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The Art of Coding
The Language of Drawing,
Graphics, and Animation
The Art of Coding
The Language of Drawing,
Graphics, and Animation

Mohammad Majid al-Rifaie

Anna Ursyn
Theodor Wyeld
Figures 3.30–3.43 © Anna Ursyn
https://www.mixbook.com/photo-books/all/the-rider-of-a-horse-across-media-20240994

First edition published 2020

by CRC Press
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and by CRC Press

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© 2020 by Taylor & Francis Group, LLC

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Reasonable efforts have been made to publish reliable data and information, but the author
and publisher cannot assume responsibility for the validity of all materials or the conse-
quences of their use. The authors and publishers have attempted to trace the copyright
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ISBN: 978-0-367-90037-3 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-138-62964-6 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-21033-9 (ebk)
To our students
Contents

List of Codes xiii

Foreword xv
Preface xvii
Contributors xxi
Authors xxiii
About the Cover xxv

Chapter 1  Introduction 1

1.1 WHO IS THIS BOOK FOR? 1

1.2 CODING: LANGUAGE OR MATHEMATICS? 3
1.3 CODING WITH VISUAL AND VERBAL CUES 4

Chapter 2  Introduction to Coding 7

2.1 A BRIEF HISTORY OF CODING 8

2.2 CHOOSING A PROGRAMMING LANGUAGE 10
2.2.1 Object-oriented programming (OOP) 15
2.3 BASIC CONCEPTS IN CODING 16
2.3.1 Syntax and semantics 16
2.3.2 Assignment statements 17
2.3.3 Sequences 17
2.3.4 Selections 17
2.3.5 Loops 18
2.3.6 Programming languages & computer architecture 19

vii
viii  Contents

2.4 JAVA, SOME BACKGROUND 20

2.4.1 How Java works 21
2.4.2 Attributes and behaviour 22
2.5 INTRODUCTION TO CODING ANIMATION 24
2.5.1 First animation: Expanding Circle 24
2.5.1.1 Basic animation of simple objects 25
2.5.1.2 Class Circle 26
2.5.1.3 Initialisation and configuration 28
2.5.1.4 The animation process 28
2.5.1.5 Further coding 29
2.5.2 Morphing 30
2.5.2.1 Circle 30
2.5.2.2 Triangle 31
2.5.2.3 Square 31
2.5.2.4 Random shape 32
2.5.2.5 Animating the morphing process 32
2.5.2.6 Further coding 36
2.6 AUDIO VISUALISATION 37
2.6.1 Building an audio visualiser 38
2.6.2 Basic audio player 39
2.6.3 Basic line graph generator 41
2.6.4 Basic audio waveform static visualiser 44
2.6.5 Basic audio animated visualiser 51
2.6.6 Basic audio animated visualiser polarised 53
2.7 MULTISENSORY-BASED PERCEPTION & LEARNING 56
2.7.1 Image versus text 62
2.8 MULTISENSORY-BASED CODING 62
2.8.1 The elements of design in art 63
2.8.2 Line 64
2.8.2.1 Project: Meteorological events 65
2.8.3 Texture 65
2.8.4 Pattern 67
2.8.5 Colour and value 67
2.8.5.1 Primary colours in pigment and light 71
2.8.5.2 Project: Drawing an apple 72
 Contents  ix

2.8.6 Space 76
2.8.6.1 Showing space in a 2D drawing 77
2.8.6.2 Perspective in painting 78
2.8.6.3 Cognitive perception by painters 79
2.8.7 The principles of design in art 79
2.8.7.1 Balance 80
2.8.7.2 Emphasis 80
2.8.7.3 Movement 80
2.8.7.4 Composition 81
2.8.7.5 Variety and contrast 82
2.8.7.6 Proportion 83
2.8.7.7 Unity/harmony 83
2.8.7.8 Analysis of artworks 83
2.8.8 Basic art concepts 84
2.8.9 Visual aspects of math, computing, and coding 85

Chapter 3  Coding for Art 87

3.1 INTRODUCTION 88
3.2 CODE ART 89
3.2.1 ASCII art 89
3.2.1.1 A personal account 89
3.2.1.2 Portrait and still life as ASCII art 92
3.2.2 Landscape: A cherry tree 93
3.2.2.1 How does it work? 94
3.2.2.2 The code 94
3.2.2.3 What is ‘this’ ? 95
3.2.3 Project: Map of winds 95
3.2.4 Wind visualisation 96
3.3 ABSTRACT ART 98
3.3.1 Introduction to geometric art with Python 98
3.3.1.1 Downloading and installation 99
3.3.1.2 Launching Python 99
3.3.1.3 Making and saving programs 101
3.3.2 Examples and experiments 101
3.3.2.1 n-pointed star 101
3.3.2.2 Recursive star 103
x  Contents

3.3.3 Adult colouring book series 105

3.3.4 MATLAB: Algorithmic generation of design
patterns 108
3.3.4.1 autoxshapes 110
3.3.4.2 xshapes 110
3.3.4.3 How it works 110
3.3.4.4 Some qualifications 111
3.3.4.5 Under the hood 113
3.3.4.6 Challenges and projects 113
3.3.4.7 Getting the software and using
MATLAB 114
3.3.4.8 Background 115
3.4 3D VISUALISER WITH JAVA 116
3.4.1 Simple wireframe tetrahedron 117
3.4.2 Filled coloured tetrahedron 121
3.4.3 Z-Buffered coloured tetrahedron 124
3.4.4 Cosine shaded tetrahedron 125
3.4.5 From tetrahedron to sphere 127
3.4.6 Changing 3D object to a box 129
3.4.7 Morphing object from spiky tetrahedron to sphere 130
3.4.7.1 Control frame 131
3.4.7.2 3D Object and draw method class 132
3.4.7.3 Canvas class 132
3.5 AUDIO DATA TO DRIVE 3D MORPHING ANIMATION 135
3.5.1 Basic sine wave generator 137
3.5.2 Basic sine wave-driven animation 139
3.5.3 Full audio file-driven animation 146
3.5.3.1 Class files 148
3.6 A FRAMEWORK FOR VISUALISATION OF CODES 152
3.6.1 How to build a computer 152
3.6.2 Projects involving expressive themes 156
3.6.2.1 Coding a horse and a rider, across media 156
3.6.3 Scientific visualisation 158
3.6.4 Programming 3D forms 159
3.6.4.1 Creating characters with feelings 163
3.6.4.2 Storytelling 174
 Contents  xi

Chapter 4  Interactivity and Visualising Inputs:

Mouse, Data, Finger 179

4.1 INPUTS AND OUTPUTS 180

4.2 A PORTRAIT: PERSON WITH A JETPACK 180
4.3 INTERACTIVE WEATHER TREE APPLICATION 182
4.3.1 Basic Tree class 183
4.3.2 Adding some controls 192
4.3.3 Controlling Tree class 200
4.3.4 Connecting to a live feed 203
4.3.5 Connecting to OpenWeather.com 204
4.3.6 Accessing the data from Canvas class 207
4.3.7 Adding rain to our display 212
4.3.8 Driving the Tree class from the weather data 214
4.3.9 Adding features to the control panel 217
4.4 ADDING BLING: USING LEDS WITH ARDUINO 218
4.4.1 Introduction 219
4.4.2 Arduino 219
4.4.3 Downloading and installation 219
4.4.3.1 Electronics basics 220
4.4.4 Arduino programming 222
4.4.4.1 Uploading to Arduino board 225
4.4.5 Wiring LEDs to Arduino 225
4.4.5.1 Wiring and powering circuits 226
4.4.6 Current limiting resistor calculation 231
4.4.7 Controlling multiple LEDs 232
4.4.8 Dimming an LED with pulse width modulation 236
4.4.9 Using randomness 237
4.4.10 Questions you should ask about LEDs 238

