the man was, but 1 will ascertain. I believe he was one of the socialist orators—'
'Orator?' says the Duchess, in a tone that would have frozen brandy. 'Revolutionary upstart! And on my wedding day!' She turned to me. 'It is my shame, and my country's, that this affront should have taken place in your highness's presence, on this sacred occasion.'
Well, I didn't mind. I was more interested in her cold rage at what she conceived an affront to her noble dignity; she had a fine, spoiled conceit of herself to be sure. I suggested that the man was probably drunk, and that he had done no harm anyway.
'Denmark must be fortunate in its security against such dangerous criminals,' says she. 'In Strackenz we find it prudent to take sterner measures against these … these orators! Schwerin, I hold you responsible; let me hear presently that they have been arrested and punished.'
It would have sounded pompous from a bench of bishops; from a nineteen-year-old girl it was ridiculous, but I kept a straight face. I was learning fast about my little Irma; an imperious young piece. I found myself hoping that she would be thwarted of her vengeance on my big-headed revolutionary; whoever he was, he had looked the kind of likely lad who would sooner spar with the peelers than eat his dinner, and keep things lively all round.
When she had sent Schwerin packing, and her ladies had adjusted invisible flaws in her appearance, we proceeded with tremendous ceremony to the great ballroom, where the brilliant throng had already assembled for the reception. This is a bigger 'do' than old Morrison gave for Elspeth and me in Paisley, thinks I, but I'll wager they can't drink more than those Scotch rascals did. The place was a blaze of splendid uniforms and gowns; orders, medals, and jewellery twinkled everywhere; aristocratic backs bent and a hundred skirts rustled in curtsies as we took our place on the dais for the guests to file by with their respectful congratulations. You never saw such a pack of noble toadies in your life, smirking their way past. They all fawned over the Duchess, of course, the square-heads clicking their heels and bowing stiffly, the dagoes bending double—for we had a fine selection from half the countries in Europe. After all, Duchess Irma was the cousin of our own Britannic Majesty—which made me a sort- ofcousin-in-law to her and Albert, I suppose-and everyone wanted to have a grovel to us. I was delighted to see, though, that the British Ambassador confined himself to a jerky little bow and a 'Felicitations, ma'am, and much happiness to both your highnesses.' That's the style, thinks I; good old England and damn all foreigners.
I just stood there, nodding my head up and down until my neck creaked, smiling and murmuring my thanks to each passing face—fat, thin, sweating, straining, smiling, adoring, they came in all sizes and expressions. And then Detchard's voice behind me whispered 'Hansen,' and I glanced sharply to see a fair-haired, long-jawed young fellow just straightening up from his bow to the Duchess. He turned to me, smiling expectantly, and in my sudden nervousness I took a step forward, grinning like a death's head, I shouldn't wonder, grabbed him by the hand, and cried:
'Erik, old friend, this is the most springing surprise of my happy day!' or something equally garbled; I know that I bungled the words hopelessly, but he just laughed and pumped my hand.
'Dear Carl—highness—I had to come to wish you joy.' He had that manly, sentimental look, misty-eyed yet smiling, which I personally can only manage in drink. 'God bless you both!'
'God bless you, too, old friend,' says I, wringing hard at him, and then his smile faded, a puzzled look came into his eyes, and he stepped back.
God knows I've had my bad moments, but seldom such a qualm of sickening dread as I experienced then. I kept my aching grin, because I was so paralysed with panic that I couldn't move a muscle, waiting for the denunciation which I was certain was on his lips.
For a second he stared, and then he made a sudden, nervous gesture of apology and smiled again.
'Pardon,' he said. 'Your pardon, highness … Carl.' He moved quickly aside to let in the next guest, bowed again, and then moved off towards the buffets, where the other guests were assembling. There I saw him turn, staring back at me, and presently he rubbed his brow with his fingers, gave his head a quick shake as a man will who is putting some trifle out of his mind, and gave his attention to a waiter who was proffering champagne.
