{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_6921/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_6921","id":"gutenberg_6921","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6921","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Religious fiction"],"text":"Produced by Charles Adarondo and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTEMPORAL POWER\n\nA STUDY IN SUPREMACY\n\nBy Marie Corelli\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nI. THE KING\u2019S PLEASAUNCE\n\nII. MAJESTY CONSIDERS AND RESOLVES\n\nIII. A NATION OR A CHURCH?\n\nIV. SEALED ORDERS\n\nV. \u201cIF I LOVED YOU!\u201d\n\nVI. SERGIUS THORD\n\nVII. THE IDEALISTS\n\nVIII. THE KING\u2019S DOUBLE\n\nIX. THE PREMIER\u2019S SIGNET\n\nX. THE ISLANDS\n\nXI. \u201cGLORIA--IN EXCELSIS!\u201d\n\nXII. A SEA PRINCESS\n\nXIII. SECRET SERVICE\n\nXIV. THE KING\u2019S VETO\n\nXV. \u201cMORGANATIC\u201d OR--?\n\nXVI. THE PROFESSOR ADVISES\n\nXVII. AN \u201cHONOURABLE\u201d STATESMAN\n\nXVIII. ROYAL LOVERS\n\nXIX. OF THE CORRUPTION OF THE STATE\n\nXX. THE SCORN OF KINGS\n\nXXI. AN INVITATION TO COURT\n\nXXII. A FAIR DEBUTANTE\n\nXXIII. THE KING\u2019S DEFENDER\n\nXXIV. A WOMAN\u2019S REASON\n\nXXV. \u201cI SAY--\u2018ROME\u2019!\u201d\n\nXXVI. \u201cONE WAY--ONE WOMAN!\u201d\n\nXXVII. THE SONG OF FREEDOM\n\nXXVIII. \u201cFATE GIVES--THE KING!\u201d\n\nXXIX. THE COMRADE OF HIS FOES\n\nXXX. KING AND SOCIALIST\n\nXXXI. A VOTE FOR LOVE\n\nXXXII. BETWEEN TWO PASSIONS\n\nXXXIII. SAILING TO THE INFINITE\n\nXXXIV. ABDICATION\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE KING\u2019S PLEASAUNCE\n\n\n\u201cIn the beginning,\u201d so we are told, \u201cGod made the heavens and the\nearth.\u201d\n\nThe statement is simple and terse; it is evidently intended to be wholly\ncomprehensive. Its decisive, almost abrupt tone would seem to forbid\neither question or argument. The old-world narrator of the sublime event\nthus briefly chronicled was a poet of no mean quality, though moved by\nthe natural conceit of man to give undue importance to the earth as his\nown particular habitation. The perfect confidence with which he explains\n\u2018God\u2019 as making \u2018two great lights, the greater light to rule the day,\nthe lesser light to rule the night,\u2019 is touching to the verge of pathos;\nand the additional remark which he throws in, as it were casually,--\u2018He\nmade the stars also,\u2019 cannot but move us to admiration. How childlike\nthe simplicity of the soul which could so venture to deal with the\ninexplicable and tremendous problem of the Universe! How self-centred\nand sure the faith which could so arrange the work of Infinite and\nEternal forces to suit its own limited intelligence! It is easy and\nnatural to believe that \u2018God,\u2019 or an everlasting Power of Goodness and\nBeauty called by that name, \u2018created the heavens and the earth,\u2019 but one\nis often tempted to think that an altogether different and rival element\nmust have been concerned in the making of Man. For the heavens and the\nearth are harmonious; man is a discord. And not only is he a discord in\nhimself, but he takes pleasure in producing and multiplying discords.\nOften, with the least possible amount of education, and on the slightest\nprovocation, he mentally sets Himself, and his trivial personal opinion\non religion, morals, and government, in direct opposition to the\nimmutable laws of the Universe, and the attitude he assumes towards the\nmysterious Cause and Original Source of Life is nearly always one of\nthree things; contradiction, negation, or defiance. From the first to\nthe last he torments himself with inventions to outwit or subdue Nature,\nand in the end dies, utterly defeated. His civilizations, his dynasties,\nhis laws, his manners, his customs, are all doomed to destruction and\noblivion as completely as an ant-hill which exists one night and is\ntrodden down the next. Forever and forever he works and plans in vain;\nforever and forever Nature, the visible and active Spirit of God, rises\nup and crushes her puny rebel.\n\nThere must be good reason for this ceaseless waste of human life,--this\nconstant and steady obliteration of man\u2019s attempts, since there can be\nno Effect without Cause. It is, as if like children at a school, we were\nset a certain sum to do, and because we blunder foolishly over it\nand add it up to a wrong total, it is again and again wiped off\nthe blackboard, and again and again rewritten for our more careful\nconsideration. Possibly the secret of our failure to conquer Nature lies\nin ourselves, and our own obstinate tendency to work in only one groove\nof what we term \u2018advancement,\u2019--namely our material self-interest.\nPossibly we might be victors if we would, even to the very vanquishment\nof Death!\n\nSo many of us think,--and so thought one man of sovereign influence\nin this world\u2019s affairs as, seated on the terrace of a Royal palace\nfronting seaward, he pondered his own life\u2019s problem for perhaps the\nthousandth time.\n\n\u201cWhat is the use of thinking?\u201d asked a wit at the court of Louis\nXVI. \u201cIt only intensifies the bad opinion you have of others,--or of\nyourself!\u201d\n\nHe found this saying true. Thinking is a pernicious habit in which very\ngreat personages are not supposed to indulge; and in his younger days he\nhad avoided it. He had allowed the time to take him as it found him, and\nhad gone with it unresistingly wherever it had led. It was the best way;\nthe wisest way; the way Solomon found most congenial, despite its end\nin \u2018vanity and vexation of spirit.\u2019 But with the passing of the years a\nveil had been dropped over that path of roses, hiding it altogether from\nhis sight; and another veil rose inch by inch before him, disclosing\na new and less joyous prospect on which he was not too-well-pleased to\nlook.\n\nThe sea, stretching out in a broad shining expanse opposite to him,\nsparkled dancingly in the warm sunshine, and the snowy sails of many\nyachts and pleasure-boats dipped now and again into the glittering waves\nlike white birds skimming over the tiny flashing foam-crests. Dazzling\nand well-nigh blinding to his eyes were the burning glow and exquisite\nradiance of colour which seemed melted like gold and sapphire into\nthat bright half-circle of water and sky,--beautiful, and full of a\ndream-like evanescent quality, such as marks all the loveliest scenes\nand impressions of our life on earth. There was a subtle scent of\nviolets in the air,--and a gardener, cutting sheafs of narcissi from the\nedges of the velvety green banks which rolled away in smooth undulations\nupward from the terrace to the wider extent of the palace pleasaunce\nbeyond, scattered such perfume with his snipping shears as might have\nlured another Proserpine from Hell. Cluster after cluster of white\nblooms, carefully selected for the adornment of the Royal apartments,\nhe laid beside him on the grass, not presuming to look in the direction\nwhere that other Workman in the ways of life sat silent and absorbed in\nthought. That other, in his own long-practised manner, feigned not to\nbe aware of his dependant\u2019s proximity,--and in this fashion they\ntwain--human beings made of the same clay and relegated, to the same\ndust--gave sport to the Fates by playing at Sham with Heaven and\nthemselves. Custom, law, and all the paraphernalia of civilization, had\nset the division and marked the boundary between them,--had forbidden\nthe lesser in world\u2019s rank to speak to the greater, unless the greater\nbegan conversation,--had equally forbidden the greater to speak to the\nlesser lest such condescension should inflate the lesser\u2019s vanity so\nmuch as to make him obnoxious to his fellows. Thus,--of two men, who,\nif left to nature would have been merely--men, and sincere enough at\nthat,--man himself had made two pretenders,--the one as gardener, the\nother as--King! The white narcissi lying on the grass, and preparing to\ndie sweetly, like sacrificed maiden-victims of the flower-world,\ncould turn true faces to the God who made them,--but the men at\nthat particular moment of time had no real features ready for God\u2019s\ninspection,--only masks.\n\n\u201cC\u2019est mon metier d\u2019\u00eatre Roi!\u201d So said one of the many dead and gone\nmartyrs on the rack of sovereignty. Alas, poor soul, thou would\u2019st\nhave been happier in any other \u2018m\u00e9tier\u2019 I warrant! For kingship is a\nprofession which cannot be abandoned for a change of humour, or cast\naside in light indifference and independence because a man is bored by\nit and would have something new. It is a routine and drudgery to which\nsome few are born, for which they are prepared, to which they must\ndevote their span of life, and in which they must die. \u201cHow shall we\npass the day?\u201d asked a weary Roman emperor, \u201cI am even tired of killing\nmy enemies!\u201d\n\n\u2018Even\u2019 that! And the strangest part of it is, that there are people who\nwould give all their freedom and peace of mind to occupy for a few\nyears an uneasy throne, and who actually live under the delusion that a\nmonarch is happy!\n\nThe gardener soon finished his task of cutting the narcissi, and though\nhe might not, without audacity, look at his Sovereign-master, his\nSovereign-master looked at him, furtively, from under half-closed\neyelids, watching him as he bound the blossoms together carefully, with\nthe view of giving as little trouble as possible to those whose duty\nit would be to arrange them for the Royal pleasure. His work done, he\nwalked quickly, yet with a certain humble stealthiness,--thus admitting\nhis consciousness of that greater presence than his own,--down a broad\ngarden walk beyond the terrace towards a private entrance to the palace,\nand there disappeared.\n\nThe King was left alone,--or apparently so, for to speak truly, he was\nnever alone. An equerry, a page-in-waiting,--or what was still more\ncommonplace as well as ominous, a detective,--lurked about him, ever\nnear, ever ready to spring on any unknown intruder, or to answer his\nslightest call.\n\nBut to the limited extent of the solitude allowed to kings, this man\nwas alone,--alone for a brief space to consider, as he had informed\nhis secretary, certain documents awaiting his particular and private\nperusal.\n\nThe marble pavilion in which he sat had been built by his father, the\nlate King, for his own pleasure, when pleasure was more possible than it\nis now. Its slender Ionic columns, its sculptured friezes, its painted\nceilings, all expressed a gaiety, grace and beauty gone from the world,\nperchance for ever. Open on three sides to the living picture of the\nocean, crimson and white roses clambered about it, and tall plume-like\nmimosa shook fragrance from its golden blossoms down every breath of\nwind. The costly table on which this particular Majesty of a nation\noccasionally wrote his letters, would, if sold, have kept a little town\nin food for a year,--the rich furs at his feet would have bought bread\nfor hundreds of starving families,--and every delicious rose that nodded\nits dainty head towards him with the breeze would have given an hour\u2019s\njoy to a sick child. Socialists say this kind of thing with wildly\neloquent fervour, and blame all kings in passionate rhodomontade for the\ntables, the furs and the roses,--but they forget--it is not the sad\nand weary kings who care for these or any luxuries,--they would be far\nhappier without them. It is the People who insist on having kings that\nshould be blamed,--not the monarchs themselves. A king is merely the\npeople\u2019s Prisoner of State,--they chain him to a throne,--they make\nhim clothe himself in sundry fantastic forms of attire and exhibit his\nperson thus decked out, for their pleasure,--they calculate, often with\ngreed and grudging, how much it will cost to feed him and keep him in\nproper state on the national premises, that they may use him at their\nwill,--but they seldom or never seem to remember the fact that there is\na Man behind the King!\n\nIt is not easy to govern nowadays, since there is no real autocracy,\nand no strong soul likely to create one. But the original idea of\nsovereignty was grand and wise;--the strongest man and bravest, raised\naloft on shields and bucklers with warrior cries of approval from the\npeople who voluntarily chose him as their leader in battle,--their\nutmost Head of affairs. Progress has demolished this ideal, with many\nothers equally fine and inspiring; and now all kings are so, by right of\ndescent merely. Whether they be infirm or palsied, weak or wise, sane or\ncrazed, still are they as of old elected; only no more as the Strongest,\nbut simply as the Sign-posts of a traditional bygone authority. This\nKing however, here written of, was not deficient in either mental or\nphysical attributes. His outward look and bearing betokened him as far\nmore fit to be lifted in triumph on the shoulders of his battle-heroes,\na real and visible Man, than to play a more or less cautiously inactive\npart in the modern dumb-show of Royalty. Well-built and muscular, with\na compact head regally poised on broad shoulders, and finely formed\nfeatures which indicated in their firm modelling strong characteristics\nof pride, indomitable resolution and courage, he had an air of rare and\nreposeful dignity which made him much more impressive as a personality\nthan many of his fellow-sovereigns. His expression was neither foolish\nnor sensual,--his clear dark grey eyes were sane and steady in their\nregard and had no tricks of shiftiness. As an ordinary man of the\npeople his appearance would have been distinctive,--as a King, it was\nremarkable.\n\nHe had of course been called handsome in his childhood,--what heir to a\nThrone ever lived that was not beautiful, to his nurse at least?--and in\nhis early youth he had been grossly flattered for his cleverness as well\nas his good looks. Every small attempt at witticism,--every poor joke he\ncould invent, adapt or repeat, was laughed at approvingly in a chorus of\nadmiration by smirking human creatures, male and female, who bowed\nand bobbed up and down before the lad like strange dolphins disporting\nthemselves on dry land. Whereat he grew to despise the dolphins, and\nno wonder. When he was about seventeen or eighteen he began to ask odd\nquestions of one of his preceptors, a learned and ceremonious personage\nwho, considering the extent of his certificated wisdom, was yet so\nsingularly servile of habit and disposition that he might have won a\nsuccess on the stage as Chief Toady in a burlesque of Court life. He was\na pale, thin old man, with a wizened face set well back amid wisps of\nwhite hair, and a scraggy throat which asserted its working muscles\nvisibly whenever he spoke, laughed or took food. His way of shaking\nhands expressed his moral flabbiness in the general dampness, looseness\nand limpness of the act,--not that he often shook hands with his pupil,\nfor though that pupil was only a boy made of ordinary flesh and blood\nlike other boys, he was nevertheless heir to a Throne, and in strict\netiquette even friendly liberties were not to be too frequently taken\nwith such an Exalted little bit of humanity. The lad himself, however,\nhad a certain mischievous delight in making him perform this courtesy,\nand being young and vigorous, would often squeeze the old gentleman\u2019s\nhesitating fingers in his strong clasp so energetically as to cause him\nthe severest pain. Student of many philosophies as he was, the worthy\npedagogue would have cried out, or sworn profane oaths in his agony, had\nit been any other than the \u2018Heir-Apparent\u2019 who thus made him wince with\ntorture,--but as matters stood, he merely smiled--and bore it. The young\nrascal of a prince smiled too,--taking note of his obsequious hypocrisy,\nwhich served an inquiring mind with quite as good a field for\nlogical speculation as any problem in Euclid. And he went on with his\nquestions,--questions, which if not puzzling, were at least irritating\nenough to have secured him a rap on the knuckles from his tutor\u2019s cane,\nhad he been a grocer\u2019s lad instead of the eldest son of a Royal house.\n\n\u201cProfessor,\u201d he said on one occasion, \u201cWhat is man?\u201d\n\n\u201cMan,\u201d replied the professor sedately, \u201cis an intelligent and reasoning\nbeing, evolved by natural processes of creation into his present\ncondition of supremacy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is Supremacy?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe state of being above, or superior to, the rest of the animal\ncreation.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd is he so superior?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is generally so admitted.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs my father a man?\u201d\n\n\u201cAssuredly! The question is superfluous.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat makes him a King?\u201d\n\n\u201cRoyal birth and the hereditary right to his great position.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen if man is in a condition of supremacy over the rest of creation, a\nking is more than a man if he is allowed to rule men?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, pardon me!--a king is not more than a man, but men choose him as\ntheir ruler because he is worthy.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what way is he worthy? Simply because he is born as I am, heir to a\nthrone?\u201d\n\n\u201cPrecisely.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe might be an idiot or a cripple, a fool or a coward,--he would still\nbe King?\u201d\n\n\u201cMost indubitably.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo that if he were a madman, he would continue to hold supremacy over a\nnation, though his groom might be sane?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Royal Highness pursues the question with an unwise\nflippancy;\u201d--remonstrated the professor with a pained, forced smile.\n\u201cIf an idiot or a madman were unfortunately born to a throne, a regency\nwould be appointed to control state affairs, but the heir would, in\nspite of natural incapability, remain the lawful king.\u201d\n\n\u201cA strange sovereignty!\u201d said the young prince carelessly. \u201cAnd a still\nstranger patience in the people who would tolerate it! Yet over all\nmen,--kings, madmen, and idiots alike,--there is another ruling force,\ncalled God?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is a force,\u201d admitted the professor dubiously--\u201cBut in the\npresent forward state of things it would not be safe to attempt to\nexplain the nature of that force, and for the benefit of the illiterate\nmasses we call it God. A national worship of something superior to\nthemselves has always been proved politic and necessary for the people.\nI have not at any time resolved myself as to why it should be so; but so\nit is.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen man, despite his \u2018supremacy\u2019 must have something more supreme than\nhimself to keep him in order, if it be only a fetish wherewith to tickle\nhis imagination?\u201d suggested the prince with a touch of satire,--\u201cEven\nkings must bow, or pretend to bow, to the King of kings?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, you have expressed the fact with felicity;\u201d replied the professor\ngravely--\u201cHis Majesty, your august father, attends public worship with\npunctilious regularity, and you are accustomed to accompany him. It is a\nrule which you will find necessary to keep in practice, as an example to\nyour subjects when you are called upon to reign.\u201d\n\nThe young man raised his eyebrows deprecatingly, with a slight ironical\nsmile, and dropped the subject. But the learned professor as in duty\nbound, reported the conversation to his pupil\u2019s father; with the\nadditional observation that he feared, he very humbly and respectfully\nfeared, that the developing mind of the prince appeared undesirably\ndisposed towards discursive philosophies, which were wholly unnecessary\nfor the position he was destined to occupy. Whereupon the King took his\nson to task on the subject with a mingling of kindness and humour.\n\n\u201cDo not turn philosopher!\u201d he said--\u201cFor philosophy will not so much\ncontent you with life, as with death! Philosophy will chill your best\nimpulses and most generous enthusiasms,--it will make you over-cautious\nand doubtful of your friends,--it will cause you to be indifferent to\nwomen in the plural, but it will hand you over, a weak and helpless\nvictim to the _one_ woman,--when she comes,--as she is bound to come.\nThere is no one so hopelessly insane as a philosopher in love! Love\nwomen, but not _a_ woman!\u201d\n\n\u201cIn so doing I should follow the wisest of examples,--yours, Sir!\u201d\n replied the prince with a familiarity more tender than audacious, for\nhis father was a man of fine presence and fascinating manner, and\nknew well the extent of his power to charm and subjugate the fairer\nsex,--\u201cBut I have a fancy that love,--if it exists anywhere outside the\ndreams of the poets,--is unknown to kings.\u201d\n\nThe monarch bent his brows frowningly, and his eyes were full of a deep\nand bitter melancholy.\n\n\u201cYou mistake!\u201d he said slowly--\u201cLove,--and by that name I mean a wholly\ndifferent thing from Passion,--comes to kings as to commoners,--but\nwhereas the commoner may win it if he can, the king must reject it. But\nit comes,--and leaves a blank in the proudest life when it goes!\u201d\n\nHe turned away abruptly, and the conversation was not again resumed. But\nwhen he died, those who prepared his body for burial, found a gold chain\nround his neck, holding the small medallion portrait of a woman, and a\ncurl of soft fair hair. Needless to say the portrait was not that of the\nlate Queen-Consort, who had died some years before her Royal spouse, nor\nwas the hair hers,--but when they brought the relic to the new King, he\nlaid it back with his own hands on his father\u2019s lifeless breast, and let\nit go into the grave with him. For, being no longer the crowned Servant\nof the State, he had the right as a mere dead man, to the possession of\nhis love-secret.\n\nSo at least thought his son and successor, who at times was given to\nwondering whether if, like his father, he had such a secret he would\nbe able to keep it as closely and as well. He thought not. It would be\nscarcely worth while. It can only be the greatest love that is always\nsilent,--and in the greatest,--that is, the ideal and self-renouncing\nlove,--he did not believe; though in his own life\u2019s experience he had\nbeen given a proof that such love is possible to women, if not to men.\nWhen he was about twenty, he had loved, or had imagined he loved, a\ngirl,--a pretty creature, who did not know him as a prince at all,\nbut simply as a college student. He used to walk with her hand in hand\nthrough the fields by the river, and gather wild flowers for her to\nwear in her little white bodice. She had shy soft eyes, and a timid, yet\ntrusting look, full of tenderness and pathos. Moved by a romantic sense\nof honour and chivalry, he promised to marry her, and thereupon wrote an\nimpulsive letter to his father informing him of his intention. Of course\nhe was summoned home from college at once,--he was reminded of his high\ndestiny--of the Throne that would be his if he lived to occupy it,--of\nthe great and serious responsibilities awaiting him,--and of how\nimpossible it was that the Heir-Apparent to the Crown should marry a\ncommoner.\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d he cried passionately--\u201cIf she be good and true she is as fit\nto be a queen as any woman royally born! She is a queen already in her\nown right!\u201d\n\nBut while he was being argued with and controlled by all the authorities\nconcerned in king\u2019s business, his little sweetheart herself put an end\nto the matter. Her parents told her all unpreparedly, and with no doubt\nunnecessary harshness, the real position of the college lad with whom\nshe had wandered in the fields so confidingly; and in the bewilderment\nof her poor little broken heart and puzzled brain, she gave herself\nto the river by whose flowering banks she had sworn her maiden\nvows,--though she knew it not,--to her future King; and so, drowning her\nlife and love together, made a piteous exit from all difficulty. Before\nshe went forth to die, she wrote a farewell to her Royal lover, posting\nthe letter herself on her way to the river, and, by the merest chance he\nreceived it without a spy\u2019s intervention. It was but one line, scrawled\nin a round youthful hand, and blotted with many tears.\n\n\u201cSir--my love!--forgive me!\u201d\n\nIt would be unwise to say what that little scrap of ill-formed writing\ncost the heir to a throne when he heard how she had died,--or how he\nraged and swore and wept. It was the first Wrong forced on him as Right,\nby the laws of the realm; and he was young and generous and honest, and\nnot hardened to those laws then. Their iniquity and godlessness appeared\nto him in plain ugly colours undisguised. Since that time he had\nperforce fallen into the habit and routine of his predecessors, though\nhe was not altogether so \u2018constitutional\u2019 a sovereign as his father had\nbeen. He had something of the spirit of one who had occupied his throne\nfive hundred years before him; when strength and valour and wit and\nboldness, gave more kings to the world than came by heritage. He did\nunconventional things now and then; to the grief of flunkeys, and the\nalarm of Court parasites. But his kingdom was of the South, where hot\nblood is recognized and excused, and fiery temper more admired than\ncensured, and where,--so far as social matters went,--his word, whether\nkind, cold, or capricious, was sufficient to lead in any direction that\nlarge flock of the silly sheep of fashion who only exist to eat, and\nto be eaten. Sometimes he longed to throw himself back into bygone\ncenturies and stand as his earliest ancestor stood, sword in hand, on\na height overlooking the battle-field, watching the swaying rush of\ncombat,--the glitter of spears and axes--the sharp flight of arrows--the\ntossing banners, the grinding chariots, the flying dust and carnage\nof men! There was something to fight for in those days,--there was\nno careful binding up of wounds,--no provision for the sick or the\nmutilated,--nothing, nothing, but \u2018Victory or Death!\u2019 How much grander,\nhow much finer the old fierce ways of war than now, when any soldier\nwounded, may write the details of his bayonet-scratch or bullet-hole\nto the cheap press, and the surgeon prys about with Rontgen-ray\nparaphernalia and scalpel, to discover how much or how little escape\nfrom dissolution a man\u2019s soul has had in the shock of contest with his\nfoe! Of a truth these are paltry days!--and paltry days breed paltry\nmen. Afraid of sickness, afraid of death, afraid of poverty, afraid of\noffences, afraid to think, afraid to speak, Man in the present era\nof his boasted \u2018progress\u2019 resembles nothing so much as a whipped\nchild,--cowering under the outstretched arm of Heaven and waiting in\nwhimpering terror for the next fall of the scourge. And it is on this\npoint especially, that the monarch who takes part in this unhesitating\nchronicle of certain thoughts and movements hidden out of sight,--yet\ndeeply felt in the under-silences of the time,--may claim to be\nunconventional;--he was afraid of nothing,--not even of himself as King!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nMAJESTY CONSIDERS AND RESOLVES\n\n\nThe little episode of his first love, combined with his ungovernable\nfury and despair at its tragic conclusion, had of course the natural\nresult common in such a case, to the fate of all who are destined to\noccupy thrones. A marriage was \u2018arranged\u2019 for him; and pressing reasons\nof state were urged for the quick enforcement and carrying out of the\n\u2018arrangement.\u2019 The daughter of a neighbouring potentate was elected\nto the honour of his alliance,--a beautiful girl with a pale, cold\nclear-cut face and brilliant eyes, whose smile penetrated the soul with\nan icy chill, and whose very movement, noiseless and graceful as it was,\nreminded one irresistibly of slowly drifting snow. She was attended\nto the altar, as he was, by all the ministers and plenipotentiaries of\nstate that could possibly be gathered together from the four quarters of\nthe globe as witnesses to the immolation of two young human lives on\nthe grim sacrificial stone of a Dynasty; and both prince and princess\naccepted their fate with mutually silent and civil resignation. Their\nportraits, set facing each other with a silly smile, or taken in\na linked arm-in-arm attitude against a palatial canvas background,\nappeared in every paper published throughout the world, and every\nscribbler on the Press took special pains to inform the easily\ndeluded public that the Royal union thus consummated was \u2018a romantic\nlove-match.\u2019 For the People still have heart and conscience,--the\nPeople, taken in the rough lump of humanity, still believe in love, in\nfaith, in the dear sweetness of home affections. The politicians who\nmake capital out of popular emotion, know this well enough,--and are\ncareful to play the tune of their own personal interest upon the gamut\nof National Sentiment in every stump oration. For how terrible it\nwould be if the People of any land learned to judge their preachers and\nteachers by the lines of fact alone! Inasmuch as fact would convincingly\nprove to them that their leaders prospered and grew rich, while they\nstayed poor; and they might take to puzzling out reasons for this\ninadequacy which would inevitably cause trouble. For this, and divers\nother motives politic, the rosy veil of sentiment is always\ndelicately flung more or less over every new move on the national\ndebating-ground,--and whether marriageable princes and princesses love\nor loathe each other, still, when they come to wed, the words \u2018romantic\nlove-match\u2019 must be thrown in by an obliging Press in order to satisfy\nthe tender scruples of a people who would certainly not abide the\nthought of a Royal marriage contracted in mutual aversion. Thus much\nsoundness and right principle there is at least, in what some superfine\npersons call the \u2018common\u2019 folk,--the folk whose innermost sense of truth\nand straightforwardness, not even the proudest statesman dare outrage.\n\nBut with what unuttered and unutterable scorn the youthful victims\nof the Royal pairing accepted the newspaper-assurances of the devoted\ntenderness they entertained for each other! With what wearied\nimpatience both prince and princess received the \u2018Wedding Odes\u2019 and\n\u2018Epithalamiums,\u2019 written by first-class and no-class versifiers for the\noccasion! What shoals of these were cast aside unread, to occupy the\ndarkest dingiest corner of one of the Royal \u2018refuse\u2019 libraries! The\nwriters of such things expected great honours, no doubt, each and every\nman-jack of them,--but apart from the fact that the greatest literature\nhas always lived without any official recognition or endowment from\nkings,--being in itself the supremest sovereignty,--poets and rhymesters\nalike never seem to realize that no one is, or can be, so sickened by an\n\u2018Ode\u2019 as the man or woman to whom it is written!\n\nThe brilliant marriage ceremony concluded, the august bride and\nbridegroom took their departure, amid frantically cheering crowds, for\na stately castle standing high among the mountains, a truly magnificent\npile, which had been placed at their disposal for the \u2018honeymoon\u2019 by\none of the wealthiest of the King\u2019s subjects,--and there, as soon as\nequerries, grooms-in-waiting, flunkeys, and every other sort of indoor\nand outdoor retainer would consent to leave them alone together, the\nRoyal wife came to her Royal husband, and asked to be allowed to speak\na few words on the subject of their marriage, \u2018for the first and last\ntime,\u2019 said she, with a straight glance from the cold moonlight mystery\nof her eyes. Beautiful at all times, her beauty was doubly enhanced by\nthe regal attitude and expression she unconsciously assumed as she made\nthe request, and the prince, critically studying her form and features,\ncould not but regard himself as in some respects rather particularly\nfavoured by the political and social machinery which had succeeded in\npersuading so fair a creature to resign herself to the doubtful destiny\nof a throne. She had laid aside her magnificent bridal-robes of ivory\nsatin and cloth-of-gold,--and appeared before him in loose draperies of\nfloating white, with her rich hair unbound and rippling to her knees.\n\n\u201cMay I speak?\u201d she murmured, and her voice trembled.\n\n\u201cMost assuredly!\u201d--he replied, half smiling--\u201cYou do me too much honour\nby requesting the permission!\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, he bowed profoundly, but she, raising her eyes, fixed them\nfull upon him with a strange look of mingled pride and pain.\n\n\u201cDo not,\u201d she said, \u201clet us play at formalities! Let us be honest\nwith each other for to-night at least! All our life together must from\nhenceforth be more or less of a masquerade, but let us for to-night be\nas true man and true woman, and frankly face the position into which we\nhave been thrust, not by ourselves, but by others.\u201d\n\nProfoundly astonished, the prince was silent. He had not thought this\ngirl of nineteen possessed any force of character or any intellectual\npower of reasoning. He had judged her as no doubt glad to become a great\nprincess and a possible future queen, and he had not given her credit\nfor any finer or higher feeling.\n\n\u201cYou know,\u201d--she continued--\u201cyou must surely know--\u201d here, despite the\nstrong restraint she put upon herself, her voice broke, and her slight\nfigure swayed in its white draperies as if about to fall. She looked at\nhim with a sense of rising tears in her throat,--tears of which she\nwas ashamed,--for she was full of a passionate emotion too strong for\nweeping--a contempt of herself and of him, too great for mere clamour.\nWas he so much of a man in the slow thick density of his brain she\nthought, as to have no instinctive perception of her utter misery? He\nhastened to her and tried to take her hands, but she drew herself away\nfrom him and sank down in a chair as if exhausted.\n\n\u201cYou are tired!\u201d he said kindly--\u201cThe tedious ceremonial--the still more\ntedious congratulations,--and the fatiguing journey from the capital to\nthis place have been too much for your strength. You must rest!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not that!\u201d--she answered--\u201cnot that! I am not tired,--but--but--I\ncannot say my prayers tonight till you know my whole heart!\u201d\n\nA curious reverence and pity moved him. All day long he had been in\na state of resentful irritation,--he had loathed himself for having\nconsented to marry this girl without loving her,--he had branded himself\ninwardly as a liar and hypocrite when he had sworn his marriage vows\n\u2018before God,\u2019 whereas if he truly believed in God, such vows taken\nuntruthfully were mere blasphemy;--and now she herself, a young thing\ntenderly brought up like a tropical flower in the enervating hot-house\natmosphere of Court life, yet had such a pure, deep consciousness of God\nin her, that she actually could not pray with the slightest blur of a\nsecret on her soul! He waited wonderingly.\n\n\u201cI have plighted my faith to you before God\u2019s altar to-day,\u201d she said,\nspeaking more steadily,--\u201cbecause after long and earnest thought, I saw\nthat there was no other way of satisfying the two nations to which we\nbelong, and cementing the friendly relations between them. There is\nno woman of Royal birth,--so it has been pointed out to me--who is so\nsuitable, from a political point of view, to be your wife as I. It is\nfor the sake of your Throne and country that you must marry--and I\nask God to forgive me if I have done wrong in His sight by wedding\nyou simply for duty\u2019s sake. My father, your father, and all who are\nconnected with our two families desire our union, and have assured\nme that, it is right and good for me to give up my life to yours. All\nwomen\u2019s lives must be martyred to the laws made by men,--or so it seems\nto me,--I cannot expect to escape from the general doom apportioned to\nmy sex. I therefore accept the destiny which transfers me to you as a\npiece of human property for possession and command,--I accept it freely,\nbut I will not say gladly, because that would not be true. For I do not\nlove you,--I cannot love you! I want you to know that, and to feel it,\nthat you may not ask from me what I cannot give.\u201d\n\nThere were no tears in her eyes; she looked at him straightly and\nsteadfastly. He, in his turn, met her gaze fully,--his face had paled\na little, and a shadow of pained regret and commiseration darkened his\nhandsome features.\n\n\u201cYou love someone else?\u201d he asked, softly.\n\nShe rose from her chair and confronted him, a glow of passionate pride\nflushing her cheeks and brow.\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d she said--\u201cI would not be a traitor to you in so much as\na thought! Had I loved anyone else I would never have married\nyou,--no!--though you had been ten times a prince and king! No! You\ndo not understand. I come to you heartwhole and passionless, without\na single love-word chronicled in my girlhood\u2019s history, or a single\nincident you may not know. I have never loved any man, because from\nmy very childhood I have hated and feared all men! I loathe their\npresence--their looks--their voices--their manners,--if one should touch\nmy hand in ordinary courtesy, my instincts are offended and revolted,\nand the sense of outrage remains with me for days. My mother knows of\nthis, and says I am \u2018unnatural,\u2019--it may be so. But unnatural or not, it\nis the truth; judge therefore the extent of the sacrifice I make to God\nand our two countries in giving myself to you!\u201d\n\nThe prince stood amazed and confounded. Did she rave? Was she mad?\nHe studied her with a curious, half-doubting scrutiny, and noted the\ncomposure of her attitude, the cold serenity of her expression,--there\nwas evidently no hysteria, no sur-excitation of nerves about this calm\nstatuesque beauty which in every line and curve of loveliness silently\nmutinied against him, and despised him. Puzzled, yet fascinated, he\nsought in his mind for some clue to her meaning.\n\n\u201cThere are women\u201d she went on--\u201cto whom love, or what is called love, is\nnecessary,--for whom marriage is the utmost good of existence. I am not\none of these. Had I my own choice I would live my life away from all\nmen,--I would let nothing of myself be theirs to claim,--I would give\nall I am and all I have to God, who made me what I am. For truly and\nhonestly, without any affectation at all, I look upon marriage, not as\nan honour, but a degradation!\u201d\n\nHad she been less in earnest, he might have smiled at this, but her\nbeauty, intensified as it was by the fervour of her feeling, seemed\ntransfigured into something quite supernatural which for the moment\ndazzled him.\n\n\u201cAm I to understand--\u201d he began.\n\nShe interrupted him by a swift gesture, while the rich colour swept over\nher face in a warm wave.\n\n\u201cUnderstand nothing\u201d--she said,--\u201cbut this--that I do not love you,\nbecause I can love no man! For the rest I am your wife; and as your\nwife I give myself to you and your nation wholly and in all things--save\nlove!\u201d\n\nHe advanced and took her hands in his.\n\n\u201cThis is a strange bargain!\u201d he said, and gently kissed her.\n\nShe answered nothing,--only a faint shiver trembled through her as she\nendured the caress. For a moment or two he surveyed her in silence,--it\nwas a singular and novel experience for him, as a future king, to be the\nlawful possessor of a woman\u2019s beauty, and yet with all his sovereignty\nto be unable to waken one thrill of tenderness in the frozen soul\nimprisoned in such exquisite flesh and blood. He was inclined to\ndisbelieve her assertions,--surely he thought, there must be emotion,\nfeeling, passion in this fair creature, who, though she seemed a goddess\nnewly descended from inaccessible heights of heaven was still _only_\na woman? And upon the whole he was not ill-pleased with the curious\nrevelation she had made of herself. He preferred the coldness of women\nto their volcanic eruptions, and would take more pains to melt the snow\nof reserve than to add fuel to the flame of ardour.\n\n\u201cYou have been very frank with me,\u201d he said at last, after a pause, as\nhe loosened her hands and moved a little apart from her--\u201cAnd whether\nyour physical and mental hatred of my sex is a defect in your nature,\nor an exceptional virtue, I shall not quarrel with it. I am myself not\nwithout faults; and the chiefest of these is one most common to all men.\nI desire what I may not have, and covet what I do not possess. So! We\nunderstand each other!