Chapter 5  Translation 241

5.1 CODE THE SAME THING IN MANY LANGUAGES 241

5.2 TRANSLATION OF FORTRAN INTO JAVA 242
5.3 IMAGE PROCESSING IN JAVA FROM SCRATCH 245
5.3.1 Digital images in Java 246
5.3.2 Digital image processing 246
xii  Contents

5.3.3 Pattern recognition 247

5.3.4 Computer vision 247
5.3.5 Optical character recognition 247
5.4 BASIC STEPS OF JAVA PROGRAM DEVELOPMENT 248
5.4.1 Java compiler download and installation 248
5.4.2 IDE software download and installation 249
5.4.3 Writing code to develop application 252
5.4.4 Compile and run application 252
5.5 STEPS OF JAVA IMAGE PROCESSING 252
5.5.1 Draw JFrame 253
5.5.2 Read image file 253
5.5.3 Store image file 255
5.5.4 Modify image 258
5.5.5 Save the image file 260
5.5.6 Conclusion 262
5.5.7 Useful links 263

Chapter 6  Conclusions and Educational Propositions 265

6.1 CODING IN CURRICULUM – GRAPHICAL THINKING 266

6.2 RESOURCES 268
6.3 FURTHER READING 269
6.3.1 Books on art and cognition 269
6.3.2 Books on coding for artists 271

References 275

Glossary 281

Index 285
List of Codes

Code 2.1 Hello World! 21

Code 2.2 Range class 22
Code 2.3 Sum and average 23
Code 2.4 ExpandingCircle 24
Code 2.5 Class Circle 26
Code 2.6 Initialising the circles 28
Code 2.7 Animating the circles 29
Code 2.8 Circle 30
Code 2.9 Triangle 31
Code 2.10 Square 31
Code 2.11 Random shape 32
Code 2.12 Morphing 32
Code 2.13 Adding points for a house 35
Code 2.14 Basic audio player 40
Code 2.15 Simple random point line graph 41
Code 2.16 Processing audio 45
Code 2.17 Drawing image 47
Code 2.18 Drawing image, extended 49
Code 2.19 Initialise window 49
Code 2.20 Plot coordinates 54
Code 3.1 Hello World in C++ 91
Code 3.2 Separating lines in C++ 92
Code 3.3 Map of winds 95
Code 3.4 n-pointed star 101
Code 3.5 Recursive star 103
Code 3.6 Tetra wireframe 118
Code 3.7 Bounds of coloured area 121
Code 3.8 Control frame 131
Code 3.9 Canvas class 133

xiii
xiv  List of Codes

Code 3.10 Draw sine wave 138

Code 3.11 Sine wave animation 3D 141
Code 3.12 Redraw 144
Code 3.13 Synch demo 149
Code 3.14 Queue 151
Code 4.1 Person with a jetpack 180
Code 4.2 Background colour 186
Code 4.3 Tree frame 189
Code 4.4 Clock 195
Code 4.5 Canvas 197
Code 4.6 Control frame 199
Code 4.7 Tree 200
Code 4.8 OpenWeather 205
Code 4.9 Initialise control components 209
Code 4.10 Final Canvas class 210
Code 4.11 Rain 213
Code 4.12 Eight LEDs: Light patterns 233
Code 4.13 Cylon eye LED: setup() 235
Code 4.14 Cylon eye LED: loop() and setLEDs() 235
Code 4.15 Fading LED 237
Code 4.16 Candle flickering effect in LED 238
Code 5.1 Surface 242
Code 5.2 Image Processing #1 254
Code 5.3 Image Processing #2 256
Code 5.4 Image Processing #3 258
Code 5.5 Image Processing #4 261
Foreword

Since I can remember, I was always saying that the “code is art”! Coding
activates creative thinking, and as Steve Jobs once said: “Everybody in this
country should learn to program a computer, because it teaches you how to
think ” – and I fully agree with that. You can learn how to use coding for
drawing figures, creating graphics layouts, or going further and assembling
interactive animations – then, if you know how to draw a pixel, you can draw
anything that your creative imagination brings to the table.

In this sense, the book that you have in your hands, The Art of Coding:
The Language of Drawing, Graphics, and Animation, is a very special one.
It consists of lots of complete code examples that will act as a guiding voice,
showing you what is possible using creative thinking – a pure inspiration.
It will teach you how to code animations, create audio visual installations,
build 3D visualisers, morphing create weather tree applications, connect and
interact with embedded electronic systems such as Arduino, or execute various
image processing routines, and, much, much more. This book will allow you to
experiment using guided practice with different programming languages and
data structures such as text, images, animations, use of APIs, sound data, and
music. It will open new horizons and an understanding that coding can be
used in various imaginative and inspirational ways, and that it is accessible to
creative people, and indeed everyone, not only software engineers or computer
science professionals. I strongly encourage you to experiment with various code
examples; even if you break them, in the end, you learn by practice.

This book is written in very positive and inspiring ways, and educates
not only on technological aspects, but also historical facts, art, science, and
engineering. It is written by three experts in the field – educators, artists, and
computer scientists with diverse knowledge and connected across continents.
It is highly recommended to everyone: Artists, scientists, designers, engineers,
educators, managers – whoever you are, you will get inspired by possibilities
of coding after reading this book.

Tomasz Bednarz
Director and Head of Visualisation at the Expanded Perception and Interaction Centre (EPICen-
tre) at the UNSW Art & Design | Visual Analytics Team Leader at the CSIRO Data61 | ACM
SIGGRAPH Asia 2019 Conference Chair | Demoscene Coder | Artist-Scientist.

xv
Preface

here are countless new apps, methods-related solutions, and web solu-
T tions that create opportunities for personal, technological, and materials-
related growth, especially when programming for new startups. This book is
aimed at making programming easier by presenting it in a visual way. The
authors’ intention is to help the reader understand the core programming con-
cepts for art, web, and everyday applications including pervasive, ubiquitous,
and wearable apps. We also discuss how applying pictures, analogies, and
metaphors that refer to familiar sensory faculties helps. Making the program-
ming processes visual helps the reader understand the underlying concepts,
and gain the knowledge needed, faster and easier. This book also addresses
readings in art, science, mathematics, and other subjects, as well as some
broader issues such as multicultural, environmental, and social objectives.

Being able to program requires abstract thinking, math skills, spatial abil-
ity, logical thinking, imagination, and creativity. All these abilities can be
acquired with practice. They can be mastered by practical exposure to art,
music, and literature. In this book, we discuss art, poetry, and other forms
of writing, while pondering difficult concepts in programming. The book dis-
cusses how we use our senses in the process of learning computing and pro-
gramming, as well as how visual and verbal ways of studying these processes
can involve artistic creation. Programming can be seen as a set of concepts
linked by a common framework. The same image can be created with different
computer languages. Each time a different compiler might be used with a dif-
ferent environment set up – with different concepts between each computing
language, its origin, which group of languages it belongs to, its strengths and
weaknesses, and so on. To make this easier, we have focused on visualisation of
the processes as an outcome that serves various creative goals or applications.

Students in programming classes often participate in exercises that prepare

them to master a computer language but not to grasp the aesthetic concepts,
composition of the project, or its conceptual meaning. For example, students
might be asked to perfect their computer science skills by writing a program
for a colourful ball that is bouncing in a closed rectangular area and changing
its colour after each contact with a border. Students produce similar, easy to
assess solutions; they may work on the changing reflections of a background on
the balls, but they are usually not expected to create anything original or new.
The task for the programmer can be solved with various coding strategies.

xvii
xviii  Preface

Many times individual programmers may come to the same solution using
different programs. The final products look the same while the code itself
may vary. Examining the ways various students solve the same assignment
might be one of the best practices in learning how to code. Contrary to these
practices, when confronted with a learning project to be depicted with the use
of programming, students employ their cognitive thinking abilities while they
strengthen their abstract thinking and inventive imaging ability; they write
unique solutions in their programs to create one-of-a-kind computer graphics.

