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PAGE 6

The Ducal Audience
by [?]

“And, in short,” his Highness summed it up, “there will be the deuce to pay.”

“Oh, no! the piper,” said the Baroness,–“after long years of dancing. That is what moralists will be saying, I suspect.”

And this seemed so highly probable that the plump little Grand Duke frowned, and lapsed into a most un-ducal sullenness.

“Your Highness,” murmured the Baroness, “I cannot express my feelings as to this shocking revelation–“

“Madame,” said the Grand Duke, “no more can I. At least, not in the presence of a lady.”

“–But I have a plan–“

“I,” said the Grand Duke, “have an infinity of plans; but de Ch�teauroux has a carriage, and a superfluity of Bourbon blood; and Victoria has the obstinacy of a mule.”

“–And my plan,” said the Baroness, “is a good one.”

“It needs to be,” said the Grand Duke.

But thereupon the Baroness von Altenburg unfolded to his Highness her scheme for preserving coherency in the reigning family of Noumaria, and the Grand Duke of that principality heard and marvelled.

“Amalia,” he said, when she had ended, “you should be prime-minister–“

“Ah, your Highness,” said the lady, “you flatter me, for none of my sex has ever been sufficiently unmanly to make a good politician.”

“–though, indeed,” the Grand Duke reflected, “what would a mere prime-minister do with lips like yours?”

“He would set you an excellent example by admiring them from a distance. Do you agree, then, to my plan?”

“Why, ma foi, yes!” said the Grand Duke, and he sighed. “In the gardens at dawn.”

“At dawn,” said the Baroness, “in the gardens.”

IV

That night the Grand Duke was somewhat impeded in falling asleep. He was seriously annoyed by the upsetment of his escape from the Noumarian exile, since he felt that he had prodigally fulfilled his obligations, and in consequence deserved a holiday; the duchy was committed past retreat to the French alliance, there were two legitimate children to reign after him, and be the puppets of de Puysange and de Bernis, [Footnote: The Grand Duke, however, owed de Puysange some reparation for having begot a child upon the latter’s wife; and with de Bernis had not dissimilar ties, for the Marquis de Soyecourt had in Venice, in 1749, relinquished to him the beautiful nun of Muran, Maria Montepulci,–which lady de Bernis subsequently turned over to Giacomo Casanova, as is duly recorded in the latter’s Mémoires, under the year 1753.] just as he had been. Truly, it was diverting, after a candid appraisal of his own merits, to reflect that a dwarfish Louis de Soyecourt had succeeded where quite impeccable people like Bayard and du Guesclin had failed; by four years of scandalous living in Noumaria he had confirmed the duchy to the French interest, had thereby secured the wavering friendship of Austria, and had, in effect, set France upon her feet. Yes, the deed was notable, and he wanted his reward.

To be the forsaken husband, to play Sgarnarelle with all Europe as an audience, was, he considered, an entirely inadequate reward. That was out of the question, for, deuce take it! somebody had to be Regent while the brats were growing up. And Victoria, as he had said, would make an admirable Regent.

He was rather fond of his wife than otherwise. He appreciated the fact that she never meddled with him, and he sincerely regretted she should have taken a fancy to that good-for-nothing de Ch�teauroux. What qualms the poor woman must be feeling at this very moment over the imminent loss of her virtue! But love was a cruel and unreasonable lord…. There was Nelchen Thorn, for instance…. He wondered would he have been happy with Nelchen? her hands were rather coarse about the finger-tips, as he remembered them…. The hands of Amalia, though, were perfection….

Then at last the body that had been Louis Quillan’s fell asleep.

V

Discontentedly the Grand Duke appraised the scene, and in the murky twilight which heralded the day he found the world a cheerless place. The Gardens of Breschau were deserted, save for a travelling carriage and its fretful horses, who stamped and snuffled within forty yards of the summer-house.