Chapter 1

Count Frederick von Waldberg, who was tried and guillotined at Paris
under the name of Prado, was born at Berlin in 1849 and was named
after King Frederick William IV. of Prussia, who, together with Queen
Elizabeth, was present at the christening and acted as sponsor. This
somewhat exceptional distinction was due to the fact that the child's
father, Count Heinrich von Waldberg, was not only one of the favorite
aides-de-camp generals of his majesty, but had also been a friend and
companion of the monarch from his very boyhood.

Although at the time the general had not yet achieved the great
reputation as a statesman which he subsequently attained, yet he
was already known throughout Europe as an ambassador of rare skill
and diplomacy, and as one of the most influential personages of the
Berlin Court. Married in 1847 to a princess of the reigning house of
Kipper-Deutmolde, a woman of singular beauty, little Frederick was the
first and only offspring of their union. The child was scarcely a year
old when the mother died at Potsdam, after only a few days' illness,
leaving the whole of her fortune in trust for the boy. The general was
inconsolable, and so intense was his grief that for some days it was
feared that his mind would give way. The very kindest sympathy was
displayed by both the king and his consort, the latter in particular
being deeply moved by the motherless condition of little Frederick.
During the next three years the child spent much of his time in her
majesty's private apartments, both at Berlin and Potsdam, and, herself
childless, Queen Elizabeth did her utmost to act the part of a mother
to the pretty curly headed boy.

After four years of widowhood the general became convinced that it was
not “good for man to be alone,” and cast his eyes about him in search
of another wife. Greatly to the disgust of the beauties of the Prussian
capital, who were only too ready to surrender their hands and their
hearts to the high rank and station of Count von Waldberg, his choice
fell on an Italian lady, whose sole recommendation in his eyes was, as
he publicly proclaimed to his friends, that she bore certain traces of
resemblance to his dead princess.

Several children were born of this second marriage, and, as usual in
such cases, poor little Frederick suffered the ordinary fate of a
step-child. The new Countess von Waldberg could not bring herself to
forgive the boy for being the heir to a large fortune, while her own
children had nothing but a meager portion to which they could look
forward. Moreover she was intensely jealous of the marked favor and
interest which both the king and the queen displayed toward their
godson whenever the family came to Berlin. As, however, the general
spent the first ten years of his second marriage at the foreign
capitals to which he was accredited as ambassador, Frederick but
rarely saw his royal friends. His childhood was thoroughly embittered
by the repellent attitude of his step-mother and of his half brothers
and sisters toward him. His father, it is true, was always kind and
affectionate; but engrossed by the cares and duties of his office, he
often allowed whole days to pass without seeing his eldest son, whose
time was wholly spent in the company of servants, grooms, and other
inferiors.

At the age of fifteen he was entered at the School of Cadets at
Brandenburg, and while there was frequently detached to act as page
of honor at the various court functions at Berlin and Potsdam. He was
scarcely eighteen years old when he received his first commission as
ensign in a regiment of the foot-guards, Queen Elizabeth making him a
present of his first sword on the occasion.

Frederick, in receipt of a handsome allowance from the trustees of his
mother's fortune, now entered on a course of the wildest dissipation.
The fame of his exploits on several occasions reached the ears of the
king, who kindly, but firmly, reproved the lad for his conduct, and
urged him to remember what was due to names so honored as those of
his father and his dead mother. Nothing, however, seemed to have any
effect in checking the career of reckless and riotous extravagance
on which he had embarked, and at length, after being subjected to
numerous reprimands and sentences of arrest, he was punished by being
transferred to a line regiment engaged in frontier duty on the Russian
border. His dismay at being thus exiled from the court and capital
to the wilds of Prussian Poland was impossible to describe, and he
bade farewell to his numerous friends of both sexes as if he had been
banished for life to the mines of Siberia. The most painful parting of
all was from a pretty little girl, whom he had taken from behind the
counter of “Louise's” famous flower shop, and installed as his mistress
in elegant apartments near the “Thier Garten.”