Visual communication goes beyond verbal, and verbal beyond visual. There
are several reasons for combining the forces of the artist, designer, and pro-
grammer. First of all, communication has become more and more visual, espe-
cially on the internet, on the phone, and other portable devices. Traditional
divisions, such as Mac–PC, are lessening in importance because programmers
need to understand and apply a visual language while designers and artists
need to apply technology. Both need to understand coding and stay current
with the opportunities offered by computers. But comprehension of a code
does not always go together with attentiveness to visual characteristics of the
programmed products. This book is aimed at directing readers’ awareness to
a visual way of thinking. Along with a presentation of basic facts and theories,
it presents a series of learning projects that focus on organising concepts and
data into code and creating practical applications for technologically-based
creativity.

Multisensory-based perception is conducive to learning. We can see a ten-

dency to take more senses into consideration when designing projects and
apps. This tendency may be seen in many 3D web, augmented reality (AR)
and virtual reality (VR) projects, holographic productions, fabrication, and
other transitions to physical computing. Within this paradigm, the Apple
Computer Company has developed connectors that cannot be misused: Only
the right connection works. Also icons, symbols, and signs are internationally
recognisable in a fast and efficient way within this set of concepts. However,
symbols are different in specific fields: A letter C means quite another thing
in music, in mathematics, in chemistry, or in C, C++, or C# coding.

Projects and products’ aesthetics should be linked with usability. This may
be applied to the web (the way of delivery), marketing (product promotion),
product design (their functioning), and apps (which relates to all of the above).
In other words, an app should not need any explanation about how it works –
it should be largely intuitive. For these reasons, coding literacy is needed by
everyone. One may say creativity plus coding literacy results in a new kind
of artistic creation. Indeed, many want to become artists who push art to
a new realm by involving coding and technology. This means it is necessary
to learn how to code, and use supporting software applications with coding.
Artworks accepted at some competitive shows and galleries (for example, Ars
 Preface  xix

Electronica) are mostly time-based and interactive, while even stunning static
images are often no longer enough.

The key features that describe this book can be listed as follows:

1. Coding is presented and taught in a visual way.

2. Instruction is focused on the elegance behind coding and the outcome.
3. Stress is put on many types of outcomes and options for coding.
4. Sample codes are provided for the learners, along with the outcomes.
5. Instruction is aimed at strengthening students’ abstract thinking and
creativity.

Functional requirements for coding stimulate technical development. While

coding techniques change, they can assume new meanings, scope, purpose,
and role. First of all, programming becomes interdisciplinary when it serves
projects co-developed by specialists in different disciplines; it may link the
ways of thinking characteristic of these disciplines, methods, and trends –
characteristic of the individual disciplines for which it is serving. Data can
be collected through collaboration; however, distinct shortcuts adopted by
various specialists may cause problems in understanding their code. Moreover,
particular programmers may achieve the same solution by writing different
code. Hence, discussion of a short, elegant program as contrasted with another
robust one may be an interesting way of supporting the students’ learning
process while teaching to code.

This book is about possible choices in creating by coding some two-

dimensional shapes and solid 3D forms that are changeable over time or by
interactivity. This book contains a collection of learning projects for the stu-
dents, instructors, and teachers to select specific themes from. Problems and
projects are aimed at making the learning process entertaining while also
involving social exchange and sharing. An accompanying website hosts the
code and outcomes available to the readers. Learning projects may be useful
for people working in various disciplines and jobs. For this reason, a selected
image may be presented, or reworked in different programs: For example, an
image of a person can be shown as an adult, a warrior, or a mannequin, and
then presented in different media. A large part of the learning projects in this
book is focused on creating natural shapes and forms: For example, a form of
a mushroom might inspire both the builders of ancient Ionian columns and
also designers of umbrellas.

