if this state ball did not degenerate exactly into a romp, it grew more free and easy as i sat watching it and waiting for the oberkammerer. von orsova seemed to have had enough of dancing—he was evidently a good deal run after—and was now parading about with a dashing, middle-aged woman, corresponding to the skittish colonels’ wives we see in our garrison towns. they passed me, she chattering and laughing, he rather bored, as it struck me, and strolled off towards the music-room. then i noticed the two men, szalay and d’urban, who had been with von lindheim and me in the gardens. they were talking earnestly together. i wondered if they, too, took the same serious view of the situation as my friend.

herr eilhardt presently appeared and hurried to me with profuse apologies for having kept me waiting. the king was particularly exigeant that night, he had most unwarrantably taken it into his head to discuss certain arrangements, as though any one could be expected to enter into such subjects at midnight after a dance. this he confided to me confidentially, and then proceeded to look round for his other guest.

von orsova was not to be seen in the thinning crowd. with renewed and quite unnecessary apologies the oberkammerer sailed off in search of him. only to return alone.

[pg 24]

“the rittmeister is nowhere to be seen. he has doubtless already gone to my apartment, not knowing i should return here. shall we ascend?”

we ascended. herr eilhardt occupied a comfortable suite of rooms, shut off, like a flat, in a distant block of the great rambling palace. he was evidently a man of taste, from the quaint old furniture, the pictures and curiosities, with which his bachelor quarters were crammed.

“the herr rittmeister is already here, yes?” he inquired of his servant.

“no, oberkammerer,” the man answered, “the herr rittmeister has not yet arrived.”

my host led the way into one of the most delightful dens i ever puffed smoke in.

“shall we make ourselves comfortable? von orsova must be here directly. he said he should come. adolph! the wine.”

“you have a good time here,” i remarked with a glance at my surroundings, almost too gorgeous for a bachelor official.

he laughed. he seemed to have thrown off his official manner, to have become more human and less of a marionette.

“we are in a groove,” he replied; “and it is necessary to make that groove as comfortable as possible.”

“not only that,” he proceeded with a frankness which rather surprised me: “in the artificial life of a court it is good to keep up the illusion. one must take one’s duties seriously; etiquette, forms and ceremonies are often in themselves ridiculous. if one allowed oneself to feel their absurdity one could never perform them properly. one’s surroundings must be in keeping with one’s life; it would be fatal to regard them from an outsider’s point of view.”

[pg 25]

“you are rather a philosopher, mein herr.”

“i am a countryman of heine. a philosopher i hope first, and an official afterwards.”

“certainly. i congratulate you. how few of us can say we accept our lot in the same spirit!”

there was a knock at the door. a servant in quaint livery entered and made two prodigious bows before delivering his message, which was to the effect that the king desired the oberkammerer’s presence.

“i attend his majesty immediately.”

the man bowed twice again almost to the ground and departed.

in a moment my host had resumed his professional manner of a medi?val master of the ceremonies. his apologies were unbounded. it was most unfortunate; the king did not require his attendance at this hour once in six months. that it should have happened on this of all nights was deplorable.

“it is a matter of duty,” i said, holding out my hand, “no apology can be needed. i shall hope to have the pleasure of paying you another visit and of resuming our interesting conversation.”

“i know not for how long his majesty may require my attendance,” he said regretfully. “his majesty has lately been given to step outside his prescribed circle,” which was one way of hinting at eccentricity. “and the rittmeister von orsova does not seem likely to honour me to-night. it is altogether unfortunate, but you will give me the pleasure of dining here, and i will ask von orsova to meet you. you will not stay now? i am horrified at the idea of turning you out.”

i assured him that such violent emotion was unnecessary, and we left his rooms together, retracing our steps through the labyrinthine corridors and stairways of the old palace, my companion keeping up a string of explanations and apologies, which, of [pg 26]course, i politely deprecated. i was disappointed at missing von orsova, but he evidently was not bound for the oberkammerer’s quarters that night.

before a pair of emblazoned doors, guarded by a sentry, my host stopped and bade me good-night. “i must leave you here,” he said, “as my time, you understand, is not my own. if you wait for a few moments i will send a man to show you the way out of the palace.”

“it is quite unnecessary,” i protested. “please do not trouble. i have the bump of locality.”

“the grand entrance will be closed, or your way would be simply down these stairs. as it is, your nearest way will be to go to the end here, then along the picture corridor on the right, pass through the last door, thence you will easily find your way down to the private entrance. the sentries will direct you. good-night.”

with a flourish he passed through the grand doors into the royal apartments, and i went on through the suite of anterooms. beyond the last i found myself in a long corridor, panelled with portraits from that bygone world to which my late companion was so tenaciously clinging. “go through the last door,” he had said. but there were two, exactly facing each other, and as fate would have it i pushed through the left-hand one instead of the right.

i saw at once that i had made a mistake. i was in a curious room, something like a private box at the theatre, but on a very large scale. what light there was came through a half-closed window at the farther end. it was all so peculiar that my curiosity made me step forward and look through the window. a glance explained it. the little apartment overlooked the great ball-room where we had danced that evening, now in darkness save for the rays of a brilliant moon which streamed in full radiance through the row of [pg 27]windows on the opposite side, and for one other light. a pair of candles in a massive silver holder were placed on a console table, and showed me an extraordinary scene. two men standing in a recess by a window facing one another, and one pointing a pistol at his companion’s breast. the light falling on the polished barrel showed it clearly and made me certain of that. but what astounded me most was my recognition of the two; the man with the pistol was the one who had accosted and questioned me in the wood that evening; i knew him in an instant; and the other was even less unmistakable—von orsova.

