It was Prince Waldenberg.
"Pardon me, father, if I cannot keep my promise to accompany you to the princess," said the prince, out of breath; "but you hear the rebellion is out again. I expect every moment to hear the drums beat."
The count was still quite beside himself from the encounter with Berger. He stared at the prince with a pale, disturbed countenance.
"What is the matter, father?" asked the prince, who now only noticed the change in his appearance.
"Go to the devil with your father, sir," cried the count, in whom the wild hatred he had cherished for so many years against his wife's son at last broke out into full fury. "I am not your father. I do not choose to be your father. If you wish to see your father go to your mother. You will find him there!"
"What do you mean, father?" said the prince, fearing the count had become insane.
"Father!" mimicked the count, scornfully. "Delightful! Charming! But I am tired of the farce. You can all go to the devil!"
He rang the bell.
"My carriage; do you hear?" he cried, as the waiter came. Then turning to the prince, "Will you go now, sir, or not?"
The prince looked at the count like a man who does not know whether he shall believe his own ears and eyes or not. Suddenly he seemed to have formed a resolution. He cast one more look at the count, who was running about like a madman, and left the room.
CHAPTER XIV.
Mr. Schmenckel walked slowly down the Linden to William street. He had crossed his arms behind and pressed his hat low down on his brow.
People made way for him, for he stared fixedly at the pavement, and continually murmured unintelligible words through his teeth. But Mr.
Schmenckel was neither drunk nor mad; he was only a little excited, and repeated the lesson which Berger had taught him. It was a hard task; but Mr. Schmenckel felt that he was only doing his duty if he broke up the plot into which he had been entrapped by the cunning of Mr. Timm.
How fortunate that he had revealed it all to the professor in his great anxiety! How that man talked! Why, he had frightened him out of his wits! Schmenckel had always said that the professor was a man of very special gifts. And that the Czika turned out to be a baron's daughter, that was no wonder to Director Schmenckel, of Vienna. She had such wonderful eyes, that girl, and he had always treated her well; it was not so strange, therefore, that the baron should have offered old Caspar Schmenckel a place as steward on one of his estates. No; Caspar Schmenckel, from Vienna, need not try to obtain money by foul means.
Caspar Schmenckel could hold his head high again and----
"Why on earth, old man, are you coming only now?" said suddenly a very sharp voice near him. "You ought to have done with your visit by this time!"
It was Mr. Timm who had uttered these angry words. He had been patrolling up and down William street, in the neighborhood of the Waldenberg mansion, in order to hear the result of Oswald's interview with the Baroness Grenwitz. He thought Director Schmenckel was by this time on his way to the Dismal Hole, where they had appointed to meet in case they should miss each other in the street. Timm had had his reasons for sending Schmenckel an hour sooner than Oswald to the house.
If Oswald's interview with the baroness was to be successful, the baroness must first have read a certain letter; and in order to make the letter effective, Schmenckel must first have had a conference with the princess. In Mr. Timm's exquisite plans each measure fitted into the other as in the works of a watch. Mr. Timm had, therefore, good reasons for being very indignant at Mr. Schmenckel's dereliction.
"It is enough to drive one mad," he continued, in his irritation. "I cannot leave you alone for a moment but you commit a stupid blunder."
"Oh! not so rude, my friend!" replied Mr. Schmenckel, feeling in his virtuous purposes quite able to cope with the serpent-wisdom of his accomplice, "or I'll become personal too!"
Mr. Timm saw that he had gone too far.
"Well, well!" he said, gently; "between friends no offence ought to be taken. Only make haste now to go in. All may come out right yet. You have seen the count this morning?"
"No!" growled Mr. Schmenckel.
"But why on earth haven't you seen him?" exclaimed Timm, whose indignation was roused once more.
"Because I did not choose!" said Schmenckel, defiantly. "Because I do not want to have anything more to do with you anyway!"
"Ah!" said Timm; "you would like to raise the treasure by yourself? I have burnt my fingers to draw the chestnuts out of the fire for you, eh? No, my dear sir, we are not quite such fools. He who wants to be paid must work."
"I do not want a farthing of that wretched money!" cried Schmenckel. "I am going to tell the princess that I am an honest fellow, and that she need not trouble herself any further."
"Are you piping in that way?" asked Timm. "You mean to betray me a little, do you? Have a care, man; you might have to pay dear for the fun!"
"I shall do what I like," said Schmenckel, assuming a very determined air, and walking off with long strides.
"You shall not enter that house!" cried Timm, and seized Schmenckel by the arm.
Schmenckel's reply to this challenge was a blow, which hurled Mr. Timm very unpleasantly across the sidewalk against the wall. The next moment the great portal had closed behind Mr. Schmenckel.
The little altercation with Mr. Timm had put him in a kind of heroic ecstasy well suited for the interview he was about to have. Thus it happened that he was not abashed by the gorgeous livery of the servants, nor by the splendor of the rooms through which he was led.
But his courage failed him and his heart sank when the servant stopped at a door and whispered: "Her grace is in there; go in without knocking; she expects you." Mr. Schmenckel passed his hand through his thick hair, cleared his voice, held his hat firmly under his left arm, and entered cautiously.
A rosy twilight received him, and in the rosy twilight he noticed two women, one of whom was seated in an arm-chair near the bright fire that was burning there in spite of the warm weather, while the other stood a little sideways behind the chair. Both of them examined him as he approached with eager curiosity. His reception caused him to shorten his steps more and more till he suddenly came to a stop half way between the door and the fire-place.
"Come nearer, my friend," said the lady who was standing behind the chair.
Mr. Schmenckel advanced a few inches and came again to a stop, quite determined this time not to approach nearer to those formidable eyes.
"You are the man who wrote to Count Malikowsky day before yesterday?"
asked the lady behind the chair.
"Yes, your grace." Mr. Schmenckel felt as if these words, which he no doubt had uttered himself, had been spoken by some one else at the other end of the large apartment. This was by no means calculated to bring back the heroic frame of mind which the rosy twilight and the bright eyes had so seriously damaged. He blushed all over, and cleared his voice in order to convince himself that it was really he himself who was speaking to the ladies.
"Your name is Schmenckel?" asked the lady behind the chair.
"Yes, your grace."
"And you were in St. Petersburg twenty-four years ago?"
"Yes, your grace."
"And you visited at Letbus House?"
"Yes, your grace."
"Do you recognize me?"
Mr. Schmenckel fixed his eyes, which had been resting upon everything in the room except the two ladies on the speaker, and said, after a short reflection,
"I should think so; although I should not like to swear to it. If it was not such a very long time since, I should say you were the Nadeska, the chambermaid of the princess, who was all the time bringing me notes and rose bouquets into the Black Bear."
Nadeska bent over her mistress and whispered a few words into her ear, to which the latter replied in the same tone. Then Nadeska left the room.
"Wont you sit down, Mr. Schmenckel?" said the princess, as soon as they were alone.