of gravity, was all this talk of money? and why should he waste his strength upon a personal issue?
“I find,” said Otto, with his finger on the docket, “that we have 20,000 crowns in case.”
“That is exact, your Highness,” replied the Baron. “But our liabilities, all of which are happily not liquid, amount to a far larger sum; and at the present point of time it would be morally impossible to divert a single florin. Essentially, the case is empty. We have, already presented, a large note for material of war.”
“Material of war?” exclaimed Otto, with an excellent assumption of surprise. “But if my memory serves me right, we settled these accounts in January.”
“There have been further orders,” the Baron explained. “A new park of artillery has been completed; five hundred stand of arms, seven hundred baggage mules – the details are in a special memorandum. – Mr. Secretary Holtz, the memorandum, if you please.”
“One would think, gentlemen, that we were going to war,” said Otto.
“We are,” said Seraphina.
“War!” cried the Prince. “And, gentlemen, with whom? The peace of Grünewald has endured for centuries. What aggression, what insult, have we suffered?”
“Here, your Highness,” said Gotthold, “is the ultimatum. It was in the very article of signature, when your Highness so opportunely entered.”
Otto laid the paper before him; as he read, his fingers played tattoo upon the table. “Was it proposed,” he inquired, “to send this paper forth without a knowledge of my pleasure?”
One of the non-combatants, eager to trim, volunteered an answer. “The Herr Doctor von Hohenstockwitz had just entered his dissent,” he added.
“Give me the rest of this correspondence,” said the Prince. It was handed to him, and he read it patiently from end to end, while the councillors sat foolishly enough looking before them on the table. The secretaries, in the background, were exchanging glances of delight; a row at the council was for them a rare and welcome feature.
“Gentlemen,” said Otto, when he had finished, “I have read with pain. This claim upon Obermünsterol is palpably unjust; it has not a tincture, not a show, of justice. There is not in all this ground enough for after-dinner talk, and you propose to force it as a casus belli.”
“Certainly, your Highness,” returned Gondremark, too wise to defend the indefensible, “the claim on Obermünsterol is simply a pretext.”
“It is well,” said the Prince. “Herr Cancellarius, take your pen. ‘The council,’” he began to dictate – “I withhold all notice of my intervention,” he said, in parenthesis, and addressing himself more directly to his wife; “and I say nothing of the strange suppression by which this business has been smuggled past my knowledge. I am content to be in time – ’The council,’” he resumed, “’on a further examination of the facts, and enlightened by the note in the last despatch from Gerolstein, have the pleasure to announce that they are entirely at one, both as to fact and sentiment, with the Grand-Ducal Court of Gerolstein.’ You have it? Upon these lines, sir, you will draw up the despatch.”
“If your Highness will allow me,” said the Baron, “your Highness is so imperfectly acquainted with the internal history of this correspondence, that any interference will be merely hurtful. Such a paper as your Highness proposes would be to stultify the whole previous policy of Grünewald.”
“The policy of Grünewald!” cried the Prince. “One would suppose you had no sense of humour! Would you fish in a coffee cup?”
“With deference, your Highness,” returned the Baron, “even in a coffee cup there may be poison. The purpose of this war is not simply territorial enlargement; still less is it a war of glory; for, as your Highness indicates, the state of Grünewald is too small to be ambitious. But the body politic is seriously diseased; republicanism, socialism, many disintegrating ideas are abroad; circle within circle, a really formidable organisation has grown up about your Highness’s throne.”
“I have heard of it, Herr von Gondremark,” put in the Prince; “but I have reason to be aware that yours is the more authoritative information.”
“I am honoured by this expression of my Prince’s confidence,” returned Gondremark, unabashed. “It is, therefore, with a single eye to these disorders that our present external policy has been shaped. Something was required to divert public attention, to employ the idle, to popularise your Highness’s rule, and, if it were possible, to enable him to reduce the taxes at a blow, and to a notable amount. The proposed expedition – for it cannot without hyperbole be called a war – seemed to the council to combine the various characters required; a marked improvement in the public sentiment has followed even upon our preparations; and I cannot doubt that when success shall follow, the effect will surpass even our boldest hopes.”
“You are very adroit, Herr von Gondremark,” said Otto. “You fill me with admiration. I had not heretofore done justice to your qualities.”
Seraphina looked up with joy, supposing Otto conquered; but Gondremark still waited, armed at every point; he knew how very stubborn is the revolt of a weak character.
“And the territorial army scheme, to which I was persuaded to consent – was it secretly directed to the same end?” the Prince asked.
“I still believe the effect to have been good,” replied the Baron; “discipline and mounting guard are excellent sedatives. But I will avow to your Highness, I was unaware, at the date of that decree, of the magnitude of the revolutionary movement; nor did any of us, I think, imagine that such a territorial army was a part of the republican proposals.”
“It was?” asked Otto. “Strange! Upon what fancied grounds?”
“The grounds were indeed fanciful,” returned the Baron. “It was conceived among the leaders that a territorial army, drawn from and returning to the people, would, in the event of any popular uprising, prove lukewarm or unfaithful to the throne.”
“I see,” said the Prince. “I begin to understand.”
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