Long Live the King! Read online

  CHAPTER V. AT THE RIDING-SCHOOL

  His Royal Highness the Crown Prince Ferdinand William Otto was indisgrace.

  He had risen at six, bathed, dressed, and gone to Mass, in disgrace.He had breakfasted at seven-thirty on fruit, cereal, and one egg, indisgrace. He had gone to his study at eight o'clock for lessons, indisgrace. A long line of tutors came and went all morning, and he workeddiligently, but he was still in disgrace. All morning long and in theintervals between tutors he had tried to catch Miss Braithwaite's eye.

  Except for the most ordinary civilities, she had refused to look in hisdirection. She was correcting an essay in English on Mr. Gladstone,with a blue pencil, and putting in blue commas every here and there. TheCrown Prince was amazingly weak in commas. When she was all through, shepiled the sheets together and wrote a word on the first page. It mighthave been "good." On the other hand, it could easily have been "poor."The motions of the hand are similar.

  At last; in desperation, the Crown Prince deliberately broke off thepoint of his pencil, and went to the desk where Miss Braithwaite sat,monarch of the American pencil-sharpener which was the beloved of hisheart.

  "Again!" said Miss Braithwaite shortly. And raised her eyebrows.

  "It's a very soft pencil," explained the Crown Prince. "When I pressdown on it, it--it busts."

  "It what?"

  "It busts--breaks." Evidently the English people were not familiar withthis new and fascinating American word.

  He cast a casual glance toward Mr. Gladstone. The word was certainly"poor." Suddenly a sense of injustice began to rise in him. He hadworked rather hard over Mr. Gladstone. He had done so because he knewthat Miss Braithwaite considered him the greatest man since JesusChrist, and even the Christ had not written "The Influence of Authorityin Matters of Opinion."

  The injustice went to his eyes and made him blink. He had apologized foryesterday, and explained fully. It was not fair. As to commas, anybodycould put in enough commas.

  The French tutor was standing near a photograph of Hedwig, andpretending not to look at it. Prince Ferdinand William Otto had asuspicion that the tutor was in love with Hedwig. On one occasion, whenshe had entered unexpectedly, he had certainly given out the sentence,"Ce dragon etait le vieux serpent, la princesse," instead of "Ce dragonetait le vieux serpent, le roi."

  Prince Ferdinand William Otto did not like the French tutor. His beingsilly about Hedwig was not the reason. Even Nikky had that trouble,and once, when they were all riding together, had said, "Canter on thesnaffle, trot on the curb," when he meant exactly the opposite. It wasnot that. Part of it was because of his legs, which were inclined toknock at the knees. Mostly it was his eyes, which protruded. "When hereads my French exercises," he complained once to Hedwig, "he waves themaround like an ant's."

  He and Hedwig usually spoke English together. Like most royalties, theyhad been raised on languages. It was as much as one's brains were worth,sometimes, to try to follow them as they leaped from grammar to grammar.

  "Like an aunt's?" inquired Hedwig, mystified.

  "An ant's. They have eyes on the ends of their feelers, you know."

  But Miss Braithwaite, overhearing, had said that ants have no eyes atall. She had no imagination.

  His taste of liberty had spoiled the Crown Prince for work. Instead ofconjugating a French verb, he made a sketch of the Scenic Railway. Hedrew the little car, and two heads looking over the edge, with a sort ofporcupine effect of hairs standing straight up.

  "Otto!" said Miss Braithwaite sternly.

  Miss Braithwaite did not say "sir" to him or "Your Royal Highness," likethe tutors. She had taken him from the arms of his mother when he was ababy, and had taught a succession of nurses how to fix his bottles,and made them raise the windows when he slept--which was heresy in thatcountry, and was brought up for discussion in the Parliament. When itcame time for his first tooth, and he was wickedly fretful, and thedoctors had a consultation over him, it was Miss Braithwaite who hadignored everything they said, and rubbed the tooth through with hersilver thimble. Boiled first, of course.

  And when one has cut a Royal Highness's first tooth, and broken him ofsucking his thumb, and held a cold buttered knife against his bruisesto prevent their discoloring, one does get out of the way of being veryformal with him.

  "Otto!" said Miss Braithwaite sternly.

  So he went to work in earnest. He worked at a big desk, which had beenhis father's. As a matter of fact, everything in the room was too bigfor him. It had not occurred to any one to make any concessions to hissize. He went through life, one may say, with his legs dangling, orstanding on tiptoe to see things.

  The suite had been his father's before him. Even the heavy old rug hadbeen worn shabby by the scuffing of his father's feet. On the wall therehung a picture his father had drawn. It was of a yacht in full sail.Prince Hubert had been fifteen when he drew it, and was contemplatingabandoning his princely career and running away to be a pirate. As amatter of fact, the yacht boasted the black flag, as Otto knew quitewell. Nikky had discover it. But none of the grown-ups had recognizedthe damning fact. Nikky was not, strictly speaking a grown-up.