\u201d\n\nShe raised her eyes--those beautiful deep eyes with the moonlight\nglamour in them,--and for an instant the shining Soul of her, pure and\nfearless, seemed to spring up and challenge to spiritual combat him who\nwas now her body\u2019s master. Then, bending her head with a graceful yet\nproud submission, she retired.\n\nFrom that time forth she never again spoke on this, or any other subject\nof an intimate or personal nature, with her Royal spouse. Cold as an\niceberg, pure as a diamond, she accepted both wifehood and motherhood as\nmartyrdom, with an evident contempt for its humiliation, and without one\ntouch of love for either husband or children. She bore three sons, of\nwhom the eldest, and heir to the throne was, at the time this history\nbegins, just twenty. The passing of the years had left scarcely a trace\nupon her beauty, save to increase it from the sparkling luminance of\na star to the glory of a full-orbed moon of loveliness,--and she had\neasily won a triumph over all the other women around her, in the power\nshe possessed to command and retain the admiration of men. She was one\nof those brilliant creatures who, like the Egyptian Cleopatra, never\ngrow old,--for she was utterly exempt from the wasting of the nerves\nthrough emotion. Her eyes were always bright and clear; her skin\ndazzling in its whiteness, save where the equably flowing blood flushed\nit with tenderest rose,--her figure remained svelte, lithe and\ngraceful in all its outlines. Finely strung, yet strong as steel in her\ntemperament, all thoughts, feelings and events seemed to sweep over her\nwithout affecting or disturbing her mind\u2019s calm equipoise. She lived her\nlife with extreme simplicity, regularity, and directness, thus driving\nto despair all would-be scandal-mongers; and though many gifted and\nfamous men fell madly in love with their great princess, and often, in\nthe extremity of a passion which amounted to disloyalty, slew themselves\nfor her sake, she remained unmoved and pitiless.\n\nHer husband occasionally felt some compassion for the desperate fellows\nwho thus immolated themselves on the High Altar of her perfections,\nthough it must be admitted that he received the news of their deaths\nwith tolerable equanimity, knowing them to have been fools, and as such,\nbetter out of the world than in it. During the first two or three years\nof his marriage he had himself been somewhat of their disposition, and\nas mere man, had tried by every means in his power to win the affection\nof his beautiful spouse, and to melt the icy barrier which she, despite\ntheir relations with each other, had resolutely kept up between herself\nand him. He had made the attempt, not because he actually loved her, but\nsimply because he desired the satisfaction of conquest. Finding the\ntask hopeless, he resigned himself to his fate, and accepted her at the\ncostly valuation she set upon herself; though for pastime he would often\npay court to certain ladies of easy virtue, with the vague idea that\nperhaps the spirit of jealousy might enter that cold shrine of womanhood\nwhere no other demon could force admission, and wake up the passions\nslumbering within. But she appeared not to be at all aware of his\nmany and open gallantries; and only at stray moments, when her frosty\nflashing glance fell upon him engaged in some casual flirtation, would a\nsudden smarting sense of injury make him conscious of her contempt.\n\nBut he could reasonably find no fault with her, save the fault of being\nfaultless. She was a perfect hostess, and fulfilled all the duties of\nher exalted position with admirable tact and foresight,--she was ever\nbusy in the performance of good and charitable deeds,--she was an\nexcellent mother, and took the utmost personal care that her sons should\nbe healthily nurtured and well brought up,--she never interfered in any\nmatter of state or ceremony,--she simply seemed to move as a star moves,\nshining over the earth but having no part in it. Irresponsive as she\nwas, she nevertheless compelled admiration,--her husband himself admired\nher, but only as he would have admired a statue or a painting. For his\nwas an impulsive and generous nature, and his marriage had kept his\nheart empty of the warmth of love, and his home devoid of the light of\nsympathy. Even his children had been born more as the sons of the nation\nthan his own,--he was not conscious of any very great affection for\nthem, or interest in their lives. And he had sought to kindle at many\nstrange fires the heavenly love-beacon which should have flamed its\nliving glory into his days; so it had naturally chanced that he had\nspent by far the larger portion of his time on the persuasion of mere\nWhim,--and as vastly inferior women to his wife had made him spend it.\n\nBut at this particular juncture, when the curtain is drawn up on certain\nscenes and incidents in his life-drama, a change had been effected in\nhis opinions and surroundings. For eighteen years after his marriage, he\nhad lived on the first step of the Throne as its next heir; and when\nhe passed that step and ascended the Throne itself, he seemed to have\ncrossed a vast abyss of distance between the Old and the New. Behind him\nthe Past rolled away like a cloud vanishing, to be seen no more,--before\nhim arose the dim vista of wavering and uncertain shadows, which no\nmatter how they shifted and changed,--no matter how many flashes of\nsunshine flickered through them,--were bound to close in the thick gloom\nof the inevitable end,--Death. This is what he was chiefly thinking of,\nseated alone in his garden-pavilion facing the sea on that brilliant\nsouthern summer morning,--this,--and with the thought came many others\nno less sad and dubious,--such as whether for example, his eldest son\nmight not already be eager for the crown?--whether even now, though\nhe had only reigned three years, his people were not more or less\ndissatisfied under his rule?\n\nHis father, the late King, had died suddenly,--so suddenly that there\nwas neither help nor hope for him among the hastily summoned physicians.\nStricken numb and speechless, he kept his anguished eyes fixed to the\nlast upon his son, as one who should say--\u201cAlas, and to thee also, falls\nthis curse of a Crown!\u201d Once dead, he was soon forgotten,--the pomp\nof the Royal obsequies merely made a gala-day for the light-hearted\nSouthern populace, who hailed the accession of their new King with\nas much gladness as a child, who, having broken one doll, straightway\nsecures another as good, if not better. As Heir-Apparent the succeeding\nsovereign had won great popularity, and was much more generally beloved\nthan his father had been,--so that it was on an extra high wave of\njubilation and acclamation that he and his beautiful consort were borne\nto the Throne.\n\nThree years had passed since then; and so far his reign had been\nuntroubled by much difficulty. Difficulty there was, but he was kept\nin ignorance of it,--troubles were brooding, but he was not informed\nof them. Things likely to be disagreeable were not conveyed to his\nears,--and matters which, had he been allowed to examine into them,\nmight have aroused his indignation and interference, were diplomatically\nhushed up. He was known to possess much more than the limited\nintelligence usually apportioned to kings; and certainly, as his tutor\nhad said of him in his youth, he was dangerously \u201cdisposed towards\ndiscursive philosophies.\u201d He was likewise accredited with a conscience,\nwhich many diplomats consider to be a wholly undesirable ingredient in\nthe moral composition of a reigning monarch. Therefore, those who move\na king, as in the game of chess, one square at a time and no more,--were\nparticularly cautious as to the \u2018way\u2019 in which they moved him. He had\nshown himself difficult to manage once or twice; and interested persons\ncould not pursue their usual course of self-aggrandisement with him,\nas he was not susceptible to flattery. He had a way of asking straight\nquestions, and what was still worse, expecting straight answers, such as\npoliticians never give.\n\nNevertheless he had, up to the present, ruled his conduct very much on\nthe lines laid down by his predecessors, and during his brief reign\nhad been more or less content to passively act in all things as\nhis ministers advised. He had bestowed honours on fools because his\nministers considered it politic,--he had given his formal consent to\nthe imposition of certain taxes on his people, because his ministers\nhad judged such taxes necessary,--in fact he had done everything he was\nexpected to do, and nothing that he was not expected to do. He had not\ntaken any close personal thought as to whether such and such a political\nmovement was, or was not, welcome to the spirit of the nation, nor had\nhe weighed intimately in his own mind the various private interests of\nthe members of his Government, in passing, or moving the rejection\nof, any important measure affecting the well-being of the community at\nlarge. And he had lately,--perhaps through the objectionable \u2018discursive\nphilosophies\u2019 before mentioned,--come to consider himself somewhat of a\nstuffed Dummy or figure-head; and to wonder what would be the result,\nif with caution and prudence, he were to act more on his own initiative,\nand speak as he often thought it would be wise and well to speak? He\nwas but forty-five years old,--in the prime of life, in the plenitude of\nhealth and mental vigour,--was he to pass the rest of his days guarded\nby detectives, flunkeys and physicians, with never an independent\nword or action throughout his whole career to mark him Man as well as\nMonarch? Nay, surely that would be an insult to the God who made him!\nBut the question which arose in his mind and perplexed him was, How\nto begin? How, after passive obedience, to commence resistance? How to\nbreak through the miserable conventionalism, the sordid commonplace of\na king\u2019s surroundings? For it is only in medieval fairy-tales that kings\nare permitted to be kingly.\n\nYet, despite custom and usage, he was determined to make a new departure\nin the annals of modern sovereignty. Three years of continuous slavery\non the treadmill of the Throne had been sufficient to make him thirst\nfor freedom,--freedom of speech,--freedom of action. He had tacitly\nsubmitted to a certain ministry because he had been assured that the\nsaid ministry was popular,--but latterly, rumours of discontent and\ngrievance had reached him,--albeit indistinctly and incoherently,--and\nhe began to be doubtful as to whether it might not be the Press which\nsupported the existing state of policy, rather than the People. The\nPress! He began to consider of what material this great power in his\ncountry was composed. Originally, the Press in all countries, was\nintended to be the most magnificent institution of the civilized\nworld,--the voice of truth, of liberty, of justice--a voice which in its\nclamant utterances could neither be bribed nor biassed to cry out false\nnews. Originally, such was meant to be its mission;--but nowadays, what,\nin all honesty and frankness, is the Press? What was it, for example, to\nthis king, who from personal knowledge, was able to practically estimate\nand enumerate the forces which controlled it thus:--Six, or at the most\na dozen men, the proprietors and editors of different newspapers sold in\ncheap millions to the people. Most of these newspapers were formed into\n\u2018companies\u2019; and the managers issued \u2018shares\u2019 in the fashion of tea\nmerchants and grocers. False news, if of a duly sensational character,\nwould sometimes send up the shares in the market,--true information\nwould equally, on occasion, send them down. These premises granted,\nmight it not follow that for newspaper speculators, the False would\noften prove more lucrative than the True? And, concerning the persons\nwho wrote for these newspapers,--of what calling and election were they?\nMale and female, young and old, they were generally of a semi-educated\nclass lacking all distinctive ability,--men and women who were, on an\naverage, desperately poor, and desperately dissatisfied. To earn daily\nbread they naturally had to please the editors set in authority over\nthem; hence their expressed views and opinions on any subject could only\nbe counted as _nil_, being written, not independently, but under the\nabsolute control of their employers. Thus meditating, the King summed up\nthe total of his own mental argument, and found that the vast sounding\n\u2018power of the Press\u2019 so far as his own dominion was concerned, resolved\nitself into the mere trade monopoly of the aforesaid leading dozen\nmen. What he now proposed to himself to discover among other things,\nwas,--how far and how truly these dozen tradesmen voiced the mind of the\nPeople over whom he was elected to reign? Here was a problem, and one\nnot easy to solve. But what was very plain and paramount to his mind\nwas this,--that he was thoroughly sick and tired of being no more than\na \u2018social\u2019 figure in the world\u2019s affairs. It was an effeminate part to\nplay. It was time, he considered, that he should intelligently try his\nown strength, and test the nation\u2019s quality.\n\n\u201cIf there is corruption in the state,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cI will\nfind its centre! If I am fooled by my advisers then I will be fooled no\nlonger. With whatsoever brain and heart and reason and understanding the\nFates have endowed me, I will study the ways, the movements, the desires\nof my people, and prove myself their friend, as well as their king.\nSuppose they misunderstand me?--What matter!--Let the nation rise\nagainst me an\u2019 it will, so that I may, before I die, prove myself worthy\nof the mere gift of manhood! To-day\u201d--and, rising from his chair, he\nadvanced a step or two and faced the sea and sky with an unconscious\ngesture of invocation; \u201cTo-day shall be the first day of my real\nmonarchy! To-day I begin to reign! The past is past,--for eighteen long\nyears as prince and heir to the throne I trifled away my time among the\nfollies of the hour, and laughed at the easy purchase I could make of\nthe assumed \u2018honour\u2019 of men and women; and I enjoyed the liberty and\nlicense of my position. Since then, for three years I have been the\nprisoner of my Parliament,--but now--now, and for the rest of the time\ngranted to me on earth, I will live my life in the belief that its\nriddle must surely meet with God\u2019s own explanation. To me it has become\nevident that the laws of Nature make for Truth and Justice; while the\nlaws of man are framed on deception and injustice. The two sets of laws\ncontend one against the other, and the finite, after foolish and vain\nstruggle, succumbs to the infinite,--better therefore, to begin with\nthe infinite Order than strive with the finite Chaos! I, a mere earthly\nsovereign, rank myself on the side of the Infinite,--and will work for\nTruth and Justice with the revolving of Its giant wheel! My people have\nseen me crowned,--but my real Coronation is to-day--when I crown myself\nwith my own resolve!\u201d\n\nHis eyes flashed in the sunshine;--a rose shook its pink petals on the\nground at his feet. In one of the many pleasure-boats skimming across\nthe sea, a man was singing; and the words he sang floated distinctly\nalong on the landward wind.\n\n  \u201cLet me be thine, O love,\n  But for an hour! I yield my heart and soul\n  Into thy power,--Let me be thine, O Love of mine,\n  But for an hour!\u201d\n\nThe King listened, and a faint shadow darkened the proud light on his\nface.\n\n\u201c\u2018But for an hour!\u2019\u201d he said half aloud--\u201cYes,--it would be enough! No\nwoman\u2019s love lasts longer!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nA NATION OR A CHURCH?\n\n\nAn approaching step echoing on the marble terrace warned him that he was\nno longer alone. He reseated himself at his writing-table, and feigned\nto be deeply engrossed in perusing various documents, but a ready smile\ngreeted the intruder as soon as he perceived who it was,--one Sir Roger\nde Launay, his favourite equerry and intimate personal friend.\n\n\u201cTime\u2019s up, is it, Roger?\u201d he queried lightly,--then as the equerry\nbowed in respectful silence--\u201cAnd yet I have scarcely glanced at these\npapers! All the same, I have not been idle--I have been thinking.\u201d\n\nSir Roger de Launay, a tall handsome man, with an indefinable air\nof mingled good-nature and lassitude about him which suggested the\npossibility of his politely urging even Death itself not to be so\nmuch of a bore about its business, smiled doubtfully. \u201cIs it a wise\nprocedure, Sir?\u201d he enquired--\u201cConducive to comfort I mean?\u201d\n\nThe King laughed.\n\n\u201cNo--I cannot say that it is! But thought is a tonic which sometimes\nrestores a man\u2019s enfeebled self-respect. I was beginning to lose that\nparticular condition of health and sanity, Roger!--my self-respect\nwas becoming a flaccid muscle--a withering nerve;--but a little\nthought-exercise has convinced me that my mental sinews are yet on the\nwhole strong!\u201d\n\nSir Roger offered no reply. His eyes expressed a certain languid\nwonderment; but duty being paramount with him, and his immediate errand\nbeing to remind his sovereign of an appointment then about due, he began\nto collect the writing materials scattered about on the table and put\nthem together for convenient removal. The smile on the King\u2019s face\ndeepened as he watched him.\n\n\u201cYou do not answer me, De Launay,\u201d--he resumed, \u201cYou think perhaps that\nI am talking in parables, and that my mind has been persuaded into a\nmetaphysical and rambling condition by an hour\u2019s contemplation of the\nsunlight on the sea! But come now!--have you not yourself felt a longing\nto break loose from the trammels of conventional routine,--to be set\nfree from the slavery of answering another\u2019s beck and call,--to be\nsomething more than my attendant and friend----\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, more than your friend I have never desired to be!\u201d said Sir Roger,\nsimply.\n\nThe King extended his hand with impulsive quickness, and Sir Roger as\nhe clasped it, bent low and touched it with his lips. There was no\nparasitical homage in the act, for De Launay loved his sovereign with a\nlove little known at courts; loyally, faithfully, and without a particle\nof self-seeking. He had long recognized the nobility, truth and courage\nwhich graced and tempered the disposition of the master he served, and\nknew him to be one, if not the only, monarch in the world likely to\nconfer some lasting benefit on his people by his reign.\n\n\u201cI tell you,\u201d pursued the King, \u201cthat there is something in the mortal\ncomposition of every man which is beyond mortality, something which\nclamours to be heard, and seen, and proved. We may call it conscience,\nintellect, spirit or soul, and attribute its existence, to God, as a\nspark of the Divine Essence, but whatever it is, it is in every one\nof us; and there comes a moment in life when it must flame out, or be\nquenched forever. That moment has come to me, Roger,--that something in\nme must have its way!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Majesty no doubt desires the impossible!\u201d--said Sir Roger with a\nsmile, \u201cAll men do,--even kings!\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Even kings!\u2019\u201d echoed the monarch--\u201cYou may well say \u2018even\u2019 kings! What\nare kings? Simply the most wronged and miserable men on earth! I do not\nmyself put in a special claim for pity. My realm is small, and my people\nare, for aught I can learn or am told of them, contented. But other\nsovereigns who are my friends and neighbours, live, as it were, under\nthe dagger\u2019s point,--with dynamite at their feet and pistols at their\nheads,--all for no fault of their own, but for the faults of a system\nwhich they did not formulate. Conspirators on the threshold--poison in\nthe air,--as in Russia, for example!--where is the joy or the pride of\nbeing a King nowadays?\u201d\n\n\u201cTalking of poison,\u201d said Sir Roger blandly, as he placed the last\ndocument of those he had collected, neatly in a leather case and\nstrapped it--\u201cYour Majesty may perhaps feel inclined to defer giving the\npromised audience to Monsignor Del Fords of the Society of Jesus?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Heaven, I had forgotten him!\u201d and the King rose. \u201cThis is what you\ncame to remind me of, Roger? He is here?\u201d\n\nDe Launay bowed an assent.\n\n\u201cWell! We have kept a messenger of Mother Church waiting our\npleasure,--and not for the first time in the annals of history! But why\ndo you associate his name with poison?\u201d\n\n\u201cReally, Sir, the connection is inexplicable,--unless it be the memory\nof a religious lesson-book given to me in my childhood. It was an\nillustrated treasure, and one picture showed me the Almighty in\nthe character of an old gentleman seated placidly on a cloud,\nsmiling;--while on the earth below, a priest, exactly resembling this\nDel Fortis, poured a spoonful of something,--poison--or it might have\nbeen boiling lead--down the throat of a heretic. I remember it impressed\nme very much with the goodness of God.\u201d\n\nHe maintained a whimsical gravity as he spoke, and the King laughed.\n\n\u201cDe Launay, you are incorrigible! Come!--we will go within and see this\nDel Fortis, and you shall remain present during the audience. That\nwill give you a chance to improve your present impression of him.\nI understand he is a very brilliant and leading member of his\nOrder,--likely to be the next Vicar-General. I know his errand,--the\npapers concerning his business are there--,\u201d and he waved his hand\ntowards the leather case Sir Roger had just fastened--\u201cBring them with\nyou!\u201d\n\nSir Roger obeyed, and the King, stepping forth from the pavilion, walked\nslowly along the terrace, watching the sparkling sea, the flowering\norange-trees lifting their slender tufts of exquisitely scented bloom\nagainst the clear blue of the sky, the birds skimming lightly from point\nto point of foliage, and the white-sailed yachts dipping gracefully\nas the ocean rose and fell with every wild sweet breath of the scented\nwind. Pausing a moment, he presently took out a field-glass and looked\nthrough it at one of the finest and fairest of these pleasure-vessels,\nwhich, as he surveyed it, suddenly swung round, and began to scud away\nwestward.\n\n\u201cThe Prince is on board?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cYes, Sir,\u201d replied De Launay--\u201cHis Royal Highness intends sailing as\nfar as The Islands, and remaining there till sunset.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlone, as usual?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs usual, Sir, alone, save for his captain and crew.\u201d\n\nThe King walked on in silence for a minute. Then he paused abruptly.\n\n\u201cI do not like it, De Launay!\u201d--he said decisively--\u201cI do not like his\nabnormal love of solitude. Books are all very well--poetry is in its way\nexcellent,--music, as we are told \u2018hath charms\u2019--but the boy broods too\nmuch, and stays away too much from Court. What woman attracts him?\u201d\n\nSir Roger\u2019s eyes opened wide as the King turned suddenly round upon him\nwith this question.\n\n\u201cWoman, Sir? I know of none. The Prince is but twenty----\u201d\n\n\u201cAt twenty,\u201d said the King,--\u201cboys love--the wrong girl. At thirty they\nmarry--the wrong woman. At forty they meet the only true and fitting\nsoul\u2019s companion,--and cry for the moon till the end! My son is in the\nfirst stage, or I am much mistaken,--he loves--the wrong girl!\u201d\n\nHe walked on,--and De Launay followed, with a vague sense of amusement\nand disquietude in his mind. What had come to his Royal master, he\nwondered? His ordinary manner had changed somewhat,--he spoke with less\nthan the customary formality, and there was an expression of freedom\nand authority, combined with a touch of defiance in his face, that was\naltogether new to the observation of the faithful equerry.\n\nArrived at the palace, and passing through one of the long and spacious\npainted corridors, lit by richly coloured mullioned windows from end to\nend, the King came face to face with a lady-in-waiting carrying a large\ncluster of Madonna lilies. She drew aside, with a deep reverence,\nto allow him to pass; but he stopped a moment, looking at the great\ngorgeous white flowers faint with fragrance, and at the slight retiring\nfigure of the woman who held them.\n\n\u201cAre these for the chapel, Madame?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cNo, Sir! For the Queen.\u201d\n\n\u2018For the Queen!\u2019 A quick sigh escaped him. He still stood, caught by\na sudden abstraction, looking at the dazzling whiteness of the snowy\nblooms, and thinking how fittingly they would companion his beautiful,\ncold, pure Queen Consort, who had never from her marriage day uttered\na word of love to him, or given him a glance of tenderness. Their\nrich odours crept into his warm blood, and the bitter old sense of\nunfulfilled longing, longing for affection, for comprehension, for all\nthat he had not possessed in his otherwise brilliant life, vexed and\nsickened him. He turned away abruptly, and the lady-in-waiting, having\ncurtsied once more profoundly, passed on with her glistening sheaf of\nbloom and disappeared vision-like in a gleam of azure light falling\nthrough one of the further and higher casements. The King watched her\ndisappear, the meditative line of sadness still puckering his brow,\nthen, followed by his equerry, he entered a small private audience\nchamber, where Sir Roger de Launay notified an attendant gentleman usher\nthat his Majesty was ready to receive Monsignor Del Fortis.\n\nDuring the brief interval occupied in waiting for his visitor\u2019s\napproach, the King selected certain papers from those which Sir Roger\nhad brought from the garden pavilion and placed them in order on the\ntable.\n\n\u201cFor the past six months,\u201d he said \u201cI have had this Jesuit\u2019s name before\nme, and have been in twenty minds a month about granting or refusing\nwhat his Society demands. The matter has been discussed in the Press,\ntoo, with the usual pros and cons of hesitation, but it is the People I\nam thinking of, the People! and I am just now in the humour to satisfy a\nNation rather than a Church!\u201d\n\nDe Launay said nothing. His opinion was not asked.\n\n\u201cIt is a case in which the temporal overbalances the spiritual,\u201d\n continued the King--\u201cWhich plainly proves that the spiritual must be\nlacking in some essential point somewhere. For if the spiritual were\nalways truly of God, then would it always be the strongest. The question\nwhich brings Monsignor Del Fortis here as special emissary of the\nVicar-General of the Society of Jesus, is simply this: Whether or no a\ncertain site in a particularly fertile tract of land belonging chiefly\nto the Crown, shall be granted to the Jesuits for the purpose of\nbuilding thereon a church and monastery with schools attached. It seems\na reasonable request, set forth with an apparently religious intention.\nYet more than forty petitions have been sent in to me from the\ninhabitants of the towns and villages adjacent to the lands, imploring\nme to refuse the concession. By my faith, they plead as eloquently as\nthough asking deliverance from the plague! It is a curious dilemma. If I\ngrant the people\u2019s request I anger the priests; if I satisfy the priests\nI anger the people.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mentioned a discussion in the Press, Sir--\u201d hinted Sir Roger.\n\n\u201cOh, the Press is like a weathercock--it turns whichever way the wind\nof speculation blows. One day it is \u2018for,\u2019 another \u2018against.\u2019 In this\nparticular case it is diplomatically indifferent, except in one or two\ncases where papal money has found its way into the newspaper offices.\u201d\n\nAt that moment the door was flung open, and Monsignor Del Fortis was\nceremoniously ushered into the presence of his Majesty. At the\nfirst glance it was evident that De Launay had reasonable cause for\nassociating the mediaeval priestly torturer pictured in his early\nlesson-book with the unprepossessing personage now introduced. Del\nFortis was a dark, resentful-looking man of about sixty, tall and thin,\nwith a long cadaverous face, very strongly pronounced features and small\nsinister eyes, over which the level brows almost met across the sharp\nbridge of nose. His close black garb buttoned to the chin, outlined his\nwiry angular limbs with an almost painful distinctness, and the lean\nright hand which he placed across his breast as he bowed profoundly to\nthe King, looked more like the shrunken hand of a corpse than that of\na living man. The King observed him attentively, but not with favour;\nwhile thoughts, strange, and for him as a constitutional monarch\naudacious, began to move in the undercurrents of his mind, stirring him\nto unusual speech and action. Sir Roger, retiring to the furthest end of\nthe room stood with his back against the door, a fine upright soldierly\nfigure, as motionless as though cast in bronze, though his eyes showed\nkeen and sparkling life as they rested on his Royal master, watching his\nevery gesture, as well as every slightest movement on the part of his\npriestly visitor.\n\n\u201cYou are welcome, Monsignor Del Fortis,\u201d--said the King, at last\nbreaking silence.--\u201cTo save time and trouble, I may tell you that I need\nno explanation of the nature of your business.\u201d\n\nThe Jesuit bowed with an excessive humility.\n\n\u201cYou wish me to grant to your Society,\u201d continued the monarch--\u201cthat\nportion of the Crown lands named in your petition, to be held in\nyour undisputed possession for a long term of years,--and in order to\nfacilitate my consent to this arrangement, your Vicar-General has sent\nyou here to furnish the full details of your building scheme. Am I so\nfar correct?\u201d\n\nThe priest\u2019s dark secretive eyes glittered craftily a moment as he\nraised them to the open and tranquil countenance of the sovereign,--then\nonce again he bowed profoundly.\n\n\u201cYour Majesty has, with your customary care and patience, fully studied\nthe object of my errand\u201d--he replied in a clear thin, somewhat rasping\nvoice, which he endeavoured to make smooth and conciliatory--\u201cBut it\nis impossible that your Majesty, immersed every day in the affairs\nof state, should have found time to personally go through the various\npapers formally submitted to your consideration. Therefore, the\nVicar-General of our Order considered that if the present interview with\nyour Majesty could be obtained, I, as secretary and treasurer for the\nproposed new monastery, might be able to explain the spiritual, as well\nas the material advantages to be gained by the use of the lands for the\npurpose mentioned.\u201d\n\nHe spoke slowly, enunciating each word with careful distinctness.\n\n\u201cThe spiritual part of the scheme is of course the most important to\nyou!\u201d--said the King with a slight smile,--\u201cBut material advantages\nare never entirely overlooked, even by holy men! Now I am merely a\n\u2018temporal\u2019 sovereign; and as such, I wish to know how your plan will\naffect the people of the neighbouring town and district. What are your\nintentions towards them? Their welfare is my chief concern; and what\nI have to learn from you is,--How do you propose to benefit them by\nmaintaining a monastery, church and schools in their vicinity?\u201d\n\nAgain Del Fortis gave a furtive glance upward. Seeing that the King\u2019s\neyes were steadily fixed upon him, he quickly lowered his own, and gave\nanswer in an evidently prepared manner.\n\n\u201cSir, the people of the district in question are untaught barbarians. It\nis more for their sakes,--more for the love of gathering the lost sheep\ninto the fold, than for our own satisfaction, that we seek to pitch our\ntents in the desert of their ignorance. They, and their children, are\nthe prey of heathenish modern doctrines, which alas!--are too prevalent\nthroughout the whole world at this particular time,--and, as they are\nat present situated, no restraint is exercised upon them for the better\ncontrolling of their natural and inherited vices. Unless the gentle hand\nof Mother Church is allowed to rescue these, her hapless and neglected\nones; unless she has an opportunity afforded her of leading them out of\nthe darkness of error into the light of eternal day--\u201d\n\nHe broke off, his eloquence being interrupted by a gesture from the\nKing.\n\n\u201cThere is a Government school in the town,\u201d--said the monarch, referring\nto one or two documents on the table before him.--\u201cThere is also a Free\nPublic Library, and a Free School of Art. Thus it does not seem that\neducation is quite neglected.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, Sir, such education is merely disastrous!\u201d said Del Fortis, with\na deep sigh,--\u201cLike the fruit on the tree of knowledge in the Garden of\nEden, it brings death to the soul!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou condemn the Government methods?\u201d asked the King coldly.\n\nThe Jesuit moved uneasily, and a dull flush reddened his pale skin.\n\n\u201cFar be it from me, Sir, as a poor servant of the Church, to condemn\nlawful authorities,--yet we should not forget that the Government is\ntemporal and changeable,--the Church is spiritual and changeless. We\ncannot look for entire success in a scheme of popular education which is\nnot formulated under the guidance or the blessing of God!\u201d\n\nThe King leaned forward a little in his chair, and surveyed him fixedly.\n\n\u201cHow do you know that it is not formulated under the guidance and\nblessing of God?\u201d he asked suddenly--\u201cHas the Almighty given you His\nspecial opinion and confidence on the matter?\u201d\n\nMonsignor Del Fortis started indignantly.\n\n\u201cSir! Your Majesty----\u201d\n\nDe Launay made a step forward, but the King motioned him back.\nAccordingly he resumed his former position, but his equable temperament\nwas for once seriously disturbed. He saw that his Royal master was\nevidently bent on speaking his mind; and he knew well what a dangerous\nindulgence that is for all men who desire peace and quietness in their\nlives.\n\n\u201cI am aware of what you would say,\u201d pursued the King--\u201cYou would say\nthat the Church--your Church--is the only establishment of the kind\nwhich receives direct inspiration from the Creator of Universes. But\nI do not feel justified in limiting the control of the Almighty to\none special orbit of Creed. You tell me that a government system of\neducation for the people is a purely temporal movement, and that, as\nsuch, it is not blessed by the guidance of God. Yet the Pope seeks\n\u2018temporal\u2019 power! It is explained to us of course that he seeks it\nin order that he may unite it to the spiritual in his own\nperson,--theoretically for the good of mankind, if practically for the\nadvancement of his own particular policy. But have you never thought,\nMonsignor, that the marked severance of what you call \u2018temporal\u2019 power,\nfrom what you equally call \u2018spiritual\u2019 power, is God\u2019s work? Inasmuch\nas nothing can be done without God\u2019s will; for even if there is a devil\n(which I am inclined to doubt) he owes his unhappy existence to God as\nmuch as I do!\u201d\n\nHe smiled; but Del Fortis stood rigidly silent, his head bent, and one\nhand folded tight across his breast, an attitude Sir Roger de Launay\nalways viewed in every man with suspicion, as it suggested the\nconcealment of a weapon.\n\n\u201cYou will admit\u201d pursued the King, \u201cthat the action of human thought is\nalways progressive. Unfortunately your Creed lags behind human thought\nin its onward march, thus causing the intelligent world to infer that\nthere must be something wrong with its teaching. For if the Church\nhad always been in all respects faithful to the teaching of her Divine\nMaster, she would be at this present time the supreme Conqueror of\nNations. Yet she is doing no more nowadays than she did in the middle\nages,--she threatens, she intimidates, she persecutes all who dare to\nuse for a reasonable purpose the brain God gave them,--but she does not\nhelp on or sympathize with the growing fraternity and civilization of\nthe world. It is impossible not to recognize this. Yet I have a profound\nrespect for each and every minister of religion who honestly endeavours\nto follow the counsels of Christ,\u201d--here he paused,--then added with\nslow and marked emphasis--\u201cin whose Holy Name I devoutly believe for the\nredemption of whatever there is in me worth redeeming;--nevertheless my\nfirst duty, even in Christ, is plainly to the people of the country over\nwhich I am elected to rule.\u201d\n\nThe flickering shadow of a smile passed over the Jesuit\u2019s dark features,\nbut he still kept silence.\n\n\u201cTherefore,\u201d went on the King--\u201cit is my unpleasant task to be compelled\nto inform you, Monsignor, that the inhabitants of the district your\nOrder seeks to take under its influence, have the strongest objection\nto your presence among them. So strong indeed is their aversion towards\nyour Society, that they have petitioned me in numerous ways, (and with\nconsiderable eloquence, too, for \u2018untaught barbarians\u2019) to defend them\nfrom your visitation. Now, to speak truly, I find they have all the\nadvantages which modern advancement and social improvement can give\nthem,--they attend their places of public worship in considerable\nnumbers, and are on the whole decent, God-fearing, order-loving subjects\nto the Throne,--and more I do not desire for them or for myself.\nCriminal cases are very rare in the district,--and the poor are\nmore inclined to help than to defraud each other. All this is so far\ngood,--and, I should imagine,--not displeasing to God. In any case, as\ntheir merely temporal sovereign, I must decline to give your Order any\ncontrol over them.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou refuse the concession of land, Sir?\u201d said Del Fortis, in a voice\nthat trembled with restrained passion.\n\n\u201cTo satisfy those of my subjects who have appealed to me, I am compelled\nto do so,\u201d replied the King.\n\n\u201cI pray your Majesty\u2019s pardon, but a portion of the land is held by\nprivate persons who are prepared to sell to us----\u201d\n\nA quick anger flashed in the King\u2019s eyes.\n\n\u201cThey shall sell to me if they sell at all,\u201d--he said,--\u201cI repeat,\nMonsignor, the fact that the law-abiding people of the place have\nsought their King\u2019s protection from priestly interference;--and,--by\nHeaven!--they shall have it!\u201d\n\nThere was a sudden silence. Sir Roger de Launay drew a sharp\nbreath,--his habitual languor of mind was completely dissipated, and he\nstudied the inscrutable face of Del Fortis with deepening suspicion and\ndisfavour. Not that there was the slightest sign of wrath or dismay on\nthe priest\u2019s well-disciplined countenance;--on the contrary, a chill\nsmile illumined it as he spoke his next words with a serious, if\nsomewhat forced composure.\n\n\u201cYour Majesty is, without doubt, all powerful in your own particular\ndomain of society and politics,\u201d he said--\u201cBut there is another\nMajesty higher than yours,--that of the Church, before which dread and\ninfallible Tribunal even kings are brought to naught----\u201d\n\n\u201cMonsignor Del Fortis,\u201d interrupted the King, \u201cWe have not met this\nmorning, I presume, to indulge in a religious polemic! My power is,\nas you very truly suggest, merely temporal--yours is spiritual. Yours\nshould be the strongest! Go your way now to your Vicar-General with the\nstraight answer I have given you,--but if by your \u2018spiritual\u2019 power\nyou can persuade the people who now hate your Society, to love it,--to\ndemand it,--to beg that you may be permitted to found a colony among\nthem,--why, in that case, come to me again, and I will grant you the\nland. I am not prejudiced one way or the other, but I will not hand\nover any of my subjects to the influence of priestcraft, so long as they\ndesire me to defend them from it.\u201d\n\nDel Fortis still smiled.\n\n\u201cPardon me, Sir, but we of the Society of Jesus are your subjects also,\nand we judge you to be a Christian and Catholic monarch----\u201d\n\n\u201cAs I am, most assuredly!\u201d replied the King--\u201cChristian and Catholic are\nwords which, if I understand their meaning, please me well! \u2018Christian\u2019\nexpresses a believer in and follower of Christ,--\u2018Catholic\u2019 means\nuniversal, by which, I take it, is intended wide, universal love and\ntolerance without sect, party, or prejudice. In this sense the Church\nis not Catholic--it is merely the Roman sect. Nor are you truly my\nsubjects, since you have only one ruler, the Supreme Pontiff,--with\nwhom I am somewhat at variance. But, as I have said, we are not here to\nindulge in argument. You came to proffer a request; I have given you the\nonly answer I conceive fitting with my duty;--the matter is concluded.\u201d\n\nDel Fortis hesitated a moment,--then bowed low to the ground;--anon,\nlifting himself, raised one hand with an invocative gesture of profound\nsolemnity.