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Count Ferdinand Stürm sipped the medicine which his doctor measured out for him and when he had drunk it, gave a lollipop to a pampered monkey, which, belted and chained in carved silver, sat beside him on the table covered with a silk Persian carpet.

"Eh, Pug!" he smiled. "Good Pug, pleasant Pug!" for he liked to see the little animal indulge in the gross delights which did not interest him personally; although a sick man and nearly sixty years of age, Count Stürm had managed by incessant and watchful care to preserve all his mental and many of his physical activities.

Stürm knew exactly what he had to face; while the late Elector, his nominal master, had lived, it had not been too difficult for him to thwart all the frantic (and crude, Stürm thought) endeavours of General von Neitschütz to marry his daughter to the Electoral Prince. Easy, lazy, and relying entirely on his minister, who saved him all trouble and all disagreeableness, Johann Georg III, although he had promised his son's hand to Magdalena Sibylla von Neitschütz, yet had contrived to evade the fulfilment of the contract...His sudden death from an unexpected apoplexy had altered the position. Count Stürm had to deal directly with the wayward lover, who had already petulantly announced his intention of an immediate marriage with the lady of his desire.

The Minister realized, not without humour, exactly what such a marriage would mean to him; he knew to the last degree the amount of hatred he had raised in the breast of General von Neitschütz; he knew that the girl who might be in the position of the arbiter of his destiny had inherited all this hatred; he knew that she was aware of his long, steady efforts—both sly and open—to prevent her marriage with the Electoral Prince.

Sir William Colt, the English envoy (who had come with the excuse of the Garter for the new Elector, but really to win him for the Allies), Count von Spanheim, the Imperial resident, and Mynheer Heemskerke, the Dutch Republic's man, had already shown signs of paying some hesitant and dubious court to the House of Neitschütz in the hope that this marriage, so much discussed and disputed, might become one day an astonishing reality...The Prince was very young, impetuous, desperately lost in love...

Count Ferdinand Stürm therefore faced a life and death contest with the puissant powers of love and ambition; not only his own reputation and fortune and, possibly, his own liberty were in question, but the policy to which he had devoted all his entire life, all his labour and all his intelligence; he was not only influenced by the high pension which he received from King Louis, he sincerely believed in the cause of France. The best fortune that could happen to him, if he made peace with his triumphant enemies, would be to retire to a small estate and watch melons and peaches ripen, and argue with his gardener over the construction of glasshouses. This prospect did not appear seductive to him; a man of affairs, of action, he had enjoyed power for nearly thirty years, and he did not intend to relinquish it without the sharpest of struggles.

As he thoughtfully fed the glutted monkey with the brightly-coloured sweetmeats he considered his plans. He must move swiftly. The young man, who had been despatched on a hunting expedition at Moritzburg, was already restive and suspicious, he could not long by all the attractions of venery be kept from the bewitching girl; he had announced his intention of a visit to Château Arnsdorf. And, once the sly, unscrupulous tribe of them got him at Arnsdorf, Count Stürm was well aware of the danger of a sudden secret marriage; he was too wise a politician to undervalue his opponents; he knew the force and power of General von Neitschütz; he knew, more important, the beauty and wit and intelligence of Magdalena Sibylla, and the hold she had upon the romantic, ignorant youth, the dominion over his senses and his intellects. Stürm knew the pride of the male members of that House of Neitschütz, their ancient birth which could compare not unfavourably with that of the Elector himself; knew their pretensions, their desperation, their boldness and greed; he would have to exert himself to defeat them. "Strike at your enemy's weakest point" had always been his maxim. Rudolph von Neitschütz's weakest point was his poverty; this kept him in a continual exasperated embarrassment; he had had the strength to affront this perpetual torment, but his sons had gone down easily into misfortune. Well, then, strike at him through the sons...worthless, reckless young rakehells; Casimir, at least, worthless, reckless, a scoundrel, without common prudence, knowing no restraint...

Count Stürm drew out of his pocket the draft of a letter and the protocol of an agreement which had just been brought to him by his secretary. This demanded the hand of Eleanora Erdmuth Louise of Saxe-Eisenach, widow of Johann Frederic, Margrave of Anspach, for Johann Georg IV, Elector of Saxony—Arch Marshal of the Empire—a score of other honours! Count Stürm was scanning and approving these documents, fine finger tapping the arm of his chair, when the elegant door opened, and an elegant valet announced:

"Major-General Lüneburg de Haverbeck."

