"You will pardon the infirmities of an old man and forgive me for not rising," he said gently. "Will you be seated, here, before me, where I may look at you?"
There was a pathetic touch of his old gallantry in the gesture which accompanied the words, and a bright flash of his eyes as Marishka came forward into the light and stood before him. Even today the Emperor was not immune from the charms of feminine beauty. Marishka did as she was bidden, sitting upon the edge of her chair before the old man, gazing at him again, without words to begin.
"His Highness has told me that you have something of importance to communicate," said the Emperor with a smile. "Your grandfather once did me a service. If there is anything that I may do–"
The quiet voice paused and she was conscious of the gaze of the gray eyes upon her in gentle inquiry.
"It is nothing that I want, Sire," she murmured haltingly. "It is something of the utmost importance that has occurred—at Konopisht—which I thought it necessary that you should know—something of the gravest moment to the State—to Austria—and to—to Your Majesty."
She paused breathless, finding speech difficult.
She saw his eyebrows upraised slightly and then contracted, while his gaze upon her grew concentrated.
"You may speak freely, child. There is no one here who hasn't the interests of my country at heart."
Marishka glanced around swiftly, her pulses throbbing. Prince Montenuovo stood beside the desk, immovable.
"Your Majesty," she almost whispered, "my information is of such a character–"
She paused again and felt the old man's gaze upon her in deeper interest and curiosity. There was a silence, but if he had had a momentary doubt of her, it was speedily dispelled, for his rather weary lips parted in a smile, as he turned to his Chamberlain. "If Your Highness will be pleased to await my call–"
Prince Montenuovo with a bow withdrew.
"Now, child," said the Emperor, bending slightly forward in his chair, "will you not tell me freely what has bothered you?"
"Your Majesty," said Marishka, plunging breathlessly into her subject, "I was stopping at Konopisht at the castle of the Archduke Franz. The Duchess of Hohenberg, formerly the Countess Chotek, was a friend of my mother's, and for many years our families have been intimate."
She saw the slight contraction of the heavy brows at the mention of Sophie Chotek's name, but she went on rapidly:
"Sire, when you know how long our families have been friendly, how kind Her Highness has been to me since the death of my father and mother, you will understand that what I am about to say—to reveal—is very painful to me. I could not speak, Sire, even now, unless the welfare of Austria and of Your Majesty were not more important to me than any personal considerations whatever."
As she paused painfully again, he encouraged her with a smile.
"Go on, child," he said.
"I was at the tennis court, playing with"—she paused and blushed prettily—"with a friend. The game finished, we—we went into the garden and sat upon the lawn in the shade of some foliage where it was cool. I did not know, Sire, nor did my companion, of the presence of royalty at Konopisht, and did not remember that I had been told not to go into the rose garden until it was too late."
"Too late?" he asked keenly.
"We were interested, talking, and not until the sound of footsteps upon the graveled walk near the arbor, did I realize how grave a violation of the hospitality of the Archduke had been committed. I should have fled, but, Sire, I could not. I was frightened. And so we stayed, hidden in the foliage by the arbor."
"So!" he broke in, his voice speaking the word with a rising inflection of intense interest. "It is well that you have come. I, too, know something of the visitors to the roses of Konopisht. The talk was not all of roses, nicht wahr?" he said quietly, with a little bitterness.
"No, Sire. The talk was not all of roses," said Marishka.
"Go on, then," he continued. "Spare me no word of what you heard or saw. Nothing."
And Marishka, composing herself with an effort, obeyed the command.
CHAPTER III
THE HABSBURG RAVEN
The Emperor heard her through until the end, with a word here, a sudden question there, the gravity of the girl's disclosures searing more painfully the deeply bitten lines at eye and brow. But he did not flinch. It seemed that grief and pain had already done their worst to that frail body. For whatever this Habsburg's failings, fear was not one of them. There was resolution too in the clenching of the freckled fist upon the chair arm and in his footsteps as he started up from his chair and walked the length of the room. Bowed though his shoulders were with the weight of his years, he was still a figure to respect—a personality. Marishka watched furtively, waiting for him to speak again as he strode back and forth, but his brows were deeply tangled in thought and his shoulders were more bent than ever. It almost seemed that he had forgotten her presence.
But at last he turned toward where Marishka, who had risen and was still standing, was awaiting his pleasure. He came straight toward her and extended his fingers. She sank to her knees to kiss them, but he caught her by the hand and restrained her.
"You have done well, Countess Strahni," he said quietly. "The men of your House have always been brave soldiers and good citizens, the women comely and loyal, and you, my child, have today done much to continue the honorable traditions of your family. Austria is, for you, as she is for us all, the Mother, whom God blesses in the loyalty of her children. As for those"—and his brows clouded—"who follow the devices of their own hearts, those who consider neither the family law nor the human law–" He paused, turned and sank into his chair, leaning forward again intently as the new thought struck him. "Who was your companion, Countess?"
Marishka flushed a little but said quietly,
"A gentleman—an Englishman–"
"So!" again the rising inflection, followed this time by a slight frown. "An Englishman!"
"A friend of mine, Sire," she went on with an access of dignity. "Herr Renwick, an attaché of the British Embassy–"
"Ah, I understand. He has told?"
"He has given me his promise to reveal nothing until I had been at Schönbrunn and then only with my permission."
"I see," said the Emperor with a frown. "He is discreet?"
"He has a reputation for discretion, Sire; I think he may be trusted."
"So," said the Emperor. "Where is he now?"
"I was to communicate with him later."
"Giving him permission to speak?"
"Yes, Sire."
"It is a pity," he muttered, as though meditating aloud. "We have washed enough linen in public. And this–" He turned abruptly toward her. "You have influence with this Herr Renwick?" he asked keenly.
Marishka was painfully embarrassed.
"A little, Sire, I think."
"You have served Austria well today, Countess Strahni. You can serve her again if you can prevent this Herr Renwick from communicating with Sir Herbert Southgate.... This is no concern of England's."
"I will do what I can, Sire. But the matter, it seemed, was of grave importance to Herr Renwick. He is an able diplomat and most intelligent."
The Emperor regarded her almost wistfully.
"It would be a pity," he said, "if Herr Renwick should be discredited at the Austrian court–"
"It would ruin him, Sire," said Marishka apprehensively; "if he tells what he knows, he would only be doing his duty."
"He