Text and speech involve different senses and also cortex areas in the brain;
therefore, the cognitive processes may be different. We use text to create
communication between a person and a machine. If we write a poem about
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“That has already been done,” he replied authoritatively; “but it is
necessary for affairs of State that my return be not delayed an hour
longer than is absolutely unavoidable.”
Ruperta glanced sharply at the determined, inscrutable face, and
told herself that this early start meant in all probability a longer
journey than that suggested, doubtless one to the Fortress of Krell,
and her whole spirit revolted at this man’s insolent assumption of
power over her liberty. Still, she knew her father’s weakness and his
servant’s strength, and saw no way out of the situation, but one.
The hour had not sped when the Count redeemed his word, and
Ludovic stood before her. Then at last she broke down under the
strain which danger, anxiety, and uncertainty had put upon her; the
brave nature gave way, and she fell sobbing into his arms.
“Darling, darling, I thought, though I dared not confess it, never to
have seen you again.” When she grew calmer she told him all that
had happened. He looked grave, listening with a slight frown when
she spoke of the Count.
“So, I owe this meeting to him,” he said, with a dubious shake of the
head. “It is not natural. I doubt not there is a design beneath it. The
man is as treacherous and pitiless as a leopard: I have had terrible
proof of that. I do not trust him, even with the fear of Rollmar
before him; he has gone too far ever to make his peace with me,
even did his hate and lust for revenge allow him to seek it. Still, the
present moment is ours, dearest. And that is infinitely more than,
many times since we parted, I have dared to hope for.”
He held her in his arms, kissing her as though the delight of that
moment might vanish in the next, and be gone forever. Then
presently he told her in a few words of all that had befallen him
since their separation. And, as he held her there, her heart beating
on his, all her reserve and the lingering trammels of her coldness
flung away as she listened, sometimes with a shudder, the sign of a
fear which he knew was for him, he could find it in his heart to bless
his dangers, with the vindictiveness and treachery, since they had
worked for the stress which had opened this paradise to him.
“Oh, my love, if they had killed you I would have died, too,” she
murmured, with her lips on his. “And I should have gone to my
death contentedly in the thought that Heaven had given me, if only
for one little hour, a lover so loyal, true and brave. Ludovic, my love,
my poor starved heart thanks God for you.”
For an instant the word was at his lips which would have told her his
secret, for, surely, the opportunity was apt. Perhaps it was a feeling
that, in a higher sense, in that atmosphere so fully charged with
tenderness and love, the cold shock of the announcement would be
unfitting; perhaps, too, his sensitive, innate chivalry made him shrink
from taking advantage of that supreme moment. The very certainty
that the stroke must win held him back from making it. Anyhow it
passed, and when rapture allowed him speech it was of a still more
urgent matter, their escape. She told him it was for that she had
risked the message.
“The Baron does not say so, but I know I am destined for Krell. And
once there,” she shuddered, “I may say farewell to my hopes and to
my liberty, except on terms which are now forever impossible.”
He understood, and signified it by a kiss.
“There is no reason, I hope,” he said, “why we should not push on
again for Beroldstein. The longest and worst part of the way has
been travelled, and the end of our journey is now not so far off. With
a couple of hours’ start we could laugh at pursuit, and need not fear
the high roads to-night.”
“Then let us go, dearest,” she urged.
He smiled at the eagerness he loved. “Everything is arranged,” he
replied. “Ompertz is waiting with horses, and will ride with us. I fear,
though, we must leave Countess Minna behind this time. But she is
now safe from this fellow.”
A look of disappointment clouded Ruperta’s face. “Rollmar will visit
my sins on poor Minna’s head.”
“Her penance shall be of short duration, I promise you that,” Ludovic
assured her confidently. “She shall join you in a very few days.
Rollmar is too sensible to take a foolish and futile revenge. Indeed, it
is best; more, it is necessary. We have no horse for her.”
“And Minna hates riding, if you had. Well then, we must leave her. It
is easier now,” she added, with a loving look of confidence.
In a very few minutes preparations for the escape and the journey
were made. Ludovic extinguished the light, and, cautiously opening
the door, crept out, leading the way along the narrow passage, and
down the winding stairs, descending to the outer door by which his
guide had admitted him to the castle. No one was to be seen; the
door was unlocked; they passed out, and crossed an angular court-
yard to a massive stone door set in the outer wall. This, as Ludovic’s
conductor had shown him, was left merely bolted on the inside; at a
strong pull it swung slowly open, and they found themselves in a
passage cut through the rock and leading out into the wood.
Ludovic put his arm round Ruperta to help her along the rough path.
“Now for our faithful Ompertz and the horses,” he said
encouragingly. “He is near at hand. Another hour, dearest, will see
us miles away from this hateful place.”
They were now at the end of the cutting. It was with a delicious
sense of freshness and liberty that Ruperta felt the wind through the
trees blowing on her face. Her lover’s strong arm was round her—in
a few minutes the enemies of her happiness were to be given the
slip. There was just light enough to see the path; a stronger blast of
wind came through the wood, deadening the sound of another rush.
More quickly than they could realize it, they were surrounded by half
a dozen men who had suddenly sprung from their ambush. Before
Ludovic could put his hand to a weapon, he was seized by four
strong fellows, who held his arms firmly, and began to drag him back
to the castle. Ruperta, with all her spirit, was powerless to render
him any help. She herself had been captured by two men who, with
less violence, but equally insistent force, kept her from following.
But the dashing of her hopes, the sickening sense of the Count’s
treachery, made her desperate and reckless. She struggled furiously
with her captors, two tall, evil-looking ruffians who had, however,
evidently had orders to treat her with as much respect as their
object permitted. This was to take her back to the castle by another
entrance; but they found it not so easy. Ruperta resisted vigorously,
then, remembering that Ompertz might be near, she began calling
for help. It was but a faint hope, but, to her joy, she heard an
answering call which was followed by the welcome appearance of
the great dashing swashbuckler, who came through the wood with a
leap and uplifted sword, a very fury to the rescue.
Evidently the men thought so, for it was with no very confident air
that one of them released his hold on Ruperta, and, drawing his
sword, stood before her to keep Ompertz off. A dog might as well
have tried the repel the spring of an attacking lion. With a mighty
sweep his sword was sent flying among the trees, and it was only by
a smart backward spring that he cheated the soldier’s blade of its
second blow.
At the same moment Ruperta found herself free, her other captor
thinking less of his charge than of his skin, which was, indeed, just
then in jeopardy of damage. She quickly told her rescuer what had
happened. He just checked an oath of angry disappointment.
“I told him what to expect,” he said, savagely rueful. “But we both
hoped I might prove a false prophet. Oh,”—he set his teeth
ominously—“oh, for five minutes alone with this precious Count! He
should never tell another lie while I lived, or he.”
Ruperta entreated him to follow her lover and free him. He felt the
urgency of the move, yet hesitated.
“I dare not leave you, Princess, and if we go together”—he gave a
shrug—“I am only one to defend you against this gang of bandits. It
were better to see you into safety first.”
But she would not hear of abandoning Ludovic while there was a
chance of rescue. She too would go back; she had no fear.
Ompertz saw the true courage in her eyes, and no longer opposed
her wish. The two men had skulked away; they were scarcely worth
consideration now. The soldier gave his hand to Ruperta, and, sword
in the other, led her quickly along the passage to the stone door. It
was closed and fast bolted; the men had clearly taken their prisoner
through, and now had him safely lodged. Ompertz gave a kick at the
unyielding barrier.
“No hope of opening that fellow from outside,” he remarked, with a
baffled shake of the head. “And, Highness, let me tell you the sooner
for your sake we get out of this ugly trap the better. We should not
have a chance if these rascals took it into their heads to drop a few
lumps of rock down on ours.”
Although Ruperta had little fear of that awkward contingency, she
recognized the futility of staying there. Her heart was full of
indignation and a terrible anxiety for her lover. But hers was a nature
which rage and fear simply stirred into action; she would never bow
to the inevitable or confess herself beaten.
“Yes. Come back with me quickly,” she said, with sudden resolution.
Ompertz glanced at her and knew that the move was not prompted
by fear, at least for herself. They hurried back along the passage of
rock and into the wood.
“The horses are close by,” Ompertz said, in a tone of doubtful
suggestion.
“That is well; we may want them,” Ruperta replied, and he saw that
she had in her mind a plan of action.
“The Chancellor brought men—soldiers—with him? How many?”
“About eighty.”
“They are near?”
“Hard by, in the forest beyond the valley.”
“That is well,” she said. “I can trust myself to them. I am their
Princess. It is only their leaders who are so vilely treacherous.”
Ompertz looked a little dubious. “If they were all like me, Princess,
you might trust them to the death.”
“And you think I cannot rely upon them to protect me against the
false hearts and lying tongues of the cowards who threaten us? At
least I will try them.”
There was a rustling in the wood, and Count Irromar stood before
them.
 CHAPTER XXVII
AN UNWISE MERCY