\n\n\u201cI commend your Majesty to the mercy of God, that He may in His wisdom,\nguard your life and soften your heart towards the ministers of His Holy\nReligion, and bring you into the ways of righteousness and peace! For\nthe rest, I will report your Majesty\u2019s decision to the Vicar-General.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo so!\u201d--rejoined the King--\u201cAnd assure him that the decision is\nunalterable,--unless the inhabitants of the place concerned desire to\nhave it revoked.\u201d\n\nAgain Del Fortis bowed.\n\n\u201cI humbly take my leave of your Majesty!\u201d\n\nThe monarch looked at him steadfastly as he made another salutation, and\nbacked out of the presence-chamber. Sir Roger de Launay opened the door\nfor him with alacrity, handing him over into the charge of an usher with\nthe whispered caution to see him well off the Royal premises; and then\nreturning to his sovereign, stood \u201cat attention.\u201d The King noted his\nsomewhat troubled aspect, and laughed.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you, De Launay?\u201d he asked--\u201cYou seem astonished that for once\nI have spoken my mind?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, to speak one\u2019s mind is always dangerous!\u201d\n\n\u201cDangerous--danger!--What idle words to make cowards of men! Danger--of\nwhat? There is only one danger--death; and that is sure to come to every\nman, whether he be a hero or a poltroon.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue,--but----\u201d\n\n\u201cBut--what? De Launay, if you love me, do not look at me with so\nexpostulatory an air! It does not become your inches! Now listen!--when\nthe next press reporter comes nosing round for palace news, let him be\ntold that the King has refused permission to the Jesuits to build on any\nportion of the Crown lands demanded for the purpose. Let this be made\nknown to Press and People--the sooner the better!\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d murmured De Launay--\u201cWe live in strange times----\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, there you speak most truly!\u201d said the King, with emphasis--\u201cWe do\nlive in strange times--the very strangest perhaps, since Aeneas Sylvius\nwrote concerning Christendom. Do you remember the words he set down so\nlong ago?--\u2018It is a body without a head,--a republic without laws or\nmagistrates. The pope or the emperor may shine as lofty titles, as\nsplendid images,--but they are unable to command, and no one is willing\nto obey!\u2019 History thus repeats itself, De Launay;--and yet with all its\npast experience, the Roman Church does not seem to realize that it is\npowerless against the attacks of intellectual common sense. Faith in\nGod,--a high, perfect, pure faith in God, and a simple following of\nthe Divine Teacher of God\u2019s command, Christ;--these things are wise and\nnecessary for all nations; but, to allow human beings to be coerced by\nsuperstition for political motives, under the disguise of religion, is\nan un-Christian business, and I for one will have no part in it!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will lay yourself open to much serious misconstruction, Sir,\u201d said\nDe Launay.\n\n\u201cLet us hope so, Roger!\u201d rejoined the King with a smile--\u201cFor if I am\nnever misunderstood, I shall know myself to be a fool! Come,--do not\nlook so glum!--I want you to help me.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo help you, Sir?\u201d exclaimed De Launay eagerly,--\u201cWith my life, if you\ndemand it!\u201d\n\nThe King rested one hand familiarly on his shoulder.\n\n\u201cI would rather take my own life than yours, De Launay!\u201d he\nsaid--\u201cNo,--whatever difficulties I get myself into, you shall not\nsuffer! But--as I told you a while ago,--there is something in me that\nmust have its way. I am sick to death of conventionalities,--you must\nhelp me to break through them! You are right in saying that we live in\nstrange times;--they are strange times!--and they may perchance be all\nthe better for a strange King!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nSEALED ORDERS\n\n\nSome hours later on, Sir Roger de Launay, having left his Sovereign\u2019s\npresence, and being off duty for a time, betook himself to certain\napartments in the west wing of the palace, where the next most\ntrusted personage to himself in the confidence of the King, had his\ndomicile,--Professor von Glauben, resident physician to the Royal\nHousehold. Heinrich von Glauben was a man of somewhat extraordinary\ncharacter and individuality. In his youth he had made a sudden meteoric\nfame for his marvellous skill and success in surgery, as also for his\nequally surprising quickness and correctness in diagnosing obscure\ndiseases and tracing them to their source. But, after creating a vast\namount of discussion and opposition among his confr\u00e8res, and almost\nreaching that brilliant point of triumph when his originality and\ncleverness were proved great enough to win him a host of enemies, he\nall at once threw up the game as it were, and, resigning the favourable\nopportunities of increasing distinction offered him in his native\nGermany, accepted the comparatively retired and private position he now\noccupied. Some said it was a disappointment in love which had caused his\nabrupt departure from the Fatherland,--others declared it was irritation\nat the severe manner in which his surgical successes had been handled\nby the medical critics,--but whatever the cause, it soon became evident\nthat he had turned his back on the country of his birth for ever, and\nthat he was apparently entirely satisfied with the lot he had chosen.\nHis post was certainly an easy and pleasant one,--the members of the\nRoyal family to which his services were attached were exceptionally\nhealthy, as Royal families go; and he was seldom in more than merely\nformal attendance, so that he had ample time and opportunity to pursue\nthose deeper forms of physiological study which had excited the wrath\nand ridicule of his contemporaries, as well as to continue the writing\nof a book which he intended should make a stir in the world, and which\nhe had entitled \u201cThe Moral and Political History of Hunger.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor,\u201d said he--\u201cHunger is the primal civilizer,--the very keystone and\nfoundation of all progress. From the plain, prosy, earthy fact that man\nis a hungry animal, and must eat, has sprung all the civilization of\nthe world! I shall demonstrate this in my book, beginning with the\nscriptural legend of Adam\u2019s greed for an apple. Adam was evidently\nhungry at the moment Eve tempted him. As soon as he had satisfied his\ninner man, he thought of his outer,--and his next idea was, naturally,\ntailoring. From this simple conjunction of suggestions, combined with\nwhat \u2018God\u2019 would have to say to him concerning his food-experiment and\nfig-leaf apron, man has drawn all his religions, manners, customs and\nmorals. The proposition is self-evident,--but I intend to point it out\nwith somewhat emphasised clearness for the benefit of those persons\nwho are inclined to arrogate to themselves the possession of superior\nwisdom. Neither brain nor soul has placed man in a position of\nSupremacy,--merely Hunger and Nakedness!\u201d\n\nThe Professor was now about fifty-five, but his exceptionally powerful\nbuild and robust constitution gave him the grace in appearance of many\nyears younger, though perhaps the extreme composure of his temperament,\nand the philosophic manner in which he viewed all circumstances, whether\npleasing or disastrous, may have exercised the greatest influence in\nkeeping his eyes clear and clean, and his countenance free of unhandsome\nwrinkles. He was more like a soldier than a doctor, and was proud of his\nresemblance to the earlier portraits of Bismarck. To see him in his\nown particular \u2018sanctum\u2019 surrounded by weird-looking diagrams of\nsundry parts of the human frame, mysterious phials and stoppered flasks\ncontaining various liquids and crystals, and all the modern appliances\nfor closely examining the fearful yet beautiful secrets of the living\norganism, was as if one should look upon a rough and burly giant engaged\nin some delicate manipulation of mosaics. Yet Von Glauben\u2019s large hand\nwas gentler than a woman\u2019s in its touch and gift of healing,--no surgeon\nalive could probe a wound more tenderly, or with less pain to the\nsufferer,--and the skill of that large hand was accompanied by the\npenetrative quality of the large benevolent brain which guided it,--a\nbrain that could encompass the whole circle of the world in its\nobservant and affectionate compassion.\n\n\u201cAch!--who is there that can be angry with anyone?--impatient with\nanyone,--offended with anyone!\u201d he was wont to say--\u201cEverybody suffers\nso much and so undeservedly, that as far as my short life goes I have\nonly time for pity--not condemnation!\u201d\n\nTo this individual, as a kind of human calmative and tonic combined,\nSir Roger de Launay was in the habit of going whenever he felt his\nown customary tranquillity at all disturbed. The two were great\nfriends;--friends in their mutual love and service of the King,--friends\nin their equally mutual but discreetly silent worship of the Queen,--and\nfriends in their very differences of opinion on men and matters in\ngeneral. De Launay, being younger, was more hasty of judgment and quick\nin action; but Von Glauben too had been known to draw his sword with\nunexpected rapidity on occasion, to the discomfiture of those who\ndeemed him only at home with the scalpel. Just now, however, he was in a\nparticularly non-combative and philosophic mood; he was watching certain\nanimalculae wriggling in a glass tube, the while he sat in a large\neasy-chair with slippered feet resting on another chair opposite,\npuffing clouds of smoke from a big meerschaum,--and he did not stir from\nhis indolent attitude when De Launay entered, but merely looked up and\nsmiled placidly.\n\n\u201cSit down, Roger!\u201d he said,--then, as De Launay obeyed the invitation,\nhe pushed over a box of cigars, and added--\u201cYou look exceedingly tired,\nmy friend! Something has bored you more than usual? Take a lesson from\nthose interesting creatures!\u201d and he pointed with the stem of his pipe\nto the bottled animalculae--\u201cThey are never bored,--never weary of doing\nmischief! They are just now living under the pleasing delusion that the\nglass tube they are in is a man, and that they are eating him up alive.\nLittle devils! Nothing will exhaust their vitality till they have gorged\nthemselves to death! Just like a great many human beings!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not in the mood for studying animalculae,\u201d said De Launay\nirritably, as he lit a cigar.\n\n\u201cNo? But why not? They are really quite as interesting as ourselves!\u201d\n\n\u201cLook here, Von Glauben, I want you to be serious--\u201d\n\n\u201cMy friend, I am always serious,\u201d declared the Professor--\u201cEven when I\nlaugh, I laugh seriously. My laughter is as real as myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat would you think,\u201d--pursued De Launay--\u201cof a king who freely\nexpressed his own opinions?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should say he was a brave man,\u201d answered the Professor; \u201cHe would\ncertainly deserve my respect, and he should have it. Even if the laws\nof etiquette were not existent, I should feel justified in taking off my\nhat to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever from henceforth wear a hat at all then,\u201d said De Launay--\u201cIt will\nsave you the trouble of continually doffing it at every glimpse of his\nMajesty!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben drew his pipe from his mouth and gazed blankly at the\nceiling for a few moments in silence. \u201cHis Majesty?\u201d he presently\nmurmured--\u201cOur Majesty?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; our Majesty--our King\u201d--replied De Launay--\u201cFor some inscrutable\nreason or other he has suddenly adopted the dangerous policy of speaking\nhis mind. What now?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat now? Why nothing particular just now,--unless you have something\nto tell me. Which, judging from your entangled expression of eye, I\npresume you have.\u201d\n\nDe Launay hesitated a moment. The Professor saw his hesitation.\n\n\u201cDo not speak, my friend, if you think you are committing a breach of\nconfidence,\u201d he said composedly--\u201cIn the brief affairs of this life, it\nis better to keep trouble on your own mind than impart it to others.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, there is no breach of confidence;\u201d said De Launay, \u201cThe thing is as\npublic as the day, or if it is not public already, it soon will be\nmade so. That is where the mischief comes in,--or so I think. Judge for\nyourself!\u201d And in a few words he gave the gist of the interview which\nhad taken place between the King and the emissary of the Jesuits that\nmorning.\n\n\u201cNothing surprises me as a rule,\u201d--said the Professor, when he had heard\nall--\u201cBut if anything could prick the sense of astonishment anew in\nme, it would be to think that anyone, king or commoner, should take\nthe trouble to speak truth to a Jesuit. Why, the very essence of their\ncarefully composed and diplomatic creed, is to so disguise truth that it\nshall be no more recognisable. Myself, I believe the Jesuits to be the\nlineal descendants of those priests who served Bel and the Dragon. The\nart of conjuring and deception is in their very blood. It is for the\nJesuits that I have invented a beautiful new verb,--\u2018To hypocrise.\u2019 It\nsounds well. Here is the present tense,--\u2018I hypocrise, Thou hypocrisest,\nHe hypocrises:--We hypocrise, You hypocrise, They hypocrise.\u2019 Now\nhear the future. \u2018I shall hypocrise, Thou shalt hypocrise, He shall\nhypocrise; We shall hypocrise, You shall hypocrise, They shall\nhypocrise.\u2019 There is the whole art of Jesuitry for you, made\ngrammatically perfect!\u201d\n\nDe Launay gave a gesture of impatience, and flung away the end of his\nhalf-smoked cigar.\n\n\u201cAch! That is a sign of temper, Roger!\u201d said Von Glauben, shaking his\nhead--\u201cTo lift one\u2019s shoulders to the lobes of one\u2019s ears, and waste\nnearly the half of an exceedingly expensive and choice Havana, shows\nnervous irritation! You are angry, my friend--and with me!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo I am not,\u201d replied De Launay, rising from his chair and beginning\nto pace the room--\u201cBut I do not profess to have your phlegmatic\ndisposition. I feel what I thought you would feel also,--that the King\nis exposing himself to unnecessary danger. And I know what you do not\nyet know, but what this letter will no doubt inform you,\u201d--and he drew\nan envelope bearing the Royal seal from his pocket and handed it to the\nProfessor--\u201cNamely,--that his Majesty is bent on rushing voluntarily\ninto various other perils, unless perhaps, your warning or advice may\nhinder him. Mine has no effect,--moreover I am bound to serve him as he\nbids.\u201d\n\n\u201cEqually am I also bound to serve him;\u201d--said Von Glauben, \u201cAnd gladly\nand faithfully do I intend to perform my service wherever it may lead\nme!\u201d Whereupon, shaking himself out of his recumbent position, like a\ngreat lion rolling out of his lair, he stood upright, and breaking the\nseal of the envelope he held, read its contents through in silence. Sir\nRoger stood opposite to him, watching his face in vain for any sign of\nastonishment, regret or dismay.\n\n\u201cWe must do as he commands,\u201d--he said simply as he finished reading the\nletter and folded it up for safe keeping--\u201cThere is no other way; not\nfor me at least. I shall most assuredly be at the appointed place, at\nthe appointed hour, and in the appointed manner. It will be a change;\ncertainly lively, and possibly beneficial!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the King\u2019s life--\u201d\n\n\u201cIs in God\u2019s keeping!\u201d said Von Glauben,--\u201cBelieve me, Roger, no harm\ncomes undeservedly to a brave man with a good conscience! It is a bad\nconscience which invites mischief. I am a great believer in the law of\nattraction. The good attracts the good,--the bad, the bad. That is why\ntruthful persons are generally lonely--because nearly all the world\u2019s\ninhabitants are liars!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the King--\u201d again began Sir Roger.\n\n\u201cThe King is a man!\u201d said Von Glauben, with a flash of pride in his\neyes--\u201cWhich is more than I will say for most kings! Who shall blame\nhim for asserting his manhood? Not I! Not you! Who shall blame him for\nseeking to know the real position of things in the country he governs?\nNot I! Not you! Our business is to guard and defend him--with our own\nlives, if necessary,--we shall do that with a will, Roger, shall we\nnot?\u201d And with an impulsive quickness of action, he took a sword from\na stand of weapons near him, drew it from its scabbard and kissing the\nhilt, held it out to De Launay who did the same--\u201cThat is understood!\nAnd for the rest, Roger my friend, take it all lightly and easily--as a\nfarce!--as a bit of human comedy, with a great actor cast for the chief\nrole. We are only supers, you and I, but we shall do well to stand near\nthe wings in case of fire!\u201d\n\nHe drew himself up to his great height and squared his shoulders,--then\nsmiled benevolently.\n\n\u201cI believe it will be all very amusing, Roger; and that your fears for\nthe safety of his Majesty will be proved groundless. Remember, Court\nlife is excessively dull,--truly the dullest form of existence on\nearth,--it is quite natural that he who is the most bored by it should\ndesire some break in the terrible monotony!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe monotony will certainly be broken with a vengeance, if the King\ncontinues in his present humour!\u201d--said De Launay grimly.\n\n\u201cPossibly! And let us hope the comfortable self-assurance and\ncomplacency of a certain successful Minister may be somewhat seriously\ndisturbed!\u201d rejoined Von Glauben,--\u201cFor myself, I assure you I see\nsport!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I scent danger,\u201d--said De Launay--\u201cFor if any mischance happen to\nthe King, the Prince is not ripe enough to rule.\u201d\n\nA slight shadow darkened the Professor\u2019s open countenance. He looked\nfixedly at Sir Roger, who met his gaze with equal fixity.\n\n\u201cThe Prince,\u201d--he said slowly--\u201cis young--\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd rash--\u201d interposed De Launay.\n\n\u201cNo. Pardon me, my friend! Not rash. Merely honest. That is all! He is\na very honest young man indeed. It is unfortunate that he is so; a\nploughman may be honest if he likes, but a prince--never!\u201d\n\nDe Launay was silent.\n\n\u201cI will now destroy a world\u201d--continued Von Glauben, \u201cKings,\nemperors, popes, councillors and common folk, can all perish\nincontinently,--as--being myself for the present the free agent of the\nDeity concerned in the matter,--I have something else to do than to look\nafter them,\u201d--and he took up the glass vessel containing the animalculae\nhe had been watching, and cast it with its contents into a small stove\nburning dimly at one end of the apartment,--\u201cGone are their ambitions\nand confabulations for ever! How easy for the Creator to do the same\nthing with us, Roger! Let us not talk of any special danger for the\nKing or for any man, seeing that we are all on the edge of an eternal\nvolcano!\u201d\n\nDe Launay stood absorbed for a moment, as if in deep thought. Then\nrousing himself abruptly he said:--\n\n\u201cYou will not see the King, and speak with him before to-morrow night?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy should I?\u201d queried the Professor. \u201cHis wish is a command which I\nmust obey. Besides, my good Roger, all the arguments in the world will\nnot turn a man from having his own way if he has once made up his own\nmind. Advice from me on the present matter would be merely taken as an\nimpertinence. Moreover I have no advice to give,--I rather approve of\nthe plan!\u201d\n\nSir Roger looked at him; and noting the humorous twinkle in his eyes\nsmiled, though somewhat gravely.\n\n\u201cI hope, with you, that the experiment may only prove an amusing one,\u201d\n he said--\u201cBut life is not always a farce!\u201d\n\n\u201cNot always, but often! When it is not a farce it is a tragedy. And such\na tragedy! My God! Horrible--monstrous--cruel beyond conception, and\nenough to make one believe in Hell and doubt Heaven!\u201d\n\nHe spoke passionately, in a voice vibrating with strong emotion. De\nLaunay glanced at him wonderingly, but did not speak.\n\n\u201cWhen you see tender young children tortured by disease,\u201d he\nwent on,--\u201cFair and gentle women made the victims of outrage and\nbrutality--strong men killed in their thousands to gain a little\nadditional gold, an extra slice of empire,--then you see the tragic,\nthe inexplicable, the crazy cruelty of putting into us this little pulse\ncalled Life. But I try not to think of this--it is no use thinking!\u201d\n\nHe paused,--then in his usual quiet tone said:\n\n\u201cTo-morrow night, then, my friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow night,\u201d rejoined De Launay,--\u201cUnless you receive further\ninstructions from the King.\u201d\n\nAt that moment the clear call of a trumpet echoing across the\nbattlements of the palace denoted the hour for changing the sentry.\n\u201cSunset already!\u201d said Von Glauben, walking to the window and throwing\nback the heavy curtain which partially shaded it, \u201cAnd yonder is Prince\nHumphry\u2019s yacht on its homeward way.\u201d\n\nDe Launay came and stood beside him, looking out. Before them the sea\nglistened with a thousand tints of lustrous opal in the light of the\nsinking sun, which, surrounded by mountainous heights of orange and\npurple cloud, began to touch the water-line with a thousand arrowy darts\nof flame. The white-sailed vessel on which their eyes were fixed, came\ncurtseying over the waves through a perfect arch of splendid colour,\nlike a fairy or phantom ship evoked from a poet\u2019s dream.\n\n\u201cAbsent all day, as he has been,\u201d said De Launay, \u201chis Royal Highness is\npunctual to the promised hour of his return.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is, as I told you, honest;\u201d said Von Glauben, \u201cand it is possible\nhis honesty will be his misfortune.\u201d\n\nDe Launay muttered something inaudible in answer, and turned to leave\nthe apartment.\n\nVon Glauben looked at him with an affectionate solicitude.\n\n\u201cWhat a lucky thing it is you never married, Roger! Otherwise you would\nnow be going to tell your wife all about the King\u2019s plans! Then she,\nsweet creature, would go to confession,--and her confessor would tell a\nbishop,--and a bishop would tell a cardinal,--and a cardinal would tell\na confidential monsignor,--and the confidential monsignor would tell the\nSupreme Pontiff,--and so all the world would be ringing with the news\nstarted by one little pretty wagging tongue of a woman!\u201d\n\nA faint flush coloured De Launay\u2019s bronzed cheek, but he laughed.\n\n\u201cTrue! I am glad I have never married. I am still more glad--of\ncircumstances\u201d--he paused,--then went on, \u201cwhich have so chanced to me\nthat I shall never marry.\u201d He paused again--then added--\u201cI must be gone,\nVon Glauben! I have to meet Prince Humphry at the quay with a message\nfrom his Majesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely,\u201d said the Professor, opening his eyes very wide, \u201cThe Prince is\nnot to be included in our adventure?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy no means!\u201d replied De Launay,--\u201cBut the King is not pleased with his\nson\u2019s frequent absences from Court, and desires to speak with him on the\nmatter.\u201d\n\nVon Glauben looked grave.\n\n\u201cThere will be some little trouble there,\u201d he said, with a half\nsigh--\u201cAch! Who knows! Perhaps some great trouble!\u201d\n\n\u201cHeaven forbid!\u201d ejaculated Sir Roger,--\u201cWe live in times of peace. We\nwant no dissension with either the King or the people. Till to-morrow\nnight then?\u201d\n\n\u201cTill to-morrow night!\u201d responded Von Glauben, whereupon Sir Roger with\na brief word of farewell, strode away.\n\nLeft to himself, the Professor still stood at his window watching the\napproach of the Prince\u2019s yacht, which came towards the shore with such\nswift and stately motion through the portals of the sunset, over the\nsparkling water.\n\n\u201cUnfortunate Humphry!\u201d he muttered,--\u201cWhat a secret he has entrusted me\nwith! And yet why do I call him unfortunate? There should be nothing to\nregret--and yet--! Well! The mischief was done before poor Heinrich\nvon Glauben was consulted; and if poor Heinrich were God and the Devil\nrolled into one strange Eternal Monster, he could not have prevented it!\nWhat is done, can never be undone!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\u201cIF I LOVED YOU!\u201d\n\n\nA singular pomp is sometimes associated with the announcement that my\nLord Pedigree, or Mister Nobody has \u2018had the honour of dining\u2019 with\ntheir Majesties the King and Queen. Outsiders read the thrilling line\nwith awe and envy,--and many of them are foolish enough to wish that\nthey also were Lords Pedigree or Misters Nobody. As a matter of sad and\nsober fact, however, a dinner with royal personages is an extremely\ndull affair. \u2018Do not speak unless you are spoken to,\u2019 is a rule which,\nhowever excellent and necessary in Court etiquette, is apt to utterly\nquench conversation, and render the brightest spirits dull and inert.\nThe silent and solemn movements of the Court flunkeys,--the painful\nattitudes of those who are _not_ \u2018spoken to\u2019; the eager yet laboured\nsmiles of those who _are_ \u2018spoken to \u2018;--the melancholy efforts at\ngaiety--the dread of trespassing on tabooed subjects--these things tend\nto make all but the most independent and unfettered minds shrink from\nsuch an ordeal as the \u2018honour\u2019 of dining with kings. It must, however,\nbe conceded that the kings themselves are fully aware of the tediousness\nof their dinner parties, and would lighten the boredom if they could;\nbut etiquette forbids. The particular monarch whose humours are the\nsubject of this \u2018plain unvarnished\u2019 history would have liked nothing\nbetter than to be allowed to dine in simplicity and peace without his\nconversation being noted, and without having a flunkey at hand to watch\nevery morsel of food go into his mouth. He would have liked to eat\nfreely, talk freely, and conduct himself generally with the ease of a\nprivate gentleman.\n\nAll this being denied to him, he hated the dinner-hour as ardently as\nhe hated receiving illuminated addresses, and the freedom of cities. Yet\nall things costly and beautiful were combined to make his royal table a\npicture which would have pleased the eyes and taste of a Marguerite de\nValois. On the evening of the day on which he had determined, as he\nhad said to himself, to \u2018begin to reign,\u2019 it looked more than usually\nattractive. Some trifling chance had made the floral decorations more\ntasteful--some amiable humour of the providence which rules daily\nevents, had ordained that two or three of the prettiest Court ladies\nshould be present;--Prince Humphry and his two brothers, Rupert and\nCyprian, were at table,--and though conversation was slow and scant, the\npicturesqueness of the scene was not destroyed by silence. The apartment\nwhich was used as a private dining-room when their Majesties had no\nguests save the members of their own household, was in itself a gem of\nart and architecture,--it had been designed and painted from floor to\nceiling by one of the most famous of the dead and gone masters, and its\nbroad windows opened out on a white marble loggia fronting the ocean,\nwhere festoons of flowers clambered and hung, in natural tufts and\ntrails of foliage and blossom, mingling their sweet odours with the\nfresh scent of the sea. Amid all the glow and delicacy of colour, the\ncrowning perfection of the perfect environment was the Queen-Consort,\nlovelier in her middle-age than most women in their teens. An exquisite\nfigure of stateliness and dignity, robed in such hues and adorned with\nsuch jewels as best suited her statuesque beauty, and attended by ladies\nof whose more youthful charms she was never envious, having indeed no\ncause for envy, she was a living defiance to the ravages of time, and\ngraced her royal husband\u2019s dinner-table with the same indifferent\nease as she graced his throne, unchanging in the dazzling light of her\nphysical faultlessness. He, looking at her with mingled impatience\nand sadness, almost wished she would grow older in appearance with her\nyears, and lose that perfect skin, white as alabaster,--that\nglittering but cold luminance of eye. For experience had taught him the\nworthlessness of beauty unaccompanied by tenderness, and fair faces had\nno longer the first attraction for him. His eldest son, Prince Humphry,\nbore a strong resemblance to himself,--he was tall and slim, with a fine\nface, and a well-built muscular figure; the other two younger princes,\nRupert and Cyprian, aged respectively eighteen and sixteen, were like\ntheir mother,--beautiful in form and feature, but as indifferent to all\ntenderness of thought and sentiment as they were full of splendid health\nand vigour. And, despite the fact that the composition and surroundings\nof his household were, to all outward appearances, as satisfactory as a\nman in his position could expect them to be, the King was intellectually\nand spiritually aware of the emptiness of the shell he called \u2018home.\u2019\n\nLove was lacking; his beautiful wife was the ice-wall against which all\nwaves of feeling froze as they fell into the stillness of death. His\nsons had been born as the foals of a racing stud might be born,--merely\nto continue the line of blood and succession. They were not the dear\noffspring of passion or of tenderness. The coldness of their mother\u2019s\nnature was strongly engendered in them, and so far they had never shown\nany particular affection for their parents. The princes Rupert and\nCyprian thought of nothing all day but sports and games of skill; they\nstudied serious tasks unwillingly, and found their position as sons of\nthe reigning monarch, irksome, and even ridiculous. They had caught the\ninfection of that diseased idea which in various exaggerated forms is\ntending to become more or less universal, and to work great mischief to\nnations,--namely, that \u2018sport\u2019 is more important than policy, and that\nall matters relating to \u2018sport,\u2019 are more worth attention than wisdom in\ngovernment. Of patriotism, or love of country they had none; and laughed\nto scorn the grand old traditions and sentiments of national glory and\nhonour, which had formerly inspired the poets of their land to many\na wild and beautiful chant of battle or of victory. How to pass the\nday--how best to amuse themselves--this was their first thought on\nwaking every morning,--football, cricket, tennis and wrestling formed\ntheir chief subjects of conversation; and though they had professors\nand tutors of the most qualified and certificated ability, they made\nno secret of their utter contempt for all learning and literature. They\nwere fine young animals; but did less with the brains bestowed upon them\nthan the working bee who makes provision of honey for the winter, or the\nswallow that builds its nest under warmly sheltered eaves.\n\nPrince Humphry, however, was of a different nature. From a shy, somewhat\nunmanageable boy, he had developed into a quiet, dreamy youth, fond of\nbooks, music, and romantic surroundings. He avoided the company of his\nbrothers whenever it was possible; their loud voices, boisterous spirits\nand perpetual chatter concerning the champions of this or that race\nor match, bored him infinitely, and he was at no pains to disguise his\nboredom. During the last year he seemed to have grown up suddenly into\nfull manhood,--he had begun to assert his privileges as Heir-Apparent,\nand to enjoy the freedom his position allowed him. Yet the manner of\nhis enjoyment was somewhat singular for a young man who formed a central\nfigure in the circle of the land\u2019s Royalty,--he cared nothing at all\nfor the amusements and dissipations of the time; he merely showed an\nabnormal love of solitude, which was highly unflattering to fashionable\nsociety. It was on this subject that the King had decided to speak\nwith him,--and he watched him with closer attention than usual on this\nparticular evening when his habit of absenting himself all day in his\nyacht had again excited comment. It was easy to see that the Prince had\nbeen annoyed by the message Sir Roger de Launay had conveyed to him on\nhis arrival home,--a message to the effect that, as soon as dinner was\nconcluded, he was required to attend his Majesty in private; and all\nthrough the stately and formal repast, his evident irritation and\nimpatience cast a shadow of vague embarrassment over the royal\nparty,--with the exception of the princes Rupert and Cyprian, who were\nnever embarrassed by anything, and who were more apt to be amused than\ndisquieted by the vexation of others. Welcome relief was at last given\nby the serving of coffee,--and the Queen and all her ladies adjourned to\ntheir own apartments. With their departure the rest of the circle soon\ndispersed, there being no special guests present; and at a sign from\nDe Launay, Prince Humphry reluctantly followed his father into a small\nprivate smoking-room adjacent to the open loggia, where the equerry,\nbowing low, left the two together.\n\nFor a moment the King kept silence, while he chose a cigar from\nthe silver box on the table. Then, lighting it, he handed the box\ncourteously to his son.\n\n\u201cWill you smoke, Humphry?\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks, Sir,--no.\u201d\n\nThe King seated himself; Prince Humphry remained standing.\n\n\u201cYou had a favourable wind for your expedition today;\u201d said the monarch\nat last, beginning to smoke placidly--\u201cI observe that The Islands appear\nto have won special notice from you. What is the attraction? The climate\nor the scenery?\u201d\n\nThe Prince was silent.\n\n\u201cI like fine scenery myself,--\u201d continued the King--\u201cI also like a\nchange of air. But variation in both is always desirable,--and for this,\nit is unwise to go to the same place every day!\u201d\n\nStill the Prince said nothing. His father looked up and studied his face\nattentively, but could guess nothing from its enigmatical expression.\n\n\u201cYou seem tongue-tied, Humphry!\u201d he said--\u201cCome, sit down! Let us talk\nthis out. Can you not trust me, your father, as a friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish I could!\u201d answered the young man, half inaudibly.\n\n\u201cAnd can you not?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo. You have never loved me!\u201d\n\nThe King drew his cigar from his mouth, and flicking off a morsel of\nash, looked at its end meditatively.\n\n\u201cWell--no!--I cannot say honestly that I have. Love,--it is a ridiculous\nword, Humphry, but it has a meaning on certain occasions!--love for the\nchildren of your mother is an impossibility!\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, I am not to blame for my mother\u2019s disposition.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue--very true. You are not to blame. But you exist. And that you do\nexist is a fact of national importance. Will you not sit down?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt your command, Sir!\u201d and the Prince seated himself opposite his\nfather, who having studied his cigar sufficiently, replaced it between\nhis lips and went on smoking for a few minutes before he spoke again.\nThen he resumed:--\n\n\u201cYour existence, I repeat, Humphry, is a fact of national importance.\nTo you falls the Throne when I have done with it, and life has done\nwith me. Therefore, your conduct,--your mode of life--your example in\nmanners--concern, not me, so much as the nation. You say that you cannot\ntrust me as a friend, because I have never loved you. Is not this a\nsomewhat childish remark on your part? We live in a very practical\nage--love is not a necessary tie between human beings as things go\nnowadays;--the closest bond of friendship rests on the basis of cash\naccounts.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am perfectly aware of that!\u201d said the Prince, fixing his fine dark\neyes full on his father\u2019s face--\u201cAnd yet, after all, love is such a\nvital necessity, that I have only to look at you, in order to realize\nthe failure and mistake of trying to do without it!\u201d\n\nThe King gave him a glance of whimsical surprise.\n\n\u201cSo!--you have begun to notice what I have known for years!\u201d he said\nlightly--\u201cClever young man! What fine fairy finger is pointing out to\nyou my deficiencies, while supplying your own? Do you learn to estimate\nthe priceless value of love while contemplating the romantic groves and\nwoodlands of The Islands? Do you read poetry there?--or write it? Or\ntalk it?\u201d\n\nPrince Humphry coloured,--then grew very pale.\n\n\u201cWhen I misuse my time, Sir,\u201d he said--\u201cSurely it will then be needful\nto catechise me on the manner in which I spend it,--but not till then!\u201d\n\n\u201cFairly put!\u201d answered the King--\u201cBut I have an idea--it may be a\nmistaken idea,--still I have it--that you _are_ misusing your time,\nHumphry! And this is the cause of our present little discussion. If I\nknew that you occupied yourself with the pleasures befitting your age\nand rank, I should be more at ease.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you consider to be the pleasures befitting my age and rank?\u201d\n asked the Prince with a touch of satire; \u201cMaking a fool of myself\ngenerally?\u201d\n\nThe King smiled.\n\n\u201cWell!--it would be better to make a fool of yourself generally than\nparticularly! Folly is not so harmful when spread like jam over a whole\nslice of bread,--but it may cause a life-long sickness, if swallowed in\none secret gulp of sweetness!\u201d\n\nThe Prince moved uneasily.\n\n\u201cYou think I am catechising you,--and you resent it--but, my dear boy,\nlet me again remind you that you are in a manner answerable to the\nnation for your actions; and especially to that particular section of\nthe nation called Society. Society is the least and worst part of the\nwhole community--but it has to be considered by such servants of the\npublic as ourselves. You know what James the First of England wrote\nconcerning the \u2018domestic regulations\u2019 on the conduct of a prince and\nfuture king? \u2018A king is set as one on a stage, whose smallest, actions\nand gestures all the people gazinglie do behold; and, however just in\nthe discharge of his office, yet if his behaviour be light or dissolute,\nin indifferent actions, the people, who see but the outward part,\nconceive preoccupied conceits of the king\u2019s inward intention, which\nalthough with time, the trier of all truth, will evanish by the evidence\nof the contrarie effect, yet, _interim patitur justus_, and prejudged\nconceits will, in the meantime, breed contempt, the mother of rebellion\nand disorder.\u2019 Poor James of the \u2018goggle eyes and large hysterical\nheart\u2019 as Carlyle describes him! Do you not agree with his estimate of a\nroyal position?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not aware, Sir, that my behaviour can as yet be called light or\ndissolute;\u201d replied the Prince coldly, with a touch of hauteur.\n\n\u201cI do not call it so, Humphry\u201d--said the King--\u201cTo the best of my\nknowledge, your conduct has always been most exemplary. But with all\nyour excessive decorum, you are mysterious. That is bad! Society will\nnot endure being kept in the dark, or outside the door of things, like\na bad child! It wants to be in the room, and know everything and\neverybody. And this reminds me of another point on which the good\nEnglish James offers sound advice. \u2018Remember to be plaine and sensible\nin your language; for besides, it is the tongue\u2019s office to be the\nmessenger of the mind, it may be thought a point of imbecilitie of\nspirit, in a king to speak obscurely, much more untrewly, as if he stood\nin awe of any in uttering his thoughts.\u2019 That is precisely your mood at\nthe present moment, Humphry,--you stand \u2018in awe\u2019--of me or of someone\nelse,--in \u2018uttering your thoughts.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me, Sir,--I do not stand in awe of you or of anyone;\u201d said the\nPrince composedly--\u201cI simply do not choose to \u2018utter my thoughts\u2019 just\nnow.\u201d\n\nThe King looked at him in surprise, and with a touch of admiration. The\ndefiant air he had unconsciously assumed became him,--his handsome\nface was pale, and his dark eyes coldly brilliant, like those of his\nbeautiful mother, with the steel light of an inflexible resolve.