Rose Hartmann was a small and captivating blonde, with dark-blue eyes,
fringed with long black lashes. The lovers were at that time in the
honey-moon of their liaison, and while Frederick was sincerely and
deeply attached to the girl, she on her side was chiefly attracted
by the luxuries and pleasures which he had placed within her reach.
Whereas he was almost heart-broken at the idea of leaving her, she
only apprehended in the separation a sudden end to all the advantages
of a life of ease and indulgence and a return to her former obscure
existence. To make a long story short, she played her cards so well
during the last days of the young lieutenant's stay at Berlin, that
on the eve of his departure she induced him to contract a secret
marriage with her. It is needless to add that this was a fatal step,
as far as the future career of Frederick was concerned. But he was
scarcely nineteen years old at the time, and in the hands of a clever
and designing woman several years his senior. Of course, they adopted
every possible measure to prevent their altered relations from becoming
known, for in the first place German officers are prohibited, under
severe penalties, from marrying without having previously obtained
an official authorization from the Minister of War; and secondly,
Frederick was perfectly aware of the intense indignation with which
both his father and the royal family would regard such a terrible
misalliance. Two days after the ceremony Frederick left for his new
garrison, promising Rose that he would make speedy arrangements whereby
she would be enabled to rejoin him.

In due course he arrived at his destination—a dreary-looking village in
the neighborhood of Biala—and was received with considerable coldness
by his new colonel and fellow-officers who did not particularly
relish the notion that their regiment should be regarded as a kind of
penitentiary for offending guardsmen. The commander, in particular,
was a thorough martinet, who looked with extreme disfavor on all the
mannerisms and dandified airs of the young count. Thoroughly out of
sympathy with his uncongenial messmates, Frederick soon began to feel
oppressed by the monotony and solitude of his existence, and repeatedly
urged Rose by letter and telegram to join him. This, however, she
was in no hurry to do, as she naturally preferred the gay life of
the capital, with plenty of money to spend and numerous admirers, to
the dreariness and discomfort of a Polish village in the middle of
winter. At length, however, Frederick's letters grew so pressing that
delay was no longer possible, and she started for Biala with a perfect
mountain of luggage. On her arrival there she was met by her husband,
who was beside himself with joy at seeing her again. Of course, it was
more than ever necessary that their true relationship should remain a
secret, and accordingly Rose took up her residence under an assumed
name at the solitary inn of the village where Frederick was quartered.
Every moment that he could spare from his military duties he spent
with her, and it is scarcely necessary to state that their apparently
questionable relations were soon the talk of the whole place. The
person, however, who felt herself the most aggrieved by the presence
of Rose in the village was the colonel's wife, who was profoundly
indignant that the “woman” of a mere lieutenant should presume to
cover herself with costly furs and wear magnificent diamonds, whereas
she—good lady—was forced to content herself with cloaks lined with
rabbit-skin and a total absence of jewelry. Morning, noon, and night
she assailed her lord and master on the subject, and to such a pitch of
irritation she had brought him by her vituperations that, when at the
end of a week he finally decided to summon Count von Waldberg to his
presence, he was in a frame of mind bordering on frenzy.

“Your conduct, sir, is a scandal and a disgrace to the regiment,” was
the greeting which he offered to the young lieutenant, as the latter
stepped into his room. “You appear to be lost to all sense of decency
and shame.”

Frederick, pale to the very lips, stepped rapidly forward and looked
his chief defiantly in the face, exclaiming as he did so:

“I am at a loss to understand, colonel, in what manner I have merited
such a torrent of abuse.”

“You know perfectly well to what I am alluding,” retorted the colonel.
“How dare you bring that infernal woman to this place, and install her
right under our very nose here at the inn? I don't intend to have any
of these Berlin ways here. If you can't do without her, have the good
taste, at least, to keep her at Biala, where there are houses for women
of that class.”

With almost superhuman efforts to remain calm, the young officer
murmured hoarsely:

“I must insist, sir, on your speaking of the lady——”

“Lady, indeed!” fairly yelled the colonel, who was becoming black in
the face with rage; “that vile——”

As he uttered these words he was felled to the ground by a terrific
blow in the face from Frederick, who exclaimed as he struck him:

“She is my wife, you scoundrel!”