“YOU have taken an unfair advantage, Princess, of my willingness to

serve you,” he said, with a dark smile.
“I am again, as I might have expected, the victim of your treachery,”
Ruperta retorted, full of scornful anger.
He made a deprecating gesture. “You must blame me no more now.
The business is out of my hands. The treatment of which you may
complain is not mine. I am no longer a free agent.”
His meaning was as obvious as was its falsehood. Ompertz took a
step forward.
“Free agent or not, Count,” he said bluffly, “I shall make bold to hold
you responsible for the outrage suffered by Lieutenant von Bertheim
at the hands of your men. I was just wishing for an interview with
you.”
The Count was eyeing him full of stern malignity. “And having
chanced upon it, what do you want to say, my fine fellow?” he asked
contemptuously.
The ugly look on the soldier’s face deepened. “Only this,” he
answered threateningly. “That unless you give an instant order for
our friend’s release, this fine fellow will take upon himself to run you
through, and that without delay.”
A streak of moonlight falling through the trees showed a smile of
ineffable scorn on the Count’s strong face. It also glinted on the
barrel of a pistol which he suddenly presented full at the soldier’s
breast.
“Silence, you dog!” he commanded. “You need a lesson in the
manners befitting a lady’s presence. If you speak another word it will
be your last.”
Ruperta sprang between them. “Count, if you harm this man your
life shall pay for it. I swear. I have power that may astonish you
before long. Yes; I will have you hanged if you do not instantly
release the Lieutenant.”
“You are quite mistaken, Princess,” he replied seriously. “The
Lieutenant is not my prisoner.”
“You liar,” she cried, beside herself with indignation at the way he
was playing with her. “You will tell me next he is not in your house,
in your keeping.”
“It is true enough,” he replied coolly. “But I have no power to release
him. Perhaps you have, Highness.”
The sneer was worthy of him; he had come to hate this woman
whom he might not love.
“We shall see,” she returned. “You refuse?”
“I fear I must—even at the risk of the penalty which your Highness
has foreshadowed.”
“Very well, then,” she said. “You shall see how I will keep my word.
Come, Captain.”
She turned to Ompertz and prepared to move away.
“Permit me to escort you back to his Excellency,” Irromar said. “He
charged me to look after you, and my responsibility is strict.”
“Your responsibility!” she echoed scornfully. “Surely, Count, you have
forfeited any claim to that I will never enter your abominable den
again.”
“It is most unfortunate,” he replied, with a somewhat mocking show
of apology, “that I should have to bear the brunt and odium of your
Chancellor’s actions. Surely, Princess,” he continued, as though
urged merely by his innate love of setting his actions in a false light,
“you must be aware that it was a risky thing to attempt to continue
your elopement under the Baron’s very eye; an eye which looks not
too favourably on the Lieutenant’s pretensions. I should certainly
have warned you against any such mad attempt, had I not thought
that your good sense made it unnecessary.”
Ruperta turned from him, disdainfully impatient. “I cannot discuss
the matter with you, Count, especially as I have good reasons for
believing no word you say.”
He gave a shrug. “It is most unfortunate, I must repeat, this
persistence in imagining my ill-will. As for your interest in the
Lieutenant’s welfare, I can only refer you to Baron Rollmar, to whom
it is now my duty to conduct you.”
He advanced to her with outstretched hand. She shrank from him.
Ompertz whispered a word to her as he fell back a pace. These
movements altered the relative positions of the three. Ruperta had
scarcely caught the soldier’s whisper, but she was quick-witted
enough to divine his intention. She suffered Irromar to lay his hand
on her arm. It gave her an excuse for struggling—to make a sudden
clutch at the hand which held the pistol. Simultaneously Ompertz
gave a swift spring, and, as Ruperta’s hold hampered the Count from
turning to meet his attack, seized him from behind and got his arm
tightly round his neck.
Irromar was a very Hercules, but now he was taken at a
disadvantage, and Ompertz was of strength far above the average.
It was a fierce joy to him to find his muscles round that lying throat,
and in a very few seconds he had the Count half-throttled on the
ground. Then the pistol was wrested away, and their enemy lay at
their mercy.
“Now let me put an end to the villain,” Ompertz gasped, as with
fingers gripping the Count’s throat and knee pressing on his chest he
held out his hand for the pistol.
 “Ruperta’s hold hampered the Count from turning to
meet his attack.”
Page 276.
But Ruperta refused. Perhaps the livid, distorted face showed her
too vividly the horror of such a midnight deed, and obscured the
sense of expediency.
“No,” she objected. “We cannot. He must not die here—like this.”
“Then you give Lieutenant von Bertheim’s life for his,” Ompertz
urged, bitterly baulked. “In Heaven’s name, let me put a bullet
through his lying brain, and do a good deed for once.”
But she would not consent. “If he swears on his honour that he will
release the Lieutenant, his life shall be spared,” she said.
Ompertz groaned at the throwing away of this chance. “His honour!
You will repent it if you trust to that,” he said, as he tightened his
grip on the Count’s throat, since he might not shoot him.
But Ruperta saw his intention, and insisted that he should relax his
hold. “You hear, Count?” she said.
“I swear,” he gasped.
“Of course he swears,” growled Ompertz.
For some moments Irromar lay panting; the soldier looking down on
him with a grim hankering that was almost comic. Suddenly, from a
position in which most men would have been helpless, the Count,
who seemed one compact mass of muscle, contrived by a convulsive
effort to throw himself on his side, and a desperate struggle began.
The suddenness of the effort had taken Ompertz by surprise, and so
at some disadvantage. Still, he welcomed the renewed struggle,
since it gave him an excuse for shooting. But once, when he might
have fired with deadly effect, he hesitated through fear of hitting
Ruperta who had seized one of the Count’s arms, and then, when he
did fire, the bullet seemed to take no effect at all. With an
exclamation of disappointment, he dropped the pistol, and set
himself to grapple in deadly earnest with his formidable adversary.
But great as was his strength, it was pitted now against one of the
strongest sets of muscles in Europe. Little by little the Count got the
advantage, he was a skilful wrestler and knew all the tricks of that
