He continued to insult her in his thoughts; but gradually he felt a great pity steal over him for the woman who had not had the strength to endure her intolerable trials.

Meanwhile, the Comtesse Hermine made an end of her speech. She drank again, swallowing b.u.mper after b.u.mper and each time flinging her gla.s.s behind her. The officers and their women followed her example.

Enthusiastic _Hochs_ were raised from every side; and, in a drunken fit of patriotism, the prince got on his feet and struck up "_Deutschland uber Alles_," the others joining in the chorus with a sort of frenzy.

elisabeth had put her elbows on the table and her hands before her face, as though trying to isolate herself from her surroundings. But the prince, still standing and bawling, took her two arms and brutally forced them apart:

"None of your monkey-tricks, pretty one!"

She gave a movement of repulsion which threw him beside himself.

"What's all this? Sulking? And blubbering? A nice thing! And, bless my soul, what do I see? Madame's gla.s.s is full!"

He took the gla.s.s and, with a shaky hand, put it to elisabeth's lips:

"Drink my health, child! The health of your lord and master! What's this? You refuse? . . . Ah, I see, you don't like champagne! Quite right! Down with champagne! What you want is hock, good Rhine wine, eh, baby? You're thinking of one of your country's songs: 'We held it once, your German Rhine! It babbled in our br.i.m.m.i.n.g gla.s.s!' Rhine wine, there!"

With one movement, the officers rose and started shouting:

_Die Wacht am Rhein_

"They shall not have our German Rhine, Tho' like a flock of hungry crows They shriek their l.u.s.t . . ."

"No, they shan't have it," rejoined the prince, angrily, "but you shall drink it, little one!"

Another gla.s.s had been filled. Once more he tried to force elisabeth to lift it to her lips; and, when she pushed it away, he began to whisper in her ear, while the wine dribbled over her dress.

Everybody was silent, waiting to see what would happen. elisabeth turned paler than ever, but did not move. The prince, leaning over her, showed the face of a brute who alternately threatens, pleads, commands and insults. It was a heart-rending sight. Paul would have given his life to see elisabeth yield to a fit of disgust and stab her insulter. Instead of that, she threw back her head, closed her eyes and half-swooning, accepted the chalice and swallowed a few mouthfuls.

The prince gave a shout of triumph as he waved the gla.s.s on high; then he put his lips, avidly, to the place at which she had drunk and emptied it at a draught.

"_Hoch! Hoch!_" he roared. "Up, comrades! Every one on his chair, with one foot on the table! Up, conquerors of the world! Sing the strength of Germany! Sing German gallantry!

"'The Rhine, the free, the German Rhine They shall not have while gallant boys Still tell of love to slender maids. . . .'

"elisabeth, I have drunk Rhine wine from your gla.s.s. elisabeth, I know what you are thinking. Her thoughts are of love, my comrades! I am the master! Oh, Parisienne! . . . You dear little Parisienne! . . . It's Paris we want! . . . Oh, Paris, Paris! . . ."

His foot slipped. The gla.s.s fell from his hand and smashed against the neck of a bottle. He dropped on his knees on the table, amid a crash of broken plates and gla.s.ses, seized a flask of liqueur and rolled to the floor, stammering:

"We want Paris. . . . Paris and Calais. . . . Papa said so. . . . The Arc de Triomphe! . . . The Cafe Anglais! . . . A _cabinet particulier_ at the Cafe Anglais! . . ."

The uproar suddenly stopped. The Comtesse Hermine's imperious voice was raised in command:

"Go away, all of you! Go home! And be quick about it, gentlemen, if you please."

The officers and the ladies soon made themselves scarce. Outside, on the other side of the house, there was a great deal of whistling. The cars at once drove up from the garage. A general departure took place.

Meanwhile the Countess had beckoned to the servants and, pointing to Prince Conrad, said:

"Carry him to his room."

The prince was removed at once. Then the Comtesse Hermine went up to elisabeth.

Not five minutes had elapsed since the prince rolled under the table; and, after the din of the banquet, a great silence reigned in the disorderly room where the two women were now by themselves. elisabeth had once more hidden her head in her hands and was weeping violently with sobs that shook her shoulders. The Comtesse Hermine sat down beside her and gently touched her on the arm.

The two women looked at each other without a word. It was a strange glance that they exchanged, a glance laden with mutual hatred. Paul did not take his eyes from them. As he watched the two of them, he could not doubt that they had met before and that the words which they were about to speak were but the sequel and conclusion of some earlier discussion.