The minister greeted the soldier with tactful and gracious warmth; he entreated him to a seat, made humble excuses for breaking in upon his brief leisure...He always maintained amiable, if not cordial, relations with the officer who, engaged in the war with the Porte on the confines of the Empire, had not seen very much of the minister; for even when the armies went into winter quarters Haverbeck had not spent all his leisure in Dresden. Count Stürm had neither impeded nor aided the soldier's career, which had been, owing to his own brilliant yet solid parts, his splendid gifts of character and intellect, singularly successful.

Major-General Delphicus Lüneburg de Haverbeck, of the Life Guards of the Elector of Saxony, commanding that Prince's troops in Hungary, affable, generous, handsome, was one of the most popular leaders in that large army of mixed nationalities, volunteers, mercenary and Imperial, who held back the Turk on the confines of Europe; easy and smiling, he waited for the old man to speak. Haverbeck was curious to know what business Count Stürm had with him in requesting this interview, yet watched with his usual patience while the minister smilingly played with the monkey who gambolled up and down the table and pulled at the Persian drapery. While still thus idly engaged Stürm asked the soldier if he was soon due to return to Vienna, or to the quarters of the Duke of Lorraine, or that of the Margrave of Baden-Baden...

"I await the commands of the Elector," smiled Haverbeck. "I hear that his new policies are uncertain, and that he is not yet sure of sending his auxiliaries again to His Imperial Majesty."

"Like a child with a new toy," replied the minister, placidly, "His Electoral Highness is engaged in playing with several novel schemes."

"Politics," admitted the soldier, candidly, "do not interest me. I should be sorry, however, to grow rusty in barracks, and I hope, Count Stürm, you will be able to find some use for my sword, either in Hungary or Flanders."

"You must be well aware, my dear General, that it is impossible for me to send Saxony into the field, either against France or for France; I am entirely in the interest of His Most Christian Majesty, but I cannot openly assist him. As for you, your career is best pursued in the East."

"I should not care to fight against France," said Haverbeck, indifferently, "but I do not relish this delay in sending the Saxon contingent to Hungary."

"It will go, it will go," nodded the minister, soothingly, "but you must admit yourself, my dear General, that the roads are deucedly impassable, and that our new master is deucedly impossible—a wayward, petulant youth...I have despatched him to Moritzburg to cool his blood, hunting. I shall have my way with him, no doubt, but it will take time. He has been pampered, he is ill-trained, glutted with indolence and pleasure; yet I think there are in him some sparks of pride and enterprise. The campaign in Hungary under your tuition, my dear General, could be of considerable benefit to His Electoral Highness, could I but induce him to exert himself to that extent."

"It was not this matter," smiled Haverbeck, "that you wished to see me about?"

"No," replied the minister, "I wished to see you about the affair of the House of Neitschütz."

He paused on this name, but Haverbeck did not speak; leaning back in his chair, he played with the ends of his lace cravat and ribbons, and Count Stürm knew that it was useless to waste time on involved compliments or apologies; the soldier was, in his way, as shrewd, as alert, as he was himself.

"Forgive me, if I ask you, my dear Haverbeck, if you have any prospect or expectation of marrying the daughter of General von Neitschütz?"

"None," replied Haverbeck, drily. "As I daresay you are aware I have offered for the lady twice, and twice been definitely refused."

"I am glad for your sake," smiled Count Stürm, carefully putting his delicate finger-tips together. "She is to sight and ear delectable, and I would not decry one who has been your choice; but, believe me, she brings discomfiture for her admirers, there is bad blood in that House—I believe the lady to be like her father, hard, ambitious, and unscrupulous."

"They are my relations," commented Haverbeck, shortly.

"Eh, yes, but the connection is distant. I speak to you as one man of the world to another; it is useless, surely you will not affect to be unaware of what I daresay is the property of every street boy...videlicet, my position with regard to the House of Neitschütz in general and this lady in particular."

Haverbeck smiled, looked steadily at the speaker, and raised his dark, slanting brows.

"The young Elector is lost in love with Fräulein von Neitschütz, you mean, and will marry her, in spite of all your efforts, Count Stürm?"

"We shall see." The minister was smiling also. "They will make, of course, the most valiant and determined attempt; he is already pestered to go to Arnsdorf, and if they once get him there in his present mood, after three months apart from her, there will be a secret marriage, no doubt...the design is palpable enough."

"Can you prevent him going?" asked Haverbeck.

"No, I do not think I can, but perhaps I can put him into such a mood that his going there will not mean a marriage."

"I," said the young soldier, slightly troubled, "can have no part in this. The House of Neitschütz has declined my alliance and even my friendship. I have not been to Arnsdorf for eight years."