\n\n\u201cYou do not choose?\u201d said the King, after a pause--\u201cYou decline to give\nany explanation of your long hours of absence?--your constant visits to\nThe Islands, and your neglect of those social duties which should keep\nyou at Court?\u201d\n\n\u201cI decline to do so for the present,\u201d replied the young man decisively;\n\u201cI can see no harm in my preference for quietness rather than\nnoise,--for scenes of nature rather than those of artificial folly. The\nIslands are but two hours sail from this port,--little tufts of land set\nin the sea, where the coral-fishers dwell. They are beautiful in\ntheir natural adornment of foliage and flower;--I go there to read--to\ndream--to think of life as a better, purer thing than what you call\n\u2018society\u2019 would make it for me; you cannot blame me for this?\u201d\n\nThe King was silent.\n\n\u201cIf it is your wish,\u201d--went on the Prince--\u201cthat I should stay in the\npalace more, I will obey you. If you desire me to be seen oftener in\nthe capital, I will endeavour to fulfil your command, though the streets\nstifle me. But, for God\u2019s sake, do not make me a puppet on show before\nmy time,--or marry me to a woman I hate, merely for the sake of heirs to\na wretched Throne!\u201d\n\nThe King rose from his chair, and, walking towards the garden, threw the\nrest of his cigar out among the foliage, where the burning morsel shone\nlike a stray glowworm in the green. Then he turned towards his son;--his\nface was grave, almost stern.\n\n\u201cYou can go, Humphry!\u201d he said;--\u201cI have no more to say to you at\npresent. You talk wildly and at random, as if you were, by some means or\nother, voluntarily bent upon unfitting yourself for the position you\nare destined to occupy. You will do well, I think, to remain more in\nevidence at Court. You will also do well to be seen at some of the\ndifferent great social functions of the day. But I shall not coerce you.\nOnly--consider well what I have said!--and if you have a secret\u201d--he\npaused, and then repeated with emphasis--\u201cI say, if you have a secret of\nany kind, be advised, and confide in me before it is too late! Otherwise\nyou may find yourself betrayed unawares! Good-night!\u201d\n\nHe walked away without throwing so much as a backward glance at the\nPrince, who stood amazed at the suddenness and decision with which he\nhad brought the conversation to a close; and it was not till his tall\nfigure had disappeared that the young man began to realize the doubtful\nawkwardness of the attitude he had assumed towards one who, both as\nparent and king, had the most urgent claim in the world upon his respect\nand obedience. Impatient and angry with himself, he crossed the loggia\nand went out into the garden beyond. A young moon, slender as a bent\nwillow wand, gleamed in the clear heavens among hosts of stars more\nbrilliantly visible than itself, and the soft air, laden with the\nperfume of thousands of flowers, cooled his brain and calmed his nerves.\nThe musical low murmur of the sea, lapping against the shore below the\npalace walls, suggested a whole train of pleasing and poetical fancies,\nand he strolled along the dewy grass paths, under tangles of scented\nshrubs and arching boughs of pine, giving himself up to such idyllic\ndreams of life and life\u2019s fairest possibilities, as only youthful and\nimaginative souls can indulge in. He was troubled and vexed by his\nfather\u2019s warning, but not sufficiently to pay serious heed to it. His\n\u2018secret\u2019 was safe so far;--and all he had to do, so he considered, was\nto exercise a little extra precaution.\n\n\u201cThere is only Von Glauben,\u201d--he thought, \u201cand he would never betray me.\nBesides it is a mere question of another year--and then I can make all\nthe truth known.\u201d\n\nThe lovely long-drawn warble of a nightingale broke the stillness\naround him with a divine persistence of passion. He listened, standing\nmotionless, his eyes lifted towards the dark boughs above him, from\nwhence the golden notes dropped liquidly; and his heart beat quickly as\nhe thought of a voice sweeter than that of any heavenly-gifted bird, a\nface fairer than that of the fabled goddess who on such a night as this\ndescended from her silver moon-car to enchant Endymion;--and he murmured\nhalf aloud--\n\n\u201cWho would not risk a kingdom--ay! a thousand kingdoms!--for such\nhappiness as I possess! It is a foolish, blind world nowadays, that\nforgets the glory of its youth,--the glow, the breath, the tenderness of\nlove!--all for amassing gold and power! I will not be of such a world,\nnor with it;--I will not be like my father, the slave of pomp and\ncircumstance;--I will live an unfettered life--yes!--even if I have to\nresign the throne for the sake of freedom, still I will be free!\u201d\n\nHe strolled on, absorbed in romantic reverie, and the nightingale\u2019s\nsong followed him through the winding woods down to the shore, where the\nwaves made other music of their own, which harmonised with the dreamy\nfancies of his mind.\n\nMeanwhile, the King had sought his consort in her own apartments.\nWalking down the great corridor which led to these, the most beautiful\nrooms in the palace, he became aware of the silvery sound of stringed\ninstruments mingling with harmonious voices,--though he scarcely heeded\nthe soft rush of melody which came thus wafted to his ears. He was full\nof thoughts and schemes,--his son\u2019s refusal to confide in him had not\nseriously troubled him, because he knew he should, with patience, find\nout in good time all that the young Prince had declined to explain,--and\nhis immediate interest was centred in his own immediate plans.\n\nOn reaching the ante-room leading to the Queen\u2019s presence-chamber, he\nwas informed that her Majesty was listening to a concert in the rosery.\nThither he went unattended,--and passing through a long suite of\nsplendid rooms, each one more sumptuously adorned than the last, he\npresently stepped out on the velvet greensward of one of the most\nperfect rose gardens in the world--a garden walled entirely round with\ntall hedges of the clambering flowers which gave it its name, and which\nwere trailed up on all sides, so as to form a ceiling or hanging\ncanopy above. In the centre of this floral hall, now in full blossom,\na fountain tossed up one tall column of silver spray; and at its upper\nend, against a background of the dainty white roses called \u201cFelicit\u00e9\nperp\u00e9tuelle\u201d sat the Queen, in a high chair of carved ivory, surrounded\nby her ladies. Delicious music, performed by players and singers who\nwere hidden behind the trees, floated in voluptuous strains upon the\nair, and the King, looking at the exquisite grouping of fair women and\nflowers, lit by the coloured lamps which gleamed here and there among\nthe thick foliage, wondered to himself how it chanced, that amid\nsurroundings which were calculated to move the senses to the most\nrefined and delicate rapture, he himself could feel no quickening pulse,\nno touch of admiration. These open-air renderings of music and song were\nthe Queen\u2019s favourite form of recreation;--at such times alone would her\nproud face soften and her eyes grow languid with an unrevealed weight of\ndreams. But should her husband, or any one of his sex break in upon the\ncharmed circle, her pleasure was at once clouded,--and the cold hauteur\nof her beautiful features became again inflexibly frozen. Such was the\ncase now, when perceiving the King, she waved her hand as a sign for the\nmusic to cease; and with a glance of something like wonderment at his\nintrusion, saluted him profoundly as he entered the precincts of her\ngarden Court. But for once he did not pause as usual, on his way to\nwhere she sat,--but lightly acknowledging the deep curtseys of the\nladies in attendance, he advanced towards her and raising her hand in\ncourtly homage to his lips, seated himself carelessly in a low chair at\nher feet.\n\n\u201cLet the music go on!\u201d he said; \u201cI am here to listen.\u201d\n\nThe Queen looked at him,--he met her eyes with an expression that she\nhad never seen on his face before.\n\n\u201cSuffer me to have my way!\u201d he said to her in a low tone--\u201cLet your\nsingers finish their programme; afterwards do me the favour to dismiss\nyour women, for I must speak with you alone.\u201d\n\nShe bent her head in acquiescence; and re-seated herself on her ivory\nthrone. The sign was given for the continuance of the music, and the\nKing, leaning back in his chair, half closed his eyes as he listened\ndreamily to the harmonious throbbing of harps and violins around him,\nin the stillness of the languid southern night. His hand almost brushed\nagainst his wife\u2019s jewelled robes--the scent of the great lilies on her\nbreast was wafted to him with every breath of air, and he thought--\u201cAll\nthis would be Paradise,--with any other woman!\u201d And while he so thought,\nthe clear tenor voice of one of the unseen singers rang out in half gay,\nhalf tender tones:\n\n\n  If I loved you, and you loved me,\n  How happy this little world would be--\n  The light of the day, the dancing hours,\n  The skies, the trees, the birds and flowers,\n  Would all be part of our perfect gladness;--\n  And never a note of pain or sadness\n  Would jar life\u2019s beautiful melody\n  If I loved you, and you loved me!\n\n  \u2018If I loved you!\u2019 Why, I scarcely know\n  How if I did, the time would go!--\n  I should forget my dreary cares,\n  My sordid toil, my long despairs,\n  I should watch your smile, and kneel at your feet,\n  And live my life in the love of you, Sweet!--\n  So mad, so glad, so proud I should be,\n  If I loved you, and you loved me!\n\n  \u2018If you loved me!\u2019 Ah, nothing so strange\n  As that could chance in this world of change!--\n  As well expect a planet to fall,\n  Or a Queen to dwell in a beggar\u2019s hall--\n  But if you did,--romance and glory\n  Might spring from our lives\u2019 united story,\n  And angels might be less happy than we--\n  If I loved you and you loved me!\n\n  \u2018If I loved you and you loved me!\u2019\n  Alas, \u2018t is a joy we shall never see!\n  You are too fair--I am too cold;--\n  We shall drift along till we both grow old,\n  Till we reach the grave, and gasping, die,\n  Looking back on the days that have passed us by,\n  When \u2018what might have been,\u2019 can no longer be,--\n  When I lost you, and you lost me!\n\n\nThe song concluded abruptly, and with passion;--and the King, turning on\nhis elbow, glanced with a touch of curiosity at the face of his Queen.\nThere was not a flicker of emotion on its fair cold calmness,--not a\nquiver on the beautiful lips, or a sigh to stir the quiet breast on\nwhich the lilies rested, white and waxen, and heavily odorous. He\nwithdrew his gaze with a half smile at his own folly for imagining that\nshe could be moved by a mere song to any expression of feeling,--even\nfor a moment,--and allowed his glance to wander unreservedly over the\nforms and features of the other ladies in attendance who, conscious of\nhis regard, dropped their eyelids and blushed softly, after the fashion\napproved by the heroines of the melodramatic stage. Whereat he began to\nthink of the tiresome sameness of women generally; and their irritating\nhabit of living always at two extremes,--either all ardour, or all\ncoldness.\n\n\u201cBoth are equally fatiguing to a man\u2019s mind,\u201d he thought\nimpatiently--\u201cThe only woman that is truly fascinating is the one who\nis never in the same mind two days together. Fair on Monday, plain on\nTuesday, sweet on Wednesday, sour on Thursday, tender on Friday, cold on\nSaturday, and in all moods at once on Sunday,--that being a day of rest!\nI should adore such a woman as that if I ever met her, because I should\nnever know her mind towards me!\u201d\n\nA soft serenade rendered by violins, with a harp accompaniment, was\nfollowed by a gay mazurka, played by all the instruments together,--and\nthis finished the musical programme.\n\nThe Queen rose, accepting the hand which the King extended to her,\nand moved with him slowly across the rose-garden, her long snowy train\nglistering with jewels, and held up from the greensward by a pretty\npage, who, in his picturesque costume of rose and gold, demurely\nfollowed his Royal lady\u2019s footsteps,--and so amid the curtseying\nladies-in-waiting and other attendants, they passed together into a\nprivate boudoir, at the threshold of which the Queen\u2019s train-bearer\ndropped his rich burden of perfumed velvet and gems, and bowing low,\nleft their Majesties together.\n\nShutting the door upon him with his own hand, the King drew a heavy\nporti\u00e8re across it,--and then walking round the room saw that every\nwindow was closed,--every nook secure. The Queen\u2019s boudoir was one of\nthe most sacred corners in the whole palace,--no one, not even the most\nintimate lady of the Court in personal attendance on her Majesty, dared\nenter it without special permission; and this being the case, the\nQueen herself was faintly moved to surprise at the extra precaution\nher husband appeared to be taking to ensure privacy. She stood silently\nwatching his movements till he came up to her, and bowing courteously,\nsaid:--\n\n\u201cI pray you, be seated, Madam! I will not detain you long.\u201d\n\nShe obeyed his gesture, and sank down in a chair with that inimitable\nnoiseless grace which made every attitude of hers a study for an artist,\nand waited for his next words; while he, standing opposite to her, bent\nhis eyes upon her face with a certain wistfulness and appeal.\n\n\u201cI have never asked you a favour,\u201d he began--\u201cand--since the day we\nmarried,--I have never sought your sympathy. The years have come and\ngone, leaving no visible trace on either you or me, so far as outward\nlooks go,--and if they have scarred and wrinkled us inwardly, only God\ncan see those scars! But as time moves on with a man,--I know not how it\nis with a woman,--if he be not altogether a fool, he begins to consider\nthe way in which he has spent, or is spending his life,--whether he has\nbeen, or is yet likely to be of any use to the world he lives in,--or\nif he is of less account than the blown froth of the sea, or the sand\non the shore. Myriads and myriads of men and women are no more than\nthis--no more than midges or ants or worms;--but every now and then in\nthe course of centuries, one man does stand forth from the million,--one\nheart does beat courageously enough to send the firm echo of its\npulsations through a long vista of time,--one soul does so exalt and\ninspire the rest of the world by its great example that we are, through\nits force reminded of something divine,--something high and true in a\nlow wilderness of shams!\u201d\n\nHe paused; the Queen raised her beautiful eyes, and smiled strangely.\n\n\u201cHave you only just now thought of this?\u201d she said.\n\nHe flushed, and bit his lip.\n\n\u201cTo be perfectly honest with you, Madam, I have thought of nothing worth\nthinking about for many years! Most men in my position would probably\nmake the same confession. Perhaps had you given me any great work to do\nfor your sake I should have done it! Had _you_ inspired me to achieve\nsome great conquest, either for myself or others, I should no doubt\nhave conquered! But I have lived for twenty-one years in your admirable\ncompany without being commanded by you to do anything worthy of a\nking;--I am now about to command Myself!--in order to leave some notable\ntrace of my name in history.\u201d\n\nWhile he thus spoke, a faint flush coloured the Queen\u2019s cheeks, but it\nquickly died away, leaving her very pale. Her fingers strayed among the\ngreat jewels she wore, and toyed unconsciously with a ruby talisman cut\nin the shape of a heart, and encircled with diamonds. The King noted the\nflash of the gems against the whiteness of her hand, and said:\n\n\u201cYour heart, Madam, is like the jewel you hold!--clear crimson, and full\nof fire,--but it is not the fire of Heaven, though you may perchance\njudge it to be so. Rather is it of hell!--(I pray you to pardon me for\nthe roughness of this suggestion!)--for one of the chief crimes of\nthe devil is unconquerable hatred of the human race. You share\nSatan\u2019s aversion to man!--and strange indeed it is that even the most\nsympathetic companionship with your own sex cannot soften that aversion!\nHowever, we will not go into this;--the years have proved you true to\nyour own temperament, and there is nothing to be said on the matter,\neither of blame or of praise. As I said, I have never asked a favour of\nyou, nor have I sought the sympathy which it is not in your nature\nto give. I have not even claimed your obedience in any particular\nstrictness of form; but that is my errand to you to-night,--indeed it is\nthe sole object of this private interview,--to claim your entire, your\nunfaltering, your implicit obedience!\u201d\n\nShe raised her head haughtily.\n\n\u201cTo what commands, Sir?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cTo those I have here written,--\u201d and he handed her a paper folded\nin two, which she took wonderingly, as he extended it. \u201cRead this\ncarefully!--and if you have any objections to urge, I am willing to\nlisten to you with patience, though scarcely to alter the conditions\nlaid down.\u201d\n\nHe turned away, and walked slowly through the room, pausing a moment\nto whistle to a tiny bird swinging in a gilded cage, that perked up its\npretty head at his call and twittered with pleasure.\n\n\u201cSo you respond to kindness, little one!\u201d he said softly,--\u201cYou are more\nChrist-like in that one grace than many a Christian!\u201d\n\nHe started, as a light touch fell on his shoulder, and he saw the Queen\nstanding beside him. She held the paper he had given her in one hand,\nand as he looked at her enquiringly she touched it with her lips, and\nplaced it in her bosom.\n\n\u201cI swear my obedience to your instructions, Sir!\u201d she said,--\u201cDo not\nfear to trust me!\u201d\n\nGently he took her hands and kissed them.\n\n\u201cI thank you!\u201d he said simply.\n\nFor a moment they confronted each other. The beautiful cold woman\u2019s eyes\ndrooped under the somewhat sad and searching gaze of the man.\n\n\u201cBut--your life!--\u201d she murmured.\n\n\u201cMy life!\u201d He laughed and dropped her hands. \u201cWould you care, Madam, if\nI were dead? Would you shed any tears? Not you! Why should you? At this\nlate hour of time, when after twenty-one years passed in each other\u2019s\nclose company we are no nearer to each other in heart and soul than if\nthe sea murmuring yonder at the foot of these walls were stretching\nits whole width between us! Besides--we are both past our youth! And,\naccording to certain highly instructed scientists and philosophers, the\nsenses and affections grow numb with age. I do not believe this theory\nmyself--for the jejune love of youth is as a taper\u2019s flame to the great\nand passionate tenderness of maturity, when the soul, and not the body,\nclaims its due; when love is not dragged down to the vulgar level of\nmere cohabitation, after the fashion of the animals in a farmyard,\nbut rises to the best height of human sympathy and intelligent\ncomprehension. Who knows!--I may experience such a love as that\nyet,--and so may you!\u201d\n\nShe was silent.\n\n\u201cTalking of love,\u201d--he went on--\u201cMay I ask whether our son,--or rather\nthe nation\u2019s son, Humphry,--ever makes you his confidante?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cI thought not! We do not seem to be the kind of parents admired\nin moral story-books, Madam! We are not the revered darlings of our\nchildren. In fact, our children have the happy disposition of animal\ncubs,--once out of the nursing stage, they forget they ever had parents.\nIt is quite the natural and proper thing, born as they were born,--it\nwould never do for them to have any over-filial regard for us. Imagine\nHumphry weeping for my death, or yours! What a grotesque idea! And as\nfor Rupert and Cyprian,--it is devoutly to be hoped that when we die,\nour funerals may be well over before the great cricket matches of the\nyear come on, as otherwise they will curse us for having left the world\nat an inconvenient season!\u201d He laughed. \u201cHow sentiment has gone out\nnowadays, or how it seems to have gone out! Yet it slumbers in the\nheart of the nation,--and if it should ever awaken,--well!--it will be\ndangerous! I asked you about Humphry, because I imagine he is entangled\nin some love-affair. If it should be agreeable to your humour to go with\nme across to The Islands one day this week, we may perhaps by chance\ndiscover the reason of his passion for that particular kind of scenery!\u201d\n\nThe Queen\u2019s eyes opened wonderingly.\n\n\u201cThe Islands!\u201d she repeated,--\u201cThe Islands? Why, only the coral-fishers\nlive there,--they have a community of their own, and are jealous of all\nstrangers. What should Humphry do there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is more than I can tell you,\u201d answered the King,--\u201cAnd it is more\nthan he will himself explain. Nevertheless, he is there nearly every\nday,--some attraction draws him, but what, I cannot discover. If Humphry\nwere of the soul of me, as he is of the body of me, I should not even\ntry to fathom his secret,--but he is the nation\u2019s child--heir to its\nthrone--and as such, it is necessary that we, for the nation\u2019s sake,\nshould guard him in the nation\u2019s interests. If you chance to learn\nanything of the object of his constant sea-wanderings, I trust you will\nfind it coincident with your pleasure to inform me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall most certainly obey you in this, Sir, as in all other things!\u201d\n she replied.\n\nHe moved a step or two towards her.\n\n\u201cGood-night!\u201d he said very gently, and detaching one of the lilies from\nher corsage, took it in his own hand. \u201cGood-night! This flower will\nremind me of you;--white and beautiful, with all the central gold deep\nhidden!\u201d\n\nHe looked at her intently, with a lingering look, half of tenderness,\nhalf of regret, and bowing in the courtliest fashion of homage, left her\npresence.\n\nShe remained alone, the velvet folds of her train flowing about her\nfeet, and the jewels on her breast flashing like faint sparks of flame\nin the subdued glow of the shaded lamplight. She was touched for the\nfirst time in her life by the consciousness of something infinitely\nnoble, and altogether above her in her husband\u2019s nature. Slowly she\ndrew out the paper he had given her from her bosom and read it through\nagain--and yet once again. Almost unconsciously to herself a mist\ngathered in her eyes and softened into two bright tears, which dropped\ndown her fair cheeks, and lost themselves among her diamonds.\n\n\u201cHe is brave!\u201d she murmured--\u201cBraver than I thought he could ever be--\u201d\n\nShe roused herself sharply from her abstraction. Emotions which were\nbeyond her own control had strangely affected her, and the humiliating\nidea that her moods had for a moment escaped beyond her guidance made\nher angry with herself for what she considered mere weakness. And\npassing quickly out of the boudoir, in the vague fear that solitude\nmight deepen the sense of impotence and failure which insinuated itself\nslowly upon her, like a dull blight creeping through her heart and soul,\nshe rejoined her ladies, the same great Queen as ever, with the same\nlook of indifference on her face, the same chill smile, the same\nperfection of loveliness, unwithered by any visible trace of sorrow or\nof passion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nSERGIUS THORD\n\n\nThe next day the heavens were clouded; and occasional volleys of heavy\nthunder were mingled with the gusts of wind and rain which swept over\nthe city, and which lashed the fair southern sea into a dark semblance\nof such angry waves as wear away northern coasts into bleak and rocky\nbarrenness. It was disappointing weather to multitudes, for it was the\nfeast-day of one of the numerous saints whose names fill the calendar of\nthe Roman Church,--and a great religious procession had been organized\nto march from the market-place to the Cathedral, in which two or three\nhundred children and girls had been chosen to take part. The fickle\nbursts of sunshine which every now and again broke through the lowering\nsky, decided the priests to carry out their programme in spite of the\nthreatening storm, in the hope that it would clear off completely with\nthe afternoon. Accordingly, groups of little maidens, in white robes and\nveils, began to assemble with their flags and banners at the appointed\nhour round the old market cross, which,--grey and crumbling at the\nsummit,--bent over the streets like a withered finger, crook\u2019d as it\nwere, in feeble remonstrance at the passing of time,--while glimpses of\nyoung faces beneath the snowy veils, and chatter of young voices, made\nbrightness and music around its frowning and iron-bound base. Shortly\nbefore three o\u2019clock the Cathedral bells began to chime, and crowds\nof people made their way towards the sacred edifice in the laughing,\npushing, gesticulating fashion of southerners, to whom a special service\nat the Church is like a new comedy at the theatre,--women with coloured\nkerchiefs knotted over their hair or across their bosoms--men, more or\nless roughly clad, yet all paying compliment to the Saint\u2019s feast-day\nby some extra smart touch in their attire, if it were only a pomegranate\nflower or orange-blossom stuck in their hats, or behind their ears.\nIt was a mixed crowd, all of the working classes, who are proverbially\ncalled \u2018the common,\u2019 as if those who work, are not a hundred times\nmore noble than those who do nothing! A few carriages, containing some\nwealthy ladies of the nobility, who, to atone for their social sins,\nwere in the habit of contributing largely to the Church, passed every\nnow and again through the crowd, but taken as a spectacle it was simply\na \u2018popular\u2019 show, in which the children of the people took part, and\nwhere the people themselves were evidently more amused than edified.\n\nWhile the bells were ringing the procession gradually formed;--a\ndozen or more priests leading,--incense-bearers and acolytes walking\nnext,--and then the long train of little children and girls carrying\ntheir symbolic banners, following after. The way they had to walk was a\nsteep, winding ascent, through tortuous streets, to the Cathedral, which\nstood in the centre of a great square on an eminence which overlooked\nthe whole city, and as soon as they started they began to sing,--softly\nat first, then more clearly and sweetly, till gradually the air grew\nfull of melody, rising and falling on the capricious gusts of wind which\ntore at the gilded and emblazoned banners, and tossed the white veils of\nthe maidens about like wreaths of drifting snow. Two men standing on the\nCathedral hill, watched the procession gradually ascending--one tall and\nheavily-built, with a dark leonine head made more massive-looking by\nits profusion of thick and unmanageable hair--the other lean and\nnarrow-shouldered, with a peaked reddish-auburn beard, which he\ncontinually pulled and twitched at nervously as though its growth on his\nchin was more a matter of vexation than convenience. He was apparently\nnot so much interested in the Church festival as he was in his\ncompanion\u2019s face, for he was perpetually glancing up at that brooding\ncountenance, which, half hidden as it was in wild hair and further\nconcealed by thick moustache and beard, showed no expression at all,\nunless an occasional glimpse of full flashing eyes under the bushy\nbrows, gave a sudden magnetic hint of something dangerous and not to be\ntrifled with.\n\n\u201cYou do not believe anything you hear or read, Sergius Thord!\u201d he\nsaid--\u201cWill you twist your whole life into a crooked attitude of\nsuspicion against all mankind?\u201d He who was named Sergius Thord, lifted\nhimself slowly from the shoulders upwards, the action making his great\nheight and broad chest even more apparent than before. A gleam of white\nteeth shone under his black moustache.\n\n\u201cI do not twist my life into a crooked attitude, Johan Zegota,\u201d he\nreplied. \u201cIf it is crooked, others have twisted it for me! Why should I\nbelieve what I hear, since it is the fashion to lie? Why should I\naccept what I read, since it is the business of the press to deceive the\npublic? And why do you ask me foolish questions? You should be better\ninstructed, seeing that your creed is the same as mine!\u201d\n\n\u201cHave I ever denied it?\u201d exclaimed Zegota warmly--\u201cBut I have said, and\nI say again that I believe the news is true,--and that these howling\nhypocrites,--\u201d this with an angry gesture of his hand towards the open\nsquare where the chanting priests who headed the procession were coming\ninto view--\u201chave truly received an unlooked-for check from the King!\u201d\n\nSergius Thord laid one hand heavily on his shoulder.\n\n\u201cWhen the King--when any king--does anything useful in the world, then\nyou may hang me with your own hands, Zegota! When did you ever hear,\nexcept in myths of the past, of a monarch who cared for his people more\nthan his crown? Tell me that! Tell me of any king who so truly loved the\npeople he was called upon to govern, that he sacrificed his own money,\nas well as his own time, to remedy their wrongs?--to save them from\nunjust government, to defend them from cruel taxation?--to see that\ntheir bread was not taken from their mouths by foreign competition?--and\nto make it possible for them to live in the country of their birth in\npeace and prosperity? Bah! There never was such a king! And that this\nman,--who has for three years left us to the mercy of the most accursed\ncheat and scoundrel minister that ever was in power,--has now declared\nhis opposition to the Jesuits\u2019, is more than I will or can believe.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it were true?\u201d--suggested Zegota, with a more than usually vicious\ntug at his beard.\n\n\u201cIf it were true, it would not alter my opinion, or set aside my\nintention,\u201d replied Thord,--\u201cI would admit that the King had done one\ngood deed before going to hell! Look! Here come the future traitresses\nof men--girls trained by priests to deceive their nearest and dearest!\nPoor children! They know nothing as yet of the uses to which their lives\nare destined! If they could but die now, in their innocent faith and\nstupidity, how much better for all the world!\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, the wind, swooping into the square, and accompanied by\na pattering gust of rain, fell like a fury upon the leaders of the\nreligious procession and tore one of the great banners out of the hands\nof the priest who held it, beating it against his head and face with so\nmuch force that he fell backward to the ground under its weight, while\nfrom a black cloud above, a flash of lightning gleamed, followed almost\ninstantaneously by a loud clap of thunder, which shook the square with\na mighty reverberation like that of a bursting bomb. The children\nscreamed,--and ran towards the Cathedral pellmell; and for a few moments\nthere ensued indescribable confusion, the priests, the people, and the\nwhite-veiled girls getting mixed together in a wild hurly-burly. Sergius\nThord suddenly left his companion\u2019s side, and springing on a small\nhandcart that stood empty near the centre of the square, his tall\nfigure rose up all at once like a dark apparition above the heads of\nthe assembled crowd, and his voice, strong, clear, and vibrating with\npassion, rang out like a deep alarm bell, through all the noise of the\nstorm.\n\n\u201cWhither are you going, O foolish people? To pray to God? Pray to\nHim here, then, under the flash of His lightning!--in the roll of His\nthunder!--beneath His cathedral-canopy of clouds! Pray to Him with all\nyour hearts, your brains, your reason, your intelligence, and leave mere\nlip-service and mockery to priests; and to these poor children, who, as\nyet, know no better than to obey tyrants! Would you find out God? He\nis here--with me,--with you!--in the earth, in the sky, in the sun and\nstorm! Whenever Truth declares a living fact, God speaks,--whenever we\nrespond to that Truth, God hears! No church, no cathedral contains His\npresence more than we shall find it here--with us--where we stand!\u201d\n\nThe people heard, and a great silence fell upon them. All faces were\nturned toward the speaker, and none appeared to heed the great drops\nof fast-falling rain. One of the priests who was trying to marshal the\nscattered children into their former order, so that they might enter the\nCathedral in the manner arranged for the religious service, looked up\nto see the cause of the sudden stillness, and muttered a curse under his\nbreath. But even while the oath escaped his lips, he gave the signal for\nthe sacred chanting to be resumed, and in another moment the \u2018Litany\nof the Virgin\u2019 was started in stentorian tones by the leaders of the\nprocession. Intimidated by the looks, as well as by the commands of the\npriests, the girls and children joined in the chanting with tremulous\nvoices, as they began to file through the Cathedral doors and enter the\ngreat nave. But a magnetic spell, stronger than any invocation of the\nChurch, had fallen upon the crowd, and they all stood as though caught\nin the invisible web of some enchanter, their faces turned upwards to\nwhere Thord\u2019s tall figure towered above them. His eyes glittered as\nhe noted the sudden hush of attention which prevailed, and lifting\nhis rough cap from his head, he waved it towards the open door of the\nCathedral, through which the grand strains of the organ rolling out from\nwithin gave forth solemn invitation:--\n\n\u201cSancta Dei Genitrix, Ora pro nobis!\u201d\n\nsang the children, as they passed in line under the ancient porch,\ncarved with the figures of forgotten saints and bishops, whose stone\ncountenances had stared at similar scenes through the course of long\ncenturies.\n\n\u201cSancta Dei Genitrix, ora pro nobis!\u201d echoed Sergius Thord--\u201cDo you hear\nit, O men? Do you hear it, O women? What does it teach you? \u2018Holy Mother\nof God!\u2019 Who was she? Was she not merely a woman to whom God descended?\nAnd what is the lesson she gives you? Plainly this--that men should be\nas gods, and women as the mothers of gods! For every true and brave man\nborn into the world has God within him,--is made of God, and must return\nto God! And every woman who gives birth to one such, true, brave man,\nhas given a God-incarnated being to the world! \u2018Sancta Dei Genitrix!\u2019\nBe all as mothers of gods, O women! Be as gods, O men! Be as gods in\ncourage, in truth, in wisdom, in freedom! Suffer not devils to have\ncommand of you! For devils there are, as there are gods;--evil there\nis, as there is good. Fiends are born of women as gods are--and yet evil\nitself is of God, inasmuch as without God there can be neither evil nor\ngood. Let us help God, we His children, to conquer evil by conquering\nit in ourselves--and by refusing to give it power over us! So shall\nGod show us all goodness,--all pity! So shall He cease to afflict His\nchildren; so will He cease to torture us with undeserved sorrows and\ndevilish agonies, for which we are not to blame!\u201d\n\nHe paused. The singing had ceased; the children\u2019s procession had entered\nthe Cathedral, and the doors still stood wide open. But the people\nremained outside, crowded in the square, and gathering momentarily in\ngreater numbers.\n\n\u201cLook you!\u201d cried Sergius Thord--\u201cThe building which is called the\nSanctuary of God, stands open--why do you not all enter there? Within\nare precious marbles, priceless pictures, jewels and relics--and a great\naltar raised up by the gifts of wicked dead kings, who by money sought\nto atone for their sins to the people. There are priests who fast and\npray in public, and gratify all the lusts of appetite in private. There\nare poor and ignorant women who believe whatsoever these priests tell\nthem--all this you can see if you go inside yonder. Why do you not go?\nWhy do you remain with me?\u201d\n\nA faint murmur, like the rising ripple of an angry sea, rose from the\ncrowd, but quickly died away again into silence.\n\n\u201cShall I tell you why you stay?\u201d went on Thord,--\u201cBecause you know I\nam your friend--and because you also know that the priests are your\nenemies! Because you know that I tell you the truth, and that the\npriests tell you lies! Because you feel that all the promises made to\nyou of happiness in Heaven cannot explain away to your satisfaction the\ncauses of your bitter suffering and poverty on earth! Because you are\ngradually learning that the chief business of priestcraft is to deceive\nthe people and keep them down,--down, always down in a state of wretched\nignorance. Learn, learn all you can, my brothers--take the only good\nthing modern government gives you--Education! Education is thrown at\nus like a bone thrown to a dog, half picked by others and barely\nnourishing--but take it, take it, friends, for in it you shall find the\nmarrow of vengeance on your tyrants and oppressors! The education of\nthe masses means the downfall of false creeds,--the ruin of all\nfalse priests! For it is only through the ignorance of the many\nthat tyrannical dominion is given into the hands of the few! Slavish\nsubmission to a corrupt government would be impossible if we all refused\nto be slaves. O friends, O brothers, throw off your chains! Break down\nyour prison doors! Some good you have done already--be brave and strong\nto do more! Press forward fearlessly and strive for liberty and justice!\nTo-day we are told that the King has refused crown-lands to the Jesuits.\nShall we be told to-morrow that the King has dismissed Carl P\u00e9rousse\nfrom office?\u201d\n\nA long wild shout told how this suggestion had gone straight home to the\nthrong.\n\n\u201cShall we be told this, I ask? No! Ten thousand times no! The refusal\nof the King to grant the priests any wider dominion over us is merely\nan act of policy inspired by terror. The King is afraid! He fears the\npeople will revolt against the Church, and so takes part with them lest\nthere should be trouble in the land, but he never seems to think there\nmay be another kind of revolt against himself! His refusal to concede\nmore place for the accursed practice of Jesuitry is so far good; but his\ndismissal of P\u00e9rousse would be still better!\u201d\n\nA perfect hurricane of applause from the people gave emphatic testimony\nto the truth of these words.\n\n\u201cWhat is this man, Carl P\u00e9rousse?\u201d he went on--\u201cA man of the\npeople--whose oaths were sworn to the people,--whom the people\nthemselves brought into power because he promised to remain faithful to\nthem! He is false,--a traitor and political coward! A mere manufacturer\nof kitchen goods, who through our folly was returned to this country\u2019s\nsenate;--and through our still further credulity is now set in almost\ncomplete dominion over us. Well! We have suffered and are suffering\nfor our misplaced belief in him;--the question is, how long shall we\ncontinue to suffer? How long are we to be governed by the schemes of\nCarl P\u00e9rousse, the country\u2019s turncoat,--the trafficker in secret with\nJew speculators? It is for you to decide! It is for you to work out your\nown salvation! It is for you to throw off tyranny, and show yourselves\nfree men of reason and capacity! Just as the priests chant long prayers\nto cover their own iniquity, so do the men of government make long\nspeeches to disguise their own corruption. You know you cannot believe\ntheir promises. Neither can you believe the press, for if this is not\nactually bought by P\u00e9rousse, it is bribed. And you cannot trust the\nKing; for he is as a house divided against itself which must fall! Slave\nof his own passions, and duped by women, what is he but a burden to the\nState? Justice and power should be on the side of kings,--but the days\nare come when self-interest and money can even buy a throne! O men, O\nwomen, rouse up your hearts and minds to work for yourselves, to redress\nwrongs,--to save your country! Rouse up in your thousands, and with\nyour toil-worn hands pull down the pillars of iniquity and vice that\novershadow and darken the land! Fight against the insolent pride of\nwealth which strives to crush the poor; rouse, rouse your hearts!--open\nyour eyes and see the evils which are gathering thick upon us!--and\nlike the lightnings pent up in yonder clouds, leap forth in flame and\nthunder, and clear the air!\u201d\n\nA burst of frantic acclamation from the crowd followed this wild\nharangue, and while the loud roar of voices yet echoed aloft, a band of\narmed police came into view, marching steadily up from the lower streets\nof the city. Sergius Thord smiled as he saw them approach.\n\n\u201cYonder comes the Law!