Chapter: The ambassador from Jugendheit, Baron von Steinbock, was not popular in
Dreiberg, at least not among the people, who still held to the grand
duke's idea that the kingdom had been behind the abduction of the
Princess Hildegarde. The citizens scowled at his carriage, they scowled
at the mention of his name, they scowled whenever they passed the
embassy, which stood in the heart of the fashionable residences in the
Koenig Strasse. Never a hot-headed Dreiberger passed the house without a
desire to loot it, to scale the piked fence and batter in the doors and
windows. Steinbock himself was a polished, amiable gentleman, in no wise
meriting this ill-feeling. The embassy was in all manner the most
important in Dreiberg, though Prussia and Austria overshadowed it in
wealth and prestige.

At this moment the people gazed at the house less in rancor than in
astonishment. The king of Jugendheit was to marry her serene highness!
It was a bad business, a bad business; no good would come of it. The
great duke was a weak man, after all.

The menials in and about the embassy felt the new importance of their
positions. So then, imagine the indignation of the majordomo, when,
summoned at dusk one evening to the carriage gates, three or four days
after the portentous news had issued from the palace, he found only a
ragged and grimy carter who demanded peremptorily to be admitted and
taken to his excellency at once.

"Be off with you, ragamuffin!" growled the majordomo.

"Be quick; open the gates!" replied the carter, swinging his whip
threateningly.

"Go away!" The majordomo spun on his heels contemptuously.

"I will skin you alive," vowed the carter, striking the iron with the
butt of his whip, "if you do not open these gates immediately. Open!"

There was real menace this time. Could the fellow be crazy? The
majordomo concluded to temporize.

"My good man," he said conciliatorily, "you have brains. You ought to
know that his excellency will receive no man in your condition. If you
do not stop hammering on those bars, I shall send for the police."

The carter thrust a hand through the grill. There was a ring on one of
his fingers.

"Imbecile, set your eye on that and admit me without more ado!"

The majordomo was thunderstruck. Indeed, a blast from the heavens would
have jarred him less.

"Open, then!"

The majordomo threw back the bolts and the carter pushed his way in.
That ring on the carter's finger? The majordomo felt himself slipping
into a fantastic dream.

"Take me to the baron."

Vastly subdued the majordomo preceded the carter into the office of the
embassy. There he left the strange guest and went in search of the
baron. The ambassador was in his study, reading.

"Your Excellency, there is a man in the office who desires to see you
quickly."

The ambassador laid down his book. "Upon what pretense did he gain
admittance at this hour?" he demanded.

"I refused him admittance, your Excellency, because he was dressed like
a carter.--"

"A carter!" The ambassador wrathfully jumped to his feet.

"One moment, your Excellency. He wore a ring on his finger, and I could
not refuse him."

"A ring, you say?"

Guarding his voice with his hand, the majordomo whispered two words.

"Here, and dressed like a carter? What the devil!" The ambassador rushed
from the study.

It was dark in the embassy office. Quickly the ambassador lighted some
candles. Gas would be too bright for such a meeting.

"Well, your Excellency?" said a voice from the leather lounge.

"Who are you?" For this was not the voice the baron expected to hear.

"My name at present does not matter. The news I bring is far more
important. His majesty emphatically declines any alliance with the
House of Ehrenstein."

The ambassador stumbled into a chair, his mind dulled, his shoulders
inert. This was a blow.

"Declines?" he murmured.

"He repudiates his uncle's negotiations absolutely."

"Damnation!" swore the ambassador, coming to life once more.

"The exact word used by the prince; in fact, the word has become common
property in the last forty-eight hours. Now then, what's to be done?
What do you suggest?"

"This means war. The duke will never swallow such an insult."

"War! It looks as if you and I, Baron, shall not accompany the king of
Prussia into Alsace-Lorraine. We shall have entertainment at home."

"This is horrible!"

"The devil of a muddle!"

"But what possessed the prince to blunder like this?"

"The prince really is not to blame. Our king, Baron, is a young colt. A
few months ago he gave his royal uncle carte blanche to seek a wife for
him. Politics demanded an alliance between Jugendheit and Ehrenstein.
There have been too many years of useless antagonism. On the head of
this bolt from Heaven comes the declaration of his majesty that he will
marry any other princess on the continent."

"They will pull this place down, brick by brick!"

"Let them! We have ten thousand more troops than Ehrenstein."

"You young men are a pack of fools!"

"Softly, Baron."

"You would like nothing better than war."

"Unless it is peace."

"Where is the king?"

The carter smiled. "He is hunting, they say, with the crown prince of
Bavaria."

"But you, why have you come dressed like this?"

"That is a little secret which I am not at liberty to disclose."

