army moves or stands? At whose word the Osians
fall or reign? On whom does the duchess rely? Who is king in deed,
if not in fact? Who will find means to liquidate the kingdom's
indebtedness, whoever may be the creditor? Pah! the princess may marry,
but the groom will not be Prince Frederick. The man she will marry
will be the husband of a queen, and he will be a king behind a woman's
skirts. It is what the French call a coup d'etat. She will be glad to
marry; there is no alternative. She will submit, if only that her father
may die in peace."

"And this king?" in a whisper.

"You are old, Stuler; you remember many things of the past. Do you
recollect a prince of a noble Austrian house by the name of Walmoden,
once an aide to the emperor, who was cashiered from the army and exiled
for corresponding with France?"

Stuler's hand shook as he brushed his forehead. "Yes, I recollect.
He fought against the Prussians in the Franco-Prussian war, then
disappeared, to be heard of again as living in a South American
republic. But what has he to do with all this? Ah, Johann, this is deep
water."

"For those who have not learned to swim. You will aid me? A thousand
crowns--two hundred pieces of gold like that which has just passed from
my pocket into yours. It is politics."

"But the sacking of the town?"

"A jest. If Madame the duchess conquers the Englishman, the king that is
to be will pay her. Then, if she wages war Austria can say nothing for
defending ourselves."

"And Walmoden?" Stuler struck his forehead with his fist as if to pound
it into a state of lucidity. "Where is he? It is a stone wall; I can see
nothing."

"Beauvais."

"Beauvais!" Stuler half rose from his chair, but sank again.

"Exactly. This play, for some reason unexplained, is the price of his
reestablishment into the graces of the noble Hapsburgs. Between us,
I think the prince is playing a game for himself. But who shall blame
him?"

"The devil! I thought Austria was very favorable to the Osian house."

"Favorable or not, it is nothing to us."

"Well, well, it's a thousand crowns," philosophically.

"That's the sentiment," laughed Johann. "It is not high treason, it
is not lese majeste; it is not a crime; it is a thousand crowns. Votre
sante, as the damned French say!" swallowing what was left of the wine.
"And then, it is purely patriotic in us," with a deceitful smile.

"The storehouse is yours, and the men. Now tell me how 'tis to be
p