"I recall," nodded Stürm, "the day you and I left together, eh? Well, my dear General, I have never been able to do anything for you, you have never asked any favours, and maybe, never will; but I come to you now and ask a favour. Do you know anything of the affairs of your cousins—Captain Casimir and Captain Clement von Neitschütz?"

As Count Stürm made this request he carefully studied the agreeable, handsome face of the soldier, and he saw it harden; he therefore added immediately:

"I do not ask you—it goes without saying—to betray either a confidence or a relation."

"As I supposed," replied Haverbeck, drily. "I know nothing of these two young men, they have avoided me; I have been, as you know, so much abroad and am in another regiment and of another rank. You must be aware that they have little capacity and great extravagance."

"They are involved, I think," suggested Count Stürm, thoughtfully caressing the monkey, "with Fani von Ilten, eh?"

"It would be extraordinary if they were not," replied Haverbeck; "she has most of the idle young officers of the garrison in her vile net. I sometimes wonder, my dear Count, that you do not lessen that harridan's activities."

"The good Baroness is extraordinarily useful to me," admitted the minister. "I obtain through her means information that it would be hopeless to endeavour to get hold of in any other way, and it is not in her power to ruin anybody but fools—and fools are of no use to themselves or to anyone else."

"I believe it probable that my cousins go to her infamous house, and gamble, and that they have borrowed money from her, but I know nothing."

"I can find that out for myself," said Count Stürm, patiently. "You have answered me, my dear General. I take it that you know nothing more and would not tell me, if you did."

"I should not feel obliged to do so," smiled Haverbeck. "I do not know your motives in these questions—which ring unpleasantly enough."

"I did not so intend them," the minister assured him gently. "I trust you will do me the honour to believe that I have been perfectly frank, and that I desire to be of some benefit to you. Cannot you see what I would propose?"

"No," declared Haverbeck, roundly.

"This, then: you tell me that you have offered twice—a fact that I already knew—for Magdalena Sibylla von Neitschütz. I may believe, therefore, that the lady has some value in your eyes?"

"You may," admitted Haverbeck, "believe as much."

"If she does not marry the Elector," added Count Stürm, quickly, "it would be likely, would it not, my dear General, that she might marry you, especially if I were to give another flourish to your career by securing you promotion—at twenty-eight, eh? You are worthy of it. Briefly, in every possible way help me to break off the affair with the Elector, and I will help you in every possible way to secure Fräulein von Neitschütz for yourself."

"How could I help you?" asked Haverbeck, sternly, leaning forward in his chair.

The answer came swiftly, as if it had been long prepared:

"Through those two flaunting young rakehells your cousins...Find out from them what will disgust the Elector. No doubt they are in their sister's confidence, and she must have written to them...Get hold of Fani von Ilten and discover from her the extent of their entanglement. Find me some evidence I can put before the Elector."

"Evidence as to what?" demanded Haverbeck, rising.

"Evidence as to the gross trap being laid for him. Perhaps," added Stürm, softly, "you have had some favour—some trifling letter or note, that might show where the lady's fancy lies...you take me?"

General de Haverbeck shook his handsome head slowly, smiling down at the shrunken figure of the minister beside the long table with the Persian cloth and the quick little monkey, and the sardian onyx bowl of sweetmeats.

"Nothing," he said, "nothing whatever. The lady has never marked me out for the least consideration...I know nothing, nothing whatever of the House of Neitschütz."

"You will not help me, then?"

"No, I am not a man of intrigue."

Count Stürm at this attitude showed discreet surprise.

"Not even to gain the lady to whom you have been so faithful? everyone comments, my dear General, that it is strange that you are not yet married."

"There are some things that no woman is worth," replied Haverbeck, indifferently; "I never had a fancy for that for which I had to stoop to pick up."

"You are not, then," smiled Count Stürm, "lost in love, as you termed the Elector?"

"By no means," agreed Haverbeck, affably.

The two men looked at each other with a certain curiosity that for a second overbore their common interest in what they spoke of; they were so different; the little statesman, shrivelled, bent, dainty and precise, with his nice airs and heartless smile, his sharp, unwholesome coloured face, tinged with the acids of ill health, his immense, pale, frizzled peruke, and his handsome, formal clothes hanging limply on his wasted frame, was an odd, a pitiable, object in the eyes of the soldier; Delphicus de Haverbeck, who had eight years before attracted the jaded glance of Madame de Rosny as an extremely handsome youth, was now an extremely handsome man, set off by the parade of a fine uniform, and a generous, noble air, at once amiable and resolute; he gave the impression of one who had his own fortunes admirably in hand and would never ask license or favour from any. Stürm who had kept an easy but continuous watch on him, knew that he stood very well with the Emperor and his Generals, Lorraine, and Baden-Baden, and that he had acquitted himself with brilliant credit against the veteran troops of the Porte in that tedious, anxious, internecine warfare that tore and harried at the frontiers of the Empire.