"But, great God, what's to be done?"

"Lie," urbanely.

"What good will lies do?"

"They will suspend the catastrophe till we are ready to meet it. The
marriage is not to take place till spring. That will give us plenty of
time. After the coronation his majesty may be brought to reason. This
marriage must not fall through now. The grand duke will not care to
become the laughing-stock of Europe. The prince's advice is for you to
go about your affairs as usual. Only one man must be taken into your
confidence, and that man is Herbeck. If any one can straighten out his
end of the tangle it is he. He is a big man, of fertile invention; he
will understand. If this thing falls through his honors will fall with
it. He will work toward peace, though from what I have learned the duke
would not shun war."

"Where is the prince?"

"Wherever he is, he is working for the best interests of the state.
Don't worry about his royal highness; he's a man."

"When did you come?"

"This morning. Though I have been here before in this same guise."

"There is the Bavarian princess," remarked the ambassador musingly.

"Ha! A good thought! But the king is romantic; she is older than he,
and ugly."

"You are not telling me everything," intuitively.

"I know it. I am telling you all that is at present necessary."

"You make me the unhappiest man in the kingdom! I have worked so hard
and long toward this end. When did the king decline this alliance?"

"Evidently the moment he heard of it. I have his letter in my pocket. I
am requested to read it to you. Listen:

    "'MY ILLUSTRIOUS AND INDUSTRIOUS UNCLE: I regret exceedingly that at
    this late day I should cause you political embarrassment; but when I
    gave my consent to the espousal of any of the various princesses at
    liberty, surely it was understood that Ehrenstein was not to be
    considered. I refuse to marry the daughter of the man who privately
    strove to cover my father with contumely, who dared impute to him a
    crime that was any man's but my father's. I realize that certain
    policies called for this stroke on your part, but it can not be. My
    dear uncle, you have digged a fine pit, and I hope you will find a
    safe way out of it. I refuse to marry the Princess Hildegarde. This
    is final. It can be arranged without any discredit to the duke or to
    yourself. Let it be said that her serene highness has thrown me
    over. I shan't go to war about it.

    "'FREDERICK.'"

"Observe 'My illustrious and industrious uncle'!" laughed the carter
without mirth. "Our king, you will see, has a graceful style."

"Your tone is not respectful," warned the ambassador.

"Neither is the state of my mind. Oh, my king is a fine fellow; he will
settle down like his father before him; but to-day--" The carter dropped
his arms dejectedly.

"There is something going on."

"What, you are likely to learn at any moment. Pardon me, Baron, but if I
dared I would tell you all. But his highness' commands are over me and I
must obey them. It would be a mental relief to tell some one."

"Curse these opera-dancers!"

The carter laughed. "Aye, where kings are concerned. But you do him
injustice. Frederick is as mild as Strephon." He gained his feet. He
was young, pleasant of face, but a thorough soldier.

"You are Lieutenant von Radenstein!" cried the ambassador. "I recognize
you now."

"Thanks, your Excellency!"

"You are in the royal household, the regent's invisible arm. I have
heard a good deal about you. I knew your father well."

"Again, thanks. Now, the regent has heard certain rumors regarding an
American named Carmichael, a consul. He is often seen with her highness.
Rather an extraordinary privilege."

"Rest your mind there, Lieutenant. This Carmichael is harmless. You
understand, her highness has not always been surrounded by royal
etiquette. She has had her freedom too long not to grow restive under
restraint. The American is a pleasant fellow, but not worth considering.
Americans will never understand the ways of court life. Still, he is a
gentleman, and so far there is nothing compromising in that situation.
He can be eliminated at any time."

"This is reassuring. You will see the chancellor to-night and show him
this letter?"

"I will, and God help us all to straighten out this blunder!"

"Amen to that! One word more, and then I'm off. If a butcher or a baker,
or even a mountaineer pulls the bell-cord and shows this ring, admit him
without fail. He will have vital news. And now, good night and good luck
to your excellency."

For half an hour the ambassador remained staring at the candlesticks. By
and by he resumed his chair. What should he do? Where should he begin?
Suppose the chancellor should look at the situation adversely, from the
duke's angle of vision, should the duke learn? There was but one thing
to do and that was to go boldly to Herbeck and lay the matter before him
frankly. Neither Jugendheit nor Ehrenstein wanted war. The chancellor
was wise; it would be better to dally with the truth than needlessly to
sacrifice ten thousand lives. But what had the lieutenant further to
conceal? The ambassador wanted no dinner. He rang for his hat and coat,
and twenty minutes later he was in the chancellor's cabinet.

"You seem out of health, Baron," was the chancellor's greeting.

