"This," said the Grand Duke, "is insanity."
"Yet I love better the dreams of the night," de Chateauroux went on; "for they are not made all of memories, sweetheart. Rather, they are romances which my love weaves out of multitudinous memories,—fantastic stories of just you and me that always end, if I be left to dream them out in comfort, very happily. For there is in these dreams a woman who loves me, whose heart and body and soul are mine, and mine alone. Ohe, it is a wonderful vision while it lasts, though it be only in dreams that I am master of my heart's desire, and though the waking be bitter…! Need it be just a dream, Victoria?"
"Not but that he does it rather well, you know," whispered the Grand Duke to the Baroness von Altenburg, "although the style is florid. Yet that last speech was quite in my earlier and more rococo manner."
The Grand Duchess did not stir as de Chateauroux bent over her jewelled hand.
"Come! come now!" he said. "Let us not lose our only chance of happiness. 'Come forth, O Galatea, and forget as thou comest, even as I already have forgot, the homeward way! Nay, choose with me to go a-shepherding—!'"
"Oh, but to think of dragging in Theocritus!" observed his Highness. "Can this be what they call seduction nowadays!"
"I cannot," the Grand Duchess whispered, and her voice trembled. "You know that I cannot, dear."
"You will go!" said de Chateauroux.
"My husband—"
"A man who leaves you for each new caprice, who flaunts his mistresses in the face of Europe."
"My children—"
"Eh, mon Dieu! are they or aught else to stand in my way, now that I know you love me!"
"—it would be criminal—"
"Ah, yes, but then you love me!"
"—you act a dishonorable part, de Chateauroux,—"
"That does not matter. You love me!"
"I will never see you again," said the Grand Duchess, firmly. "Go! I loathe you, I loathe you, monsieur, even more than I loathe myself for having stooped to listen to you."
"You love me!" said de Chateauroux, and took her in his arms.
Then the Grand Duchess rested her head upon the shoulder of de Chateauroux, and breathed, "God help me!—yes!"
"Really," said the Grand Duke, "I would never have thought it of Victoria. It seems incredible for any woman of taste to be thus lured astray by citations of the almanac and secondary Greek poets."
"You will come, then?" the Count said.
And the Grand Duchess answered, quietly, "It shall be as you will."
More lately, while the Grand Duke and the Baroness craned their necks, and de Chateauroux bent, very slowly, over her upturned lips, the Grand Duchess struggled from him, saying, "Hark, Philippe! for I heard some one—something stirring—"
"It was the wind, dear heart."
"Hasten!—I am afraid!—Oh, it is madness to wait here!"
"At dawn, then,—in the gardens?"
"Yes,—ah, yes, yes! But come, mon ami." And they disappeared in the direction of the palace.
III
The Grand Duke looked dispassionately on their retreating figures; inquiringly on the Baroness; reprovingly on the moon, as though he rather suspected it of having treated him with injustice.
"Ma foi," said his Highness, at length, "I have never known such a passion for sunrises. Shortly we shall have them announced as 'Patronized by the Nobility.'"
The Baroness said only, with an ellipsis, "Her own cousin, too!" [Footnote: By courtesy rather than legally; Mademoiselle Berlin was, however, undoubtedly the Elector of Badenburg's sister, though on the wrong side of the blanket; and to her (second) son by Louis Quinze his French Majesty accorded the title of Comte de Chateauroux.]
"Victoria," observed the Grand Duke, "has always had the highest regard for her family; but in this she is going too far—"
"Yes," said the Baroness; "as far as Vienna."
"—and I shall tell her that there are limits, Pardieu," the Grand Duke emphatically repeated, "that there are limits."
"Whereupon, if I am not mistaken, she will reply that there are—baronesses."
"I shall then appeal to her better nature—"
"You will find it," said the Baroness, "strangely hard of hearing."
"—and afterward I shall have de Chateauroux arrested."
"On what grounds, your Highness?"
"In fact," admitted the Grand Duke, "we do not want a scandal"
"It is no longer," the Baroness considered, "altogether a question of what we want."
"And, morbleu! there will be a horrible scandal—"
"The public gazettes will thrive on it."
"—and trouble with her father, if not international complications—"
"The armies of Noumaria and Badenburg have for years had nothing to do."
"—and later a divorce."
"The lawyers will call you blessed. In any event," the Baroness conscientiously added, "your lawyers will. I am afraid that hers—"
"Will scarcely be so courteous?" the Grand Duke queried.
"It is not altogether impossible," the Baroness admitted, "that in preparation of their briefs, they may light upon some other adjective."
"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 Chateauroux 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 Memoires, 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.