I knew I was crimson with the shock, and one knee was trembling violently, but I forced myself to smile steadily as the guest before me bobbed in a deep curtsey, and her escort swept me a bow. I saw the concern in their faces—when I turn red I'm a daunting sight—so I forced a laugh.
'Forgive me,' I told them. 'I'm out of breath with saying 'thank you' to several hundred people.' They were delighted at being so familiarly addressed by royalty, and then the crisis was past and I had time to steady myself.
But it had been a horrible moment, and I must have gone through the rest of that reception like a man in a dream, for I can remember nothing more until I was back in my own room, alone with Detchard, Rudi and de Gautet, drinking brandy from a glass that rattled against my teeth.
'It was a bad moment,' was Rudi's verdict. 'For a second I thought we were gone. I had him covered from my pocket, and I swear if he had taken an instant longer to smile I'd have shot him down and claimed he was preparing to assassinate you. And God knows what might have come of that. Phew!'
'But he saw I wasn't the Prince!' I beat on the arm of my chair. 'He saw through me! Didn't he? You saw him, de Gautet—didn't he?'
'I doubt it,' says he. 'For a moment he
'By God, I hope so.' I attacked the brandy again. 'Suppose he thinks better of it, though—becomes suspicious?'
'He's being watched every moment he is in Strackenz,' says Rudi. 'We have other reasons for keeping a sharp eye on Master Hansen.'
'What's that?'
'Oh, his journey here wasn't only to dance at your wedding. We know that for months now he and other members of the Danish government have been in correspondence with the more militant Danish faction in Strackenz—people like the Eider Danes[35] over the border, only rather more dangerous. They watch everything German like hawks, hold secret meetings, that sort of thing. There's talk of a clandestine organisation, the 'Sons of the Volsungs', dedicated to fly to arms in the event of any threat from Berlin to Strackenzian independence.' Rudi grinned pleasantly. 'We'll settle with those gentlemen when the time comes. For the present, neither they nor friend Hansen need trouble you. The game's all but won, my boy'—and he slapped me on the shoulder. 'With the wedding behind us there's nothing to do but sit out the weeks until Otto gives the word that our good Carl Gustaf is ready to resume the role in which you are proving such a distinguished understudy. Then back to merry England for you—and let's hope the delectable Irma isn't too disappointed in the change, shall we?'
This was all very well, but I was by no means sure that the worst was past. I'd had some nasty turns in my brief life as Prince Carl Gustaf, and it seemed odds on there being a few more before they'd sweated the clap out of him and he could succeed me on the consort's throne. And even then, would Bismarck keep faith? I didn't want to think about that just yet, but it was always at the back of my mind. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, but you have to watch your step at night, too.
I was still shaking with the Hansen business, and for that matter I was probably suffering from the strain of two days' imposture—at any rate, I punished a half bottle of brandy there and then without noticeable effect, which is always a sign that the funks have got me good and proper. Rudi, although he watched me closely, whistling through his teeth, didn't say me nay; there was no further official business that day, only the drive to the hunting lodge at Strelhow, ten miles from the city, and I didn't have to be stone-cold sober for that.
We were to set out in mid-afternoon, and presently Josef and various minions were admitted to begin my preparations for the road. There was a great bustle as trunks and boxes were taken below stairs, and I was divested of my ceremonial uniform and kitted out in cutaway and topper, as befitted a gentleman bent on his honeymoon. I was sufficiently recovered from my nervous condition—or else the booze was beginning to work—to be able to discuss with Rudi the merits of checked or striped trousers, which had been the great debate among the London nobs that year.[36] I was a check-er myself, having the height and leg for it, but Rudi thought they looked bumpkinish, which only shows what damned queer taste they had in Austria in those days. Of course, if you'll put up with Metternich you'll put up with anything.
While we were talking, an officer of the palace guard put in an appearance, with an escort carrying drawn sabres, to collect the crown jewellery which Josef had removed with my uniform. They had taken my coronet and State sword on our return from the cathedral, but my chain and rings remained, and these were now carefully