“what on earth are they doing?” i said to myself. “what fresh piece of tomfoolery is this?” for it looked childish enough; the two were so quiet and matter-of-fact that it might have been a rehearsal of a stage scene. after the oberkammerer and his playing at medi?valism i was prepared for anything.

the men were talking, but in so low a tone that from the distance i could not catch their words. but the man still continued to cover von orsova’s heart with his pistol; they were not two paces apart. i wondered how long they were going to keep up the attitude, which was not particularly heroic or effective from my point of view.

at last the murmur of their voices ceased; there was a movement, and one which sent a thrill through me. not so much the action as the agonized look on von orsova’s face as he threw up his hands with a gesture of despair, and, turning almost with a stagger to the wall, leaned against it with his head on his arm. the other never let the pistol drop—it was still pitilessly pointed at the rittmeister. then i realized that something serious was in progress. my idea was that the smaller man was trying to extort something [pg 28]from von orsova, having got him at a disadvantage. but i was wrong, at least in that my speculation did not go far enough.

after a few seconds von orsova turned again, facing the man and throwing out his hand in desperation.

“is there——” he spoke louder, and by pushing the window a little way open i could hear him plainly say now—“is there no other way?”

the reply came coldly and uncompromisingly. “none.”

“it is devilish, it is sheer murder,” von orsova exclaimed bitterly; “and you, count, you lend yourself to it.”

“most regretfully. but the state is before everything.”

“the chancellor, you mean.”

“pardon me, the state. time is short, herr rittmeister. it would be a pity if i should be forced to pull the trigger.”

“ah!” von orsova gave a great sigh. “let me take the alternative.”

he turned to the console table and took up from it a small object which i could not distinguish. as he did so the other moved with him the corresponding distance, keeping the same space between them, and ever covering him with the pistol. then they returned to their former positions. von orsova seemed to be manipulating the thing he held in his hand. “my offence does not merit this punishment,” he said, almost coolly, so coolly that i began to wonder what the punishment was.

“the chancellor judges otherwise,” the count returned. “you played a dangerous game, herr rittmeister, and must have known the risk you ran. but my orders are not to talk but to act; you understand?”

[pg 29]

von orsova raised the hand which held the small object. “this works quickly?”

“instantaneously.”

the soldier seemed to fumble with it, then he burst out, “this is horrible! i cannot—i am young and unready to die. furello, my friend, let me escape; no one need ever know. i have rich relations and friends; i will buy my life with a fortune beyond—ah!”

the cry was one of despair, as the count extended his arm to fire, and so cut short the other’s pleading. it was appalling. as i realized what was going forward i broke out into a cold perspiration. my nerves are pretty firm, but i found myself trembling and almost paralysed, at least quite unable to decide on any line of action. the count’s reply fell on my ear, but my brain was only half conscious of it.

“i give you ten seconds. i am not a madman; and, if i were, escape would be impossible. shall i fire?”

von orsova raised his hand. “i will spare you the trouble,” he said, and then turned to the wall. i heard the murmuring sound of his voice, perhaps in prayer; then he raised his right hand to his head. next moment he staggered from the wall and fell heavily backwards with an awful thud, his head almost striking the count, who jumped back that it might clear him. so he stood for a few seconds watching the supine body, his pistol still pointing as though fearing a trick. then he moved round, always keeping his face towards the body, took up the candles in his disengaged hand, and held the light so that it fell on von orsova’s face. from the distance at which i was placed i could plainly see the features, livid and distorted. i realized then that the startling tragedy was over. by a curious reaction my nerves suddenly regained their normal [pg 30]tension, and i could view the scene with as little excitement as though it were occurring on the stage, could look in mere curiosity to see what the count would do next. it was dramatic enough. the great room was dark now (for the moon was obscured), save at one corner, where the candles flickered on the ghastly face of the dead hussar, made more horrible by contrast with his gorgeous uniform; then the relentless black figure stooping over him.

satisfied apparently with his inspection, the count set the candelabrum on the floor, and kneeling down beside the body, proceeded to unfasten the tunic, and inserting his hand, kept it for a while upon the heart. he withdrew it, fastened the gilt button again, raised the dead hand and let it fall with a thud on the floor. then he rose and took up the light, seemed to notice some small object lying near, which he pushed with his foot towards the body, held the lights above his head, and looked round the room.

then he set down the candelabrum upon the table again, and went softly to the door.

i groped my way back into the corridor, pushed open the right door this time, and found my way without difficulty down to the private entrance of the palace. a soldier on guard there challenged me, but saluted and made way respectfully on my explaining that i had come from the oberkammerer’s apartments.