  The sun came through the deep embrasures of the window and set PrinceFerdinand William Otto's feet to wriggling. It penetrated the gloomyfastnesses of the old room and showed its dingy furniture, its greatdesk, its dark velvet portieres, and the old cabinet in which theCrown Prince kept his toys on the top shelf. He had arranged them therehimself, the ones he was fondest of in the front row, so he could lookup and see them; a drum which he still dearly loved, but which madeMiss Braithwaite's headache; a locomotive with a broken spring; asteam-engine which Hedwig had given him, but which the King considereddangerous, and which had never, therefore, had its baptism of fire; anda dilapidated and lop-eared cloth dog.

  He was exceedingly fond of the dog. For quite a long time he had takenit to bed with him at night, and put its head on his pillow. It was themost comforting thing, when the lights were all out. Until he was sevenhe had been allowed a bit of glimmer, a tiny wick floating in a silverdish of lard-oil, for a night-light. But after his eighth birthday thathad been done away with, Miss Braithwaite considering it babyish.

  The sun shone in on the substantial but cheerless room; on the pictureof the Duchess Hedwig, untouched by tragedy or grief; on the heavy,paneled old doors through which, once on a time, Prince Hubert had madehis joyous exits into a world that had so early cast him out; on hisswords, crossed over the fireplace; his light rapier, his heavy cavalrysaber; on the bright head of his little son, around whom already so manyplots and counterplots were centering.

  The Crown Prince Ferdinand William Otto found the sun unsettling.Besides, he hated verbs. Nouns were different. One could do somethingwith nouns, although even they had a way of having genders. Intohis head popped a recollection of a delightful pastime of the daybefore--nothing more nor less than flipping paper wads at the guard onthe Scenic Railway as the car went past him.

  Prince Ferdinand William Otto tore off the corner of a piece of paper,chewed it deliberately, rounded and hardened it with his royal fingers,and aimed it at M. Puaux. It struck him in the eye.

  Instantly things happened. M. Puaux yelled, and clapped a hand to hiseye. Miss Braithwaite rose. His Royal Highness wrote a rather shakyFrench verb, with the wrong termination. And on to this scene came Nikkyfor the riding-lesson. Nikky, smiling and tidy, and very shiny as toriding-boots and things, and wearing white kid gloves. Every one abouta palace wears white kid gloves, except the royalties themselves. It isextremely expensive.

  Nikky surveyed the scene. He had, of course, bowed inside the door, andall that sort of thing. But Nikky was an informal person, and was quiteapt to bow deeply before his future sovereign, and then poke him in thechest.

  "Well!" said Nikky.

  "Good-morning," said Prince Ferdinand William Otto, in a small andnervous voice.

  "Nothing wrong, is there?" demanded Nikky.

  M. Puaux got out his handkerch
ief and said nothing violently.

  "Otto!" said Miss Braithwaite. "What did you do?"

  "Nothing." He looked about. He was quite convinced that M. Puaux waswhat Bobby would have termed a poor sport, and had not played the gamefairly. The guard at the railway, he felt, would not have yelled andwept. "Oh, well, I threw a piece of paper. That's all. I didn't think itwould hurt."

  Miss Braithwaite rose and glanced at the carpet. But Nikky was quick.Quick and understanding. He put his shiny foot over the paper wad.

  "Paper!" said Miss Braithwaite. "Why did you throw paper? And at M.Puaux?"

  "I--just felt like throwing something," explained His Royal Highness. "Iguess it's the sun, or something."

  Nikky dropped his glove, and miraculously, when he had picked it up thelittle wad was gone.

  "For throwing paper, five marks," said Miss Braithwaite, and put it downin the book she carried in her pocket. It was rather an awful book.On Saturdays the King looked it over, and demanded explanations. "Foruntidy nails, five marks! A gentleman never has untidy nails, Otto. Forobjecting to winter flannels, two marks. Humph! For pocketing sugar fromthe tea-tray, ten marks! Humph! For lack of attention during religiousinstruction, five marks. Ten off for the sugar, and only five forinattention to religious instruction! What have you to say, sir?"

  Prince Ferdinand William Otto looked at Nikky and Nikky looked back.Then Ferdinand William Otto's left eyelid drooped. Nikky was astounded.How was he to know the treasury of strange things that the Crown Princehad tapped the previous afternoon? But, after a glance around the room,Nikky's eyelid drooped also. He slid the paper wad into his pocket.

  "I am afraid His Royal Highness has hurt your eye, M. Puaux," said MissBraithwaite. Not with sympathy. She hated tutors.

