Chapter XIV: The Woman in Black

To those who have never been to Dornlitz I may say that the Hanging Garden is the name for the great balcony of the Hotel Metzen. It suggests--very faintly--the Terrace at Westminster; though, of course, it is far more beautiful, with the dancing waters of Lake Lorg instead of the dirty, sluggish Thames. It is the peculiarly fashionable restaurant, and is always thronged in the evening with the aristocracy of the Kingdom. To-night, the extreme end of the balcony had been reserved for me, and a very slight bank of plants was arranged to separate us from the general crowd.

Just before the final curtain, His Highness of Lotzen had strolled into the Royal Box. To my surprise he congratulated me very heartily upon my appointment as Governor of Dornlitz; and, perforce, I invited him to join us at supper.

He hesitated a moment, and I urged him to come. In fact, I felt a bit sorry for him. He had just lost the Princess and, with her, likely, his chance at the Throne, as well. And I had won the one and, very possibly, the other, also. I could afford to be generous. After to-night, however,--when he had learned of these facts--it would be for him to indicate as to our future attitude. For my part, I was quite willing to be friendly.

The entrance of my party made something of a sensation. To reach our table, we were obliged to pass down the Garden almost half its length and the people arose instantly and bowed.

To Lotzen, this deference was such an ordinary incident of his daily life he, doubtless, scarcely noticed it. But I was still fresh in my Royalty and it did attract me--though, I think I appreciated what he did not; that their courtesy was, in truth, to the Princess only, and not to us. Indeed, it would have been just the same if the King himself had been with us. When Dehra was in presence the people had eyes for her alone.

The supper was deliciously cooked; the wine was excellent; the service beyond criticism. I had given the two Ambassadors to Dehra and had put Lady Helen between Lotzen and myself, with Lord Radnor on the Duke's left.

We were a merry party. Dehra was positively bewitching and Radnor was simply fascinated. He could scarcely take his eyes from her, even when addressed by Lotzen; which was very little, for the Duke devoted himself very assiduously to Lady Helen. So I was remitted to Lady Radnor, who was about the most tiresomely uninteresting mortal it had been my misfortune to know--a funeral service was an extravaganza in comparison to her talk. In Washington, my rank had never entitled me to a seat at her side at dinner; and many was the time I had chaffed Courtney, or some other unfortunate, who had been so stranded beside Her Ponderousness. To-night, however, my turn was come, and Courtney was getting his revenge.

My only solace were the occasional smiles that Dehra gave me--smiles that Courtney noted instantly and, I fancied, understood; and that Lotzen intercepted; but what he thought I did not know and did not care. Who ever cares what his defeated rival thinks!

We had been there for, possibly, half an hour when, happening to glance outward, I saw Madeline Spencer and an elderly woman, and the man who had been in the box with her, coming slowly down the Garden. It chanced that a table near us had just been vacated and they were shown to it by the head-waiter, whose excessive obsequiousness proved the size of his tip.

Mrs. Spencer gave our party a single quick glance, as she drew off her gloves, and then fell to conversing with her companions.

All this I had noted out of the corner of my eye, as it were. I had not the least doubt she had recognized me at the Opera, and I did not intend to give her a chance to speak to me--which I knew she would try to do, the Pittsburgh experience notwithstanding, if she thought it might further her present plans or pleasures.

Lotzen, however, had been drinking rather freely and was not so chary with his glances. Indeed, he stared so frankly that Lady Helen did not hesitate to prod him about it.

"I would take her to be an American," I heard him say.

"Without a doubt," Lady Helen answered.

Inwardly, I consigned the Spencer woman to perdition. They would be interrogating me about her, next; and I did not know just how to answer. I would have to admit knowing her; that would only whet their curiosity and bring further questions. To tell the whole story was absurd--and, yet, only a little of it would leave a rather unpleasant inference against me. At any rate, on Dehra's account, I did not want the matter discussed.

I could feel Lotzen's glance, and I knew he was waiting only for a break in Lady Radnor's discourse. I gave him as much of my back as possible, and encouraged her to proceed. She was on the Tenement House problem; but I had no idea what she was advocating, in particular. I did not care. All I wanted was talk--talk--talk. And, whenever she showed signs of slowing up, I flung in a word and spurred her on again.

And she responded nobly; and I marvelled at her staying powers--at Lord Radnor's fortitude through so many years--at Lady Helen being the child of such a mother. But, all the time, I was conscious of Lotzen waiting--waiting--waiting. I could hear his voice and Lady Helen's merry laugh, yet I knew nothing but the ending of the supper and the breaking of the party, with Lady Radnor still riding her hobby, would save me from the question. I threw in another remark to keep her going. It was fatal.

Lord Radnor heard it; and, catching his wife's reply, I saw him frown.