art, so that not even Ruperta’s weight hanging on to his arm made
the struggle evenly balanced. Before long he was able to force
Ompertz backwards and, by a dexterous twist, to spring clear of
him. It was only just in time, for Ruperta had taken Ompertz’ sword,
and was only hesitating to use it from fear of striking the wrong man
as they swayed and turned in their desperate encounter.
Now the Count was free. “Quick! the sword!” Ompertz cried, as he
recovered his balance and sprang to her for the weapon. There was
a loud laugh of mockery, and, almost before Ompertz had turned to
rush after him, the Count had disappeared in the darkness. Sword in
hand, the soldier followed as best he could, only to be brought up
very soon by the manifest hopelessness of the pursuit and the fear
of missing the Princess. To her he returned, baffled and fuming.
“I said you would regret it, Highness,” was his reproachful greeting.
She was pale and trembling slightly from the excitement. “It cannot
be helped,” she replied, with a touch of authority. “I am sorry for
your sake, but I could not have the man, whatever his crimes, done
to death like that.”
“He has the devil in him,” Ompertz exclaimed wrathfully. “Now
between him and the Chancellor, who has the infernal touch too, I
fear, you may say good-bye to the chance of getting the Lieutenant
free. And I had my prayer answered and my fingers round that
villain’s throat. It was wicked to fling away the chance.”
“Yes, I am sorry now,” Ruperta agreed, showing not half the intense
regret she felt. “But I am not going to submit myself tamely as a
victim to these outrages and false dealings. I am going to
Beroldstein.”
“You, Princess? To Beroldstein?”
“Alone,” she answered resolutely. “I will appeal to the King of Drax-
Beroldstein, since the Duke of Waldavia, my own father, cannot help
me.”
“But the King of Drax-Beroldstein,” Ompertz objected, “is not
Ludovic, but Ferdinand.”
“So much the better,” she returned. “It makes my task less
disagreeable and scarcely more doubtful.”
He recognized the hideous complications which made her plan so
hopeless, yet he saw no sufficient reason for breaking his pledge of
secrecy. After all, Ludovic’s release was the great thing to try for; in
the interests of that, the less known of his identity the better.
“I may go with you, Princess? The horses——”
“No,” she replied. “I should like your escort, but cannot take you
hence. It will be something for me to know that one trusty heart is
left near Ludovic. But I fear. What can you do for my Ludovic against
those cruel villains, the Count and Rollmar?” She turned away in an
access of heart-chilling despair, then next moment had recovered
herself.
“Come, let us not lose another instant,” she said resolutely. “You
must find me an escort among the soldiers. Surely there are some
who will run this risk for their Princess, for any woman, indeed, who
is in such a dire strait as I.”
He told her of certain good fellows there whose acquaintance he had
made in the guard-room, and who, he was sure, would be ready to
risk their lives in this service for her.
“If all goes well, they shall not be losers for standing by me in my
extremity. At least they are human; Rollmar is a fiend.”
They came to the three horses—bitter suggestion of their failure—
mounted, and made their way towards the spot where the men were
encamped. Ompertz’s thoughts were divided between admiration for
this courageous girl and sadness at the thought of how small was
her chance of success.
But the affair, he told himself, was too difficult for his poor brain; he
could see no light through the darkness; only hope that chance,
after leaving them so terribly in the lurch, might once again stand
their friend and accomplish what seemed beyond the scope of every
imaginable plan.
By a difficult path they arrived presently, after many a hindrance
from wood and rock, within a stone’s throw of where the troops lay
encamped. Leaving Ruperta in a place of safety, or, at least, in
concealment, Ompertz went forward to find his men for the purpose.
Half an hour later he, with many misgivings, had taken leave of the
Princess who, with an escort of three stout fellows, started off
through the forest to strike the nearest point of the main road to
Beroldstein. Ruperta had supplemented Ompertz’s explanation by an
appeal to the men to stand by her in her distress. She knew, she
said, the risk her escort would be running; how those who guarded
her flight would do so at the peril of their lives, and she would
accept no service that, with this knowledge, was not freely given.
But Ompertz, a shrewd judge of, at any rate, certain characters, had
made no mistake in choosing the men. Their records were not,
perhaps, of the best repute, but they were three staunch dare-
devils, who would think no more of giving up their prospects and
lives at a word from the Princess than of passing their mug of beer
to a thirsty comrade. They had instantly and heartily sworn to see
her through her long ride, or give their lives in her service, and she
felt she need have no fear of their failing her. So they set off.
The first part of the journey was slow and difficult enough; however,
one of the men knew the country and was confident that they could
not lose their way. Nevertheless, the darkness of the forest
hampered their progress, but, with the dawn, the track, too, grew
lighter as the party emerged upon a hilly stretch of heath.
“We are now but a mile from the great road,” said the man who
knew the way.
They could push on now at a smart pace; time, Ruperta felt, was
everything, and all through the long hours of darkness her
impatience had been torture. It was not many minutes before the
broad coach-road came in sight beyond a belt of woodland which
fringed it. Just before they reached it, hastening over the grassy
road, one of the men, who was riding a few paces ahead, held up a
warning hand.
As they reined up, the ring of horses’ hoofs fell upon their ears. The
man quickly threw himself from the saddle and crept forward to the
corner whence he could get a view of the road. Next instant he
came rushing back, motioning them to turn aside among the trees.
“Horsemen coming fast! Quick! They may be after Her Highness.
Quick, under the trees!”
They had scarcely taken cover, when the other party rode by at a
quick pace. Four men, with a fifth at their head, riding in haste and
looking neither to the right nor left. The figure of the leader was
unmistakable.
“It is Count Irromar,” Ruperta exclaimed under her breath. “In
pursuit of me.”
She was wrong. It was the Count, but he was not in search of her.
He was riding post-haste to Beroldstein on business of his own.
 CHAPTER XXVIII
AT THE USURPER’S COURT