  "Not at all," said the unhappy young man, testing the eye to discover ifhe could see through it. "I am sure His Royal Highness meant no harm."M. Puaux went out, with his handkerchief to his eye. He turned at thedoor and bowed, but as no one was paying any attention to him, he madetwo bows. One was to Hedwig's picture.

  While Oskar, his valet, put the Crown Prince into riding-clothes, Nikkyand Miss Braithwaite had a talk. Nikky was the only person to whom MissBraithwaite really unbent. Once he had written to a friend of his inChina, and secured for her a large box of the best China tea. MissBraithwaite only brewed it when the Archduchess made one of her rarevisits to the Crown Prince's apartment.

  But just now their talk was very serious. It began by Nikky's statingthat she was likely to see him a great deal now, and he hoped she wouldnot find him in the way. He had been made aide-de-camp to the CrownPrince, vice Count Lussin, who had resigned on account of illness,having been roused at daybreak out of a healthy sleep to do it.

  Not that Nikky said just that. What he really observed was: "The Kingsent for me last night, Miss Braithwaite, and--and asked me to hangaround."

  Thus Nikky, of his sacred trust! None the less sacred to him, either,that he spoke lightly. He glanced up at the crossed swords, and his eyeswere hard.

  And Miss Braithwaite knew. She reached over and put a hand on his arm."You and I," she said. "Out of all the people in this palace, only youand I! The Archduchess hates him. I see it in her eyes. She can neverforgive him for keeping the throne from Hedwig. The Court? Do theyever think of the boy, except to dread his minority, with Mettlich incontrol? A long period of mourning, a regency, no balls, no gayety thatis all they think of. And whom can we trust? The very guards down below,the sentries at our doors, how do we know they are loyal?"

  "The people love him," said Nikky doggedly.

  "The people! Sheep. I do not trust the people. I do not trust any one. Iwatch, but what can I do? The very food we eat--"

  "He is coming," said Nikky softly. And fell to whistling under hisbreath.

  Together Nikky and Prince Ferdinand William Otto went out and down thegreat marble staircase. Sentries saluted. Two flunkies in scarletand gold threw open the doors. A stray dog that had wandered into thecourtyard watched them gravely.

  "I wish," said Prince Ferdinand William Otto, "that I might have a dog."

  "A dog! Why?"

  "Well, it would be company. Dogs are very friendly. Yesterday I met aboy who has a dog. It sleeps on his bed at night."

  "You have a good many things, you know," Nikky argued. "You've got adozen horses, for one thing."

  "But a dog's different." He felt the difference, but he could not putit into words. "And I'd rather have only one horse. I'd get betteracquainted with it."

  Nikky looked back. Although it had been the boast of the royal familyfor a century that it could go about unattended, that its only dangerwas from the overzeal of the people in showing their loyalty, not sincethe death of Prince Hubert had this been true in fact. No guards orsoldiers accompanied them, but the secret police were always near athand. So Nikky looked, made sure that a man in civilian clothingwas close at their heels, and led the way across the Square to theriding-school.

  A small crowd lined up and watched the passing of the little Prince. Ashe passed, men lifted their hats and women bowed. He smiled right andleft, and, took two short steps to one of Nikky's long ones.

  "I have a great many friends," he said with a sigh of content, as theyneared the riding-school. "I suppose I don't really need a dog."

  "Look here," said Nikky, after a pause. He was not very quick inthinking things out. He placed, as a fact, more reliance on his rightarm than on his brain. But once he had thought a thing out, itstuck. "Look here, Highness, you didn't treat your friends very wellyesterday."

  "I know;" said Prince Ferdinand William Otto meekly. But PrinceFerdinand William Otto had thought out a defense. "I got back all right,didn't I?" He considered. "It was worth it. A policeman shook me!"

  "Which policeman?" demanded Nikky in a terrible tone, and in his furyquite forgot the ragging he had prepared for Otto.

  "I think I'll not tell you, if you don't mind. And I bought a fig lady.I've saved the legs for you."

  Fortune smiled on Nikky that day. Had, indeed, been smiling daily forsome three weeks. Singularly enough, the Princess Hedwig, who had beenplaced on a pony at the early age of two, and who had been wont to boastthat she could ride any horse in her grandfather's stables, was takingriding-lessons. From twelve to one--which was, also singularly, the timePrince Ferdinand William Otto and Nikky rode in the ring--the PrincessHedwig rode also. Rode divinely. Rode saucily. Rode, when Nikky wasahead, tenderly.