"Lord bless us!" he exclaimed to the Princess and Courtney, "we must rescue His Highness--Lady Radnor is on the Tenement problem."

I tried to signal Courtney to keep Radnor occupied; but he did not understand, and only smiled and whispered something to the Princess. Then Lord Radnor caught his wife's eye and the old lady's discourse ended abruptly.

"I fear I weary Your Royal Highness," she said.

"On the contrary, I am deeply interested," I assured her. "Pray continue."

Her glance wandered eagerly across the table, but she got no encouragement from the Ambassador.

"Your Highness is very gracious," she said, "and, sometime, if you are so minded, I shall gladly show you the late reports from the London Society."

I dared not urge her further; Lord Radnor would have suspected me of making sport of his wife. So I cudgelled my brain for some other subject to talk up with her. Of course, I failed to find it instantly, and, in the momentary silence, Lotzen's opportunity came.

"Armand," he said, leaning a bit forward, "Lady Helen and I have been discussing the woman in black, yonder--the pretty one. We take her to be an American--what is your opinion?"

The whole table heard the question, and every one looked at the lady--either immediately or when they could do it with proper discretion.

"You mean the woman with the elderly couple, just near us?" I asked, glancing thither, and so on around to the Princess, who met me with a smile.

"The same," said Lotzen.

"You're quite right," said I; "she is an American."

"You know her?" he asked.

"I used to know her."

He hesitated a moment--and, of course, everyone waited. "Couldn't you still know her enough to present me?" he asked.

I shook my head. "You would be most unfortunate in your sponsor," I answered.

He smiled indulgently. "I'll risk it," he said.

"But, maybe, I won't," I answered.

His smile broadened. "Come, come, cousin mine," he said; "don't be selfish with the lady."

I smiled blandly back at him, though my hand itched to strike him in the face.

"My dear Duke," I said, "you forget I may not yet have had time to acquire certain of the--dilettante accomplishments of Royalty."

His expression changed instantly. "I beg your pardon, Armand," he said, "I was only joking."

I saw Courtney glance at Lady Helen and slowly shut one eye. He knew, as did I, that Lotzen lied.

"There is naught to pardon, cousin," I said. "We both were joking."

Then Lady Helen came to my relief.

"But there is considerable for Her Royal Highness and me to pardon," she said.

"Yes," said I, "there is."

"I take all the blame," Lotzen interrupted. "I alone am guilty; proceed with the judgment."

"What shall it be?" said Lady Helen to the Princess.

Dehra shrugged her pretty shoulders and raised her hands expressively.

"The only punishment that fits the crime is to deprive the Duke of Lotzen of all wine for the rest of the evening."

It seemed to me the Duke winced.

"Your Highness is severe," he said.

She looked him straight in the eyes. "On the contrary, cousin, I am kind to put it so--and you know it."

But Lotzen's equanimity was not to be disturbed. He smiled with engaging frankness.

"The Queen can do no wrong," he said, and bowed over the table.

Just then, Madeline Spencer arose and I breathed a sigh of relief--she was going. The next instant I almost gasped. Instead of going, she came swiftly toward us--passed the low bank of plants--and straight to me.

I arose--all the men arose--and bowed stiffly. She hesitated and seemed a bit embarrassed--then, suddenly, held out her hand to me.

"I am afraid, Armand," she said, "you are not glad to see me."

Armand! Armand! Lord, what nerve! A rush of sharp anger almost choked me, yet I tried to look at her only in calm interrogation.

"I think, Mrs. Spencer," I said, just touching her hand, "almost every man is glad to see a pretty woman."

She gave me a look of surprise; then, threw up her head, disdainfully.

"You called me 'Mrs. Spencer'?" she asked.

I looked at her in surprise. "I was not aware you had changed your name," I answered.

She took a step backward. "You were not aware of what?" she exclaimed.

"That you were no longer Mrs. Spencer," I said--a trifle curtly, maybe. I thought she was playing for a presentation to the Princess and I had no intention of gratifying her, even if I had to be rude to her deliberately.

She passed her hand across her brow and stared at me incredulously. I turned half aside and glanced around the table. Every face but three showed blank amazement. Of those three, the Princess's wore a tolerant smile; Lotzen's a frown; but Courtney's was set in almost a sneer. And, at it, I marvelled. Later, I understood; he had, by some queer intuition, guessed what was to follow.

When I came back to Mrs. Spencer her expression had changed. The incredulous look was gone; bright anger flamed, instead.

"Do you still persist, sir, that you do not know my rightful name?" she demanded.

From my previous acquaintance with the lady I knew she was working herself into a passion; though, why, I could not imagine.

"My dear Madame," I said, "why such pother over such a trifle? If your name be, no longer, Madeline Spencer, tell me what it is. I shall be profoundly glad to call you by it--or any name than Spencer," I added.