IT was with considerable surprise that King Ferdinand of Drax-

Beroldstein, as yet scarcely settled comfortably into his snatched
dignity, heard that the notorious law-defier and outlaw, Count
Irromar, was at the palace, asking for a private audience on business
of the utmost importance. Had the King been a strong man, or one
who felt his position unassailable, he would probably have handed
the noble brigand over to his officers of justice, congratulating
himself on getting the most troublesome and dangerous of his
subjects so cheaply in his power. But Ferdinand was neither. He was
a weak man who had been unable to resist the chance, urged upon
him by designing favourites, to seize a crown which for the moment
seemed to be left without a wearer, and, having put it on his head,
was now trembling inwardly at his own temerity. He could afford to
despise no man, and his only strength came not from within, but
was forced on him by circumstances from without. It was almost a
weak man’s strength of desperation; no one can be so strong by fits
and starts as your thoroughly feeble character who dare not show
his weakness.
Then there was the haunting mystery of Ludwig’s disappearance. At
every waking moment, Ferdinand told himself that his cousin was
surely dead, but in his dreams, he was alive and seeking retribution.
In spite of the assurances of all his friends and flatterers, Ferdinand
found himself doubting every one, from his ministers to the soldiery.
He dreaded to read in every new-comer’s face the solution of the
mystery, the end of his day. Still, he had cast his die, the boats were
burned behind him—foolishly, he told himself, since he might, by
constituting himself regent, have grasped the power clean-handed—
and now, as it was, there seemed nothing for it but to assume a
resolution which he had not, and to keep by force what treachery
had won. It had all seemed so easy and desirable, this pursuit of
power, this scheming for a throne, in the days of preparation; when
suddenly the coup had to be made, and responsibility to be
assumed, it was not so pleasant.
Doubtless it was a shrewd knowledge of the usurper’s character that
gave Irromar confidence to put his head into the lion’s mouth. At the
same time, he was well armed, both for attack and defence, with the
knowledge he held.
On receiving the somewhat astounding message, Ferdinand
hesitated. His first impulse was that of the bully; to order the arrest
of this formidable outlaw. Then his chronic feeling of insecurity
prompted him to hear what the visitor had to communicate. Such a
man had not come boldly there without good reason, and he could
easily be arrested after the interview. Accordingly, he gave orders for
a guard to be in readiness and for the Count to be admitted to an
audience.
With an affectation of homage which scarcely concealed his bold
confidence, Irromar entered the royal presence, and, having bowed
low, stood before the Usurper in the easy fearlessness of conscious
power. Ferdinand had a set frown on his sharp, gambler’s face; he
might as well have thought to melt a rock by frowning at it, as
thereby to intimidate the strong, reckless nature confronting him.
Perhaps he felt this, as, with an effort at self-assertion, he bid the
Count say what had brought him thither.
“I have come on a matter which is for your Majesty’s ear alone,” was
the sturdy reply.
Ferdinand affected to hesitate, then motioned his curious circle to a
distance. “Now speak out, Count, and briefly.”
But Irromar dropped his strong vibrating voice almost to a whisper,
as he bent forward to the King. “It is of your Majesty’s cousin, Prince
Ludwig, that I have come here to speak!”
He watched closely the effect of his words, and saw nothing but a
curious, indefinable expression flash across his hearer’s face. But it
was enough. And although Ferdinand’s next remark was made in a
tone of studied indifference, Count Irromar knew that the hit was
more than a touch.
“Well? You know, perhaps, what has become of him? His fate?”
Irromar bowed assent. “He is at this moment in my power: a
prisoner in my castle in the Teufelswald.”
If the news gave Ferdinand an uncomfortable thrill, he did not show
it. The pale face, with its stiff yellow moustache and beard,
remained impassive. Only, in the eyes there was a light of fierce
concern. Perhaps, after all, the knowledge that one phase of his
uncertainty was at an end came as a relief to him.
“Well?” Ferdinand had now to use his cunning; he would let
suggestions come from the other side.
“I thought,” the Count answered readily, “that the information might
be of vital interest to your Majesty.”
“In what way, Count?”
“It is not for me to dictate the use your Majesty should make of it.”
His guard was good; it would have to be drawn out and weakened.
“And yet I dare be sworn,” Ferdinand returned, with his cunning
smile, “that you had a use for it in your mind, or you would hardly
have ventured hither.”
Irromar understood the invitation. “Perhaps, sire, a use which may
be to the advantage of both of us,” he replied coolly.
Ferdinand was leaning sideways in his chair, with his hand playing at
his sparse beard; it was a demeanour of sly reserve. “We should like
to have your views, Count, as to this double advantage,” he said.
“Certainly, sire,” Irromar replied, playing his part with every outward
sign of deference. “You will, perhaps, graciously pardon me if I
express them too bluntly; but the position and opportunity are
critical, and plain speaking fits them best.”
Ferdinand gave a quick, impatient nod of authority, and the Count
proceeded.
“The Prince, is, as I have said, my prisoner, secretly hidden away
where no man, unless I choose, can ever find him. He fell into my
hands by an accident, and the fact is practically a secret which need
never be known, save to those whose interest would be to ignore it.
To all intents, he is dead and buried. It is for your Majesty to say
whether he shall ever come to life again.”
He paused. “Go on,” Ferdinand said curtly.
“As to your Majesty’s interest and wishes in the matter,” Irromar
continued, in the same tone of guarded deference, which yet
seemed to mock as it flattered, “I do not presume to make a
suggestion, or anticipate what may be in your Majesty’s mind. All
that I wish to put forward is my hearty willingness to serve you, sire,
in this matter. And, that you may trust me.”
Ferdinand, revolving keenly the crisis, smiled with a purposeful scorn
which hid the inner working of his mind. “Confidence in Count
Irromar is a somewhat unreasonable demand, methinks,” he
observed.
“Without a guarantee, yes?” was the ready rejoinder. “It suggests
the second and minor advantage of the situation; that which affects
my poor self.”
“Ah?” Ferdinand was indifferently curious. Perhaps he felt he could, if
expedient, secure that guarantee without the Count’s active co-
operation.
“The very disrepute of my antecedents,” Irromar went on, with the
confidence arising from a strong position, “is, although it naturally
appears to the contrary, the very guarantee for my liberty. Your
Majesty is justly incredulous; but let me explain away the apparent
absurdity. In a word, I am sick of my present outlawry, legal and
moral. My one great desire is to rehabilitate myself, to take up once
more the position to which I was born, and which, in my hot-headed
madness, I chose to throw away. There is but one hand from which I
can hope to receive back what I have squandered, the good name,
the noble position; but one countenance to which I can look for
pardon and favour. If once that hand is held out, that countenance
turned favourably towards me, am I likely to reject that royal
generosity and return to my dog’s life? Now, sire, have I made my
meaning plain?”
“You have—quite plain,” Ferdinand answered. Then he paused, his
manner seeming to command silence on the other’s part as well.
Once or twice he glanced sharply at the Count’s face, that strong,
keenly determined face. He was scheming rapidly, vaguely,
uncomfortably. The crisis for which he had been preparing himself
was, now that it had suddenly arisen, rather more than he could
confidently meet. And his discomposure was due less to the urgency
of the situation than to the manner of its announcement, and, above
all, to the man who set it so boldly before him. For during the whole
interview he had been oppressed and irritated by the sense of his
inferiority to the Count, an inferiority none the less galling in that it
was of evil; such better qualities as they may have possessed did not
enter into the question. This man’s personality and character were
dominant; their owner looked down from a higher plane of evil upon
the weak tool of political intriguers, seated uneasily on his stolen
throne.
But, apart from purely personal considerations, the manifest
superiority forced this question upon Ferdinand. Would it be wise for
him to put himself in the power of this resolute, cunning spirit? The
Count’s argument was plausible enough, but what deep scheme
might not lurk behind it? Had Irromar shown himself a weaker man,
Ferdinand would probably have employed him to put his awkward
cousin out of the way, and then taken the obvious means of securing
his ever-lasting silence. But, somehow, as he looked at his visitor
and mentally gauged him, he could not see in him an easy victim.
Still, for the moment, power was on the King’s side, only he must,
indeed, be careful how he let it slip away. At any rate, the matter
was too difficult for an off-hand decision; he would take counsel with
a more astute mind than his own; as it was, he and this master-spirit
were unevenly matched. And in the meantime he would gratify and
avenge his wounded vanity by showing his power.
So, with a deepening frown, he at length broke the tense pause.
“You are a bold man, Count, to come here and make this proposition
to us. For what may have prompted you to this temerity, the wild life
you have led may, perhaps, be responsible.”
Both men gave a smile, and the Count’s produced the effect which
the King’s vainly intended.
“Nobody,” Ferdinand continued, “but yourself would have conceived
so bold a step. No one in any but our position would have seemed to
invite it.”
“Your Majesty will hardly blame me for seizing a chance so
momentous to both,” Irromar returned, bluffly.
“At least,” Ferdinand replied, guardedly, “we cannot blame you for
hastening to impart to us news so important. That may weigh with
us in the view we shall take in our judgment of you.”
The Count was quick enough to see the line Ferdinand was taking,
and, with the impetuosity of a strong, impatient nature, he set about
brushing aside the barrier of shuffling behind which the King was
entrenching himself.
“There is scarcely time or room for the question of judgment to
come in, sire,” he said, emphatically. “I am a man of action,
accustomed to go straightway to the point at issue. This matter
clearly admits of no temporizing. Your Majesty’s judgment of me is
at the moment of little consequence. My all-important quality is that
I am the jailer of the one person in the world whose condition must
supremely affect your Majesty’s welfare.”
“That,” replied Ferdinand, with a purposeful show of scorn, “is a
matter upon which we do not invite your opinion. The King of Drax-
Beroldstein must not be dictated to by the outlaw of the
Teufelswald.”
The Count flushed purple. “The King——,” he began hotly, then
checked the words at his lips. Doubtless he saw Ferdinand’s object in
provoking him, and resolved to meet him at his own game. “I should
be the last man to presume to usurp the functions of your Majesty’s
advisers,” he said, with a significant smile, “or interfere, unbidden,
with aught that concerns you. I fear that already, in my zeal, I may
have been guilty of officiousness. Is it, then, your pleasure, sire, that
I set Prince Ludwig free?”
Ferdinand had settled his course, and, that once accomplished, could
keep to it firmly enough. “That,” he answered, with an assumption of
dignity, “is a question for our advisers. It is not to be determined in a
moment, certainly not at the suggestion of Count Irromar. We are
not unmindful of your zeal, Count, and shall take it into
consideration in dealing with you. But for the moment we must, as
you will understand, at least make a show of doing our duty. You
have set our laws at defiance, you have been the very scourge of a
wide district of our kingdom. You”—and here a peculiar sneering
smile spread over his face—“you, who have taken upon yourself so
boldly to advise us, will recognize that we cannot afford to reward
your long list of black deeds with immediate tokens of our favour. It
would raise an easy and hideous suspicion. It would at once brand
us as our cousin’s murderer. No! Policy of State must stand before all
things, and that policy demands your arrest.”
All through the speech Irromar’s face had been growing darker, and
at the last word he made a swift gesture of rage.
“Arrest? Your Majesty is joking!”
It was all he could say, but there was clearly no jest in Ferdinand’s
crafty face as he signed to the group that, in scarcely veiled
curiosity, stood apart. He had given his orders, and the men were
ready. At a word from an alert official, Count Irromar, inwardly
raging, and frowning threats, found himself surrounded and a
prisoner.
“Your Majesty,” he cried darkly, “will do well to consider this step you
are taking.”
Ferdinand waved his hand with a gesture of dismissal. “We will see
you again, Count; you understand?” he said significantly, as he rose
and walked away.
 CHAPTER XXIX
FERDINAND’S SECOND VISITOR