\u201d he said--\u201cA few poor constables, badly paid, who\nif they could find anything better to do than to interfere with their\nfellow-men would be glad of other occupation! Before they come any\nnearer, disperse yourselves, my friends, and so save them trouble! Go\nall to your homes and think on my words;--or enter the Cathedral and\npray, those who will--but let this place be as empty of you in five\nminutes as though you never had been here! Disperse,--and farewell! We\nshall meet again!\u201d\n\nHe leaped down from his position and disappeared, and in obedience to\nhis command the crowd began to melt away with almost miraculous speed.\nBefore the police could reach the centre of the square, there were only\nsome thirty or forty people left, and these were quietly entering the\nCathedral where the service for the saint whose feast day was being\ncelebrated was now in full and solemn progress.\n\nFor one instant, on the first step of the great porch, Sergius Thord and\nhis companion, Johan Zegota, met,--but making a rapid sign to each other\nwith the left hand, they as quickly separated,--Zegota to enter the\nCathedral, Thord to walk rapidly down one of the narrowest and most\nunfrequented streets to the lower precincts of the city.\n\nThe afternoon grew darker, and the weather more depressing, and by the\ntime evening closed in, the rain was pouring persistently. The wind had\nceased, and the thunder had long since died away, its force drenched out\nby the weight of water in the clouds. The saint\u2019s day had ended badly\nfor all concerned;--many of the children who had taken part in the\nprocession had been carried home by their parents wet through, all the\npretty white frocks and veils of the little girls having been completely\nsoaked and spoilt by the unkind elements. A drearier night had seldom\ngloomed over this fair city of the southern sea, and down in the\nquarters of the poor, where men and women dwelt all huddled miserably\nin overcrowded tenements, and sin and starvation kept hideous company\ntogether, the streets presented as dark and forbidding an aspect as the\nheavy skies blackly brooding above. Here and there a gas-lamp flared\nits light upon the drawn little face of some child crouching asleep in a\ndoorway, or on the pinched and painted features of some wretched outcast\nwending her way to the den she called \u2018home.\u2019 The loud brutal laughter\nof drunken men was mingled with the wailing of half-starved and fretful\ninfants, and the mean, squalid houses swarmed with the living spawn of\nevery vice and lust in the calendar of crime. Deep in the heart of the\nso-called civilized, beautiful and luxurious city, this \u2018quarter of the\npoor,\u2019 the cancer of the social body, throbbed and ate its destructive\nway slowly but surely on, and Sergius Thord, who longed to lay a sharp\nknife against it and cut it out, for the health of the whole community,\nwas as powerless as Dante in hell to cure the evils he witnessed. Yet\nit was not too much to say that he would have given his life to ease\nanother\u2019s pain,--as swiftly and as readily as he would have taken\nlife without mercy, in the pursuit of what he imagined to be a just\nvengeance.\n\n\u201cHow vain, after all, is my labour!\u201d he thought--\u201cHow helpless I am to\nmove the self-centred powers of the Government and the Throne! Even were\nall these wretched multitudes to rise with me, and make havoc of the\nwhole city, should we move so much as one step higher out of the Gehenna\nof poverty and crime? Almost I doubt it!\u201d\n\nHe walked on past dark open doorways, where some of the miserable\ninhabitants of the dens within, stood to inhale the fresh wet air of the\nrainy night. His tall form was familiar to most of them,--if they were\nconsidered as wolves of humanity in the sight of the law, they were\nall faithful dogs to him; doing as he bade, running where he commanded,\nready at any moment to assemble at any given point and burn and pillage,\nor rob and slay. There were no leaders in the political government,--but\nthis one leader of the massed poor could, had he chosen, have burned\ndown the city. But he did not choose. He had a far-sighted, clear\nbrain,--and though he had sworn to destroy abuses wherever he could find\nthem, he moved always with caution; and his plans were guided, not\nby impulse alone, but by earnest consideration for the future. He was\nmarked out by the police as a dangerous Socialist; and his movements\nwere constantly tracked and dodged, but so far, he had done nothing\nwhich could empower his arrest. He was a free subject in a free country;\nand provided he created no open disturbance he had as much liberty as\na mission preacher to speak in the streets to those who would stop to\nlisten. He paused now in his walk at the door of one house more than\ncommonly dingy and tumble-down in appearance, where a man lounged\noutside in his shirt-sleeves, smoking.\n\n\u201cIs all well with you, Matsin?\u201d he asked gently.\n\n\u201cAll is well!\u201d answered the man called Matsin,--\u201cbetter than last night.\nThe child is dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cDead!\u201d echoed Thord,--\u201cAnd the mother----\u201d\n\n\u201cAsleep!\u201d answered Matsin. \u201cI gave her opium to save her from madness.\nShe was hungry, too--the opium fed her and made her forget!\u201d\n\nThord pushed him gently aside, and went into the house. There on the\nfloor lay the naked body of a dead child, so emaciated as to be almost a\nskeleton; and across it, holding it close with one arm, was stretched a\nwoman, half clothed, her face hidden in her unbound dark hair, breathing\nheavily in a drugged sleep. Great tears filled Thord\u2019s eyes.\n\n\u201cGod exists!\u201d he said,--\u201cAnd He can bear to look upon a sight like this!\nIf I were God, I should hate myself for letting such things be!\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps He does hate Himself!\u201d said the man Matsin, who had also come\nin, and now looked at the scene with sullen apathy--\u201cThat may be the\ncause of all our troubles! I don\u2019t understand the ways of God; or the\nways of man either. I have done no harm. I married the woman--and we had\nthat one child. I worked hard for both. I could not get sufficient money\nto keep us going; I did metal work--very well, so I was told. But they\nmake it all abroad now by machinery--I cannot compete. They don\u2019t want\nnew designs they say--the old will serve. I do anything now that I\ncan--but it is difficult. You, too,--you starve with us!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am poor, if that is what you mean,\u201d said Thord,--\u201cbut take all I have\nto-night, Matsin--\u201d and he emptied a small purse of silver coins into\nthe man\u2019s hand. \u201cBury the poor little innocent one;--and comfort the\nmother when she wakes. Comfort her!--love her!--she needs love! I will\nbe back again to-morrow.\u201d\n\nHe strode away quickly, and Matsin remained at his door turning over the\nmoney in his hand.\n\n\u201cHe will sacrifice something he needs himself, for this,\u201d he muttered.\n\u201cYet that is the man they say the King would hang if ever he got hold of\nhim! By Heaven!--the King himself should hang first!\u201d\n\nMeanwhile Sergius Thord went on, slackening his pace a little as he\ncame near his own destination, a tall and narrow house at the end of the\nstreet, with a single light shining in one of the upper windows. There\nwas a gas-lamp some few paces off, and under this stood a man reading,\nor trying to read, a newspaper by its flickering glare. Thord glanced at\nhim with some suspicion--the stranger was too near his own lodging for\nhis pleasure, for he was always on his guard against spies. Approaching\nmore closely, he saw that though the man was shabbily attired in a rough\npilot suit, much the worse for wear, he nevertheless had the indefinable\nlook and bearing of a gentleman. Acting on impulse, as he often did,\nThord spoke to him.\n\n\u201cA rough night for reading by lamplight, my friend!\u201d he said.\n\nThe man looked up, and smiled.\n\n\u201cYes, it is, rather! But I have only just got the evening paper.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny special news?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo--only this--\u201d and he pointed to a bold headline--\u201cThe King _versus_\nThe Jesuits.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Thord, and he studied the looks and bearing of the stranger\nwith increasing curiosity. \u201cWhat do you think of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do I think? May I ask, without offence, what _you_ think?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Thord slowly, \u201cthat the King has for once in his life\ndone a wise thing.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018For once in his life!\u2019\u201d repeated the stranger dubiously--\u201cThen I\npresume your King is, generally speaking, a fool?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you are a subject of his--\u201d began Thord slowly----\n\n\u201cThank Heaven, I am not! I am a mere wanderer--a literary loafer--a\nstudent of men and manners. I read books, and I write them too,--this\nwill perhaps explain the eccentricity of my behaviour in trying to read\nunder the lamplight in the rain!\u201d\n\nHe smiled again, and the smile was irresistibly pleasant. Something\nabout him attracted Thord, and after a pause he asked:\n\n\u201cIf you are, as you say, a wanderer and a stranger in this town, can I\nbe of service to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are very kind!\u201d said the other, turning a pair of deep, dark, grey\nmeditative eyes upon him,--\u201cAnd I am infinitely obliged to you for the\nsuggestion. But I really want nothing. As a matter of fact, I am waiting\nfor two friends of mine who have just gone into one of the foul and\nfilthy habitations here, to see what they can do for a suddenly bereaved\nfamily. The husband and father fell dead in the street before our\neyes,--and those who picked him up said he was drunk, but it turned out\nthat he was merely starved,--_merely_!--you understand? Merely starved!\nWe found his home,--and the poor widow is wailing and weeping, and the\nchildren are crying for food. I confess myself quite unable to bear the\nsight, and so I have sent all the money I had about me to help them\nfor to-night at least. By my faith, they are most hopelessly, incurably\nmiserable!\u201d\n\n\u201cTheir lot is exceedingly common in these quarters,\u201d said Thord,\nsorrowfully. \u201cDay after day, night after night, men, women and children\ntoil, suffer and die here without ever knowing what it is to have one\nhour of free fresh air, one day of rest and joy! Yet this is a great\ncity,--and we live in a civilized country!\u201d He smiled bitterly, then\nadded--\u201cYou have done a good action; and you need no thanks, or I would\nthank you; for my life\u2019s work lies among these wretched poor, and I am\nfamiliar with their tragic histories. Good-night!\u201d\n\n\u201cPray do not go!\u201d said the stranger suddenly--\u201cI should like to talk to\nyou a little longer, if you have no objection. Is there not some\nplace near, where we can go out of this rain and have a glass of wine\ntogether?\u201d\n\nSergius Thord stood irresolute,--gazing at him, half in liking, half in\ndistrust.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d he said at last, \u201cI do not know you--and you do not know me. If I\ntold you my name, you would probably not seek my company!\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you tell it?\u201d suggested the stranger cheerfully--\u201cMine is at your\nservice--Pasquin Leroy. I fear my fame as an author has not reached your\nears!\u201d\n\nThord shook his head.\n\n\u201cNo. I have never heard of you. And probably you have never heard of me.\nMy name is Sergius Thord.\u201d\n\n\u201cSergius Thord!\u201d echoed the stranger; \u201cNow that is truly remarkable!\nIt is a happy coincidence that we should have met to-night. I have just\nseen your name in this very paper which you caught me reading--see!--the\nnext heading under that concerning the King and the Jesuits--\u2018Thord\u2019s\nRabble.\u2019 Are not you that same Thord?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am!\u201d said Thord proudly, his eyes shining as he took the paper and\nperused quickly the few flashy lines which described the crowd outside\nthe Cathedral that afternoon, and set him down as a crazy Socialist, and\ndisturber of the peace, \u201cAnd the \u2018rabble\u2019 as this scribbling fool\ncalls it, is the greater part of this city\u2019s population. The King\nmay intimidate his Court; but I, Sergius Thord, with my \u2018rabble\u2019 can\nintimidate both Court and King!\u201d\n\nHe drew himself up to his full majestic height--a noble figure of a man\nwith his fine heroic head and eagle-like glance of eye,--and he who had\ncalled himself Pasquin Leroy, suddenly held out his hand.\n\n\u201cLet me see more of you, Sergius Thord!\u201d he said,--\u201cYou are the very\nman for me! They say in this paper that you spoke to a great multitude\noutside the Cathedral this afternoon, and interfered with the religious\nprocession; they also say you are the head of a Society called the\nRevolutionary Committee;--now let me work for you in some department of\n_that_ business!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet you work for me?\u201d echoed Thord astonished--\u201cBut how?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn this way--\u201d replied the other--\u201cI write Socialistic works,--and for\nthis cause have been expelled from my native home and surroundings. I\nhave a little money--and some influence,--and I will devote both to your\nCause. Will you take me, and trust me?\u201d\n\nThord caught his extended hand, and looked at him with a kind of fierce\nintentness.\n\n\u201cYou mean it?\u201d he said in thrilling tones--\u201cYou mean it positively and\ntruly?\u201d\n\n\u201cPositively and truly!\u201d said Leroy--\u201cIf you are working to remedy the\nfrightful evils abounding in this wretched quarter of the poor, I will\nhelp you! If you are striving to destroy rank abuses, I ask nothing\nbetter than to employ my pen in your service. I will get work on the\npress here--I will do all I can to aid your purposes and carry out your\nintentions. I have no master, so am free to do as I like; and I will\ndevote myself to your service so long as you think I can be of any use\nto you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait!\u201d said Thord--\u201cYou must not be carried away by a sudden generous\nimpulse, simply because you have witnessed one scene of the continual\nmisery that is going on here daily. To belong to our Committee means\nmuch more than you at present realize, and involves an oath which you\nmay not be willing to take! And what of the friends you spoke of?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will do what I do,\u201d replied Leroy--\u201cThey share my\nfortunes--likewise my opinions;--and here they come,--so they can speak\nfor themselves,\u201d this, as two men emerged from a dark street on the\nleft, and came full into the lamplight\u2019s flare--\u201cAxel Regor, Max\nGraub--come hither! Fortune has singularly favoured us to-night! Let me\npresent to you my friend--\u201d and he emphasized the word, \u201cSergius Thord!\u201d\n\nBoth men started ever so slightly as the introduction was performed,\nand Thord looked at them with fresh touches of suspicion here and there\nlurking in his mind. But he was brave; and having once proceeded in\na given direction was not in the habit of turning back. He therefore\nsaluted both the new-comers with grave courtesy.\n\n\u201cI trust you!\u201d he then said curtly to Leroy, \u201cand I think you will not\nbetray my trust. If you do, it will be the worse for you!\u201d\n\nHis lips parted in a slight sinister smile, and the two who were\nrespectively called Axel Regor and Max Graub, exchanged anxious glances.\nBut Leroy showed no sign of hesitation or alarm.\n\n\u201cYour warning is quite unnecessary, Sergius Thord,\u201d he said,--\u201cI pledge\nyou my word with my friendship--and my word is my bond! I will also hold\nmyself responsible for my companions.\u201d\n\nThord bent his head in silent recognition of this assurance.\n\n\u201cThen follow me, if such is your desire,\u201d he said--\u201cRemember, there is\nyet time to go in another direction, and to see me no more; but if you\nonce do cast in your lot with mine the tie between us is indissoluble!\u201d\n\nHe paused, as though expecting some recoil or hesitation on the part of\nthose to whom he made this statement, but none came. He therefore strode\non, and they followed, till arriving at the door of the tall, narrow\nhouse, where the light in the highest window gleamed like a signal, he\nopened it with a small key and entered, holding it back courteously for\nhis three new companions to enter with him. They did so, and he closed\nthe door. At the same moment the light was extinguished in the upper\nwindow, and the outside of the house became a mere wall of dense\nblackness in the driving rain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE IDEALISTS\n\n\nUp a long uncarpeted flight of stairs, and into a large lofty room on\nthe second storey, Thord led the way for his newly-found disciples to\nfollow. It was very dark, and they had to feel the steps as they went,\ntheir guide offering neither explanation nor apology for the Cimmerian\nshades of gloom. Stumbling on hands and knees they spoke not a word;\nthough once Max Graub uttered something like an oath in rough German;\nbut a whisper from Leroy rebuked and silenced him, and they pursued\ntheir difficult ascent until, arriving at the room mentioned, they found\nthemselves in the company of about fifteen to twenty men, all sitting\nround a table under two flaring billiard lamps, suspended crookedly\nfrom the ceiling. As Thord entered, these men all rose, and gave him an\nexpressive sign of greeting with the left hand, the same kind of gesture\nwhich had passed between him and Zegota on the Cathedral steps in the\nmorning. Zegota himself was one of their number. There was also another\npersonage in the room who did not rise, and who gave no sign whatever.\nThis was a woman, who sat in the embrasure of a closed and shuttered\nwindow with her back to the whole company. It was impossible to say\nwhether she was young or old, plain or handsome, for she was enveloped\nin a long black cloak which draped her from shoulder to heel. All that\ncould be distinguished of her was the white nape of her neck, and a\ngreat twist of dead gold hair. Her presence awakened the liveliest\ninterest in Pasquin Leroy, who found it impossible to avoid nudging his\ncompanions, and whispering--\n\n\u201cA woman! By Heaven, this drama becomes interesting!\u201d\n\nBut Axel Regor and Max Graub were seemingly not disposed to levity, and\nthey offered no response to their lighter minded comrade beyond vague\nhasty side-looks of alarm, which appeared to amuse him to an extent that\nthreatened to go beyond the limits of caution. Sergius Thord, however,\nsaw nothing of their interchange of glances for the moment,--he\nhad other business to settle. Addressing himself at once to the men\nassembled, he said.--\n\n\u201cFriends and brothers! I bring you three new associates! I have not\nsought them; they have sought me. On their own heads be their destinies!\nThey offer their names to the Revolutionary Committee, and their\nservices to our Cause!\u201d\n\nA low murmur of approbation from the company greeted this announcement.\nJohan Zegota advanced a little in front of all the rest.\n\n\u201cEvery man is welcome to serve us who will serve us faithfully,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cBut who are these new comrades, Sergius Thord? What are they?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat they must declare for themselves,\u201d said Thord, taking a chair at\nthe head of the table which was evidently his accustomed place--\u201cPut\nthem through their examination!\u201d\n\nHe seated himself with the air of a king, his whole aspect betokening an\nauthority that would not be trifled with or gainsaid.\n\n\u201cGott in Himmel!\u201d\n\nThis exclamation burst suddenly from the lips of the man called Max\nGraub.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you?\u201d said Thord, turning full upon him his glittering eyes\nthat flashed ferocity from under their shaggy brows--\u201cAre you afraid?\u201d\n\n\u201cAfraid? Not I!\u201d protested Graub--\u201cBut, gentlemen, think a moment! You\nspeak of putting us--myself and my friends--through an examination! Why\nshould you examine us? We are three poor adventurers--what can we have\nto tell?\u201d\n\n\u201cMuch, I should imagine!\u201d retorted Zegota--\u201cAdventurers are not such\nwithout adventures! Your white hairs testify to some experience of\nlife.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy white hairs--_my_ white hairs!\u201d exclaimed Graub, when a touch from\nAxel Regor apparently recalled something to his mind for he began to\nlaugh--\u201cTrue, gentlemen! Very true! I had forgotten! I have had some\nadventures and some experiences! My good friend there, Pasquin Leroy,\nhas also had adventures and experiences,--so have we all! Myself, I am a\npoor German, grown old in the service of a bad king! I have been kicked\nout of that service--Ach!--just for telling the truth; which is very\nmuch the end of all truth telling, is it not? Tell lies,--and kings will\nreward you and make you rich and great!--but tell truth, and see what\nthe kings will give you for it! Kicks, and no halfpence! Pardon! I\ninterrupt this so pleasant meeting!\u201d\n\nAll the men present looked at him curiously, but said nothing in\nresponse to his outburst. Johan Zegota, seating himself next to Sergius\nThord, opened a large parchment volume that lay on the table, and taking\nup a pen addressed himself to Thord, saying--\n\n\u201cWill you ask the questions, or shall I?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou, by all means! Proceed in the usual manner.\u201d\n\nWhereupon Zegota began.--\n\n\u201cStand forth, comrades!\u201d\n\nThe three strangers advanced.\n\n\u201cYour names? Each one answer separately, please!\u201d\n\n\u201cPasquin Leroy!\u201d\n\n\u201cAxel Regor!\u201d\n\n\u201cMax Graub!\u201d\n\n\u201cOf what nationality, Pasquin Leroy?\u201d\n\nLeroy smiled. \u201cTruly I claim none!\u201d he said; \u201cI was born a slave.\u201d\n\n\u201cA slave!\u201d\n\nThe words were repeated in tones of astonishment round the room.\n\n\u201cWhy, yes, a slave!\u201d repeated Leroy quietly. \u201cYou have heard of black\nslaves,--have you not heard of white ones too? There are countries\nstill, where men purchase other men of their own blood and\ncolour;--tyrannous governments, which force such men to work for\nthem, chained to one particular place till they die. I am one of\nthose,--though escaped for the present. You can ask me more of my\ncountry if you will; but a slave has no country save that of his\nmaster. If you care at all for my services, you will spare me further\nexamination on this subject!\u201d\n\nZegota looked enquiringly at Thord.\n\n\u201cWe will pass that question,\u201d said the latter, in a low tone.\n\nZegota resumed--\n\n\u201cYou, Axel Regor--are you a slave too?\u201d\n\nAxel Regor smiled languidly.\n\n\u201cNo! I am what is called a free-born subject of the realm. I do what I\nlike, though not always how I like, or when I like!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you, Max Graub?\u201d\n\n\u201cGerman!\u201d said that individual firmly; \u201cGerman to the\nbackbone--Socialist to the soul!--and an enemy of all ruling\nsovereigns,--particularly the one that rules _me_!\u201d\n\nThord smiled darkly.\n\n\u201cIf you feel inclined to jest, Max Graub, I must warn you that jesting\nis not suited to the immediate moment.\u201d\n\n\u201cJesting! I never was more in earnest in my life!\u201d declared Graub,--\u201cWhy\nhave I left my native country? Merely because it is governed by Kaiser\nWilhelm!\u201d\n\nThord smiled again.\n\n\u201cThe subject of nationality seems to excite all three of you,\u201d he said,\n\u201cand though we ask you the question _pro forma_, it is not absolutely\nnecessary that we should know from whence you come. We require your\nnames, and your oath of fealty; but before binding yourselves, I will\nread you our laws, and the rules of membership for this society; rules\nto which, if you join us, you are expected to conform.\u201d\n\n\u201cSuppose, for the sake of argument,\u201d said Pasquin Leroy,--\u201cthat\nafter hearing the rules we found it wisest to draw back? Suppose my\nfriends,--if not myself,--were disinclined to join your Society;--what\nwould happen?\u201d\n\nAs he asked the question a curious silence fell upon the company, and\nall eyes were turned upon the speaker. There was a dead pause for a\nmoment, and then Thord replied slowly and with emphasis:--\n\n\u201cNothing would happen save this,--that you would be bound by a solemn\noath never to reveal what you had heard or seen here to-night, and that\nyou would from henceforth be tracked every day and hour of your life by\nthose who would take care that you kept your oath!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou see!\u201d exclaimed Axel Regor excitedly, \u201cThere is danger----\u201d\n\n\u201cDanger? Of what?\u201d asked Pasquin Leroy coldly;--\u201cOf death? Each one\nof us, and all three of us would fully merit it, if we broke our word!\nGentlemen both!\u201d--and he addressed his two companions, \u201cIf you fear any\nharm may come to yourselves through joining this society, pray withdraw\nwhile there is yet time! My own mind is made up; I intend to become\nfamiliar with the work of the Revolutionary Committee, and to aid its\ncause by my personal service!\u201d\n\nA loud murmur of applause came from the company. Axel Regor and Max\nGraub glanced at Leroy, and saw in his face that his decision was\nunalterable.\n\n\u201cThen we will work for the Cause, also,\u201d said Max Graub resignedly.\n\u201cWhat you determine upon, we shall do, shall we not, Axel?\u201d\n\nAxel Regor gave a brief assent.\n\nSergius Thord looked at them all straightly and keenly.\n\n\u201cYou have finally decided?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have!\u201d replied Leroy. \u201cWe will enrol ourselves as your associates at\nonce.\u201d\n\nWhereupon Johan Zegota rose from his place, and unlocking an iron safe\nwhich stood in one corner of the room, took out a roll of parchment and\nhanded it to Thord, who, unfolding it, read in a clear though low voice\nthe following:--\n\n\u201cWe, the Revolutionary Committee, are organized as a Brotherhood, bound\nby all the ties of life, death, and our common humanity, to destroy\nthe abuses, and redress the evils, which self-seeking and tyrannous\nGovernments impose upon the suffering poor.\n\n\u201c_Firstly:_ We bind ourselves to resist all such laws as may in any\ndegree interfere with the reasonable, intellectual, and spiritual\nfreedom of man or woman.\n\n\u201c_Secondly:_ We swear to agitate against all forms of undue and\nexcessive taxation, which, while scarcely affecting the rich, make life\nmore difficult and unendurable to the poor.\n\n\u201c_Thirdly:_ We protest against the domination of priestcraft, and\nthe secret methods which are employed by the Church to obtain undue\ninfluence in Governmental matters.\n\n\u201c_Fourthly:_ We are determined to stand firmly against the entrance of\nforeign competitors in the country\u2019s trade and business. All heads\nand ruling companies of firms employing foreigners instead of native\nworkmen, are marked out by us as traitors, and are reserved for\ntraitors\u2019 punishment.\n\n\u201c_Fifthly:_ We are sworn to exterminate the existing worthless\nGovernment, and to replace it by a working body of capable and\nintelligent men, elected by the universal vote of the entire country.\nSuch elections must take place freely and openly, and no secret\ninfluence shall be used to return any one person or party to power.\nThose attempting to sway opinion by bribery and corruption, will be\nnamed to the public, and exposed to disgrace and possible death.\n\n\u201c_Sixthly:_ We are resolved to unmask to the public the duplicity,\ntreachery, and self-interested motives of the Secretary of State, Carl\nP\u00e9rousse.\n\n\u201c_Seventhly:_ We are sworn to bring about such changes as shall elevate\na Republic to supreme power, and for this purpose are solemnly pledged\nto destroy the present Monarchy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese,\u201d said Sergius Thord, \u201care the principal objects of our Society\u2019s\nwork. There are other points to be considered, but these are sufficient\nfor the present. I will now read the rules, which each member of our\nBrotherhood must follow if he would serve us faithfully.\u201d\n\nHe turned over another leaf of the parchment scroll he held, and\ncontinued, reading very slowly and distinctly:\n\n\u201c_Rule 1_.--Each member of the Revolutionary Committee shall swear\nfidelity to the Cause, and pledge himself to maintain inviolable secrecy\non all matters connected with his membership and his work for the\nSociety.\n\n\u201c_Rule 2_.--No member shall track, follow, or enquire into the movements\nof any other member.\n\n\u201c_Rule 3_.--Once in every month all members are expected to meet\ntogether at a given place, decided upon by the Chief of the Committee at\nthe previous meeting, when business will be discussed, and lots drawn,\nto determine the choice of such members as may be fitted to perform such\nbusiness.\n\n\u201c_Rule_ 4.--No member shall be bound to give his address, or to state\nwhere he travels, or when or how he goes, as in all respects save that\nof his membership he is a free man.\n\n\u201c_Rule_ 5.--In this same respect of his membership, he is bound to\nappear, or to otherwise report himself once a month at the meeting of\nthe Committee. Should he fail to do so either by person, or by letter\nsatisfactorily explaining his absence, he will be judged as a traitor,\nand dealt with accordingly.\n\n\u201c_Rule_6.--In the event of any member being selected to perform any deed\ninvolving personal danger or loss to himself, the rest of the members\nare pledged to shelter him from the consequences of his act, and to\nprovide him with all the necessaries of life, till his escape from harm\nis ensured and his safety guaranteed.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have heard all now,\u201d said Thord, as he laid aside the parchment\nscroll; \u201cAre you still willing to take the oath?\u201d\n\n\u201cEntirely so!\u201d rejoined Pasquin Leroy cheerfully; \u201cYou have but to\nadminister it.\u201d\n\nHere a man, who had been sitting in a dark corner apart from the table,\nwith his head buried in his hands, suddenly looked up, showing a thin,\nfine, eager face, a pair of wild eyes, and a tumbled mass of dark curly\nhair, plentifully sprinkled with grey.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d he cried,--\u201cNow comes the tragic moment, when the spectators hold\ntheir breath, and the blue flame is turned on, and the man manages the\nlime-light so that its radiance shall fall on the face of the chief\nactor--or Actress! And the bassoons and \u2018cellos grumble inaudible\nnothings to the big drum! Administer the oath, Sergius Thord!\u201d\n\nA smile went the round of the company.\n\n\u201cHave you only just wakened up from sleep, Paul Zouche?\u201d asked Zegota.\n\n\u201cI never sleep,\u201d answered Zouche, pushing his hair back from his\nforehead;--\u201cUnless sleep compels me, by force, to yield to its coarse\nand commonplace persuasion. To lie down in a shirt and snore the\nhours away! Faugh! Can anything be more gross or vulgar! Time flies so\nquickly, and life is so short, that I cannot afford to waste any moment\nin such stupid unconsciousness. I can drink wine, make love, and kill\nrascals--all these occupations are much more interesting than sleeping.\nCome, Sergius! Play the great trick of the evening! Administer the\noath!\u201d\n\nA frowning line puckered Thord\u2019s brows, but the expression of vexation\nwas but momentary. Turning to Leroy again he said:\n\n\u201cYou are quite ready?\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite,\u201d replied Leroy.\n\n\u201cAnd your friends----?\u201d\n\nLeroy smiled. \u201cThey are ready also!\u201d\n\nThere followed a pause. Then Thord called in a clear low tone--\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d\n\nThe woman sitting in the embrasure of the window rose, and turning round\nfully confronted all the men. Her black cloak falling back on either\nside, disclosed her figure robed in dead white, with a scarlet sash\nbinding her waist. Her face, pale and serene, was not beautiful; yet\nbeauty was suggested in every feature. Her eyes seemed to be half closed\nin a drooping indifference under the white lids, which were fringed\nheavily with dark gold lashes. A sculptor might have said, that whatever\nclaim to beauty she had was contained in the proud poise of her throat,\nand the bounteous curve of her bosom, but though in a manner startled\nby her appearance, the three men who had chanced upon this night\u2019s\nadventure were singularly disappointed in it. They had somehow expected\nthat when that mysterious cloaked feminine figure turned round, a vision\nof dazzling beauty would be disclosed; and at the first glance there\nwas nothing whatever about this woman that seemed particularly worthy of\nnote. She was not young or old--possibly between twenty-eight or\nthirty. She was not tall or short; she was merely of the usual medium\nheight,--so that altogether she was one of those provoking individuals,\nwho not seldom deceive the eye at first sight by those ordinary looks\nwhich veil an extraordinary personality.\n\nShe stood like an automatic figure, rigid and silent,--till Sergius\nThord signed to his three new associates to advance. Then with a\nmovement, rapid as a flash of lightning, she suddenly drew a dagger from\nher scarlet girdle, and held it out to them. Nerved as he was to meet\ndanger, Pasquin Leroy recoiled slightly, while his two companions\nstarted as if to defend him. As she saw this, the woman raised her\ndrooping eyelids, and a pair of wonderful eyes shone forth, dark blue\nas iris-flowers, while a faint scornful smile lifted the corners of her\nmouth. But she said nothing.\n\n\u201cThere is no cause to fear!\u201d said Sergius Thord, glancing with a touch\nof derision in his looks from one to the other, \u201cLotys is the witness\nof all our vows! Swear now after me upon this drawn dagger which she\nholds,--lay your right hands here upon the blade!\u201d\n\nThus adjured, Pasquin Leroy approached, and placed his right hand upon\nthe shining steel.\n\n\u201cI swear in the name of God, and in the presence of Lotys, that I will\nfaithfully work for the Cause of the Revolutionary Committee,--and that\nI will adhere to its rules and obey its commands, till all shall be done\nthat is destined to be done! And may the death I deserve come suddenly\nupon me if ever I break my vow!\u201d\n\nSlowly and emphatically Pasquin Leroy repeated this formula after\nSergius Thord, and his two companions did the same, though perhaps less\naudibly. This ceremony performed, the woman called Lotys looked at them\nsteadfastly, and the smile that played on her lips changed from scorn\nto sweetness. The dark blue iris-coloured eyes deepened in lustre, and\nflashed brilliantly from under their drowsy lids,--a rosy flush tinted\nthe clear paleness of her skin, and like a statue warming to life she\nbecame suddenly beautiful.\n\n\u201cYou have sworn bravely!\u201d she said, in a low thrilling voice. \u201cNow sign\nand seal!\u201d\n\nAs she spoke she lifted her bare left arm, and pricked it with the point\nof the dagger. A round, full drop of blood like a great ruby welled up\non the white skin. All the men had risen from their places, and were\ngathered about her;--this \u2018taking of the oath\u2019 was evidently the\ndramatic event of their existence as a community.\n\n\u201cThe pen, Sergius!\u201d she said.\n\nThord approached with a white unused quill, and a vellum scroll on which\nthe names of all the members of the Society were written in ominous red.\nHe handed these writing implements to Leroy.\n\n\u201cDip your pen here,\u201d said Lotys, pointing to the crimson drop on her\narm, and eyeing him still with the same half-sweet, half-doubting\nsmile--\u201cBut when the quill is full, beware that you write no treachery!\u201d\n\nFor one second Leroy appeared to hesitate. He was singularly unnerved by\nthe glances of those dark blue eyes, which like searchlights seemed to\npenetrate into every nook and cranny of his soul. But his recklessness\nand love of adventure having led him so far, it was now too late to\nretract or to reconsider the risks he might possibly be running. He\ntherefore took the quill and dipped it into the crimson drop that welled\nfrom that soft white flesh.\n\n\u201cThis is the strangest ink I have ever used!\u201d he said lightly,--\u201cbut--at\nyour command, Madame----!\u201d\n\n\u201cAt my command,\u201d rejoined Lotys, \u201cyour use of it shall make your oath\nindelible!\u201d\n\nHe smiled, and wrote his name boldly \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019 and held out the\npen for his companions to follow his example.\n\n\u201cAch Gott!\u201d exclaimed Max Graub, as he dipped the pen anew into the\nvital fluid from a woman\u2019s veins--\u201cI write my name, Madame, in words of\nlife, thanks to your condescension!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue!\u201d she answered,--\u201cAnd only by your own falsehood can you change\nthem into words of death!\u201d\n\nSigning his name \u2018Max Graub,\u2019 he looked up and met her searching gaze.\nSomething there was in the magnetic depth of her eyes that strangely\nembarrassed him, for he stepped back hastily as though intimidated. Axel\nRegor took the pen from his hand, and wrote his name, or rather scrawled\nit carelessly, almost impatiently,--showing neither hesitation nor\nrepugnance to this unusual method of subscribing a document.\n\n\u201cYou are acting on compulsion!\u201d said Lotys, addressing him in a low\ntone; \u201cYour compliance is in obedience to some other command than ours!\nAnd--you will do well to remain obedient!\u201d\n\nAxel Regor gave her an amazed glance,--but she paid no heed to it, and\nbinding her arm with her kerchief, let her long white sleeve fall over\nit.\n\n\u201cSo, you are enrolled among the sons of my blood!\u201d she said, \u201cSo are\nyou bound to me and mine!\u201d She moved to the further end of the table\nand stood there looking round upon them all. Again the slow, sweet,\nhalf-disdainful smile irradiated her features. \u201cWell, children!--what\nelse remains to do? What next? What next can there be but\ndrink--smoke--talk! Man\u2019s three most cherished amusements!\u201d\n\nShe sat down, throwing back her heavy cloak on either side of her. Her\nhair had come partly unbound, and noticing a tress of it falling on her\nshoulder, she drew out the comb and let it fall altogether in a mass of\ngold-brown, like the tint of a dull autumn leaf, flecked here and there\nwith amber. Catching it dexterously in one hand, she twisted it up again\nin a loose knot, thrusting the comb carelessly through.\n\n\u201cDrink--smoke--talk, Sergius!\u201d she repeated, still smiling; \u201cShall I\nring?\u201d\n\nSergius Thord stood looking at her irresolutely, with the half-angry,\nhalf-pleading expression of a chidden child.\n\n\u201cAs you please, Lotys!\u201d he answered. Whereupon she pressed an invisible\nspring under the table, which set a bell ringing in some lower quarter\nof the house.\n\n\u201cPasquin Leroy, Axel Regor, Max Graub!\u201d she said--\u201cTake your places for\nto-night beside me--newcomers are always thus distinguished! And all of\nyou sit down! You are grouped at present like hungry wolves waiting to\nspring. But you are not really hungry, except for something which is\nnot food! And you are not waiting for anything except for permission to\ntalk! I give it to you--talk, children! Talk yourselves hoarse! It will\ndo you good! And I will personate supreme wisdom by listening to you in\nsilence!\u201d\n\nA kind of shamed laugh went round the company,--then followed the\nscuffling of feet, and grating of chairs against the floor, and\npresently the table was completely surrounded, the men sitting close up\ntogether, and Sergius Thord occupying his place at their head.\n\nWhen they were all seated, they formed a striking assembly of distinctly\nmarked personalities. There were very few mean types among them, and the\nstupid, half-vague and languid expression of the modern loafer or \u2018do\nnothing\u2019 creature, who just for lack of useful work plots mischief, was\nnot to be seen on any of their countenances. A certain moroseness and\nmelancholy seemed to brood like a delayed storm among them, and to cloud\nthe very atmosphere they breathed, but apart from this, intellectuality\nwas the dominant spirit suggested by their outward looks and bearing.\nPlebeian faces and vulgar manners are, unfortunately, not rare in\nrepresentative gatherings of men whose opinions are allowed to sway the\ndestinies of nations, and it was strange to see a group of individuals\nwho were sworn to upset existing law and government so distinguished\nby refined and even noble appearance. Their clothes were shabby,--their\naspect certainly betokened long suffering and contention with want and\npoverty, but they were, taken all together, a set of men who, if they\nhad been members of a recognized parliament or senate, would have\npresented a fine collection of capable heads to an observant painter.