She felt the thrust and her eyes answered it. Then, suddenly, she turned and faced those at the table.

"Your pardon," she said, speaking straight at Lord Radnor, "will you tell me if this man here"--waving her hand toward me--"is Major Armand Dalberg?"

Lord Radnor bowed. "That gentleman is His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Armand of Valeria," he said.

"Erstwhile, Major of Engineers in the American Army?" she asked.

"I believe so, Madame," said his Lordship, stiffly.

"Thank you," she said. "And now----"

But I broke in. "Madame," I said sharply, "you have presumed beyond forbearance. Major Moore, will you escort the lady to her companions."

Moore stepped forward and, bowing very low, offered his arm. Like a flash, her face changed and she met him with a smile.

"Just a moment, if you please," she said, with softest accents. Then, with studied deliberation, she turned her back on me and swept the Princess an elaborate courtesy.

"Your Royal Highness may pardon my intrusion," she said, "when I tell you that I am Armand Dalberg's wife---- Now, Major Moore, I am ready," and she put her hand upon his arm.

But Moore never moved. Instead, he looked at me for orders.

Language is utterly inadequate to describe my feelings at that moment; so I shall not try. Imagination is better than words. I know I had an almost uncontrollable impulse for violence--and I fancy Courtney feared it, for he stepped quickly over and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you, old man," I said. Then I looked at the Princess.

She was leaning carelessly back in her chair, watching the Spencer woman through half-closed eyes--a bright flush on each cheek and: a faint smile, half sneer, half amusement, on her lips. Suddenly she looked at me, and the smile flashed out into such an one as she had given me in the Royal Box.

My heart gave a great bound--I knew she trusted me, still. I turned to the woman in black.

"Is it possible, Madame, that you claim to be my wife?" I asked.

She dropped Moore's arm and took a step toward me--and, as I live, there were tears in her eyes.

"What has changed you, Armand?" she asked. "Why do you flout me so?"

I stared at her. "God help me, woman, you must be crazy!" I said.

She put out her hand appealingly. "You don't mean that, dear, surely?" And, now, the tears were in her voice, too.

"What I mean, Madame, is that you are either crazy or playing some game," I answered curtly.

She brushed aside the tears and gave me a look of almost heart-broken appeal.

"Why do you deny me, Armand?" she cried. "Have I grown ugly in the last few months? Has the beauty you used to praise turned so soon to ashes?"

Unfortunately, for me, her beauty had not turned to ashes. She was, at that very moment, the handsomest woman I had ever seen--save only the Princess. The slender figure--the magnificent neck and shoulders--the roll upon roll of jet-black hair--the almost classic face--and all in distress and trouble.

She was a picture, surely; and one that was making its impression; judging from the faces of Lord and Lady Radnor. I changed my manner.

"My dear Mrs. Spencer," I said kindly, "no one may deny your beauty--and I, least of all. But I do deny that I am your husband. You are, evidently, ill, and laboring under some queer hallucination."

She shook her head. "You know perfectly well, Armand, I am not ill nor under a delusion," she said, and looked me straight in the eyes.

"Then, Madame, you are a wonderful--actress," I answered.

Again the tears welled up, and one trickled slowly down her cheek. She turned quickly and made as though to go. But Courtney stayed her.

"My dear Madame," he said, with that gracious courtesy of his, which I have never seen equalled by courtier of any Court, "may I ask you a question?"

She inclined her head in answer and waited.

"You have claimed a Royal Duke of Valeria as your husband, and he has denied the claim. It is a most serious matter. It was done in the presence of many witnesses, and your words, or some of them, were, doubtless, overheard by those at nearby tables. The Capital will be full of the affair; and the results may be most unfortunate for you, and for His Highness. I am the American Ambassador; here is the Ambassador of His Majesty of England; and, yonder, is His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Lotzen, Heir Presumptive to the Valerian Throne----"

"Your speech is long, sir," she said; "please come to the question."

Courtney bowed. "I was but trying to explain why I ventured to meddle in Madame's business," he said.

She smiled wearily. "Your pardon, Monsieur; pray proceed."

"The question I want to ask is this," said Courtney: "Will you not tell us when and where you became the wife of Armand Dalberg?"

"Yes, Monsieur, and gladly--and I thank you for the thought. I was married to Armand Dalberg--then a Major in the American Army--on the twenty-first day of last December in the City of New York."

(That was only two months before I had sailed for Valeria; and I had been in New York that very day.)

"And by whom, pray?" I exclaimed.

"By the official you provided," was the curt reply. Then, to Courtney, she added: "I don't recall his name but my certificate shows it, I suppose."

"And you have the certificate with you?" he asked.

"It is somewhere among my luggage. If you care to see it I shall try to find it to-morrow."

"Thank you, Madame," Courtney answered.

Then Lotzen took a hand.