But what discussion? And what did elisabeth know of the Comtesse Hermine? Did she accept that woman, for whom she felt such loathing, as her mother?

Never were two human beings distinguished by a greater difference in physical appearance and above all by expressions of face denoting more opposite natures. And yet how powerful was the series of proofs that linked them together! These were no longer proofs, but rather the factors of so actual a reality that Paul did not even dream of discussing them. Besides, M. d'Andeville's confusion when confronted with the countess' photograph, a photograph taken in Berlin some years after her pretended death, showed that M. d'Andeville was an accessory to that pretended death and perhaps an accessory to many other things.

And Paul came back to the question provoked by the agonizing encounter between the mother and daughter: what did elisabeth know of it all? What insight had she been able to obtain into the whole monstrous conglomeration of shame, infamy, treachery and crime? Was she accusing her mother? And, feeling herself crushed under the weight of the crimes, did she hold her responsible for her own lack of courage?

"Yes, of course she does," thought Paul. "But why so much hatred? There is a hatred between them which only death can quench. And the longing to kill is perhaps even more violent in the eyes of elisabeth than in those of the woman who has come to kill her."

Paul felt this impression so keenly that he really expected one or the other to take some immediate action; and he began to cast about for a means of saving elisabeth. But an utterly unforeseen thing happened. The Comtesse Hermine took from her pocket one of those large road-maps which motorists use, placed her finger at one spot, followed the red line of a road to another spot and, stopping, spoke a few words that seemed to drive elisabeth mad with delight.

She seized the countess by the arm and began to talk to her feverishly, in words interrupted by alternate laughing and sobbing, while the countess nodded her head and seemed to be saying:

"That's all right. . . . We are agreed. . . . Everything shall be as you wish. . . ."

Paul thought that elisabeth was actually going to kiss her enemy's hand, for she seemed overcome with joy and grat.i.tude; and he was anxiously wondering into what new trap the poor thing had fallen, when the countess rose, walked to a door and opened it.

She beckoned to some one outside and then came back again.

A man entered, dressed in uniform. And Paul now understood. The man whom the Comtesse Hermine was admitting was Karl the spy, her confederate, the agent of her designs, the man whom she was entrusting with the task of killing elisabeth, whose last hour had struck.

Karl bowed. The Comtesse Hermine introduced the man to elisabeth and then, pointing to the road and the two places on the map, explained what was expected of him. He took out his watch and made a gesture as though to say:

"It shall be done at such-and-such a time."

Thereupon, at the countess' suggestion, elisabeth left the room.

Although Paul had not caught a single word of what was said, this brief scene was, for him, pregnant with the plainest and most terrifying significance. The countess, using her absolute power and taking advantage of the fact that Prince Conrad was asleep, was proposing a plan of escape to elisabeth, doubtless a flight by motor-car, towards a spot in the neighboring district thought out in advance. elisabeth was accepting this unhoped-for deliverance. And the flight would take place under the management and protection of Karl!

The trap was so well-laid and elisabeth, driven mad with suffering, was rushing into it so confidently that the two accomplices, on being left alone, looked at each other and laughed. The trick was really too easy; and there was no merit in succeeding under such conditions.

There next took place between them, even before any explanation was entered into, a short pantomime: two movements, no more; but they were marked with diabolical cynicism. With his eyes fixed on the countess, Karl the spy opened his jacket and drew a dagger half-way out of its sheath. The countess made a sign of disapproval and handed the scoundrel a little bottle which he took with a shrug of the shoulders, apparently saying:

"As you please! It's all the same to me!"

Then, sitting side by side, they embarked on a lively conversation, the countess giving her instructions, while Karl expressed his approval or his dissent.

Paul had a feeling that, if he did not master his dismay, if he did not stop the disordered beating of his heart, elisabeth was lost. To save her, he must keep his brain absolutely clear and take immediate resolutions, as circ.u.mstances demanded, without giving himself time to reflect or hesitate. And these resolutions he could only take at a venture and perhaps erroneously, because he did not really know the enemy's plans. Nevertheless he c.o.c.ked his revolver.

He was at that moment presuming that, when elisabeth was ready to start, she would return to the room and go away with the spy; but presently the countess struck a bell on the table and spoke a few words to the servant who appeared. The man went out. Paul heard two whistles, followed by the hum of an approaching motor.

Karl looked through the open door and down the pa.s.sage. Then he turned to the countess, as though to say:

"Here she is. . . . She's coming down the stairs. . . ."