\nAs soon as they were gathered round the table under the presidency of\nSergius Thord at one end, and the tranquil tolerance of the mysterious\nLotys at the other, they broke through the silence and reserve which\nthey had carefully maintained till their three new comrades had been\nirrecoverably enrolled among them, and conversation went on briskly.\nThe topic of \u2018The King _versus_ the Jesuits\u2019 was one of the first\nthey touched upon, Sergius Thord relating for the benefit of all his\nassociates, how he had found Pasquin Leroy reading by lamplight the\nnewspaper which reported his Majesty\u2019s refusal to grant any portion of\nCrown lands to the priests, and which also spoke of \u2018Thord\u2019s Rabble.\u2019\n\n\u201cHere is the paper!\u201d said Leroy, as he heard the narration; \u201cWhoever\nlikes to keep it can do so, as a memento of my introduction to this\nSociety!\u201d\n\nAnd he tossed it lightly on the table.\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d exclaimed Paul Zouche; \u201cGive it to me, and I will cherish it as\na kind of birthday card! What a rag it is! \u2018Thord\u2019s Rabble\u2019 eh! Sergius,\nwhat have you been doing that this little flea of an editor should jump\nout of his ink-pot and bite you? Does he hurt much?\u201d\n\n\u201cHurt!\u201d Thord laughed aloud. \u201cIf I had money enough to pay the man ten\ngolden coins a week where his present employer gives him five, he would\ndance to any tune I whistled!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that so?\u201d asked Leroy, with interest.\n\n\u201cDo you not know that it is so?\u201d rejoined Thord. \u201cYou tell me you write\nSocialistic works--you should know something concerning the press.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Max Graub, nodding his head sagely, \u201cHe does know much, but\nnot all! It would need more penetration than even _he_ possesses, to\nknow all! Alas!--my friend was never a popular writer!\u201d\n\n\u201cLike myself!\u201d exclaimed Zouche, \u201cI am not popular, and I never shall\nbe. But I know how to make myself reputed as a great genius, and all the\nvery respectable literary men are beginning to recognize me as such. Do\nyou know why?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause you drink more than is good for you, my poor Zouche!\u201d said\nLotys tranquilly; \u201cThat is one reason!\u201d\n\n\u201cHear her!\u201d cried Zouche,--\u201cDoes she not always, like the Sphinx,\npropound enigmas! Lotys,--little, domineering Lotys, why in the name of\nHeaven should I secure recognition as a poet, through drunkenness?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause your vice kills your genius,\u201d said Lotys; \u201cTherefore you\nare quite safe! If you were less of a scamp you would be a great\nman,--perhaps the greatest in the country! That would never do! Your\nrivals would never forgive you! But you are a hopeless rascal, incapable\nof winning much honour; and so you are compassionately recognized\nas somebody who might do something if he only would--that is all, my\nZouche! You are an excellent after-dinner topic with those who are more\nsuccessful than yourself; and that is the only fame you will ever win,\nbelieve me!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow by all the gods and goddesses!\u201d cried Paul--\u201cI do protest----\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter supper, Zouche!\u201d interrupted Lotys, as the door of the room\nopened, and a man entered, bearing a tray loaded with various eatables,\njugs of beer, and bottles of spirituous liquors,--\u201cProtest as much as\nyou like then,--but not just now!\u201d\n\nAnd with quick, deft hands she helped to set the board. None of the men\noffered to assist her, and Leroy watching her, felt a sudden sense of\nannoyance that this woman should seem, even for a moment, to be in the\nposition of a servant to them all.\n\n\u201cCan I do nothing for you?\u201d he said, in a low tone--\u201cWhy should you wait\nupon us?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy indeed!\u201d she answered--\u201cExcept that you are all by nature awkward,\nand do not know how to wait properly upon yourselves!\u201d\n\nHer eyes had a gleam of mischievous mockery in them; and Leroy was\nconscious of an irritation which he could scarcely explain to himself.\nDecidedly, he thought, this Lotys was an unpleasant woman. She was\n\u2018extremely plain,\u2019 so he mentally declared, in a kind of inward\nhuff,--though he was bound to concede that now and then she had a very\nbeautiful, almost inspired expression. After all, why should she not set\nout jugs and bottles, and loaves of bread, and hunks of ham and cheese\nbefore these men? She was probably in their pay! Scarcely had this idea\nflashed across his mind than he was ashamed of it. This Lotys, whoever\nshe might actually be, was no paid hireling; there was something in her\nevery look and action that set her high above any suspicion that she\nwould accept the part of a salaried _com\u00e9dienne_ in the Socialist farce.\nAnnoyed with himself, though he knew not why, he turned his gaze\nfrom her to the man who had brought in the supper,--a hunchback,\nwho, notwithstanding his deformity, was powerfully built, and of a\ncountenance which, marked as it was with the drawn pathetic look of\nlong-continued physical suffering, was undeniably handsome. His large\nbrown eyes, like those of a faithful dog, followed every movement of\nLotys with anxious and wistful affection, and Leroy, noticing this,\nbegan to wonder whether she was his wife or daughter? Or was she\nrelated in either of these ways to Sergius Thord? His reflections were\ninterrupted by a slight touch from Max Graub who was seated next to him.\n\n\u201cWill you drink with these fellows?\u201d said Graub, in a cautious\nwhisper--\u201cExpect to be ill, if you do!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall prescribe for me!\u201d answered Leroy in the same low tone--\u201cI\nfaithfully promise to call in your assistance! But drink with them I\nmust, and will!\u201d\n\nGraub gave a short sigh and a shrug, and said no more. The hunchback was\ngoing the round of the table, filling tall glasses with light Bavarian\nbeer.\n\n\u201cWhere is the little Pequita?\u201d asked Zouche, addressing him--\u201cHave you\nsent her to bed already, Sholto?\u201d\n\nSholto looked timorously round till he met the bright reassuring glance\nof Lotys, and then he replied hesitatingly--\n\n\u201cYes!--no--I have not sent the little one to bed;--she returned from\nher work at the theatre, tired out--quite tired out, poor child! She is\nasleep now.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa ha! A few years more, and she will not sleep!\u201d said Zouche--\u201cOnce in\nher teens--\u201d\n\n\u201cOnce in her teens, she leaves the theatre and comes to me,\u201d said Lotys,\n\u201cAnd you will see very little of her, Zouche, and you will know less!\nThat will do, Sholto! Good-night!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-night!\u201d returned the hunchback--\u201cI thank you, Madame!--I thank\nyou, gentlemen!\u201d\n\nAnd with a slight salutation, not devoid of grace, he left the room.\n\nZouche was sulky, and pushing aside his glass of beer, poured out for\nhimself some strong spirit from a bottle instead.\n\n\u201cYou do not favour me to-night, Lotys,\u201d he said irritably--\u201cYou\ninterrupt and cross me in everything I say!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it not a woman\u2019s business to interrupt and cross a man?\u201d queried\nLotys, with a laugh,--\u201cAs I have told you before, Zouche, I will not\nhave Sholto worried!\u201d\n\n\u201cWho worries him?\u201d grumbled Zouche--\u201cNot I!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, you!--you worry him on his most sensitive point--his daughter,\u201d\n said Lotys;--\u201cWhy can you not leave the child alone? Sholto is\nan Englishman,\u201d she explained, turning to Pasquin Leroy and his\ncompanions--\u201cHis history is a strange one enough. He is the rightful\nheir to a large estate in England, but he was born deformed. His father\nhated him, and preferred the second son, who was straight and handsome.\nSo Sholto disappeared.\u201d\n\n\u201cDisappeared!\u201d echoed Leroy--\u201cYou mean----\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean that he left his father\u2019s house one morning, and never returned.\nThe clothes he wore were found floating in the river near by, and it\nwas concluded that he had been drowned while bathing. The second son,\ntherefore, inherited the property; and poor Sholto was scarcely missed;\ncertainly not mourned. Meanwhile he went away, and got on board a\nSpanish trading boat bound for Cadiz. At Cadiz he found work, and also\nsomething that sweetened work--love! He married a pretty Spanish girl\nwho adored him, and--as often happens when lovers rejoice too much in\ntheir love--she died after a year\u2019s happiness. Sholto is all alone in\nthe world with the little child his Spanish wife left him, Pequita. She\nis only eleven years old, but her gift of dancing is marvellous, and\nshe gets employment at one of the cheap theatres here. If an influential\nmanager could see her performance, she might coin money.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe influential manager would probably cheat her,\u201d said\nZouche,--\u201cThings are best left alone. Sholto is content!\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you content?\u201d asked Johan Zegota, helping himself from the bottle\nthat stood near him.\n\n\u201cI? Why, no! I should not be here if I were!\u201d\n\n\u201cDiscontent, then, is your chief bond of union?\u201d said Axel Regor,\nbeginning to take part in the conversation.\n\n\u201cIt is the very knot that ties us all together!\u201d said Zouche\nwith enthusiasm.--\u201cDiscontent is the mother of progress! Adam was\ndiscontented with the garden of Eden,--and found a whole world outside\nits gates!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe took Eve with him to keep up the sickness of dissatisfaction,\u201d said\nZegota; \u201cThere would certainly have been no progress without _her_!\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon,--Cain was the true Progressivist and Reformer,\u201d put in Graub;\n\u201cSome fine sentiment of the garden of Eden was in his blood, which\nimpelled him to offer up a vegetable sacrifice to the Deity, whereas\nAbel had already committed murder by slaying lambs. According to the\nlegend, God preferred the \u2018savour\u2019 of the lambs, so perhaps,--who\nknows!--the idea that the savour of Abel might be equally agreeable to\nDivine senses induced Cain to kill him as a special \u2018youngling.\u2019 This\nwas a Progressive act,--a step beyond mere lambs!\u201d\n\nEveryone laughed, except Sergius Thord. He had fallen into a heavy,\nbrooding silence, his head sunk on his breast, his wild hair falling\nforward like a mane, and his right hand clenched and resting on the\ntable.\n\n\u201cSergius!\u201d called Lotys.\n\nHe did not answer.\n\n\u201cHe is in one of his far-away moods,\u201d--said one of the men next to Axel\nRegor,--\u201cIt is best not to disturb him.\u201d\n\nPaul Zouche, however, had no such scruples. \u201cSergius!\u201d he cried,--\u201cCome\nout of your cloud of meditation! Drink to the health of our three new\ncomrades!\u201d\n\nAll the members of the company filled their glasses, and Thord, hearing\nthe noise and clatter, looked up with a wild stare.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d he asked slowly;--\u201cI thought some one spoke of\nCain killing Abel!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was I,\u201d said Graub--\u201cI spoke of it--irreverently, I fear,--but the\nstory itself is irreverent. The notion that \u2018God,\u2019 should like roast\nmeat is the height of blasphemy!\u201d\n\nZouche burst into a violent fit of laughter. But Thord went on talking\nin a low tone, as though to himself.\n\n\u201cCain killing Abel!\u201d he repeated--\u201cAlways the same horrible story is\nrepeated through history--brother against brother,--blood crying out for\nblood--life torn from the weak and helpless body--all for what? For a\nlittle gold,--a passing trifle of power! Cain killing Abel! My God, art\nThou not yet weary of the old eternal crime!\u201d\n\nHe spoke in a semi-whisper which thrilled through the room. A momentary\nhush prevailed, and then Lotys called again, her voice softened to a\ncaressing sweetness.\n\n\u201cSergius!\u201d\n\nHe started, and shook himself out of his reverie this time. Raising his\nhand, he passed it in a vague mechanical way across his brow as though\nsuddenly wakened from a dream.\n\n\u201cYes, yes! Let us drink to our three new comrades,\u201d he said, and rose\nto his feet. \u201cTo your health, friends! And may you all stand firm in the\nhour of trial!\u201d\n\nAll the company sprang up and drained their glasses, and when the toast\nwas drunk and they were again seated, Pasquin Leroy asked if he might be\nallowed to return thanks.\n\n\u201cI do not know,\u201d he said with a courteous air, \u201cwhether it is\npermissible for a newly-enrolled associate of this Brotherhood to make\na speech on the first night of his membership,--but after the cordial\nwelcome I and my comrades, strangers as we are, have received at your\nhands, I should like to say a few words--if, without breaking any rules\nof the Order, I may do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cHear, hear!\u201d shouted Zouche, who had been steadily drinking for the\nlast few moments,--\u201cSpeak on, man! Whoever heard of a dumb Socialist!\nRant--rant! Rant and rave!--as I do, when the fit is on me! Do I not,\nThord? Do I not move you even to tears?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd laughter!\u201d put in Zegota. \u201cHold your tongue, Zouche! No other man\ncan talk at all, if you once begin!\u201d\n\nZouche laughed, and drained his glass.\n\n\u201cTrue!--my genius is of an absorbing quality! Silence, gentlemen!\nSilence for our new comrade! \u2018Pasquin\u2019 stands for the beginning of a\njest--so we may hope he will be amusing,--\u2018Leroy\u2019 stands for the king,\nand so we may expect him to be non-political!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE KING\u2019S DOUBLE\n\n\nAs Leroy rose to speak, there was a little commotion. Max Graub upset\nhis glass, and seemed to be having a struggle under the table with Axel\nRegor.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you?\u201d said Leroy, glancing at his friends with an amazed\nair--\u201cAre you quarrelling?\u201d\n\n\u201cQuarrelling!\u201d echoed Max Graub, \u201cWhy, no--but what man will have his\nbeer upset without complaint? Tell me that!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou upset it!\u201d said Regor angrily--\u201cI did not.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did!\u201d retorted Graub, \u201cand because I pushed you for it, you showed\nme a pistol in your pocket! I object to be shown a pistol. So I have\ntaken it away. Here it is!\u201d and he laid the weapon on the table in front\nof him.\n\nA look of anger darkened Leroy\u2019s brows.\n\n\u201cI was not aware you carried arms,\u201d he said coldly.\n\nSergius Thord noticed his annoyance.\n\n\u201cThere is nothing remarkable in that, my friend!\u201d he interposed--\u201cWe all\ncarry arms,--there is not one of us at this table who has not a loaded\npistol,--even Lotys is no exception to this rule.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow by my word!\u201d said Graub, \u201c_I_ have no loaded pistol,--and I will\nswear Leroy is equally unarmed!\u201d\n\n\u201cEntirely so!\u201d said Leroy quietly--\u201cI never suspect any man of evil\nintentions towards me.\u201d\n\nAs he said this, Lotys leaned forward impulsively and stretched out her\nhand,--a beautiful hand, well-shaped and white as a white rose petal.\n\n\u201cI like you for that!\u201d--she said--\u201cIt is the natural attitude of a brave\nman!\u201d\n\nA slight colour warmed his bronzed skin as he took her hand, pressed it\ngently, and let it go again. Axel Regor looked up defiantly.\n\n\u201cWell, I _do_ suspect every man of evil intentions!\u201d he said, \u201cSo you\nmay all just as well know the worst of me at once! My experience of life\nhas perhaps been exceptionally unpleasant; but it has taught me that as\na rule no man is your friend till you have made it worth his while!\u201d\n\n\u201cBy favours bestowed, or favours to come?\u201d queried Thord,\nsmiling,--\u201cHowever, without any argument, Axel Regor, I am inclined to\nthink you are right!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen a weapon is permissible here?\u201d asked Graub.\n\n\u201cNot only permissible, but necessary,\u201d replied Thord. \u201cAs members of\nthis Brotherhood we live always prepared for some disaster,--always\non our guard against treachery. Comrades!\u201d and raising his voice\nhe addressed the whole party. \u201cLay down your arms, all at once and\ntogether!\u201d\n\nIn one instant, as if in obedience to a military order, the table was\nlined on either side with pistols. Beside these weapons, there was a\ngoodly number of daggers, chiefly of the small kind such as are used\nin Corsica, encased in leather sheaths. Pasquin Leroy smiled as he saw\nLotys lay down one of those tiny but deadly weapons, together with a\nsmall silver-mounted pistol.\n\n\u201cForewarned is forearmed!\u201d he said gaily;--\u201cMadame, if I ever offend, I\nshall look to you for a happy dispatch! Gentlemen, I have still to\nmake my speech, and if you permit it, I will speak now,--unarmed as I\nam,--with all these little metal mouths ready to deal death upon me if I\nhappen to make any observation which may displease you!\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Heaven! A brave man!\u201d cried Zouche; \u201cThord, you have picked up\na trump card! Speak, Pasquin Leroy! We will forgive you, even if you\npraise the King!\u201d\n\nLeroy stood silent for a moment, as if thinking. His two companions\nlooked up at him once or twice in unquestionable alarm and wonderment,\nbut he did not appear to be conscious of their observation. On the\ncontrary, some very deeply seated feeling seemed to be absorbing his\nsoul,--and it was perhaps this suppressed emotion which gave such a rich\nvibrating force to his accents when he at last spoke.\n\n\u201cFriends and Brothers!\u201d he said;--\u201cIt is difficult for one who has never\nexperienced the three-fold sense of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity\nuntil to-night, to express in the right manner the sense of gratitude\nwhich I, a complete stranger to you, feel for the readiness and\ncordiality of the welcome you have extended to me and my companions,\naccepting us without hesitation, as members of your Committee, and as\nassociates in the work of the Cause you have determined to maintain. It\nis an Ideal Cause,--I need not tell you that! To rescue and protect the\npoor from the tyranny of the rich and strong, was the mission of Christ\nwhen He visited this earth; and it would perhaps be unwise on my part,\nand discouraging to yourselves, to remind you that even He has failed!\nThe strong, the selfish, and the cruel, still delight in oppressing\ntheir more helpless fellows, despite the theories of Christianity. And\nit is perfectly natural that it should be so, seeing that the\nChristian Church itself has become a mere system of money-making and\nself-advancement.\u201d\n\nA burst of applause interrupted him. Eyes lightened with eager\nenthusiasm, and every face was turned towards him. He went on:--\n\n\u201cTo think of the great Founder of a great Creed, and then to consider\nwhat his pretended followers have made of Him and His teaching,\nis sufficient to fill the soul with the sickness of despair and\nhumiliation! To remember that Christ came to teach all men the Gospel\nof love,--and to find them after eighteen hundred years still preferring\nthe Gospel of hate,--is enough to make one doubt the truth of religion\naltogether! The Divine Socialist preached a creed too good and pure\nfor this world; and when we try to follow it, we are beaten back on all\nsides by the false conventionalities and customs of a sacerdotal system\ngrown old in self-seeking, not in self-sacrifice. Were Christ to come\nagain, the first thing He would probably do would be to destroy all\nthe churches, saying: \u2018I never knew you: depart from me ye that work\niniquity!\u2019 But till He does come again, it rests with the thinkers\nof the time to protest against wrongs and abuses, even if they cannot\ndestroy them,--to expose falsehood, even if they cannot utterly undo\nits vicious work. Seeing, however, that the greater majority of men\nare banded on the side of wealth and material self-interest, it is\nunfortunately only a few who remain to work for the cause of the poor,\nand for such equal rights of justice as you--as we--in our present\nAssociation claim to be most worthy of man\u2019s best efforts. It may be\nasked by those outside such a Fraternity as ours,--\u2018What do they want?\nWhat would they have that they cannot obtain?\u2019 I would answer that\nwe want to see the end of a political system full of bribery and\ncorruption,--that we desire the disgrace and exposure of such men as\nthose, who, under the pretence of serving the country, merely line their\nown coffers out of the taxes they inflict upon the people;--and that\nif we see a king inclined to favour the overbearing dominance of a\npolitical party governed by financial considerations alone,--a party\nwhich has no consideration for the wider needs of the whole nation, we\nfrom our very hearts and souls desire the downfall of that king!\u201d\n\nA low, deep murmur responded to his words,--a sound like the snarl of\nwolves, deep, fierce, and passionate. A close observer might perhaps\nhave detected a sudden pallor on Leroy\u2019s face as he heard this ominous\ngrowl, and an involuntary clenching of the hand on the part of Axel\nRegor. Max Graub looked up.\n\n\u201cAh so, my friends! You hate the King?\u201d\n\nNo answer was vouchsafed to this query. The interruption was evidently\nunwelcome, all eyes being still fixed on Leroy. He went on tranquilly:\n\n\u201cI repeat--that wherever and whenever a king--any king--voluntarily and\nknowingly, supports iniquity and false dealing in his ministers, he\nlays himself open to suspicion, attack, and dethronement! I speak with\nparticular feeling on this point, because, apart from whatever may be\nthe thoughts and opinions of these who are assembled here to-night,\nI have a special reason of my own for hating the King! That reason\nis marked on my countenance! I bear an extraordinary resemblance to\nhim,--so great indeed, that I might be taken for his twin brother if he\nhad one! And I beg of you, my friends, to look at me long and well, that\nyou make no error concerning me, for, being now your comrade, I do not\nwish to be mistaken for your enemy!\u201d\n\nHe drew himself up, lifting his head with an air of indomitable pride\nand grace which well became him. An exclamation of surprise broke from\nall present, and Sergius Thord bent forward to examine his features with\nclose attention. Every man at the table did the same, but none regarded\nhim more earnestly or more searchingly than Lotys. Her wonderful eyes\nseemed to glow and burn with strange interior fires, as she kept them\nsteadily fixed upon his face.\n\n\u201cYes--you are strangely like the King!\u201d she said--\u201cThat is,--so far as I\nam able to judge by his portraits and coins. I have never seen him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI _have_ seen him,\u201d--said Sergius Thord, \u201cthough only at a distance.\nAnd I wonder I did not notice the strange resemblance you bear to him\nbefore you called my attention to it. Are you in any way related to\nhim?\u201d\n\n\u201cRelated to him!\u201d Leroy laughed aloud. \u201cNo! If the late King had\nany bastard sons, I am not one of them! But I pray you again all to\ncarefully note this hateful resemblance,--a resemblance I would fain rid\nme of--for it makes me seem a living copy of the man I most despise!\u201d\n\nThere was a pause,--during which he stood quietly, submitting himself\nto the fire of a hundred wondering, questioning, and inquisitorial eyes\nwithout flinching.\n\n\u201cYou are all satisfied?\u201d he then asked; \u201cYou, Sergius Thord,--my chief\nand commander,--you, and all here present are satisfied?\u201d\n\n\u201cSatisfied?--Yes!\u201d replied Thord; \u201cBut sorry that your personality\nresembles that of a fool and a knave!\u201d\n\nA strange grimace distorted the countenance of Max Graub, but he quickly\nburied his nose and his expression together in a foaming glass of beer.\n\n\u201cYou cannot be so sorry for me as I am for myself!\u201d said Leroy, \u201cAnd now\nto finish the few words I have been trying to say. I thank you from my\nheart for your welcome, and for the trust you have reposed in me and my\ncompanions. I am proud to be one of you; and I promise that you shall\nall have reason to be glad that I am associated with your Cause! And to\nprove my good faith, I undertake to set about working for you without a\nday\u2019s delay; and towards this object, I give you my word that before our\nnext meeting something shall be done to shake the political stronghold\nof Carl P\u00e9rousse!\u201d\n\nSergius Thord sprang up excitedly.\n\n\u201cDo that,\u201d he said, \u201cand were you a thousand times more like the King\nthan you are, you shall be the first to command our service and honour!\u201d\n\nLoud acclamation followed his words, and all the men gathered close up\nabout Leroy. He looked round upon them, half-smiling, half-serious.\n\n\u201cBut you must tell me what to do!\u201d he said. \u201cYou must explain to me why\nyou consider P\u00e9rousse a traitor, and how you think it best his treachery\nshould be proved. For, remember, I am a stranger to this part of the\ncountry, and my accidental resemblance to the King does not make me his\nsubject!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue!\u201d said Paul Zouche,--his eyes were feverishly bright and his\ncheeks flushed--\u201cTo be personally like a liar does not oblige one to\ntell lies! To call oneself a poet does not enable one to write poetry!\nAnd to build a cathedral does not make one a saint! To know all the\nhighways and byways of the P\u00e9rousse policy, you must penetrate into the\ndepths and gutter-slushes of the great newspaper which is subsidised by\nthe party to that policy! And this is difficult--exceedingly difficult,\nlet me assure you, my bold Pasquin! And if you can perform such a\n\u2018pasquinade\u2019 as shall take you into these Holy of Holy purlieus\nof mischief and money-making, you will deserve to be chief of the\nCommittee, instead of Sergius! Sergius talks--he will talk your head\noff!--but he does nothing!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do what I can,\u201d--said Thord, patiently. \u201cIt is true I have no access\nto the centres of diplomacy or journalism. But I hold the People in the\nhollow of my hand!\u201d\n\nHe spoke with deep and concentrated feeling, and the power of his\nsoul looked out eloquently from the darkening flash of his eyes. Leroy\nstudied his features with undisguised interest.\n\n\u201cIf you thus hold the People,\u201d he said,--\u201cWhy not bid them rise against\nthe evil and tyranny of which they have cause to complain?\u201d\n\nThord shook his head.\n\n\u201cTo rouse the People,\u201d he replied, \u201cwould be worse than to rouse a herd\nof starving lions from their forest dens, and give them freedom to slay\nand devour! Nay!--the time is not yet! All gentle means must be tried;\nand if these fail--why then--!\u201d\n\nHe broke off, but his clenched hand and expressive glance said the rest.\n\n\u201cWhy do you not use the most powerful of all the weapons ever invented\nfor the destruction of one\u2019s enemies--the Pen?\u201d asked Max Graub. \u201cStart\na newspaper, for example, and gibbet your particular favourite Carl\nP\u00e9rousse therein!\u201d\n\n\u201cBah! He would get up a libel case, and advertise himself a little more\nby that method!\u201d said Zegota contemptuously; \u201cAnd besides, a newspaper\nneeds unlimited capital behind it. We have no rich friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cRich friends!\u201d exclaimed Lotys suddenly; \u201cWho speaks of them--who needs\nthem? Rich friends expect you to toady to them; to lick the ground under\ntheir feet; to fawn and flatter and lie, and be anything but honest men!\nThe rich are the vulgar of this world;--no one who has heart, or soul,\nor sense, would condescend to seek friendships among those whose only\nclaim to precedence is the possession of a little more yellow metal than\ntheir neighbours.\u201d\n\n\u201cNevertheless, they and their yellow metal are the raw material, which\nGenius may as well use to pave its way through life,\u201d said Zegota.\n\u201cLotys, you are too much of an idealist!\u201d\n\n\u201cIdealist! And you call yourself a realist, poor child!\u201d said Lotys\nwith a laugh; \u201cI tell you I would sooner starve than accept favour or\nassistance from the merely rich!\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course you would!\u201d said Zouche, \u201cAnd is not that precisely the\nreason why you are set in dominion over us all? We men are not sure of\nourselves--but--Heaven knows why!--we are sure of You! I suppose it is\nbecause you are sure of yourself! For example, we men are such wretched\ncreatures that we cannot go long without our food,--but you, woman, can\nfast all day, and scorn the very idea of hunger. We men cannot bear\nmuch pain,--but you,--woman,--can endure suffering of your own without\ncomplaint, while attending to our various lesser hurts and scratches.\nWherefore, just because we feel you are above us in this and many other\nthings, we have set you amongst us as a warning Figurehead, which cries\nshame upon us if we falter, and reminds us that you, a woman, can do,\nand probably will do, what we men cannot. Imagine it! You would bear all\nthings for love\u2019s sake!--and, frankly speaking, we would bear nothing at\nall, except for our own immediate and particular pleasure. For that, of\ncourse, we would endure everything till we got it, and then--pouf!--we\nwould let it go again in sheer weariness and desire for something else!\nIs it not so, Sergius?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad you know yourself so well!\u201d said Thord gloomily. \u201cPersonally,\nI am not prepared to accept your theory.\u201d\n\n\u201cMen are children!\u201d said Lotys, still smiling; \u201cAnd should be treated as\nchildren always, by women! Come, little ones! To bed, all of you! It is\ngrowing late, and the rain has ceased.\u201d\n\nShe went to the window, and unbarring the shutters, opened it. The\nstreets were wet and glistening below, but the clouds had cleared, and a\npale watery moon shone out fitfully from the misty sky.\n\n\u201cSay good-night, and part;\u201d she continued. \u201cIt is time! This day month\nwe will meet here again,--and our new comrades will then report what\nprogress they have made in the matter of Carl P\u00e9rousse.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me,\u201d said Leroy, approaching her, \u201cWhat would you do, Madame, if\nyou had determined, on proving the corruption and falsehood of this at\npresent highly-honoured servant of the State?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should gain access to his chief tool, David Jost, by means of\nthe Prime Minister\u2019s signet,\u201d said Lotys,--\u201cIf I could get the\nsignet!--which I cannot! Nor can you! But if I could, I should persuade\nJost to talk freely, and so betray himself. He and Carl P\u00e9rousse move\nthe Premier and the King whichever way they please.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that so--?\u201d began Leroy, when he was answered by a dozen voices at\nonce:--\n\n\u201cThe King is a fool!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King is a slave!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King accepts everything that is set before him as being rightly and\nwisely ordained,--and never enquires into the justice of what is done!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King assumes to be the friend of the People, but if you ask him\nto do anything for the People, you only get the secretary\u2019s usual\nanswer--\u2018His Majesty regrets that it is impossible to take any action in\nthe matter\u2019!\u201d\n\n\u201cWait!--wait!--\u201d said Leroy, with a gesture which called for a moment\u2019s\nsilence; \u201cThe question is,--_Could_ the King do anything if he would?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will answer that!\u201d said Lotys, her eyes flashing, her bosom heaving,\nand her whole figure instinct with pride and passion; \u201cThe King could do\neverything! The King could be a man if he chose, instead of a dummy! The\nKing could cease to waste his time on fools and light women!--and though\nhe is, and must be a constitutional Monarch, he could so rule all social\nmatters as to make them the better,--not the worse for his influence!\nThere is nothing to prevent the King from doing his most kingly duty!\u201d\n\nLeroy looked at her for a moment in silence.\n\n\u201cMadame, if the King heard your words he might perhaps regret his many\nfollies!\u201d he said courteously;--\u201cBut where Society is proved worse,\ninstead of better for a king\u2019s influence, is it not somewhat too late to\nremedy the evil? What of the Queen?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Queen is queen from necessity, not from choice!\u201d said Lotys;--\u201cShe\nhas never loved her husband. If she had loved him, perhaps he\nmight,--through her,--have loved his people more!\u201d\n\nThere was a note of pathos in her voice that was singularly tender and\ntouching. Anon, as if impatient with herself, she turned to Sergius\nThord.\n\n\u201cWe must disperse!\u201d she said abruptly; \u201cDaybreak will be upon us before\nwe know it, and we have done no business at all this evening. To enrol\nthree new associates is a matter of fifteen minutes; the rest of our\ntime has been wasted!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not say so, Madame!\u201d interposed Max Graub, \u201cYou have three new\nfriends--three new \u2018sons of your blood,\u2019 as you so poetically call\nthem,--though, truly, I for one am more fit to be your grandfather! And\ndo you consider the time wasted that has been spent in improving and\ninstructing your newly-born children?\u201d\n\nLotys turned upon him with a look of disdain.\n\n\u201cYou are a would-be jester;\u201d she said coldly; \u201cOld men love a jest, I\nknow, but they should take care to make it at the right time, and in the\nright place. They should not play with edge-tools such as I am, though I\nsuppose, being a German, you think little or nothing of women?\u201d\n\n\u201cMadame!\u201d protested Graub, \u201cI think so much of women that I have never\nmarried! Behold me, an unhappy bachelor! I have spared any one of your\nbeautiful sex from the cruel martyrdom of having to endure my life-long\ncompany!\u201d\n\nShe laughed--a pretty low laugh, and extended her hand with an air of\nqueenly condescension.\n\n\u201cYou are amusing!\u201d she said,--\u201cAnd so I will not quarrel with you!\nGood-night!\u201d\n\n\u201cAuf wiedersehn!\u201d and Graub kissed the white hand he held. \u201cI shall hope\nyou will command me to be of service to you and yours, ere long!\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what way, I wonder,\u201d she asked dubiously; \u201cWhat can you do best?\nWrite? Speak? Or organize meetings?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Graub, speaking very deliberately, \u201cthat of all my\nvarious accomplishments, which are many--as I shall one day prove to\nyou--I can poison best!\u201d\n\n\u201cPoison!\u201d\n\nThe exclamation broke simultaneously from all the company. Graub looked\nabout him with a triumphant air.\n\n\u201cAh so,--I know I shall be useful,\u201d he said; \u201cI can poison so\nvery beautifully and well! One little drop--one, little microbe of\nmischief--and I can make all your enemies die of cholera, typhoid,\nbubonic plague, or what you please! I am what is called a Christian\nscientific poisoner--that is a doctor! You will find me a most\ninvaluable member of this Brotherhood!\u201d\n\nHe nodded his head wisely, and smiled. Sergius Thord laid one hand\nheavily on his shoulder.\n\n\u201cWe shall find you useful, no doubt!\u201d he said, \u201cBut mark me well,\nfriend! Our mission is not to kill, but to save!--not to poison, but to\nheal! If we find that by the death of one traitor we can save the lives\nof thousands, why then that traitor must die. If we know that by killing\na king we destroy a country\u2019s abuses, that king is sent to his account.\nBut never without warning!--never without earnest pleading that he\nwhom the laws of Truth condemn, may turn from the error of his ways and\nrepent before it is too late. We are not murderers;--we are merely the\nservants of justice.\u201d\n\n\u201cExactly!\u201d put in Paul Zouche; \u201cYou understand? We try to be what God is\nnot,--just!\u201d\n\n\u201cBlaspheme not, Zouche!\u201d said Thord; \u201cJustice is the very eye of\nGod!--the very centre and foundation of the universe.\u201d\n\nZouche laughed discordantly.\n\n\u201cExcellent Sergius! Impulsive Sergius!--with big heart, big head and\nno logic! Prove to me this eternal justice! Where does it begin? In the\ncreation of worlds without end, all doomed to destruction, and therefore\nperfectly futile in their existence? In the making of man, who lives his\nlittle day with the utmost difficulty, pain and struggle, and is then\nextinguished, to be heard of no more? The use of it, my Sergius!--point\nout the use of it! No,--there is no man can answer me that! If I could\nsee the Creator, I would ask Him the question personally--but He\nhides Himself behind the great big pendulum He has set\nswinging--tick--tock!--tick--tock! Life--Death!--Life--Death!--and\nnever a reason why the clock is set going! And so we shall never have\njustice,--simply because there is none! It is not just or reasonable\nto propound a question to which there is no answer; it is not just or\nreasonable to endow man with all the thinking powers of brain, and all\nthe imaginative movements of mind, merely to turn him into a pinch of\ndust afterwards. Every generation, every country strives to get justice\ndone, but cannot,--merely for the fact that God Himself has no idea\nof it, and therefore it is naturally lacking in His creature, man. Our\ngoverning-forces are plainly the elements. No Divine finger stops the\nearthquake from engulfing a village full of harmless inhabitants, simply\nbecause of the injustice of such utter destruction! See now!--look at\nthe eyes of Lotys reproaching me! You would think they were the eyes\nof an angel, gazing at a devil in the sweet hope of plucking him out of\nhell!\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch a hope would be vain in your case, Zouche,\u201d said Lotys tranquilly;\n\u201cYou make your own hell, and you must live in it! Nevertheless, in some\nof the wild things you say, there is a grain of truth. If I were God, I\nshould be the most miserable of all beings, to look upon all the misery\nI had myself created! I should be so sorry for the world, that I should\nput an end to all hope of immortality by my own death.\u201d\n\nShe made this strange remark with a simplicity and wistfulness which\nwere in striking contrast to the awful profundity of the suggestion, and\nall her auditors, including the half-tipsy Zouche, were silent.\n\n\u201cI should be so sorry!\u201d she repeated; \u201cFor even as a mortal woman my\npity for the suffering world almost breaks my heart;--but if I were\nGod, I should have all the griefs of all the worlds I had made to answer\nfor,--and such an agony would surely kill me. Oh,--the pain, the tears,\nthe mistakes, the sins, the anguish of humanity! All these are frightful\nto me! I do not understand why such misery should exist! I think it\nmust be that we have not enough love in the world; if we only loved each\nother faithfully, God might love us more!\u201d\n\nHer eyes were wet; she caught her breath hard, and smiled a little\ndifficult smile. Something in her soul transfigured her face, and made\nit for the moment exquisitely lovely, and the men around her gazed at\nher in evidently reverential silence. Suddenly she stretched out both\nher hands:\n\n\u201cGood-night, children!\u201d\n\nOne by one the would-be-fierce associates of the Revolutionary Committee\nbent low over those fair hands; and then quietly saluting Sergius Thord,\nas quietly left the room, like schoolboys retiring from a class where\nthe lessons had been more or less badly done. Paul Zouche was not very\nsteady on his feet, and two of his comrades assisted him to walk as\nhe stumbled off, singing somewhat of a ribald rhyme in _mezza-voce_.