative silence being restored, the ducal answercame peevishly to all ears:

  'No, my good Simon, your wine is like yourself, rather too strong and atrifle rough for my taste. Let Briot be called. I have brought my owndrinking.'

  So saying, he waved the attendants aside, and, approaching Isolde, heraised her as she curtsied deeply.

  'There is one point, Madame, in which I can never hope to rival mycousin of Sagan. My wine may be more palatable; but I could never find awife more beautiful or--more wise than his!' he said, with maliciousgallantry.

  Then bending forward he kissed the Countess with empressment on bothcheeks. She trembled under the caress, though she was hardly aware ofit, for her eyes were on her husband, whose daily increasing dislike ofherself she could not understand, and was only newly beginning to dread.Valerie, standing immediately behind the Countess, overheard andresented the details of the scene. It was unbearable to see Isoldehelplessly baited by Sagan and the Duke--each man gratifying the spleenof the moment at the expense of a woman, who was obliged to submit totheir discourtesy. Of all the guests Mdlle. Selpdorf alone stood erect,forgetting, in her indignation, to join in the general obeisance. TheGrand Duke, looking up, found her flushed and flashing, andsuperlatively handsome. His flabby cheeks twitched, and his bleared eyesbrightened.

  'Mademoiselle Selpdorf, since you will not salute me, I can at leastclaim the right as your Duke to salute you,' he said, stepping towardsher.

  Instantly Valerie sank into an exaggerated curtsy, thus adroitlyavoiding the Duke's outstretched hand and ready lips. His feeble legsfailed, he stumbled forward and pitched into the arms of Elmur, who sethim upright with a gentle skilfulness that almost cheated the eyes ofthe spectators.

  The Duke, slightly shaken, and exceedingly annoyed, turned upon thegirl:

  'Mademoiselle grows proud!'

  'Forgive me, sire; I did not dream that you would stoop so low!'rejoined the girl, with apparent humility.

  'If you will not accept the salute of your Duke, Mademoiselle, may I askto what you aspire?' he added contemptuously.

  Valerie was not of a meek spirit, and she saw a way in which she mightrevenge Isolde, little comprehending the far-reaching consequences ofher thoughtless words.

  'I aspire to be maid of honour to the Grand Duchess of Maasau!' sheanswered, with a glance towards the Countess.

  The Duke glared around him into the circle of half-curious,half-terrified faces, for this was a piercing home-thrust, his eye dweltfor a moment on Sagan, towering tall and rugged and strong as one of hisown native rocks, and he recognised that his cousin, although ten yearshis senior as age is counted, was infinitely younger in his unimpairedenergies and rude health. Also, Duke Gustave of Maasau wassuperstitious, and it struck him as an ill omen that the representativeof Selpdorf should have failed him at the critical moment, and thusflung him headlong into the arms of Germany!

  Out of all these crowding thoughts arose not only vivid fear, but aresolution, of which none at that time believed him to be capable. Hegrew white about the mouth, his protruding lip twitched ominously.

  'It is not always lucky for even so young and beautiful a woman as youare to count on dead men's shoes,' he said, in a low, penetrating voice.

  A happy inspiration came to Madame de Sagan. She took Valerie's hand inhers, and addressed the Duke with a quivering smile that somehow vouchedfor her earnestness at the moment.

  'You mistake Valerie, sire; she and I both desire the same honour--toattend your Highness's Consort, if it would please you to take one.'

  'It might please me, Madame; but I doubt it
would please your husbandlittle,' retorted the Duke.

  'I hoped your Highness knew me better!' protested Sagan sulkily.

  'I do, my good Simon, I know you much better!' said the Duke laughing.'Now, pray lead me to my apartments. The journey to Sagan fatigues inthis weather--and, after all, it would look better if I died at home--inthe palace at Revonde.'

  At a glance from Elmur, Sagan motioned his wife forward.

  'I will lead you to your apartments, sire,' she said, offering the Dukeher slender hand. 'I am sure that the air of Sagan is as loyal asourselves, and will do for you all that we should wish it to do.'

  For answer the Duke shook his head feebly; and, calling Colendorp to hisside, passed up the long hall through a rustling silence.