"I suppose," remarked Stürm, seeming to huddle closer into his handsome clothes, "that you mean to do the best you possibly can for yourself?"

"I know of no one who would admit to less."

Stürm stroked his flaccid visage.

"You sent a Memorial to the Elector on the state of the Army."

"Uselessly. As I imagine."

"It has inflamed the young man to no purpose. Why excite him about what he knows nothing of? His father kept him silly—away from affairs—his idea of fighting is fisticuffs; indeed," added Stürm with an odd smile, "he is very innocent and simple for twenty-one."

"The late Prince was a good soldier," replied Haverbeck, with bold candour, "but lately suffered, under your influence and through a long peace, the Army to be decayed."

"Blame me. Yes, you are right. I do not intend war—why spend money on the Army?"

"The troops I have in Hungary," said Haverbeck, "were far from an honour to Saxony. Lorraine remarked it. To my confusion."

"But you have amended that, eh? I hear you have some admirable soldiers now."

"They have improved. But I cannot prevail against the corruption here. Marshal von Pollnitz is senile, and ruled by a rapacious woman."

"He has, however, one merit," put in Stürm, gently, "he is obedient to all I say."

"I know. Your man. So all is blocked. I have set out the abuses to the Elector, yet with slender expectation of reform. The Council of State is in your hands, too. And the fame of Saxony is cheapened, Count."

"Ah," smiled Stürm, not in the least nettled, "you listen to the chit-cats...the Army is adequate for a peace standing. The Elector won't heed your Memorial."

"It was a matter of conscience to send it."

"You were not thinking of your career as well as the fame of Saxony?" suggested Stürm, slyly.

"Certainly I was thinking of that. I do not care to be set back by the knavery of others, nor thwarted by the dishonest mischief of weaklings and imbecile traffickers in honours and profits."

Haverbeck spoke sternly with a rise of passion in his voice.

"Your tone is not ceremonious," protested Stürm, yet mildly and with insinuation in his voice, "but I have not invited ceremony. I know you are a man of inviolable honour and distinguished energy—vigilant and cautious—a little out of place in these times, but no doubt, General de Haverbeck, you will make your mark. The quickness of your perception will have enabled you to realize that this will scarcely be through me."

"Precisely," replied Haverbeck. "And you, sir, will be aware that I can be involved in no deception or stratagem that is intended on the House of Neitschütz."

The soldier took up his large gauntlets, his cane, and his braided cockaded hat; his pleasant manner verged on contempt. He departed with the least possible ceremony.

"Unshakable, useless," smiled Count Stürm, giving the monkey his finger to bite. "He'll climb on his own path, unaided, eh, Pug?—and probably fall before he reaches the summit." The old man then struck a bell that brought his sombre, quiet secretary; Stürm handed him the letter with the marriage contract of the young Elector.

"Have those articles engrossed and sent off immediately. Have you the report from Strattmann about the brothers Neitschütz?"

"Yes, sir, it is ready for your perusal."

"He has watched them?"

"Yes, sir, and prepared a dossier."

"Very well, I will see Strattmann myself, and intimate to the Baroness von Ilten that I would like a personal interview—not here, I think, but at her own house. And now, hand me the green ledger."

The secretary unlocked a handsome cabinet in cinnabar lacquer, and brought out a thick book bound in green morocco which he put before his master. This contained a list, continually altered and brought up to date, of all the principal men in the Empire, of all the nobility who composed the court at Dresden, and of many of the considerable citizens of that city, together with the names of their wives or mistresses, and notes of the amount of influence these ladies were supposed to enjoy with their husbands or lovers. Count Stürm turned swiftly to the entry—"Major-General Delphicus Secundus Hyacinthus Lüneburg de Haverbeck of the Life Guards—Commanding for the Elector in Hungary." Against this was the note—"Angelica, or Angelique, an actress of the Italian Comedy (Carlotta Drexel, formerly a lace maker at Cassel). He has withdrawn her completely from the stage and keeps her in a small country-house outside Dresden on the Bachnitz Road. Though she appears faithful she has no influence with him whatever; she is very ignorant; she does not accompany him on his campaigns. There is one child aged about four years."