"I am indeed that, Count. I received a letter to-day from the prince
regent. It was sent to him by his majesty, who is hunting in Bavaria.
Read it, Count, but I pray to you to do nothing hastily."

The chancellor did not open the letter, he merely balanced it. That so
light a thing should be so heavy with dark portents! His accustomed
pallor assumed a grayish tinge.

"So his majesty declines?" he said evenly.

"You have already heard?" cried the amazed ambassador.

"Nothing; I surmise. The hour, your appearance, the letter--to what else
could they point? I was afraid all along. Strange instinct we have at
times. The regent is to be pitied; he took too much for granted. He has
been used to power one day too long. Ah, if his majesty could but see
her, could only know how lovely she is in heart and mind and face! Is
she not worthy a crown?"

"Herbeck, nothing would please me better, nothing would afford my
country greater pleasure and satisfaction, than to see this marriage
consummated. It would nail that baseless lie which has so long been
current."

"I believe you. We two peoples should be friendly. It has taken me
months to bring this matter round. The duke rebelled; her highness
scorned the hand of Frederick. One by one I had to overcome their
objections--to this end. The past refuses to be buried. Still, if you
saw all the evidence in the case you would not blame the duke for his
attitude."

"But those documents are rank forgeries!"

"So they may be, but that has not been proved."

"Why should his late majesty abduct the daughter of the grand duke? For
what benefits? To what end? Ah, Count, if some motive could be brought
forward, some motive that could stand!"

"Motives, my friend? They spring from the most unheard-of places. And
motives in action are always based on impulses. But let us waste no time
on retrospection. It is the present which confronts us. You do not want
war."

"No more do you."

"What remedy do you suggest?"

"I ask, nay, I plead that question of you."

"I represent the offended party." The chancellor's gaunt features
lighted with a transient smile. "Proceed, Baron."

"I suggest, then, that the duke must not know."

"Agreed. Go on."

"You will put the matter before her highness."

"That will be difficult."

"Let her repudiate the negotiations. Let her say that she has changed
her mind. His majesty is quite willing that the humiliation be his."

"That is generous. But suppose she has set her heart on the crown of
Jugendheit? What then?"

The baron bit the ends of his mustache.

"Suppose that?" the chancellor pressed relentlessly.

"In that event, the affair is no longer in our hands but in God's."

"As all affairs are. Is there no way of changing the king's mind?"

"Read the letter, Count," said the ambassador.

Herbeck hunted for the postmark: Bavaria. He read the letter. There was
nothing between the lines. It was the work of rather an irresponsible
boy.

"May I take this to her highness?" asked the chancellor.

"I'm afraid--"

"I promise its contents will not go beyond her eye."

"I will take the risk."

"His majesty is very young," was the chancellor's comment.

"Young! He is a child. He has been in his palace twice in ten years. He
is travel-mad. He has been wandering in France, Holland, England,
Belgium. He tells his uncle to play the king till the coronation.
Imagine it! And the prince has found this authority so pleasant and
natural that he took it for granted that his majesty would marry
whomever he selected for him. To have allowed us to go forward, as we
have done, believing that he had the whole confidence of the king!"

Herbeck consulted his watch. It was half after six. Her highness did not
dine till eight.

"I shall go to her highness immediately, Baron. I shall return the
letter by messenger, and he will tell you the result of the interview."

"God be with you," said the ambassador, preparing to take his leave,
"for all women are contrary."

After the baron was gone the chancellor paced the room with halting
step. Then, toward the wraith of his ambition he waved a hand as if to
explain how futile are the schemes of men. He shook himself free from
this idle moment and proceeded to the apartments of her highness. Would
she toss aside this crown, or would she fight for it? He found her
alone.

"Well, my good fairy, what is in your magic wand to-night?" she asked.
How fond she was of this great good man, and how lonely he always
seemed!

He saluted her hand respectfully. "I am not a good fairy to-night, your
Highness. On the contrary, I am an ogre. I have here a letter. I have
given my word that its contents shall not be repeated to the duke, your
father. If I let you read it, will you agree to that?"

"And who has written this letter?" non-committally.

"His majesty, the king of Jugendheit," slowly.

"A letter from the king?" she cried, curious. "Should it not be brought
to me on a golden salver?"

"It is probable that I am bringing it to you at the end--of a bayonet,"
solemnly. "If the duke learns its contents the inevitable result will be
war."

A silence fell upon them and grew. This was the bitterest moment but one
in the chancellor's life.

"I believe," she said finally, "that it will not be necessary to read
his majesty's letter. He declines the honor of my hand: is that not it?"

The chancellor signified that it was.

"Ah!" with a note of pride in her voice and a flash in her eyes. "And
I?"