\nPasquin Leroy and his two friends were the last to go. Lotys looked at\nthem all three meditatively.\n\n\u201cYou will be faithful?\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cUnto death!\u201d answered Leroy.\n\nShe came close up to him, placing one hand on his arm, and glanced\nmeaningly towards Sergius Thord, who was standing at the threshold\nwatching Zouche stumbling down the dark stairs.\n\n\u201cSergius is a good man!\u201d she said; \u201cOne of the mistaken geniuses of this\nworld,--savage as a lion, yet simple as a child! Whoever, and whatever\nyou are, be true to him!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is dear to you?\u201d said Leroy on a sudden impulse, catching her hand;\n\u201cHe is more to you than most men?\u201d\n\nShe snatched away her hand, and her eyes lightened first with wrath,\nthen with laughter.\n\n\u201cDear to me!\u201d she echoed,--\u201cto Me? No one man on earth is dearer to me\nthan another! All are alike in my estimation,--all the same barbaric,\nfoolish babes and children--all to be loved and pitied alike! But\nSergius Thord picked me out of the streets when I was no better than\na stray and starving dog,--and like a dog I serve him--faithfully! Now\ngo!\u201d\n\nShe stretched out her hand in an attitude of command, and there was\nnothing for it but to obey. They therefore repeated their farewells,\nand in their turn, went out, one by one, down the tortuous staircase.\nSholto, the hunchback, was below, and he let them out without a word,\nclosing and barring the door carefully behind them. Once in the street\nand under the misty moonlight, Pasquin Leroy nodded a careless dismissal\nto his companions.\n\n\u201cYou will return alone?\u201d enquired Max Graub.\n\n\u201cQuite alone!\u201d was the reply.\n\n\u201cMay I not follow you at a distance?\u201d asked Axel Regor.\n\nLeroy smiled. \u201cYou forget! One of the rules we have just sworn to\nconform to, is--\u2018No member shall track, follow or enquire into the\nmovements of any other member.\u2019 Go your ways! I will thank you both for\nyour services to-morrow.\u201d\n\nHe turned away rapidly and disappeared. His two friends remained gazing\nsomewhat disconsolately after him.\n\n\u201cShall we go?\u201d at last said Max Graub.\n\n\u201cWhen you please,\u201d replied Axel Regor irritably,--\u201cThe sooner the better\nfor me! Here we are probably watched,--we had best go down to the quay,\nand from thence----\u201d\n\nHe did not finish his sentence, but Graub evidently understood its\nconclusion--and they walked quickly away together in quite an opposite\ndirection to that in which Leroy had gone.\n\nMeanwhile, up in the now closed and darkened house they had left behind\nthem, Lotys stood looking at Sergius Thord, who had thrown himself\ninto a chair and sat with his elbows resting on the table, and his head\nburied in his hands.\n\n\u201cYou make no way, poor Sergius!\u201d she said gently. \u201cYou work, you write,\nyou speak to the people, but you make no way!\u201d\n\nHe looked up fiercely.\n\n\u201cI do make way!\u201d he said; \u201cHow can you doubt it? A word from me, and the\nmassed millions would rise as one man!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd of what use would that be?\u201d enquired Lotys. \u201cThe soldiers would\nfire on the people, and there would be riot and bloodshed, but no actual\nredress for wrong. You work vainly, Sergius!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I could but kill the King!\u201d he muttered.\n\n\u201cAnother king would succeed him,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd after all, if you only\nknew it, the King may be a miserable man enough--far more miserable,\nperhaps, than any of us imagine ourselves to be. No, Sergius!--I repeat\nit, you work vainly! You have made me the soul of an Ideal which you\nwill never realise? Tell me, what is it you yourself would have, out of\nall your work and striving?\u201d\n\nHe looked at her with great, earnest, burning eyes.\n\n\u201cPower!\u201d he said. \u201cPower to change the mode of government; power to put\ndown the tyranny of priestcraft--power to relieve the oppressed, and\nreward the deserving--power to make of you, Lotys, a queen among women!\u201d\n\nShe smiled.\n\n\u201cI am a queen among men, Sergius, and that suffices me! How often must\nI tell you to do nothing for my sake, if it is for my sake only? I am a\nvery simple, plain woman, past my youth, and without beauty--I deserve\nand demand nothing!\u201d\n\nHe raised himself, and stretched out his arms towards her with a gesture\nof entreaty.\n\n\u201cYou deserve all that a man can give you!\u201d he said passionately. \u201cI\nlove you, Lotys! I have always loved you ever since I found you a little\nforsaken child, shivering and weeping on the cold marble steps of\nthe Temesvar place in Buda. I love you!--you know I have always loved\nyou!--I have told you so a hundred times,--I love you as few men love\nwomen!\u201d\n\nShe regarded him compassionately, and with a touch of wistful sorrow in\nher eyes. Her black cloak fell away on either side of her in two shadowy\nfolds, disclosing her white-robed form and full bosom, like a pearl in a\ndark shell.\n\n\u201cGood-night, Sergius!\u201d she said simply, and turned to go.\n\nHe gave an exclamation of anger and pain.\n\n\u201cThat is all you say--\u2018Good-night\u2019!\u201d he muttered. \u201cA man gives you his\nheart, and you set it aside with a cold word of farewell! And yet--and\nyet--you hold all my life!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sorry, Sergius,\u201d she said, in a gentle voice; \u201cvery sorry that it\nis so. You have told me all this before; and I have answered you often,\nand always in the same way. I have no love to give you, save that which\nis the result of duty and gratitude. I do not forget!--I know that\nyou rescued me from starvation and death--though sometimes I question\nwhether it would not have been better to have let me die. Life is worth\nvery little at its utmost best; nevertheless, I admit I have had a\ncertain natural joy in living, and for that I have to thank you. I have\ntried to repay you by my service--\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not speak of that,\u201d he said hurriedly; \u201cI have done nothing! You are\na genius in yourself, and would have made your way anywhere,--perhaps\nbetter without me.\u201d\n\nShe smiled doubtfully.\n\n\u201cI am not sure! The trick of oratory does not carry one very far,--not\nwhen one is a woman! Good-night again, Sergius! Try to rest,--you look\nworn out. And do not think of winning power for my sake; what power I\nneed I will win for myself!\u201d\n\nHe made no answer, but watched her with jealous eyes, as she moved\ntowards the door. On the threshold she turned.\n\n\u201cThose three new associates of yours--are they trustworthy, think you?\u201d\n\nHe gave a gesture of indifference.\n\n\u201cI do not know! Who is there we can absolutely trust save ourselves?\nThat man, Leroy, is honest,--of that I am confident,--and he has\npromised to be responsible for his friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d She paused a moment, then with another low breathed \u2018good-night\u2019\nshe left the room.\n\nHe looked at the door as it closed behind her--at the chair she had left\nvacant.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he whispered.\n\nHis whisper came hissing softly back to him in a fine echo on the empty\nspace, and with a great sigh he rose, and began to turn out the flaring\nlamps above his head.\n\n\u201cPower!--Power!\u201d he muttered--\u201cShe could not resist it! She would never\nbe swayed by gold,--but power! Her genius would rise to it--her beauty\nwould grow to it like a rose unfolding in the sun! \u2018Past youth, and\nwithout beauty\u2019 as she says of herself! My God! Compare the tame\npink-and-white prettiness of youth with the face of Lotys,--and that\nprettiness becomes like a cheap advertisement on a hoarding or a\nmatch-box! Contrast the perfect features, eyes and hair of the newest\nsocial \u2018beauty,\u2019--with the magical expression, the glamour in the eyes\nof Lotys,--and perfection of feature becomes the rankest ugliness! Once\nin a hundred centuries a woman is born like Lotys, to drive men mad with\ndesire for the unattainable--to fire them with such ambition as should\nmake them emperors of the world, if they had but sufficient courage to\nsnatch their thrones--and yet,--to fill them with such sick despair at\ntheir own incompetency and failure, as to turn them into mere children\ncrying for love--for love!--only love! No matter whether worlds are\nlost, kings killed, and dynasties concluded, love!--only love!--and then\ndeath!--as all sufficient for the life of a man! And only just so\nlong as love is denied--just so long we can go on climbing towards the\nunreachable height of greatness,--then--once we touch love, down we\nfall, broken-hearted; but--we have had our day!\u201d\n\nThe room was now in darkness, save for the glimmer of the pale moon\nthrough the window panes, and he opened the casement and looked out.\nThere was a faint scent of the sea on the air, and he inhaled its salty\nodour with a sense of refreshment.\n\n\u201cAll for Lotys!\u201d he murmured. \u201cWorking for Lotys, plotting, planning,\nscheming for Lotys! The government intimidated,--the ministry cast\nout,--the throne in peril,--the people in arms,--the city in a\nblaze,--Revolution and Anarchy doing their wild work broad-cast\ntogether,--all for Lotys! Always a woman in it! Search to the very depth\nof every political imbroglio,--dig out the secret reason of every war\nthat ever was begun or ended in the world,--and there we shall find the\nlove or the hate of a woman at the very core of the business! Some\nsuch secrets history knows, and has chronicled,--and some will never be\nknown,--but up to the present there is not even a religion in the world\nwhere a Woman is not made the beginning of a God!\u201d\n\nHe smiled somewhat grimly at his own fanciful musings, and then,\nshutting the window, retired. The house was soon buried in profound\nsilence and darkness, and over the city tuneful bells rang the half-hour\nafter midnight. Four miles distant from the \u2018quarter of the poor,\u2019 and\nhigh above the clustering houses of the whole magnificent metropolis,\nthe Royal palace towered whitely on its proud eminence in the glimmer\nof the moon, a stately pile of turrets and pinnacles; and on the\nbattlements the sentries walked, pacing to and fro in regular march,\nwith regular changes, all through the night hours. Half after midnight!\n\u2018All\u2019s well!\u2019 Three-quarters, and still \u2018All\u2019s well\u2019 sounded with the\nclash of steel and a tinkle of silvery chimes. One o\u2019clock struck,--and\nthe drifting clouds in heaven cleared fully, showing many brilliant\nstars in the western horizon,--and a sentry passing, as noiselessly as\nhis armour and accoutrements would permit, along the walled battlement\nwhich protected and overshadowed the windows of the Queen\u2019s apartments,\npaused in his walk to look with an approving eye at the clearing\npromise of the weather. As he did so, a tall figure, wrapped in a thick\nrain-cloak, suddenly made its unexpected appearance through a side door\nin the wall, and moved rapidly towards a turret which contained a secret\npassage leading to the Queen\u2019s boudoir,--a private stairway which was\nnever used save by the Royal family. The sentry gave a sharp warning\ncry.\n\n\u201cHalt! Who goes there?\u201d\n\nThe figure paused and turned, dropping its cloak. The pale moonlight\nfell slantwise on the features, disclosing them fully.\n\n\u201cT is I! The King!\u201d\n\nThe soldier recoiled amazed,--and quickly saluted. Before he could\nrecover from his astonishment he was alone again. The battlement was\nempty, and the door to the turret-stairs,--of which only the King\npossessed the key,--was fast locked; and for the next hour or more the\nstartled sentry remained staring at the skies in a sort of meditative\nstupefaction, with the words still ringing like the shock of an\nalarm-bell in his ears:\n\n\u201c\u2018T is I! The King!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE PREMIER\u2019S SIGNET\n\n\nThe next day the sun rose with joyous brightness in a sky clear as\ncrystal. Storm, wind, and rain had vanished like the flying phantoms of\nan evil dream, and all the beautiful land sparkled with light and life\nin its enlacing girdle of turquoise blue sea. The gardens of the Royal\npalace, freshened by the downpour of the past night, wore their most\nenchanting aspect,--roses, with leaves still wet, dropped their scented\npetals on the grass,--great lilies, with their snowy cups brimming with\nrain, hung heavily on their slim green stalks, and the air was full of\nthe deliciously penetrating odour of the mimosa and sweetbriar. Down one\nspecial alley, where the white philadelphus, or \u2018mock orange\u2019 grew in\nthick bushes on either side, intermingled with ferns and spruce firs,\nwhose young green tips exhaled a pungent, healthy scent that entered\ninto the blood like wine and invigorated it, Sir Roger de Launay was\npacing to and fro with a swinging step which, notwithstanding its ease\nand soldierly regularity, suggested something of impatience, and on a\nrustic seat, above which great clusters of the philadelphus-flowers hung\nlike a canopy, sat Professor von Glauben, spectacles on nose, sorting a\nfew letters which he had just taken from his pocket for the purpose of\nreading them over again carefully one by one. He was a very particular\nman as regarded his correspondence. All letters that required answering\nhe answered at once,--the others, as he himself declared, \u2018answered\nthemselves\u2019 in silence.\n\n\u201cThere is no end to the crop of fools in this world,\u201d he was fond of\nsaying;--\u201cGlorious, precious fools! I love them all! They make\nlife worth living--but sometimes I am disposed to draw the line at\nletter-writing fools. These persons chance to read a book--my book for\nexample,--that particularly clever one I wrote on the possibilities of\neternal life in this world. They at once snatch their pens and write to\nsay that they are specially deserving of this boon, and wish to live for\never--will I tell them how? And these are the very creatures I will not\ntell how--because their perpetual existence would be a mistake and a\nnuisance! The individuals whose lives are really valuable never ask\nanyone how to make them so.\u201d\n\nHe looked over his letters now with a leisurely indifference. The\nmorning\u2019s post had brought him nothing of special importance. He glanced\nfrom his reading now and again at De Launay marching up and down, but\nsaid nothing till he had quite finished with his own immediate concerns.\nThen he removed his spectacles from his nose and put them by.\n\n\u201cLeft--Right--Left--Right--Left--Right! Roger, you remind me of my\ndrilling days on a certain flat and dusty ground at Coblentz! The\nRhine!--the Rhine! Ah, the beautiful Rhine! So dirty--so dull--with its\ntoy castles, and its big, ugly factory chimneys, and its atrociously\nbad wine! Roger, I beseech you to have mercy upon me, and leave off that\nmarching up and down,--it gets on my nerves!\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought nothing ever got on your nerves,\u201d answered Sir Roger,\nstopping abruptly--\u201cYou seem to take serious matters coolly enough!\u201d\n\n\u201cSerious matters demand coolness,\u201d replied Von Glauben. \u201cWe should only\nlet steam out over trifles. Have you seen his Majesty this morning?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. I am to see him again at noon.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen do you go off duty?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot for a month, at least.\u201d\n\n\u201cMuch may happen in that month,\u201d said the Professor sententiously;\n\u201c_Your_ hair may grow white with the strangeness of your experiences!\u201d\n\nSir Roger met his eyes, and they both laughed.\n\n\u201cThough it is no laughing matter,\u201d resumed Von Glauben. \u201cUpon my soul as\na German,--if I have any soul of that nationality,--I think it may be a\nserious business!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have come round to my opinion then,\u201d said De Launay. \u201cI told you\nfrom the first that it was serious!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King does not think it so,\u201d rejoined Von Glauben. \u201cI was summoned\nto his presence early this morning, and found him in the fullest health\nand highest spirits.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did he send for you then?\u201d enquired De Launay.\n\n\u201cTo feel his pulse and look at his tongue! To make a little game of\nme before he stepped out of his dressing-gown! And I enjoyed it, of\ncourse,--one must always enjoy Royal pleasantries! I think, Roger, his\nMajesty wishes this entire affair treated as a pleasantry,--by us at any\nrate, however seriously he may regard it himself.\u201d\n\nDe Launay was silent for a minute or two, then he said abruptly:\n\n\u201cThe Premier is summoned to a private audience of the King at noon.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d And Von Glauben drew a cluster of the overhanging philadelphus\nflowers down to his nose and smelt them approvingly.\n\n\u201cAnd\u201d--went on De Launay, speaking more deliberately, \u201cthis afternoon\ntheir Majesties sail to The Islands----\u201d\n\nVon Glauben jumped excitedly to his feet.\n\n\u201cNot possible!\u201d\n\nSir Roger looked at him with a dawning amusement beginning to twinkle in\nhis clear blue eyes.\n\n\u201cQuite possible! So possible, that the Royal yacht is ordered to be\nin readiness at three o\u2019clock. Their Majesties and suite will dine on\nboard, in order to enjoy the return sail by moonlight.\u201d\n\nThe Professor\u2019s countenance was a study. Anxiety and vexation struggled\nwith the shrewd kindness and humour of his natural expression, and his\nsuppressed feelings found vent in a smothered exclamation, which sounded\nvery much like the worst of blasphemous oaths used in dire extremity by\nthe soldiers of the Fatherland.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you?\u201d demanded De Launay; \u201cYou seem strangely upset for a man\nof cool nerve!\u201d\n\n\u201cUpset? Who--what can upset me? Nothing! Roger, if I did not respect you\nso much, I should call you an ass!\u201d\n\nSir Roger laughed.\n\n\u201cCall me an ass, by all means,\u201d he said, \u201cif it will relieve your\nfeelings;--but in justice to me, let me know why you do so! What is my\noffence? I give you a piece of commonplace information concerning the\nmovements of the Court this afternoon, and you jump off your seat as if\nan adder had bitten you. Why?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have the gout,\u201d said Von Glauben curtly.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d And again Sir Roger laughed. \u201cThat last must have been a sharp\ntwinge!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was--it was! Believe me, my excellent Roger, it was exceedingly\nsevere!\u201d His brow smoothed, and he smiled. \u201cSee here, my dear\nfriend!--you know, do you not, that boys will be boys, and men will be\nmen?\u201d\n\n\u201cBoth are recognised platitudes,\u201d replied Sir Roger, his eyes still\ntwinkling merrily; \u201cAnd both are frequently quoted to cover our various\nfollies!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, true! But I wish to weigh more particularly on the fact that men\nwill be men! I am a man, Roger,--not a boy!\u201d\n\n\u201cReally! Well, upon my word, I should at this moment take you for a raw\nlad of about eighteen,--for you are blushing, Von Glauben!--actually\nblushing!\u201d\n\nThe Professor drew out a handkerchief, and wiped his brow.\n\n\u201cIt is a warm morning, Roger,\u201d he said, with a mildly reproachful air;\n\u201cI suppose I am permitted to feel the heat?\u201d He paused--then with a\nsudden burst of impatience he exclaimed: \u201cBy the Emperor\u2019s head! It is\nof no use denying it--I am very much put out, Roger! I must get a boat,\nand slip off to The Islands at once!\u201d\n\nSir Roger stared at him in complete amazement.\n\n\u201cYou? You want to slip off to The Islands? Why, Von Glauben----!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes--yes,--I know! You cannot possibly imagine what I want to go there\nfor! You wouldn\u2019t suppose, would you, that I had any special secrets--an\nold man like me;--for instance, you would not suspect me of any love\nsecrets, eh?\u201d And he made a ludicrous attempt to appear sentimental.\n\u201cThe fact is, Roger,--I have got into a little scrape over at The\nIslands--\u201d here he looked warmer and redder than ever;--\u201cand I want to\ntake precautions! You understand--I want to take care that the King does\nnot hear of it--Gott in Himmel! What a block of a man you are to stand\nthere staring open-mouthed at me! Were you never in love yourself?\n\n\u201cIn love? In love!--you,--Professor? Pray pardon me--but--in love? Am I\nto understand that there is a lady in your case?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!--that is it,\u201d said Von Glauben, with an air of profound relief;\n\u201cThere is a lady in my case;--or my case, speaking professionally, is\nthat of a lady. And I shall get any sort of a sea-tub that is available,\nand go over to those accursed Islands without any delay!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the King should send for you while you are absent--\u201d began De Launay\ndoubtfully.\n\n\u201cHe will not send. But if he should, what of it? I am known to be\nsomewhat eccentric--particularly so in my love of hard work, fresh air\nand exercise--besides, he has not commanded my attendance. He will not,\ntherefore, be surprised at my absence. I tell you, Roger,--I _must_ go!\nWho would have expected the King to take it into his head to visit The\nIslands without a moment\u2019s warning! What a freak!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd here comes the reason of the freak, if I am not very much\nmistaken,\u201d said De Launay, lowering his voice as an approaching figure\nflung its lengthy shadow on the path,--\u201cPrince Humphry!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben hastily drew back, De Launay also, to allow the Prince to\npass. He was walking slowly, and reading as he came. Looking up from\nhis book he saw, them, and as they saluted him profoundly, bade them\ngood-day.\n\n\u201cYou are up betimes, Professor,\u201d he said lightly; \u201cI suppose your\nscientific wisdom teaches you the advantage of the morning air.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, Sir, it is more healthful than that of the evening,\u201d answered\nVon Glauben in somewhat doleful accents.--\u201cFor example, a sail across\nthe sea with the morning breeze, is better than the same sort of\nexcursion in the glamour of the moon!\u201d\n\nPrince Humphry looked steadfastly at him, and evidently read something\nof a warning, or a suggestion, in his face, for he coloured slightly and\nbit his lip.\n\n\u201cDo you agree with that theory, Sir Roger,\u201d he said, turning to De\nLaunay.\n\n\u201cI have not tested it, Sir,\u201d replied the equerry, \u201cBut I imagine that\nwhatever Professor von Glauben asserts must be true!\u201d\n\nThe young man glanced quickly from one to the other, and then with a\ncareless air turned over the pages of the book he held.\n\n\u201cIn the earlier ages of the world,\u201d he said,--\u201cmen and women, I think,\nmust have been happier than they are now, if this book may be believed.\nI find here written down--What is it, Professor? You have something to\nsay?\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me, Sir,\u201d said Von Glauben,--\u201cBut you said--\u2018If this book may be\nbelieved.\u2019 I humbly venture to declare that no book may be believed!\u201d\n\n\u201cNot even your own, when it is written?\u201d queried the Prince with\na smile; \u201cYou would not like the world to say so! Nay, but listen,\nProfessor,--here is a thought very beautifully expressed--and it was\nwritten in an ancient language of the East, thousands of years before\nwe, in our quarter of the world, ever dreamt of civilization.--\u2018Of all\nthe sentiments, passions or virtues which in their divers turns affect\nthe life of a man, the influence and emotion of Love is surely the\ngreatest and highest. We do not here speak of the base and villainous\ncraving of bodily appetite; but of that pure desire of the unfettered\nsoul which beholding perfection, straightway and naturally flies to\nthe same. This love doth so elevate and instruct a man, that he seeketh\nnothing better than to be worthy of it, to attempt great deeds and\nvaliantly perform them, to confront foul abuses, and most potently\ndestroy them,--and to esteem the powers and riches of this world as\ndross, weighed against this rare and fiery talisman. For it is a jewel\nwhich doth light up the heart, and make it strong to support all sorrow\nand ill fortune with cheerfulness, knowing that it is in itself of\nso lasting a quality as to subjugate all things and events unto its\ncompelling sway.\u2019 What think you of this? Sir Roger, there is a whole\nvolume of comprehension in your face! Give some word of it utterance!\u201d\n\nSir Roger looked up.\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to say, Sir,\u201d he replied; \u201cYour ancient writer merely\nexpresses a truth we are all conscious of. All poets, worthy the name,\nand all authors, save and except the coldest logicians, deem the world\nwell lost for love.\u201d\n\n\u201cMore fools they!\u201d said Von Glauben gruffly; \u201cLove is a mere illusion,\nwhich is generally destroyed by one simple ceremony--Marriage!\u201d\n\nPrince Humphry smiled.\n\n\u201cYou have never tried the cure, Professor,\u201d he said, \u201cBut I daresay you\nhave suffered from the disease! Will you walk with me?\u201d\n\nVon Glauben bowed a respectful assent; and the Prince, with a kindly nod\nof dismissal to De Launay, went on his way, the Professor by his\nside. Sir Roger watched them as they disappeared, and saw, that at the\nfurthest end of the alley, when they were well out of ear-shot, they\nappeared to engage in very close and confidential conversation.\n\n\u201cI wonder,\u201d he mused, \u201cI wonder what it all means? Von Glauben is\nevidently mixed up in some affair that he wishes to keep secret from\nthe King. Can it concern Prince Humphry? And The Islands! What can Von\nGlauben want over there?\u201d\n\nHis brief meditation was interrupted by a soft voice calling.\n\n\u201cRoger!\u201d\n\nHe started, and at once advanced to meet the approaching intruder, his\nsister, Teresa de Launay, a pretty brunette, with dark sparkling eyes,\none of the favourite ladies of honour in attendance on the Queen.\n\n\u201cWhat were you dreaming about?\u201d she asked, as he came near, \u201cAnd what is\nthe Prince doing with old Von Glauben?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo questions at once, Teresa!\u201d he said, stooping his tall head to\nkiss her; \u201cI cannot possibly answer both in a breath! But answer me just\none--What are you here for?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo summon _you_!\u201d she answered. \u201cThe Queen desires you to wait upon her\nimmediately.\u201d\n\nShe fixed her bright eyes upon him as she spoke, and an involuntary sigh\nescaped her, as she noted the touch of pallor that came on his face at\nher words.\n\n\u201cWhere is her Majesty?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cHere--close at hand--in the arbour. She spied you at a distance through\nthe trees, and sent me to fetch you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou had best return to her at once, and say that I am coming.\u201d\n\nHis sister looked at him again, and hesitated--he gave a slight, vexed\ngesture of impatience, whereupon she hurried away, with flying footsteps\nas light as those of a fabled sylph of the woodlands. He watched her\ngo, and for a moment an expression came into his eyes of intense\nsuffering--the look of a noble dog who is suddenly struck undeservedly\nby an unkind master.\n\n\u201cShe sends for me!\u201d he muttered; \u201cWhat for? To amuse herself by reading\nevery thought of my life with her cold eyes? Why can she not leave me\nalone?\u201d\n\nHe walked on then, with a quiet, even pace, and presently reaching the\nend of the alley, came out on a soft stretch of greensward facing a\nsmall ornamental lake and fountain. Here grew tall rushes, bamboos and\nflag-flowers--here, too, on the quiet lake floated water-lilies, white\nand pink, opening their starry hearts to the glory of the morning sun. A\nquaintly shaped, rustic arbour covered with jasmine, faced the pool, and\nhere sat the Queen alone and unattended, save by Teresa de Launay,\nwho drew a little apart as her brother, Sir Roger, approached, and\nrespectfully bent his head in the Royal presence. For quite a minute he\nstood thus in dumb attention, his eyes lowered, while the Queen glanced\nat him with a curious expression, half of doubt, half of commiseration.\nSuddenly, as if moved by a quick impulse, she rose--a stately, exquisite\nfigure, looking even more beautiful in her simple morning robe of white\ncashmere and lace, than in all the glory of her Court attire,--and\nextended her hand. Humbly and reverentially he bent over it, and kissed\nthe great jewel sparkling like a star on the central finger. As he\nthen raised his eyes to her face she smiled;--that smile of hers, so\ndazzling, so sweet, and yet so cold, had sent many men to their deaths,\nthough she knew it not.\n\n\u201cI see very little of you, Sir Roger,\u201d she said slowly, \u201cnotwithstanding\nyour close attendance on my lord the King. Yet I know I can command your\nservice!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam,\u201d murmured De Launay, \u201cmy life----\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no,\u201d she rejoined quickly, \u201cnot your life! Your life, like mine,\nbelongs to the King and the country. You must give all, or not at all!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam, I do give all!\u201d he answered, with a look in his eyes of mingled\npain and passion; \u201cNo man can give more!\u201d\n\nShe surveyed him with a little meditative, almost amused air.\n\n\u201cYou have strong feelings, Sir Roger,\u201d she said; \u201cI wonder what it is\nlike--to _feel_?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I may dare to say so, Madam, I should wish you to experience the\nsensation,\u201d he returned somewhat bitterly; \u201cSometimes we awaken to\nemotions too late--sometimes we never awaken. But I think it is wisest\nto experience the nature of a storm, in order to appreciate the value of\na calm!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think so?\u201d She smiled indulgently. \u201cStorm and calm are to me alike!\nI am affected by neither. Life is so exceedingly trivial an affair, and\nis so soon over, that I have never been able to understand why people\nshould ever trouble themselves about anything in it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may not always be lacking in this comprehension, Madam,\u201d said\nSir Roger, with a certain harshness in his tone, yet with the deepest\nrespect in his manner; \u201cI take it that life and the world are but a\npreparation for something greater, and that we shall be forced to learn\nour lessons in this preparatory school before we leave it, whether we\nlike it or no!\u201d\n\nThe slight smile still lingered on her beautiful mouth,--she pulled a\nspray of jasmine down from the trailing clusters around her, and set it\ncarelessly among the folds of her lace. Sir Roger watched her with moody\neyes. Could he have followed his own inclination, he would have snatched\nthe flower from her dress and kissed it, in a kind of fierce defiance\nbefore her very eyes. But what would be the result of such an act?\nMerely a little contemptuous lifting of the delicate brows--a slight\nfrown on the fair forehead, and a calm gesture of dismissal. No more--no\nmore than this; for just as she could not be moved to love, neither\ncould she be moved to anger. The words of an old song rang in his\nears:--\n\n   She laughs at the thought of love--\n  Pain she scorns, and sorrow she sets aside--\n  My heart she values less than her broidered glove,\n    She would smile if I died!\n\n\u201cYou are a man, Sir Roger de Launay,\u201d she said after a pause, \u201cAnd\nman-like, you propound any theory which at the moment happens to fit\nyour own particular humour. I am, however, entirely of your opinion\nthat this life is only a term of preparation, and with this conviction I\ndesire to have as little to do with its vile and ugly side as I can. It\nis possible to accept with gratitude the beautiful things of Nature, and\nreject the rest, is it not?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you ask me the question point-blank, Madam, I say it is\npossible,--it can be done,--and you do it. But it is wrong!\u201d\n\nShe raised her languid eyelids, showing no offence.\n\n\u201cWrong?\u201d\n\n\u201cWrong, Madam!\u201d repeated Sir Roger bluntly; \u201cIt is wrong to shut from\nyour sight, from your heart, from your soul the ugly side of Nature;--to\nshut your ears to the wants--the pains--the tortures--the screams--the\ntears, and groans of humanity! Oh, Madam, the ugly side has a strange\nbeauty of its own that you dream not of! God makes ugliness as he makes\nbeauty; God created the volcano belching forth fire and molten lava, as\nHe created the simple stream bordered with meadow flowers! Why should\nyou reject the ugly, the fierce, the rebellious side of things? Rather\ntake it into your gracious thoughts and prayers, Madam, and help to make\nit beautiful!\u201d\n\nHe spoke with a force which surprised himself--he was carried away by a\npassion that seemed almost outside his own identity. She looked at him\ncuriously.\n\n\u201cDoes the King teach you to speak thus to me?\u201d she asked.\n\nDe Launay started,--the hot colour mounting to his cheeks and brow.\n\n\u201cMadam!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, no excuse! I understand! It is your own thought; but a thought\nwhich is no doubt suddenly inspired by the King\u2019s actions,\u201d she went on\ntranquilly; \u201cYou are in his confidence. He is adopting new measures of\ndomestic policy, in which, perchance, I may or may not be included--as\nit suits my pleasure! Who knows!\u201d Again the little musing smile crossed\nher countenance. \u201cIt is of the King I wish to speak to you.\u201d\n\nShe glanced around her, and saw that her lady-in-waiting, Teresa de\nLaunay, had discreetly wandered by herself to the edge of the water-lily\npool, and was bending over it, a graceful, pensive figure in the near\ndistance, within call, but certainly not within hearing.\n\n\u201cYou are in his confidence,\u201d she repeated, drawing a step nearer to him,\n\u201cand--so am I! You will not disclose his movements--nor shall I! But you\nare his close attendant and friend,--I am merely--his wife! I make you\nresponsible for his safety!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam, I pray you pardon me!\u201d exclaimed De Launay; \u201cHis Majesty has a\nwill of his own,--and his sacred life is not in my hands. I will defend\nhim to the utmost limit of human possibility,--but if he voluntarily\nruns into danger, and disregards all warning, I, as his poor servant, am\nnot to blame!\u201d\n\nHer eyes, brilliant and full of a compelling magnetism, dwelt upon him\nsteadfastly.\n\n\u201cI repeat my command,\u201d she said deliberately, \u201cI make you responsible!\nYou are a strong man and a brave one. If the King is rash, it is\nthe duty of his servants to defend him from the consequences of his\nrashness; particularly if that rashness leads him into danger for a\nnoble purpose. Should any mischance befall him, let me never see your\nface again! Die yourself, rather than let your King die!\u201d\n\nAs she spoke these words she motioned him away with a grand gesture of\ndismissal, and he retired back from her presence in a kind of\nstunned amazement. Never before in all the days of her social sway as\nCrown-Princess, had she ever condescended to speak to him on any\nmatter of confidence,--never during her three years of sovereignty as\nQueen-Consort had she apparently taken note, or cared to know any of the\naffairs connected with the King, her husband. The mere fact that now her\ninterest was roused, moved De Launay to speechless wonderment. He hardly\ndared raise his eyes to look at her, as she turned from him and went\nslowly, with her usual noiseless, floating grace of movement, towards\nthe water-lily pool, there to rejoin her attendant, Teresa de Launay,\nwho at the same time advanced to meet her Royal mistress. A moment more,\nand Queen and lady of honour had disappeared together, and De Launay was\nleft alone. A little bird, swinging on a branch above his head, piped\na few tender notes to the green leaves and the sunlit sky, but beyond\nthis, and the measured plash of the fountain, no sound disturbed the\nstillness of the garden.\n\n\u201cUpon my word, Roger de Launay,\u201d he said bitterly to himself, \u201cyou are\nan ass sufficiently weighted with burdens! The love of a Queen, and the\nlife of a King are enough for one man\u2019s mind to carry with any degree of\nsafety! If it were not for the King, I think I should leave this country\nand seek some other service--but I owe him much,--if only by reason of\nmy own heart\u2019s folly!\u201d\n\nImpatient with himself, he strode away, straight across the lawn and\nback to the palace. Here he noticed just the slightest atmosphere of\nuneasiness among some of the retainers of the Royal household,--a\nvague impression of flurry and confusion. Through various passages and\ncorridors, attendants and pages were either running about with extra\nhaste, or else strolling to and fro with extra slowness. As he\nturned into one of the ante-chambers, he suddenly confronted a tall,\nmilitary-looking personage in plain civilian attire, whom he at once\nrecognized as the Chief of the Police.\n\n\u201cAh, Bernhoff!\u201d he said lightly, \u201cany storms brewing?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone that call for particular attention, Sir Roger,\u201d replied the\nindividual addressed; \u201cBut I have been sent for by the King, and am here\nawaiting his pleasure.\u201d\n\nSir Roger showed no sign of surprise, and with a friendly nod passed on.\nHe began to find the situation rather interesting.\n\n\u201cAfter all,\u201d he argued inwardly, \u201cthere is nothing to hinder the King\nfrom being a social autocrat, even if he cannot by the rules of the\nConstitution be a political one. And we should do well to remember that\npolitics are governed entirely by social influence. It is the same thing\nall over the world--a deluded populace--a social movement which elects\na parliament and ministry--and then the result,--which is, that this or\nthat party hold the reins of government, on whichever side happens to be\nmost advantageous to the immediate social and financial whim. The people\nare the grapes crushed into wine for their rulers\u2019 drinking; and the\nKing is merely the wine-cup on the festal board. If he once begins to be\nsomething more than that cup, there will be an end of revelry!\u201d\n\nHis ideas were not without good foundation in fact. Throughout all\nhistory, where a strong man has ruled a nation, whether for good or ill,\nhe has left his mark; and where there has been no strong man, the annals\nof the time are vapid and uninteresting. Governments emanate from social\ninfluences. The social rule of the Roman Emperors bred athletes, heroes,\nand poets, merely because physical strength and courage, combined with\nheroism and poetic perception were encouraged by Roman society. The\nsocial rule of England\u2019s Elizabeth had its result in the brilliant\nattainments of the many great men who crowded her Court--the social rule\nof Victoria, until the death of the Prince Consort, bred gentle women\nand chivalrous men. In all these cases, the reigning monarchs governed\nsociety, and society governed politics. Politics, indeed, can scarcely\nbe considered apart from society, because on the nature and character of\nsociety depend the nature and character of politics. If society is\nmade up of corrupt women and unprincipled men, the spirit of political\ngovernment will be as corrupt and unprincipled as they. If any King,\nbeholding such a state of things, were to suddenly cut himself clear of\nthe corruption, and to make a straight road for his own progress--clean\nand open--and elect to walk in it, society would follow his lead, and as\na logical consequence politics would become honourable. But no monarchs\nhave the courage of their opinions nowadays,--if only one sovereign of\nthem all possessed such courage, he could move the world!