Count Stürm closed the green book and returned it to his secretary. He had learnt nothing that helped him; not because of any passion for another woman had Haverbeck declined to use the means suggested to obtain Magdalena Sibylla von Neitschütz, to whom however the minister continued to believe he was faithfully and deeply attached.

"Eh, well, Pug, we've done our best."

Convinced now that Haverbeck was of no use to him, Count Stürm put him out of his mind; he bore the handsome soldier no malice; he would prefer to have him for a friend rather than an enemy, for he believed that he would be very successful—possibly a great man.

"No doubt Saxony will be too small for his ambitions! but, eh, well, I'm ageing, by the time he is at his zenith my sun will have set, eh, Pug?"

The lean little man grinned, unfolded and read the report of Strattmann, one of his secret service agents, on the two young scions of the House of Neitschütz, the brothers of the dangerous Magdalena Sibylla. He found this very satisfactory. It should be easy to skilfully deal some fatal stroke at this most vulnerable spot; he reflected deliberately yet swiftly on time and circumstance, considered how long he could keep Johann Georg fretting at Moritzburg, how long Neitschütz would be likely to wait for him at Arnsdorf, the possibility of the girl being brought to Dresden, whether it would be wise to detain Haverbeck in Dresden, on the chance that he might again be brought face to face with Magdalena Sibylla von Neitschütz, or whether it would be the greater prudence to arrange for his return to Hungary...Fani von Ilten, who was likely to supply the key to the whole scheme, must be seen at once.

Count Stürm had recently noted that this lady had lately taken into her establishment—the pleasanter name for which was a gambling hell—a woman by the name of Françoise de Rosny—a discredited French noblewoman, who had been for a number of years at Arnsdorf in the capacity of governess to Magdalena Sibylla. It was not to be supposed that she would feel much loyalty to her late employer; Stürm was certain she could be bought, and almost certain that she would have matter worth the buying...this part of the game was apt to soil the fingers, he would move through it swiftly, fastidiously; it was not the first time that he had had to close his nostrils to the odour of the materials that he handled; he did not swerve from his purpose for any ugly details in the way.

Major-General de Haverbeck had left the Residenzschloss with some disturbance of his spirits. He had been aware of the methods of Count Stürm from the first time that he had been brought actually in touch with them. His life of the camp, though outwardly free and frank, had its undercurrent of intrigue, and intrigue not too delicate or savoury; but Haverbeck had never mingled in underhand policies—what he could not take easily and boldly he had forgone. He was convinced in his own mind that Count Stürm was over-anxious, and that the Elector—infatuated as he might be—would never marry the penniless daughter of a ruined subject. He judged that young man to be too vain, too sensitive to ridicule, too mean to venture so great a throw. In brief, Haverbeck did not think well enough of Johann Georg to believe he would put through so princely an action as to marry the woman he loved in the face of the opposition of his ministers and the scorn of his fellow-princes; he thought therefore that the House of Neitschütz would be most hideously baulked of their long-anticipated fortune.

Returned to his own lodging, Haverbeck composed a letter in duplicate, not without some disgust at those to whom he wrote and an uncommon lack of harmony in his own spirits.

My Cousin,

I believe it is necessary to inform you that you would do well to be cautious in your dealings with the woman, Fani von Ilten, and in every way to beware of creating any scandal. I have no knowledge of your circumstance or fancies, but whatever they be I beg you to take this to heart, for your own as well as your father and sister's sake. Believe me to be, my dear Cousin, your devoted, affectionate friend and cousin, Delphicus Lieneburg de Haverbeck.

He addressed these two epistles to Casimir and Clement, and sent them by his sergeant to the depot of the Cuirassiers, to which regiment the two brothers belonged. He was so ignorant of the affairs of the House of Neitschütz as not to guess that his warning came altogether too late, that it would prove of not the slightest significance, and be screwed up and tossed away as an impertinence by the young men he wished to save from a degradation to which they were already too deeply committed.

The spring day hung slackly on the spirits of Haverbeck when he had dispatched his epistles; the blue air about the city was for him empty of delight; he had been arrogantly menaced by Providence; his dearest desire seemed lost, she was withheld from him by all the force of vile, alarmed and powerful passions; and Stürm had allowed him to see that his career in Saxony was destitute of glorious opportunity; Pollnitz, the sick, corrupt ancient Chief of the Army, would retain his post, and he, Haverbeck, might waste in the Hungarian marshes, a General of Cavalry, and no more, indefinitely. Haverbeck did not abate his intentions of a better fortune than this, but he had the fortitude to do a hard thing for one of his temperament—wait, in idleness, on events.