THE man to whom Ferdinand turned in his perplexity was one Eugen
Morvan. It was he who had practically set him on the throne, since
he had been the instigator of the course of intrigue which had
rendered possible the coup by which the crown had been seized. A
fat, sensual looking man of five and forty, one who, to the Church’s
certain advantage, had stopped just short of becoming a priest, and,
having thrown aside his deacon’s cassock, had, by devious paths,
found his way to the Court, there, by luck, assurance, an easy-going
philosophy and assiduous flattery, to attach himself to the person
and fortunes of the Prince who stood next but one to the throne.
That his patron should be so nearly a power, and yet be none, was
of itself enough to make it certain that the intriguing, insinuating
spirit at his elbow would never rest from prompting him to amend
the accident of birth. And when the idea had been accepted and the
scheme launched, Morvan had proved that his lazy, self-indulgent
exterior masked a spirit of daring conception and resource. He was
ambitious, too, from, of course, the most material of worldly
considerations. He had a bad man’s lust for power; power for evil,
for selfish ends, for the gratification of every whim, from revenge to
appetite. To have attempted to attach himself to Ludwig would have
been absolutely futile. Bad men are keenly sensitive to their affinities
and their antipathies. Ludwig would never have looked at that
unctuous, knavish face but to order it from his court. Morvan knew
that well, and hated him accordingly. Besides, to the rightful heir to
the throne he could have been of no possible use. There could be no
call there for the intriguing arts by which he sought to make himself
indispensable. But when once he had Ferdinand committed to the
scheme of usurpation—which, by an unlooked-for piece of luck,
Ludwig’s mysterious absence so strangely favoured—that Prince was
in his power; bound to him body and soul. Ferdinand dared not go
back when the evil genius at his side urged him forward, and the
result had indeed justified the confidence of the daring pilot who had
seized the helm of his fortune.
“He is found.”
Morvan had guessed it already. “I was sure of it, sire. Nothing else
could have brought that ruffian to Court.”
Briefly, not without a sign of agitation, Ferdinand told what he had
heard. It was the way of his shrewd adviser never to make light of
dangers, however insignificant, lest he should lose the credit of
surmounting them. So his face was grave as he listened.
“So the crisis has come at last,” he observed, with an air of
confidence in his ability to meet it. “The time for final action has
arrived. It is well. You have acted wisely, sire, in caging the wild
beast. What is to be the next move?”
Morvan was far too shrewd to force his advice gratuitously upon his
patron, knowing if he held back his counsel it would be surely
demanded. And when he gave it, it was cleverly done with an air of
merely amplifying his master’s suggestions and putting them into
practical shape.
“It is on that,” Ferdinand answered, “that I must have your advice.
We must tread warily now.”
“Your Majesty’s first steps have been cautious to admiration,” Morvan
returned, with what seemed a half sneering laugh in his eye. “Yes.
We have the game in hand, so far. We must be careful not to throw
away the advantage.”
“We can hardly employ this desperado to put him out of the way,
and recognise the service by receiving him at our Court.”
The speech was tentative; Morvan, though he so understood it,
tactfully ignored the tone.
“Your Majesty has rightly seen that course would be preposterous,”
he replied craftily. “Happily, there is no need for it. Yes; it would
indeed be a false step to put yourself in the power of that
unprincipled bravo. You would never be safe for an hour. But we—
that is, your Majesty’s position is strong enough without running
such a monstrous risk. The Ministers are yours, the Court is yours,
the army is yours, and I make bold to assert from positive
knowledge, from trusty reports, that the people are yours. What,
then, is left for Ludwig, supposing, as is scarcely probable, that he
has not already fallen a victim to that wolf’s fangs?”
“But, if not, he is still to be feared.”
Morvan’s look was darkly significant. “It will be our fault if ever he is
in a position to trouble us.”
Ferdinand’s cunning eyes met the other’s responsively. “Then what
better means could we employ than this discredited outlaw; the
most natural and irresponsible instrument——?”
“And the most dangerous,” Morvan put in, pursing his lips and
shaking his head. “Say we give him a free hand, and dangle royal
favour before him. We should attach to the Court a restless,
scheming, ambitious spirit, the utterly unscrupulous holder of a
dangerous secret, and, above all, a man of whom the constant sight
would be hateful to your Majesty. And to attempt to put him out of
sight would be full of risk. No! For butcher’s work, one must live the
life of a butcher. Blood is no sure cement for keeping on a crown.
We have no Rollmar here, and so may well abjure his methods.”
“Our scheme and victory have so far been bloodless,” said Ferdinand
meditatively.
“Long may they remain so,” replied his counsellor, heartily. “No, sire,
I have a better plan than this brigand’s.”
“Ah, yes?”
“If, as we believe, the people are with you it is because you have
gained a popularity which the absent one has forfeited. The greater
fool he. Ludwig has got himself into an awkward corner; we know
nothing of that. Let him extricate himself from the tiger’s den as best
he can. It will be certainly difficult, perhaps impossible, if report
speaks truly of the Teufelswald tiger’s methods. It might, perhaps,
even be politic to send, not too soon, a small expedition to his
rescue. It will look generous, and the mob loves generosity—in
others—much as it disrelishes the quality inside its own skin. Who
knows? Supposing our dear cousin should be rescued alive; he is
Quixotic; terms may be made; at worst the expedition can do your
Majesty no harm. But if the whisper of foul play should spread, as it
would like wildfire, I would not wager on the crown being on your
head that day week.”
Ferdinand had brightened as he listened; doubtless he was relieved
at the necessity for blood-guiltiness being set aside. And he felt that
the alternative plan was shrewd, too.
“My dear Eugen, you are wonderful,” he exclaimed, fervently. “Yes;
we will follow your advice. Ludwig is scarcely in a position to be
formidable, and it will be our fault if we let him become so. And in
the meantime, we keep the Count where his knowledge cannot leak
out?”
A look came over Morvan’s face which showed that the mild course
he had advised did not altogether spring from his character. “It
might be well,” he said, with a touch of brutal significance, “to shut
his mouth for ever. Anyhow, having caught and caged the ferocious
brute, it would be madness to let him out again. And—yes, his life is
many times forfeit. He may as well pay the penalty. No harm in that.
It would be a popular stroke.”
As the Count’s fate was thus shortly decided, a second and even yet
more extraordinary message than that which had announced him
was brought to the King. No less a person than the Princess Ruperta
of Waldavia had arrived at the Palace and was urgently asking an
audience. After the first sense of astonishment, Ferdinand came
shrewdly to connect this visit with his cousin’s fate, though the
relation was not easy to see. Morvan was of the same opinion, as, at
the King’s invitation, he accompanied him to the room where the
interview was to take place.
To Ruperta the first anxious glance at the two men was
unprepossessing enough. It was, however, no time to be influenced
by impressions. The desperate chance of saving her lover filled her
thoughts, as, raising herself from a suppliant’s obeisance, she stood
in her splendid beauty before Ferdinand. He, looking at her with
eyes which could see nothing else, spoke a few words of gracious
welcome, and inquired to what he owed the honour of her visit and
how he could serve her, while Morvan’s dark, unfathomable gaze
was unnoticed, as he stood speculating how this turn might be or
not be to his advantage.
The story was soon told; it was already known to its hearers, but it
was Morvan who was the quicker to comprehend that the teller was
unaware of her lover’s real name and rank. It was astounding, for a
while almost incredible, but it gradually forced itself upon his
conviction. Ferdinand was puzzled, and a trifle less quick at divining
the truth; he once had on his tongue the words which would have
opened her eyes, but his confidant, alertly on the watch, interposed
so significantly that he suddenly understood.
“It is to your Majesty that in my extremity I have turned,” poor
Ruperta pleaded, perhaps with failing hope, as she looked at the
usurper’s face with its utter absence of magnanimity. “There is no
help or hope for me in my own land. If my father would befriend us,
Rollmar would not let him; for the servant, I shame to speak it,
though it is well known, is more powerful than his master. He hates
me, and has marked down for death the man I love; it is the fate of
all who cross his path.”
“He designed your hand, Princess, for our cousin Ludwig, unhappily
lost or dead, did he not?” Ferdinand observed, disguising the object
of his question under an appearance of sympathetic interest.
“It was,” she replied, “his abominable disregard for my happiness
that drove me from my home. It was that also, I imagine, that made
Prince Ludwig a wanderer, since he seems to detest this scheme of
Rollmar’s as much as I.”
“Then, Princess, you have no idea as to what became of poor
Ludwig; whether he be living or dead? You have never seen him?”
Ferdinand asked, in simulated concern.
“I have never seen Prince Ludwig. He has taken care of that,” she
answered, with a trace of bitterness. “He need not have feared,” she
added proudly. “There was no need to efface himself from human
knowledge. But perhaps, if he imagined me so poor a thing as to be
a puppet in Rollmar’s hands, he was right to run any risk to avoid
me.”
“He knows not what he has missed,” said Ferdinand, with greedy
admiration. “Happily, perhaps, he will never know it now.”
“He is dead?” she asked, with womanly regret.
“There is little doubt of it.”
“And the man on whose account I have come to plead with you?”
she urged. “The subject and soldier of your Majesty, who has braved
Rollmar and faced more than once the death prepared for him; you
will not let him die?”
The covetous eyes were feasting on her beauty, flushed as it was
with the eagerness of entreaty. He roused himself from his
preoccupation of contemplating her face to answer her words.
“Not if we can help it. But, you know, Princess, that Count Irromar is
no easy man to deal with.”
“That is true. Yet surely the King of Beroldstein is stronger than he?”
“Let us hope so,” he said mechanically, as he followed out Ludovic’s
stratagem and its reason.
“You say Rollmar is already there with a force?” Morvan put in. “And
he could not help you?”
“To rescue the man whose death he constantly seeks? Scarcely. It is
from him that I have fled.”
“From Rollmar?”
“He has designs upon my liberty. Perhaps—who knows?—upon my
life, too, rather than that I should bring his scheme to naught.”
“And so,” Ferdinand said, eagerly, “you have come to me for
protection as well. It will be no less a pleasure than an honour to me
to afford you an asylum, my Princess, though in so doing I provoke
the ill-will of a powerful neighbour and put myself at issue with the
most pitiless spirit in Europe. You have appealed to my chivalry,
cousin; you have claimed my protection and help; I lay them all, and
myself, at your feet.”
He advanced, and with an excess of gallantry, bent low and kissed
her hand. It seemed as though his touch chilled her; perhaps she
felt instinctively that he was false; knew, woman-like, that her cause
appealed to him less than her beauty. But in her desperate
eagerness, she could not stay to weigh that. It was enough for the
moment that she could compel his interest.
“Every hour,” she urged, as his lips touched her hand, “every
moment is precious, since this brave life hangs on it. I know how
unreasonable is my request, but my joy would be great in proportion
if your Majesty would speak the word of rescue.”
“We will take measures at once,” Ferdinand assured her, with a show
of alacrity. But he seemed as though he could not take his eyes from
her; a poor guarantee that he would exert himself in her lover’s
interest. Morvan, watching him, read his mind, and laughed to
himself.
It was quickly arranged that Ruperta should be lodged at the house
of one of the principal ladies of the Court, and thither she was
escorted with the respect due to her rank, Ferdinand, as he took his
leave of her, reiterating the assurance of his readiness to serve her,
which was so far from his intention.