  To tell the truth, Prince Ferdinand William Otto rather hoped, thismorning, that Hedwig would not be there. There was a difference in Nikkywhen Hedwig was around. When she was not there he would do all sortsof things, like jumping on his horse while it was going, and ridingbackward in the saddle, and so on. He had once even tried jumping on hishorse as it galloped past him, and missed, and had been awfully ashamedabout it. But when Hedwig was there, there was no skylarking. Theyrode around, and the riding-master put up jumps and they took them. Andfinally Hedwig would get tired, and ask Nikky please to be amusing whileshe rested. And he would not be amusing at all. The Crown Prince feltthat she never really saw Nikky at his best.

  Hedwig was there. She had on a new habit, and a gardenia in herbuttonhole, and she gave Nikky her hand to kiss, but only nodded to theCrown Prince.

  "Hello, Otto!" she said. "I thought you'd have a ball and chain on yourleg to-day."

  "There's nothing wrong with my legs," said Prince Ferdinand WilliamOtto, staring at the nets habit. "But yours look rather queer."

  Hedwig flushed. The truth was that she was wearing, for the first time,a cross-saddle habit of coat and trousers. And coat and trousers wereforbidden to the royal women. She eyed Otto with defiance, and turned anappealing glance to Nikky. But her voice was very dignified.

  "I bought them myself," she said. "I consider it a perfectly modestcostume, and much safer than the other."

  "It is quite lovely--on you, Highness," said Nikky.

  In a stiff chair at the edge of the ring Hedwig'
s lady in waiting satresignedly. She was an elderly woman, and did not ride. Just now shewas absorbed in wondering what would happen to her when the Archduchessdiscovered this new freak of Hedwig's. Perhaps she would better askpermission to go into retreat for a time. The Archduchess, who had noreligion herself, approved of it in others. She took a soft rubber fromher pocket, and tried to erase a spot from her white kid gloves.

  The discovery that Hedwig had two perfectly good legs rather astoundedPrince Ferdinand William Otto. He felt something like consternation.

  "I've never seen any one else dressed like that," he observed, as thehorses were brought up.

  Hedwig colored again. She looked like an absurdly pretty boy. "Don't bea silly," she replied, rather sharply. "Every one does it, except here,where old fossils refuse to think that anything new can be proper.If you're going to be that sort of a king when you grow up, I'll gosomewhere else to live."

  Nikky looked gloomy. The prospect, although remote, was dreary. But,as the horses were led out, and he helped Hedwig to her saddle, hebrightened. After all, the future was the future, and now was now.

  "Catch me!" said Hedwig, and dug her royal heels into her horse'sflanks. The Crown Prince climbed into his saddle and followed. They wereoff.

  The riding-school had been built for officers of the army, but was nowused by the Court only. Here the King had ridden as a lad with youngMettlich, his close friend even then. The favorite mare of his lateryears, now old and almost blind, still had a stall in the adjacent royalstables. One of the King's last excursions abroad had been to visit her.

  Overhead, up a great runway, were the state chariots, gilt coaches ofinconceivable weight, traveling carriages of the post-chaise periods,sleighs in which four horses drove abreast, their panels painted by thegreat artists of the time; and one plain little vehicle, very shabby, inwhich the royal children of long ago had fled from a Karnian invasion.

  In one corner, black and gold and forbidding, was the imposing hearse inwhich the dead sovereigns of the country were taken to their long sleepin the vaults under the cathedral. Good, bad, and indifferent, one afterthe other, as their hour came, they had taken this last journey in theold catafalque, and had joined their forbears. Many they had been: menof iron, men of blood, men of flesh, men of water. And now they lay instone crypts, and of all the line only two remained.

  One and all, the royal vehicles were shrouded in sheets, except on oneday of each month when the sheets were removed and the public admitted.But on that morning the great hearse was uncovered, and two men wereworking, one at the upholstery, which he was brushing. The other wascarefully oiling the wood of the body. Save for them, the wide and duskyloft was empty.

  One was a boy, newly come from the country. The other was an elderlyman. It was he who oiled.

  "Many a king has this carried," said the man. "My father, who was herebefore me, oiled it for the last one."

  "May it be long before it carries another!" commented the boy fervently.

  "It will not be long. The old King fails hourly. And this happening ofyesterday--"

  "What happened yesterday?" queried the boy.

  "It was a matter of the Crown Prince."

  "Was he ill?"

  "He ran away," said the man shortly.

  "Ran away?" The boy stopped his dusting, and stared, open-mouthed.

  "Aye, ran away. Grew weary of back-bending, perhaps. I do not know. I donot believe in kings."

  "Not believe in kings?" The boy stopped his brushing.

  "You do, of course," sneered the man. "Because a thing is, it is right.But I think. I use my brains. I reason. And I do not believe in kings."

  Up the runway came sounds from the ring, the thudding of hoofs, followedby a child's shrill, joyous laughter. The man scowled.

  "Listen!" he said. "We labor and they play."

  "It has always been so. I do not begrudge happiness."

  But the man was not listening.

  "I do not believe in kings," he said sullenly.