"You will tell the duke that you have changed your mind," gravely.

"Do princesses change their minds like this?"

"They have often done so."

"In spite of publicity?"

"Yes, your Highness."

"And if I refuse to change my mind?"

"I am resigned to any and all events."

"War." Her face was serious. "And what has the king to suggest?"

"He proposes to accept the humiliation of being rejected by you."

"Why, this is a gallant king! Pouff! There goes a crown of thistledown."
She smiled at the chancellor, then she laughed. There was nothing but
youth in the laughter, youth and gladness. "Oh, I knew that you were a
good fairy. Listen to me. I declare to you that I am happier at this
moment than I have been in days. To marry a man I have never seen, to
become the wife of a man who is nothing to me, whose looks, character,
and habits are unknown; why, I have lived in a kind of horror. You did
not find me soon enough; there are yet some popular ideas in my head
which are alien to the minds of princesses. I am free!" And she uttered
the words as with the breath of spring.

The chancellor's shoulders drooped a trifle more, and his hand closed
down over the letter. Otherwise there was no notable change in his
appearance. He was always guarding the muscles of his face.
Inscrutability is the first lesson of the diplomat; and he had learned
it thirty years before.

"There will be no war," resumed her highness. "I know my father; our
wills may clash, but in this instance mine shall be the stronger."

"But this is not the end."

"You mean that there will be other kings?" She had not thought of this,
and some of the brightness vanished from her face.

"Yes, there will be other kings. I am sorry. What young girl has not her
dream of romance? But princesses must not have romances. Yours, my
child, must be a political marriage. It is a harsh decree."

"Have not princesses married commoners?"

"Never wisely. Your highness will not make a mistake like that."

"My highness will or will not marry, as she pleases. Am I a chattel,
that I am to be offered across this frontier or that?"

The chancellor moved uneasily. "If your highness loved out of your
class, which I know you do not, I should be worried."

"And if I did?" with a rebel tilt to her chin.

"Till that moment arrives I shall not borrow trouble. You will, then,
tell the duke that you have changed your mind, that you have
reconsidered?"

"This evening. Now, godfather, you may kiss her serene highness on the
forehead."

"This honor to me?" The chancellor trembled.

"Even so."

He did not touch her with Ne hands, but the kiss he put on her forehead
was a benediction.

"You may go now," she said, "for I shall need the whole room to dance
in. I am free, if only for a little while!"

Outside the door the chancellor paused. She was singing. It was the same
aria he had heard that memorable night when he found her in the dim
garret.

 The next morning, Ani wakes up to the sound of her neighbors talking. She gets dressed quickly and heads toward the mess hall, where three dozen other workers are helping themselves to heaping amounts of food. She's not really sure what all the fuss is about since they're eating greasy eggs, lumps of beans with mutton chunks, and oat muffins, but she gobbles some breakfast anyway. Some of the workers already seem to know she's the goose girl, and she meets Conrad, who is working with the animals already. He tells her to take it easy with the geese since they might bite her kneecaps. Even though Ani speaks bird, she can't communicate with the geese since they all honk and squawk in a way she's never heard before. Conrad notices they're missing a couple geese, but he's not sure where they went. It looks like he doesn't speak geese either--or understand them all that much. At the end of the day, Ani's exhausted. She finally gets why everyone was stuffing their pie-holes earlier: it's hard work out in the fields all day. She still wants to find Falada, but hasn't been able to leave all day. Sad face. Back at the food hall, a girl named Enna rushes in and tells the boys, Razo and Beier, to come quick--a ram got in her chicken coop and is going mad. They boys go rushing out, just in time for Enna to let everyone who's left over in on a secret: she rigged a big old bucket of oat mush to fall on them when they walk in--which they totally deserve. They put colored eggs in her chicken's coop and made her believe her poor hen was sick; she tried remedy after potion and nothing worked, because nothing was actually wrong with her hen. When she found out, she decided to play a little prank of her own by hooking up the oat mush over their heads. Ani wants to keep to herself, but she feels comfortable with Enna. The chicken girl tells Ani not to worry too much about Conrad--he's tough at first, but he's pretty cool when you get to know him. Plus, Enna seems to know a lot of the kingdom gossip. She tells Ani the princess came in with a cursed horse that she didn't know how to ride. Could that be Falada? Ani hopes her friend isn't hurt, but she's not so sure. Conrad wants to know what the princess looked like, and Enna reports she was wearing a sparkly silver dress that looked princess-y. Word on the street is she's had ten new dresses made since she's come to Bayern too--everyone agrees this is very princess-like of her. Just then, Razo and Beier come back, dripping with gray slop. Joke's on them, and everyone laughs before heading off to bed.

