XXII PRINCESS NACHMEISTER AS GUARDIAN ANGEL

He graduated from the easy chair to the divan by imperceptible degrees, for he had arts of his own; and in the course of a month of well-nigh daily intercourse he was almost as much at home in the villa by the Isar as Styr herself. Insensibly he began to assume airs of ownership, which made Margarethe wonder how her sense of humour had hitherto survived with so little to feed upon. He never gave her a sentimental glance, nor, not even when they talked till two in the morning and he left by the tower window in Kilchberg’s boat, did he in any way manifest a desire to make love to her. Nevertheless, it was quite evident that he had drifted into the assumption that the great prima donna, from whom no other man in Europe could claim more than a bow, or a few meaningless phrases at a rout, existed for him alone; that her time, her mind, her affections, were his; that, putting the attitude into the American nutshell, he owned her. And yet, while his bearing was a mixture of the husband, the friend, the lover, and the spoilt child, it was all on the mental plane; nor did he ever lose a certain formality, which indeed was so integral a part of his birthright that no intimacy of his would ever descend into the too dangerous places of familiarity.

If, as time went on, Styr was at some pains to analyze a relationship so foreign to the usual, no such fatiguing process had ever occurred to him. He accepted it all as a matter of course, as he did whatever good things came his way; it was only the rare scowl of fortune that gave him astonished pause. He sometimes threw a passing smile to an intimacy which had all the surface appearance of so much more, and appreciated the piquancy of this secret and unique experience. Now and again, too, he threw a bone of gratitude to Frau von Wass for curing him of whatever hankering for intrigue he may once have cherished, however languidly; although he was under no delusion in regard to Styr, knowing well that did he drop into even the usual gallantries he would be snubbed for his pains. Commonly, however, he wasted no time on thought, not even upon that inevitable future in which this rare and delightful companion could have no part. But when was he inclined to invoke the future unless his creditors were impertinent, or he dreamed vaguely of some strange exalted happiness for which he saw no parallel in life? At present his hopeful debtors were awaiting the sure enthusiasm of Lord Bridgminster when his brilliant heir had passed triumphantly into the diplomatic service; and if he sometimes dreamed, it was not of the woman he liked best on earth: she, being always at hand, why, in heaven’s name, should he dream of her?

Before leaving Munich, Princess Nachmeister had resolved upon a bold move. Too astute to mention the name of Mabel Cutting, she yet confided to the woman who, it was patent, alone possessed any real influence over her favourite, that his mother and friends were arranging a wholly desirable alliance for him, and only delayed bringing the two young people together until the girl should have gained the poise and experience of a London season, and he should have assimilated, undistracted, the knowledge of German necessary for his examinational ordeal.

“You are the subtlest of women,” continued the old diplomat. “Instil the expedience of an early and wealthy marriage into the mind of this most extravagant of princelings. Gott! One would think that my lord of Bridgminster was eighty and living on pap, not a red-faced sportsman of less than forty. That dear little boy! I fairly shudder when I imagine his future without an income practically unlimited.” She pressed her mummified old hand close upon Styr’s, a rare amenity in one that never permitted Munich to forget that she was its social dictator and the intimate friend of the Queen-mother. “Yes, that dear little boy! Cannot you conjure up his unhappy fate if he flings away this great opportunity and goes on at this pace for five years longer on the income of a younger son?”

“I think the dear little boy will always fall on his feet, whether he marry this particular heiress or not. It seems to be the mission of certain of our sex to take care of him, extricate, engineer him. I have had this greatness thrust upon me, and I seem humbly to accept it. No doubt it is as much a part of my destiny as to cheer up the King at midnight with that black auditorium between us!”

“Well, it is our duty to help others,” said the Nachmeister piously. “And particularly these young things that think the world is their footstool, and go on thinking so until too late. Two things our jüngling must do during the next two years: pass his examinations and marry. You will not deny that he has the making of a remarkable man in him?”

“He is astonishingly developed mentally, but a more lazy, lymphatic, self-indulgent, supine creature I never met in my life. If he were an American, that brain of his would be supplemented by the ‘git-up-and-git’ that would enable him to make a great man of himself unassisted. Now, it will be others that will lead him, drive him, to the goal. He’ll never lift a finger for himself.”

“Well, what matter?” asked the European. “I am sure he would not be half so delicious did he have that dreadful—how do you call it?—No! He would not be himself at all. If he becomes a great man, if his brain and talents find their opportunity, what difference whether he or others clear the way? And while I could wish myself thirty years younger, I am quite resigned to accomplish my humble part behind the scenes and leave to you the great work of giving our young friend to Europe. Will you, dear Gr?fin?”

“I have quite made up my mind to keep his lofty nose to the grindstone until the last of August—if his mother sends in his name on the first of June as she proposes, he must take his examinations within three months. I do not leave Munich myself until the last week in August, and I can make him work by threatening to get a leave of absence from the King on the plea of ill health and to go yachting with some acquaintances that invite me every year. Lutz promises to remain in Munich if he will study faithfully.”

“What original phrases you have! Why did not we ever talk in English before? Ah, yes! That will be a great work, but you will also help me in the other matter?”

“Yes, I think he should marry, since he will not work.”

“Work?”

“The only fault I find with our charming youth is that he expects the world to support him, and could not make ten dollars a month if he tried. Nor would he try.”

“Gott! He cannot go out into the market-place like your Americans. He is destined for the high places of the world. Surely you know our points of view by this time, dear Gr?fin. For portionless young men of our aristocracies must rich young women be found, who thus buy a better position than the one to which they were born. That is right and just. And when a young man has the talents and prospects of our friend—Gott! but he gives far more than he expects, even if he takes possession of the entire fortune. And in any case, must not girls have husbands?”

“Who is the girl in question?”

“Ah, that I cannot tell you. Personally, I do not know Lady Bridgminster; but a friend of hers writes me these things. I am assured, however, that the girl is all that we could wish. Of course he will not love her, but what of that? He will always be polite to her, and that is much! much!”

“Why do you think he will not love her?”

“Why—why—” Excellenz was quite positive that he would be quite as enamoured as any other young husband, during the honeymoon. “Oh, these young men brought up by married women—they always love women older than themselves. No doubt it will be you, ma belle Marguerite. That will do him no harm—but make him marry the girl.”

“He will not fall in love with me. I shall see to it that no such idea enters his head. As he will have to be engineered into love as into everything else, he is quite safe not to discover my fascinations unaided.”

“Ah, dear Gr?fin, you Americans are so clever! Between us all, I feel confident that our dear young friend will have one of the most brilliant careers in Europe. Is it not so?”

“I do not worry in the least,” Styr had responded dryly.

Two days later Princess Nachmeister, satisfied, went off to drink the waters at her favourite spa; but promptly upon the first day of every week she received a letter from a member of the bureau of secret police.