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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Operatic? To be sure! Mademoiselle Lenormand of the Royal Vienna is in Bleiberg. How she keeps her age!" It was Maurice's turn to laugh. "And that is why you came to Bleiberg! Ah, these opera singers, had I my way, they should all be aged and homely." "Countess, you are pulling the bit too hard," said he. "I noticed yesterday that your horse has a very tender mouth." "Thank you."
"I'd rather talk five minutes to a pretty woman than eat stuffed pheasants the year around, and the stuffed pheasant is about all Bleiberg can boast of. Well, here goes for a voyage of discovery;" and he passed down the stone steps to the pier, quite unconscious of the admiring glances of the women who fluttered back and forth on the wide balconies above.
There's the sun, and we are a good thirteen miles away!" and the prince slapped the neck of his horse, which bounded forward. This tiring pace they maintained until they mounted the hill from which they could see the glittering spires of the city, and the Werter See as it flashed back the sunlight. "Bleiberg!" Maurice waved his hand. "Thanks to you, that I look on it."
"Until this evening, then, Monsieur;" and the royal barouche rolled away. "Who loves me, loves my dog," said Maurice, as he sped to his room. On the night prior to the arrival of Maurice in Bleiberg, there happened various things of moment.
I am living in Vienna. I came to Bleiberg for pleasure, but the first day has not been propitious," with an apologetic glance at his dripping clothes. "Maurice Carewe," slowly repeating the full name as if to imprint it on her memory. "You are English?" He said: "No; I am one of those dreadful Yankees you have possibly read about." Her teeth gleamed. "Yes, I have heard of them.
"You have come cursed inopportune," snarled Maurice. "What do you want?" "I want to give you the countersigns, so that when you start for Bleiberg to-morrow morning you'll have no trouble." "Bleiberg!" exclaimed Maurice. "Bleiberg. Madame desires me to say to you that you are to start for that city in the morning, to fetch those slips of parchment which have caused us all these years of worry.
But here he was, on the scene, and nobody knew anything, and nobody could tell anything. The duchess had remained silent. Not unnaturally he wished himself back in Vienna. There were no court fetes in the city of Bleiberg. The king's condition was too grave to permit them. And, besides, there had been no real court in Bleiberg for the space of ten years, so he was told.
He was positive that Madame the duchess intended to steal a march, to declare war only when she was within gunshot of Bleiberg. It lay with him to prevent this move. His cup of wrath was full. From now on he was resolved to wage war against Madame on his own account. She had laughed in his face. He pushed on, examining trees, hollows and ditches. Sometimes he put his hand to his ear and listened.
You know the way back to Bleiberg, I don't; that is why I want your company. Now march." But Maurice did not march; he was filled with curiosity. "Are you a trooper in Madame the duchess's household?" he asked. "No, curse you!" "Who are you, then?" "Come, come; this will not pass. No tricks; you have been following me these twenty minutes." "The deuce I have!" exclaimed Maurice, bewildered.
Well, well; when you get down to the truth of the matter, real kings differ but little from the kings in pasteboard; right side up, or wrong side up, they serve the purpose of those who play them. There's a poor, harmless devil back there," with a nod toward Bleiberg. "He never injured a soul. Perhaps that's it; had he been cruel, avaricious, sly, all of them would be cringing at his feet.
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