"Will Madame permit me, also, to ask her a question?" he said.

"Certainly, Your Highness," she answered, and would have curtsied had he not waved her up.

"Was the marriage secret?" he asked.

The answer was instant: "It was private but not secret."

"Then, why is it that Major Dalberg's record in the War office in Washington makes no mention of this marriage? I happen to know it does not."

"I do not know," she answered, rather tartly. "It was not, I assume, my duty to report it."

"And, further, Madame," Lotzen continued. "If Major Dalberg were lucky enough to marry you, why, in Heaven's name, should he deny you within a few short months?"

"I might guess one of the reasons," she answered languidly--and let her eyes rest upon the Princess.

And Dehra laughed in her face.

Lotzen shrugged his shoulders and was silent.

"Are there any more questions, Messieurs?" she asked.

No one answered.

"Then, with your permission, I will obey my husband's orders and withdraw," she said mockingly. "Major Moore, your arm."

When she was gone, Lotzen turned to me and held out his hand.

"I'm with you, Armand," he said heartily. "She's no wife of yours, certificate to the contrary notwithstanding."

I thanked him gratefully--the more so since it was so totally unexpected. Then, without giving the others an opportunity to express their opinion (they would, of course, have been constrained to agree with the Heir Presumptive; all except the Princess, and, of her, I had no doubt) and addressing, particularly, the Radnors, I said:

"The supper is spoiled beyond repair, I fear, but I shall ask you to go on with it, for I wish to acquaint you with some facts in the life of the woman who claims me as her husband."

"We are quite ready to accept Your Highness's simple denial," said Lord Radnor.

"I prefer you hear my story first," I answered.

Then I told them, in detail, what I had only outlined to the Princess, concerning Madeline Spencer. When I had finished, Lord Radnor shook his grey head gravely.

"His Highness of Lotzen is quite right," he said. "You never married that woman. Either she is a blackmailer or she is doing this in pure revenge. What's your notion, Courtney?"

"The marriage story is, of course, a pure lie," said Courtney, "but, there, I quit. I never try to guess a woman's purpose--and a pretty woman's least of all."

"God bless me, man!" Radnor exclaimed; "for a bachelor you are wondrous wise."

"Maybe that's why he is a bachelor," said Lady Helen.

"But even the wise get foolish at times," I said--and smiled at her. And she made a face at me behind her fan.

Then the Princess arose and, taking Lord Radnor's arm, she led the way down the garden. I came last with Lady Radnor. When we reached the exit Dehra insisted upon waiting until the Radnors and Courtney had gone. She was, she said, helping me do the honors. Then, when her own carriage was at the door, she turned to the Countess Giska.

"His Highness will drive with me," she said. "Major Moore, will you escort the Countess?"

"But, Dehra----" I protested.

She was in the brougham, now.

"You will not permit me to drive alone to the Palace," she said.

"But, Dehra----" I began again.

She reached over and took my hand.

Still I hesitated.

"Come, sweetheart," she said softly.

I could resist no longer. I sprang in; the door slammed, and we were alone together.

No, not alone, either. The Spencer woman was there with us--before us--all around us. "I am Armand Dalberg's wife" was pounding in my brain.

Then I felt a soft little hand slip into mine; a perfumed hair tress touched my cheek; and the sweetest voice, to me, on earth whispered in my ear.

"Don't I get my kiss now?"

I flung my arm about her and caught her close--then loosed her sharply and drew back.

"God help me, Dehra, I may not," I said.

She laughed softly, and again she found my hand--and I felt her hair brush my face--and her body rest against my shoulder.

"Why, Armand?" she asked. "Why may you not kiss your betrothed?"

"Because," said I, "because----"

"Yes, dear, go on," she whispered.

I drew my hand away from hers. "Did you not hear that woman claim me as her husband?" I said.

But she only pressed the closer. I was in the very corner of the carriage now; I could retreat no farther. And, maybe, I was glad. I think I was.

"But that's no reason," she insisted. "You are not her husband."

"You believe that, dear?" I cried.

She put her arms about my neck and kissed me, almost fiercely, on the lips--then, suddenly, drew back and, with both hands pressed against my breast, she viewed me at arm's length.

"Believe it?" she said; "believe it? I never believed anything else."

I took her hands and reverently touched them to my forehead--then, held them tight.

"After all these years, God would not send you to me just to mock my prayers," she added.

"But the certificate!" I objected.

"A lie or a forgery," she said scornfully.

I drew her head upon my shoulder. "Sweetheart," I whispered; "may I kiss you, now?"

She lifted her dear face and looked up into mine with glistening eyes, her lips half parted. My own eyes, too, were wet, I think.

"Yes, Armand--now and always," she answered.

And, so I held her, for a moment; then, bent and kissed her. And that kiss is on my lips this instant, and will be until they numb in death.