\n\nThe long bright day unwound its sunny hours, crowned with blue skies and\nfragrant winds, and the life and movement of the fair city by the sea\nwas gay, incessant and ever-changing. There was some popular interest\nand excitement going on down at the quay, for the usual idle crowd had\ncollected to see the Royal yacht being prepared for her afternoon\u2019s\ncruise. Though she was always kept ready for sailing, the King\u2019s orders\nthis time had been sudden and peremptory, and, consequently, all the\nmen on board were exceptionally hard at work getting things in immediate\nreadiness. The fact that the Queen was to accompany the King in the\nafternoon\u2019s trip to The Islands, where up to the present she had never\nbeen, was a matter of lively comment,--her extraordinary beauty never\nfailing to attract a large number of sight-seers.\n\nIn the general excitement, no one saw Professor von Glauben quietly\nenter a small and common sailing skiff, manned by two ordinary fishermen\nof the shore, and scud away with the wind over the sea towards the\nwest, where, in the distance on this clear day, a gleaming line of light\nshowed where The Islands lay, glistening like emerald and pearl in the\nmidst of the dark blue waste of water. His departure was unnoticed,\nthough as a rule the King\u2019s private physician commanded some attention,\nnot only by reason of his confidential post in the Royal household, but\nalso on account of certain rumours which were circulated through the\ncountry concerning his wonderful skill in effecting complete cures where\nall hope of recovery had been abandoned. It was whispered, indeed, that\nhe had discovered the \u2018Elixir of Life,\u2019 but that he would not allow its\nproperties to be made known, lest as the Scripture saith, man should\n\u2018take and eat and live for ever.\u2019 It was not advisable--so the Professor\nwas reported to have said--that all men should live for ever,--but only\na chosen few; and he, at present, was apparently the privileged person\nwho alone was fitted to make the selection of those few. For this and\nvarious other reasons, he was generally looked at with considerable\ninterest, but this morning, owing to the hurried preparations for the\nembarking of their Majesties on board the Royal yacht, he managed to\nescape from even chance recognition,--and he was well over the sea,\nand more than half-way to his destination before the bells of the city\nstruck noon.\n\nPunctual to that hour, a close carriage drove up to the palace. It\ncontained no less a personage than the Prime Minister, the Marquis de\nLutera,--a dark, heavy man, with small furtive eyes, a ponderous\njaw, and a curious air of seeming for ever on an irritable watch for\noffences. His aspect was intellectual, yet always threatening; and his\nfrigid manner was profoundly discouraging to all who sought to win his\nattention or sympathy. He entered the palace now with an easy, not to\nsay assertive deportment, and as he ascended the broad staircase which\nled to the King\u2019s private apartments, he met the Chief of the Police\ncoming down. This latter saluted him, but he barely acknowledged\nthe courtesy, so taken by surprise was he at the sight of this\nadministrative functionary in the palace at so early an hour. However,\nit was impossible to ask any questions of him on the grand staircase,\nwithin hearing of the Royal lackeys; so he continued on his way\nupstairs, with as much dignity as his heavily-moulded figure would\npermit him to display, till he reached the upper landing known as the\n\u2018King\u2019s Corridor,\u2019 where Sir Roger de Launay was in waiting to conduct\nhim to his sovereign\u2019s presence. To him the Marquis addressed the\nquestion:\n\n\u201cBernhoff has been with the King?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. For more than an hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny robbery in the palace?\u201d\n\nDe Launay smiled.\n\n\u201cI think not! So far as I am permitted to be cognisant of events, there\nis nothing wrong!\u201d\n\nThe Marquis looked slightly perplexed.\n\n\u201cThe King is well?\u201d\n\n\u201cRemarkably well--and in excellent humour! He is awaiting you,\nMarquis,--permit me to escort you to him!\u201d\n\nThe carved and gilded doors of the Royal audience-chamber were thereupon\nflung back, and the Marquis entered, ushered in by De Launay. The\ndoors closed again upon them both; and for some time there was profound\nsilence in the King\u2019s corridor, no intruder venturing to approach save\ntwo gentlemen-at-arms, who paced slowly up and down at either end on\nguard. At the expiration of about an hour, Sir Roger came out alone,\nand, glancing carelessly around him, strolled to the head of the grand\nstaircase, and waited patiently there for quite another thirty minutes.\nAt last the doors were flung open widely again, and the King himself\nappeared, clad in easy yachting attire, and walking with one hand\nresting on the arm of the Marquis de Lutera, who, from his expression,\nseemed curiously perturbed.\n\n\u201cThen you will not come with us, Marquis?\u201d said the King, with an air\nof gaiety; \u201cYou are too much engrossed in the affairs of Government to\nbreak loose for an afternoon from politics for the sake of pleasure? Ah,\nwell! You are a matchless worker! Renowned as you are for your studious\nobservation of all that may tend to the advancement of the nation\u2019s\ninterests--admired as you are for the complete sacrifice of all your own\nadvantages to the better welfare of the country, I will not (though I\nmight as your sovereign), command your attendance on this occasion! I\nknow the affairs you have in hand are pressing and serious!\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will be more than usually so, Sir,\u201d said the Marquis in a low\nvoice; \u201cfor if you persist in maintaining your present attitude, the\nforeign controversy in which we are engaged can scarcely go on. But your\naction will be questioned by the Government!\u201d\n\nThe King laughed.\n\n\u201cGood! By all means question it, my dear Marquis! Prove me an\nunconstitutional monarch, if you like, and put Humphry on the throne in\nmy place,--but ask the People first! If they condemn me, I am satisfied\nto be condemned! But the present political difference between ourselves\nand a friendly nation must be arranged without offence. There does not\nexist at the moment any reasonable cause for fanning the dispute into a\nflame of war.\u201d--He paused, then resumed--\u201cYou will not come with us?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, if you will permit me to refuse the honour on this occasion----\u201d\n\n\u201cThe permission is granted!\u201d replied the King, still smiling; \u201cFarewell,\nMarquis! We are not in the habit of absenting ourselves from our own\ncountry, after the fashion of certain of our Royal neighbours, who shall\nbe nameless; and we conceive it our duty to make ourselves acquainted\nwith the habits and customs of all our subjects in all quarters of our\nrealm. Hence our resolve to visit The Islands, which, to our shame be it\nsaid, we have neglected until now. We expect to derive both pleasure and\ninstruction from the brief voyage!\u201d\n\n\u201cAre the islanders aware of your intention, Sir?\u201d enquired the Marquis.\n\n\u201cNay--to prepare them would have spoilt our pleasure!\u201d replied the King.\n\u201cWe will take them by surprise! We have heard of certain countries,\nwhose villages and towns have never seen the reigning sovereign,--and\nthough we have been but three years on the throne, we have resolved that\nno corner of our kingdom shall lack the sunlight of our presence!\u201d\n He gave a mirthful side-glance at De Launay. Then, extending his hand\ncordially, he added: \u201cMay all success attend your efforts, Marquis,\nto smooth over this looming quarrel between ourselves and our friendly\ntrade-rivals! I, for one, would not have it go further. I shall see you\nagain at the Council during the week.\u201d\n\nAs the premier\u2019s hand met that of his Sovereign, the latter exclaimed\nsuddenly:\n\n\u201cAh!--I thought I missed a customary friend from my finger; I have\nforgotten my signet-ring! Will you lend me yours for to-day, Marquis?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, if you will deign to wear it!\u201d replied the Marquis readily, and\nat once slipping off the ring in question, he handed it to the King, who\nsmilingly accepted it and put it on.\n\n\u201cA fine sapphire!\u201d he said approvingly; \u201cBetter, I think, than my ruby!\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, your praise enhances its value,\u201d said De Lutera bowing profoundly;\n\u201cI shall from henceforth esteem it priceless!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell said!\u201d returned the King, \u201cAnd rightly too!--for diplomacy is wise\nin flattering a king to the last, even while meditating on his possible\ndownfall! Adieu, Marquis! When we next meet, I shall expect good news!\u201d\n\nHe descended the staircase, closely attended by De Launay, and passed\nat once into a larger room of audience, where some notable persons of\nforeign distinction were waiting to be received. On the way thither,\nhowever, he turned to Sir Roger for a moment, and held up the hand on\nwhich the Marquis de Lutera\u2019s signet flashed like a blue point of flame.\n\n\u201cBehold the Premier\u2019s signet!\u201d he said with a smile; \u201cMethinks, for\nonce, it suits the King!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE ISLANDS\n\n\nSurrounded by a boundless width of dark blue sea at all visible\npoints of view, The Islands, lovely tufts of wooded rock, trees, and\nfull-flowering meadowlands, were situated in such a happy position as to\nbe well out of all possibility of modern innovation or improvement. They\nwere too small to contain much attraction for the curious tourist; and\nthough they were only a two-hours\u2019 sail from the mainland, the distance\nwas just sufficiently inconvenient to keep mere sight-seers away. For\nmore than a hundred years they had been almost exclusively left to the\ncoral-fishers, who had made their habitation there; and the quaint,\nsmall houses, and flowering vineyards and gardens, dotted about in the\nmore fertile portions of the soil, had all been built and planned by a\nformer race of these hardy folk, who had handed their properties down\nfrom father to son. They were on the whole, a peaceable community.\nCoral-fishing was one of the chief industries of the country, and the\nislanders passed all their days in obtaining the precious product,\ncleansing, and preparing it for the market. They were understood to be\nextremely jealous of strangers and intruders, and to hold certain social\ntraditions which had never been questioned or interfered with by any\nform of existing government, because in themselves they gave no cause\nfor interference, being counted among the most orderly and law-abiding\nsubjects of the realm. Very little interest was taken in their doings by\nthe people of the mainland,--scarcely as much interest, perhaps, as is\ntaken by Londoners in the inhabitants of Orkney or Shetland. One or two\nscholars, a stray botanist here and there, or a few students fond of\nadventure, had visited the place now and again, and some of these had\nbrought back enthusiastic accounts of the loveliness of the natural\nscenery, but where a whole country is beautiful, little heed is given\nto one small corner of it, particularly if that corner is difficult of\naccess, necessitating a two hours\u2019 sail across a not always calm\nsea. Vague reports were current that there was a strange house on The\nIslands, built very curiously out of the timbers and spars of wrecked\nvessels. The owner of this abode was said to be a man of advanced age,\nwhose history was unknown, but who many years ago had been cast\nashore from a great shipwreck, and had been rescued and revived by the\ncoral-fishers, since when, he had lived among them, and worked with\nthem. No one knew anything about him beyond that since his advent The\nIslands had been more cultivated, and their inhabitants more prosperous;\nand that he was understood to be, in the language or dialect of the\ncountry, a \u2018life-philosopher.\u2019 Whereat, hearing these things by chance\nnow and then, or seeing a scrappy line or two in the daily press when\nactive reporters had no murders or suicides to enlarge upon, and wanted\nto \u2018fill up space,\u2019 the gay aristocrats or \u2018smart set\u2019 of the metropolis\nlaughed at their dinner-parties and balls, and asked one another\ninanely, \u201cWhat is a \u2018life-philosopher\u2019?\u201d\n\nIn the same way, when a small volume of poetry, burning as lava, wild\nas a storm-wind, came floating out on the top of the seething soup of\ncurrent literature, bearing the name of Paul Zouche, and it was said\nthat this person was a poet, they questioned smilingly, \u201cIs he dead?\u201d\n for, naturally, they could not imagine these modern days were capable\nof giving birth to a living specimen of the _genus_ bard. For they,\ntoo, had their motor-cars from France and England;--they, too, had their\ngambling-dens secreted in private houses of high repute,--they, too, had\ntheir country-seats specially indicated as free to such house-parties\nas wished to indulge in low intrigue and unbridled licentiousness; they,\ntoo, weary of simple Christianity, had their own special \u2018religions\u2019\nof palmistry, crystal-gazing, fortune-telling by cards, and Esoteric\n\u2018faith-healing.\u2019 The days were passing with them--as it passes with many\nof their \u2018set\u2019 in other countries,--in complete forgetfulness of all\nthe nobler ambitions and emotions which lift Man above the level of his\ncompanion Beast. For the time is now upon us when what has formerly been\nknown as \u2018high\u2019 is of its own accord sinking to the low, and what has\nbeen called the \u2018low\u2019 is rising to the high. Strange times!--strange\ndays!--when the tradesman can scorn the duchess on account of her \u2018dirty\nmind\u2019--when a certain nobleman can get no honest labourers to work\non his estate, because they suspect him of \u2018rooking\u2019 young college\nlads;--and when a church in a seaport town stands empty every Sunday,\nwith its bells ringing in vain, because the congregation which should\nfill it, know that their so-called \u2018holy man\u2019 is a rascal! All over the\nworld this rebellion against Falsehood,--this movement towards Truth is\nfelt,--all over the world the people are growing strong on their legs,\nand clear in their brains;--no longer cramped and stunted starvelings,\nthey are gradually developing into full growth, and awaking to\nintelligent action. And wherever the dominion of priestcraft has been\ndestroyed, there they are found at their best and bravest, with a\nglimmering dawn of the true Christian spirit beginning to lighten their\ndarkness,--a spirit which has no race or sect, but is all-embracing,\nall-loving, and all-benevolent;--which \u2018thinketh no evil,\u2019 but is so\nnobly sufficing in its tenderness and patience, as to persuade the\nobstinate, govern the unruly, and recover the lost, by the patient\ninfluence of its own example. On the reverse side of the medal, wherever\nwe see priestcraft dominant, there we see ignorance and corruption, vice\nand hypocrisy, and such a low standard of morals and education as is\ncalculated to keep the soul a slave in irons, with no possibility of any\nintellectual escape into the \u2018glorious liberty of the free.\u2019\n\nThe afternoon was one of exceptional brilliance and freshness, when,\npunctually at three o\u2019clock, the Royal yacht hoisted sail, and dipped\ngracefully away from the quay with their Majesties on board, amid the\ncheers of an enthusiastic crowd. A poet might have sung of the scene in\nfervid rhyme, so pretty and gay were all the surroundings,--the bright\nskies, the dancing sea, the flying flags and streamers, and the soft\nmusic of the Court orchestra, a band of eight players on stringed\ninstruments, which accompanied the Royal party on their voyage of\npleasure. The Queen stood on deck, leaning against the mast, her eyes\nfixed on the shore, as the vessel swung round, and bore away towards the\nwest;--the people, elbowing each other, and climbing up on each other\u2019s\nshoulders and on the posts of the quay, merely to get a passing\nglimpse of her beauty, all loyally cheering and waving their hats and\nhandkerchiefs, were as indifferent to her sight and soul as an ant-heap\nin a garden walk. She had accustomed her mind to dwell on things beyond\nlife, and life itself had little interest for her. This was because she\nhad been set among the shams of worldly state and ceremonial from her\nearliest years, and being of a profound and thoughtful nature, had grown\nup to utterly despise the hollowness and hypocrisy of her surroundings.\nIn extenuation of the coldness of her temperament, it may be said that\nher rooted aversion to men arose from having studied them too closely\nand accurately. In her marriage she had fulfilled, or thought she had\nfulfilled, a mere duty to the State--no more; and the easy conduct of\nher husband during his apprenticeship to the throne as Heir-Apparent,\nhad not tended in any way to show her anything particularly worthy\nof admiration or respect in his character. And so she had gone on her\nchosen way, removed and apart from his,--and the years had flown by,\nand now she was,--as she said to herself with a little touch of\ncontempt,--\u2018old--for a woman!\u2019--while the King remained \u2018young,--for\na man! \u2018This was a mortifying reflection. True, her beauty was more\nperfect than in her youth, and there were no signs as yet of its decay.\nShe knew well enough the extent of her charm,--she knew how easily she\ncould command homage wherever she went,--and knowing, she did not care.\nOr rather--she had not cared. Was it possible she would ever care, and\nperhaps at a time when it was no use caring? A certain irritability,\nquite foreign to her usual composure, fevered her blood, and it arose\nfrom one simple admission which she had been forced to make to herself\nwithin the last few days, and this was, that her husband was as much her\nkingly superior in heart and mind as he was in rank and power. She\nhad never till now imagined him capable of performing a brave deed, or\npursuing an independently noble course of action. Throughout all the\ndays of his married life he had followed the ordinary routine of his\nbusiness or pleasure with scarce a break,--in winter to his country\nseat on the most southern coast of his southern land,--in spring to\nthe capital,--in full summer to some fashionable \u2018bath\u2019 or \u2018cure,\u2019--in\nautumn to different great houses for the purpose of shooting other\npeople\u2019s game by their obsequious invitation,--and in the entire round\nhe had never shown himself capable of much more than a flirtation with\nthe prettiest or the most pushing new beauty, or a daring ride on the\nlatest invention for travelling at lightning speed. She had noticed\na certain change in him since he had ascended the throne, but she had\nattributed this to the excessive boredom of having to attend to State\naffairs.\n\nNow, however, all at once and without warning, this change had developed\ninto what was evidently likely to prove a complete transformation--and\nhe had surprised her into an involuntary, and more or less reluctant\nadmiration of qualities which she had never hitherto suspected in\nhim. She had consented to join him on this occasion in his trip to\nThe Islands, in order to try and fathom the actual drift of his\nintentions,--for his idea that their son, Prince Humphry, had yielded\nto some particular feminine attraction there, piqued her curiosity even\nmore than her interest. She turned away now from her observation of the\nshore, as it receded on the horizon and became a mere thin line of light\nwhich vanished in its turn as the vessel curtsied onward; and she moved\nto the place prepared for her accommodation--a sheltered corner of the\ndeck, covered by silken awnings, and supplied with luxurious deck chairs\nand footstools. Here two of her ladies were waiting to attend upon her,\nbut none of the rougher sex she so heartily abhorred. As she seated\nherself among her cushions with her usual indolent grace, she raised\nher eyes and saw, standing at a respectful distance from her, a\ndistinguished personage who had but lately arrived at the Court, from\nEngland,--Sir Walter Langton, a daring traveller and explorer in far\ncountries,--one who had earned high distinction at the point of the\nsword. He had been presented to her some evenings since, among a crowd\nof other notabilities, and she had, as was her usual custom with all\nmen, scarcely given him a passing glance. Now as she regarded him, she\nsuddenly decided, out of the merest whim, to call him to her side. She\nsent one of her ladies to him, charged with her invitation to approach\nand take his seat near her. He hastened to obey, with some surprise, and\nno little pleasure. He was a handsome man of about forty, sun-browned\nand keen of eye, with a grave intellectual face after the style of a\nVandyk portrait, and a kindly smile; and he was happily devoid of all\nthat unbecoming officiousness and obsequiousness which some persons\naffect when in the presence of Royalty. He bowed profoundly as the Queen\nreceived him, saying to him with a smile:--\n\n\u201cYou are a stranger here, Sir Walter Langton!--I cannot allow you to\nfeel solitary in our company!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it possible for anyone to feel solitary when you are near, Madam?\u201d\n returned Sir Walter gallantly, as he obeyed the gesture with which she\nmotioned him to be seated;--\u201cYou must be weary of hearing that even your\nsilent presence is sufficient to fill space with melody and charm! And\nI am not altogether a stranger; I know this country well, though I have\nnever till now had the honour of visiting its ruling sovereign.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is very unlike England,\u201d said the Queen, slowly unfurling her fan of\nsoft white plumage and waving it to and fro.\n\n\u201cVery unlike, indeed!\u201d he agreed, and a musing tenderness darkened his\nfine hazel eyes as he gazed out on the sparkling sea.\n\n\u201cYou like England best?\u201d resumed the Queen.\n\n\u201cMadam, I am an Englishman! To me there is no land so fair, or so much\nworth living and dying for, as England!\u201d\n\n\u201cYet--I suppose, like all your countrymen, you are fond of change?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes--and no, Madam!\u201d replied Langton.--\u201cIn truth, if I am to speak\nfrankly, it is only during the last thirty or forty years that my\ncountrymen have blotted their historical scutcheons by this fondness for\nchange. Where travelling is necessary for the attainment of some worthy\nobject, then it is wise and excellent,--but where it is only for the\npurpose of distracting a self-satiated mind, it is of no avail, and\nindeed frequently does more harm than good.\u201d\n\n\u201cSelf-satiated!\u201d repeated the Queen,--\u201cIs not that a strange word?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the only compound expression I can use to describe the\ndiscontented humour in which the upper classes of English society exist\nto-day,\u201d replied Sir Walter. \u201cFor many years the soul of England has\nbeen held in chains by men whose thoughts are all of Self,--the honour\nof England has been attainted by women whose lives are moulded from\nfirst to last on Self. To me, personally, England is everything,--I have\nno thought outside it--no wish beyond it. Yet I am as ashamed of some of\nits leaders of opinion to-day, as if I saw my own mother dragged in the\ndust and branded with infamy!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak of your Government?\u201d began the Queen.\n\n\u201cNo, Madam,--I have no more quarrel with my country\u2019s present Government\nthan I could have with a child who is led into a ditch by its nurse. It\nis a weak and corrupted Government; and its actual rulers are vile and\nabandoned women.\u201d\n\nThe Queen\u2019s eyes opened in a beautiful, startled wonderment;--this man\u2019s\nclear, incisive manner of speech interested her.\n\n\u201cWomen!\u201d she echoed, then smiled; \u201cYou speak strongly, Sir Walter! I\nhave certainly heard of the \u2018advanced\u2019 women who push themselves so much\nforward in your country, but I had no idea they were so mischievous! Are\nthey to be admired? Or pitied?\u201d\n\n\u201cPitied, Madam,--most sincerely pitied!\u201d returned Sir Walter;--\u201cBut such\nmisguided simpletons as these are not the creatures who rule, or\nplay with, or poison the minds of the various members who compose\nour Government. The \u2018advanced\u2019 women, poor souls, do nothing but talk\nplatitudes. They are perfectly harmless. They have no power to persuade\nmen, because in nine cases out of ten, they have neither wit nor beauty.\nAnd without either of these two charms, Madam, it is difficult to put\neven a clever cobbler, much less a Prime Minister, into leading strings!\nNo,--it is the spendthrift women of a corrupt society that I mean,--the\nwomen who possess beauty, and are conscious of it,--the women who have\na mordant wit and use it for dangerous purposes--the women who give up\ntheir homes, their husbands, their children and their reputations\nfor the sake of villainous intrigue, and the feverish excitement of\nspeculative money-making;--with these--and with the stealthy spread of\nRomanism,--will come the ruin of my country!\u201d\n\n\u201cSo grave as all that!\u201d said the Queen lightly;--\u201cBut, surely, Sir\nWalter, if you see ruin and disaster threatening so great an Empire in\nthe far distance, you and other wise men of your land are able to stave\nit off?\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam, I have no power!\u201d he returned bitterly. \u201cThose who have thought\nand worked,--those who are able to see what is coming by the light of\npast experience, are seldom listened to, or if they get a hearing, they\nare not seldom ridiculed and \u2018laughed down.\u2019 Till a strong man speaks,\nwe must all remain dumb. There is no real Government in England at\npresent, just as there is no real Church. The Government is made up\nof directly self-interested speculators and financiers rather than\ndiplomatists,--the Church, for which our forefathers fought, is yielding\nto the bribery of Rome. It is a time of Sham,--sham politics, and sham\nreligion! We have fallen upon evil days,--and unless the people rise, as\nit is to be hoped to God they will, serious danger threatens the glory\nand the honour of England!\u201d\n\n\u201cWould you desire revolution and bloodshed, then?\u201d enquired the Queen,\nbecoming more and more interested as she saw that this Englishman\ndid not, like most of his sex, pass the moments in gazing at her in\nspeechless admiration,--\u201cSurely not!\u201d\n\n\u201cI would have revolution, Madam, but not bloodshed,\u201d he replied;--\u201cI\nthink my countrymen are too well grounded in common-sense to care for\nany movement which could bring about internal dissension or riot,--but,\nat the same time, I believe their native sense of justice is great\nenough to resist tyranny and wrong and falsehood, even to the death. I\nwould have a revolution--yes--but a silent and bloodless one!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how would you begin?\u201d asked the Queen.\n\n\u201cThe People must begin, Madam!\u201d he answered;--\u201cAll reforms must begin\nand end with the People only! For example, if the People would decline\nto attend any church where the incumbent is known to encourage practices\nwhich are disloyal to the faith of the land, such disloyalty would soon\ncease. If the majority of women would refuse to know, or to receive, any\nwoman of high position who had voluntarily disgraced herself, they\nwould soon put a stop to the lax morality of the upper classes. If our\nbuilders, artisans and mechanics would club together, and refuse to make\nguns or ships for our enemies in foreign countries, we should not run\nthe risk of being one day hoisted with our own petard. In any case, the\nwork of Revolution rests with the people, though it is quite true they\nneed teachers to show them how to begin.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd are these teachers forthcoming?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think so!\u201d said Sir Walter meditatively. \u201cThroughout all history, as\nfar back as we can trace it, whenever a serious reform has been needed\nin either society or government, there has always been found a leader to\nhead the movement.\u201d\n\nThe Queen\u2019s beautiful eyes rested upon him with a certain curiosity.\n\n\u201cWhat of your King?\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cMadam, he is my King!\u201d he replied,--\u201cAnd I serve him faithfully!\u201d\n\nShe was silent. She began to wonder whether he had any private motive\nto gain, any place he sought to fill, that he should assume such a\ntouch-me-not air at this stray allusion to his Sovereign.\n\n\u201cL\u00e8se-majest\u00e9 is so common nowadays!\u201d she mused;--\u201cIt is such an\nordinary thing to hear vulgar _parvenus_ talk of their king as if he\nwere a public-house companion of theirs, that it is somewhat remarkable\nto find one who speaks of his monarch with loyalty and respect.\nI suppose, however, like everyone else, he has his own ends to\nserve!--Kings are the last persons in the world who can command absolute\nfidelity!\u201d\n\nShe glanced dreamily over the sea, and perceiving a slight shade\nof weariness on her face, Sir Walter discreetly rose, craving her\npermission to retire to the saloon, where he had promised to join\nthe King. When he had left her, she turned to one of her ladies, the\nCountess Amabil, and remarked:\n\n\u201cA very personable gentleman, is he not?\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam,\u201d rejoined the Countess, who was very lovely in herself, and of a\nbright and sociable disposition;--\u201cI have often thought it would be more\npleasant and profitable for all of us if we had many such personable\ngentlemen with us oftener!\u201d\n\nA slight frown of annoyance crossed the Queen\u2019s face. The Countess was\na very charming lady; very fascinating in her own way, but her decided\npredilection for the sterner sex often led her to touch on dangerous\nground with her Royal mistress. This time, however, she escaped the\nchilling retort her remark might possibly, on another occasion, have\ncalled down upon her. The Queen said nothing. She sat watching the\nsea,--and now and again took up her field-glass to study the picturesque\ncoast of The Islands, which was rapidly coming into view. Teresa de\nLaunay, the second lady in attendance on her, was reading, and, seeing\nher quite absorbed in her book, the Queen presently asked her what it\ncontained.\n\n\u201cYou have smiled twice over that book, Teresa,\u201d she said kindly;--\u201cWhat\nis it about?\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam, it speaks of love!\u201d replied Teresa, still smiling.\n\n\u201cAnd love makes you smile?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would rather smile than weep over it, Madam!\u201d replied Teresa, with\na slight colour warming her fair face;--\u201cBut as concerns this book,\nI smile, because it is full of such foolish verses,--as light and\nsweet--and almost as cloying,--as French _fondants_!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me hear!\u201d said the Queen; \u201cRead me a few lines.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis one, called \u2018A Canzonet\u2019 is brief enough for your Majesty\u2019s\nimmediate consideration,\u201d replied Teresa;--\u201cIt is just such a thing as\na man might scribble in his note-book after a bout of champagne, when\nhe is in love for ten minutes! He would not mean a word of it,--but it\nmight sound pretty by moonlight!\u201d Whereupon she read aloud:--\n\n My Lady is pleased to smile,\n    And the world is glad and gay;\n  My Lady is pleased to weep;--\n    And it rains the livelong day!\n\n  My Lady is pleased to hate,\n    And I lose my life and my breath;\n  My Lady is pleased to love,--\n    And I am the master of Death!\n\n  I know that my Lady is Love,\n    By the magical light about her;\n  I know that my Lady is Life,\n    For I cannot live without her!\n\n\u201cAnd you do not think any man would truly mean as much love as this?\u201d\n queried the Queen.\n\n\u201cOh, Madam, you know he would not! If he had written such lines about\nthe joys of dining, or the flavour of an excellent cigar, they might\nthen indeed be taken as an expression of his truest and deepest feeling!\nBut his \u2018Lady\u2019! Bah! She is a mere myth,--a temporary peg to hang a\nstray emotion on!\u201d\n\nShe laughed, and her laughter rippled merrily on the air.\n\n\u201cI do not think the men who write so easily about love can ever truly\nfeel it,\u201d she went on;--\u201cThose who really love must surely be quite\nunable to express themselves. This man who sings about his \u2018Lady\u2019 being\npleased to do this or do that, was probably trying to obtain the good\ngraces of some pretty housemaid or chorus girl!\u201d\n\nA slight contemptuous smile crossed the Queen\u2019s face; from her\nexpression it was evident that she agreed in the main with the opinion\nof her vivacious lady-in-waiting. Just at that moment the King and his\nsuite, with Sir Walter Langton and one or two other gentlemen, who\nhad been invited to join the party, came up from the saloon, and the\nconversation became general.\n\n\u201cHave you seen Humphry at all to-day?\u201d enquired the King aside of De\nLaunay. \u201cI sent him an early message asking him to join us, and was told\nhe had gone out riding. Is that true?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not seen his Royal Highness since the morning, Sir,\u201d replied\nthe equerry; \u201cHe then met me,--and Professor von Glauben also--in the\ngardens. He gave me no hint as to whether he knew of your intention to\nsail to The Islands this afternoon or not; he was reading, and with some\nslight discussion on the subject of the book he was interested in, he\nand the Professor strolled away together.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut where is Von Glauben?\u201d pursued the King; \u201cI sent for him likewise,\nbut he was absent.\u201d\n\n\u201cI understood him to say that you had not commanded his attendance again\nto-day, Sir,\u201d replied Sir Roger;--\u201cHe told me he had already waited upon\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly I did not command his attendance when I saw him the first\nthing this morning,\u201d replied the King; \u201cI summoned him then merely to\nsatisfy his scruples concerning my health and safety, as he seemed\nlast night to have doubts of both!\u201d He smiled, and his eyes twinkled\nhumourously. \u201cLater on, I requested him to join us in this excursion,\nbut his servant said he had gone out, leaving no word as to when he\nwould return. An eccentricity! I suppose he must be humoured!\u201d\n\nSir Roger was silent. The King looked at him narrowly, and saw that\nthere was something in his thoughts which he was not inclined to utter,\nand with wise tact and discretion forbore to press any more questions\nupon him. It was not a suitable time for cross-examination, even of the\nmost friendly kind; there were too many persons near at hand who might\nbe disposed to listen and to form conjectures; moreover the favouring\nwind had so aided the Royal yacht in her swift course that The Islands\nwere now close at hand, and the harbour visible, the run across from the\nmainland having been accomplished under the usual two hours.\n\nThe King scanned the coast through his glass with some interest.\n\n\u201cWe shall obtain amusement from this unprepared trip,\u201d he said,\naddressing the friends who were gathered round him; \u201cWe have forbidden\nany announcement of our visit here, and, therefore, we shall receive\nno recognition, or welcome. We shall have to take the people as we find\nthem!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us hope they will prove themselves agreeable, Sir,\u201d said one of the\nsuite, the Marquis Montala, a somewhat effeminate elegant-looking man,\nwith small delicate features and lazily amorous eyes,--\u201cAnd that the\nwomen of the place will not be too alarmingly hideous.\u201d\n\n\u201cWomen are always women.\u201d said the King gaily; \u201cAnd you, Montala, if you\ncannot find a pretty one, will put up with an ugly one for the moment\nrather than have none at all! But beauty exists everywhere, and I\ndaresay we shall find it in as good evidence here as in other parts of\nthe kingdom. Our land is famous for its lovely women,\u201d--and turning to\nSir Walter Langton he added--\u201cI think, Sir Walter, we can almost beat\nyour England in that one particular!\u201d\n\n\u201cSome years ago, Sir, I should have accepted that challenge,\u201d returned\nSir Walter, \u201cAnd with the deepest respect for your Majesty, I should\nhave ventured to deny the assertion that any country in the world could\nsurpass England for the beauty of its women. But since the rage for\nmasculine sports and masculine manners has taken hold of English girls,\nI am not at all disposed to defend them. They have, unhappily, lost all\nthe soft grace and modesty for which their grandmothers were renowned,\nand one begins to remark that their very shapes are no longer feminine.\nThe beautiful full bosoms, admired by Gainsborough and Romney, are\nreplaced by an unbecoming flatness--the feet and hands are growing large\nand awkward, instead of being well-shaped, white and delicate--the\nskin is becoming coarse and rough of texture, and there is very little\ncomplexion to boast of, if we except the artificial make-up of the women\nof the town. Some few pretty and natural women remain in the heart of\nthe forest and the country, but the contamination is spreading, and\nEnglish women are no longer the models of womanhood for all the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you married, Sir Walter?\u201d asked the King with a smile.\n\n\u201cTo no woman, Sir! I have married England--I love her and work for her\nonly!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou find that love sufficient to fill your heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d returned Sir Walter musingly--\u201cperhaps if I speak personally\nand selfishly--no! But when I argue the point logically, I find\nthis--that if I had a wife she might probably occupy too much of my\ntime,--certes, if I had children, I should be working for them and their\nfuture welfare;--as it is, I give all my life and all my work to my\ncountry, and my King!\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope you will meet with the reward you merit,\u201d said the Queen gently;\n\u201cKings are not always well served!\u201d\n\n\u201cI seek no reward,\u201d said Sir Walter simply; \u201cThe joy of work is always\nits own guerdon.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke the yacht ran into harbour, and with a loud warning cry the\nsailors flung out the first rope to a man on the pier, who stood gazing\nin open-mouthed wonder at their arrival. He seemed too stricken with\namazement to move, for he failed to seize the rope, whereat, with an\nangry exclamation as the rope slipped back into the water, and the yacht\nbumped against the pier, a sailor sprang to land, and as it was thrown\na second time, seized it and made it fast to the capstan. A few\nmore moments and the yacht was safely alongside, the native islander\nremaining still motionless and staring. The captain of the Royal vessel\nstepped on shore and spoke to him.\n\n\u201cAre there any men about here?\u201d\n\nThe individual thus addressed shook his head in the negative.\n\n\u201cAre you alone to keep the pier?\u201d\n\nThe head nodded in the affirmative. A voice, emanating from a thickly\nbearded mouth was understood to growl forth something about \u2018no strange\nboats being permitted to harbour there.\u2019 Whereupon the Captain walked up\nto the uncouth-looking figure, and said briefly.\n\n\u201cWe are here by the King\u2019s order! That vessel is the Royal yacht, and\ntheir Majesties are on board.\u201d\n\nFor one instant the islander stared more wildly than ever, then with a\ncry of amazement and evident alarm, ran away as fast as his legs could\ncarry him and disappeared. The captain returned to the yacht and related\nhis experience to Sir Roger de Launay. The King heard and was amused.\n\n\u201cIt seems, Madam,\u201d he said, turning to the Queen, \u201cThat we shall have\nThe Islands to ourselves; but as our visit will be but brief, we shall\nno doubt find enough to interest us in the mere contemplation of the\nscenery without other human company than our own. Will you come?\u201d\n\nHe extended his hand courteously to assist her across the gangway of the\nvessel, and in a few minutes the Royal party were landed, and the yacht\nwas left to the stewards and servants, who soon had all hands at work\npreparing the dinner which was to be served during the return sail.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\n\u201cGLORIA--IN EXCELSIS!\u201d\n\n\nThe King and Queen, followed by their suite and their guests, walked\nleisurely off the pier, and down a well-made road, sparkling with\ncrushed sea-shells and powdered coral, towards a group of tall trees and\ngreen grass which they perceived a little way ahead of them. There was\na soothing quietness everywhere,--save for the singing of birds and the\nsoft ripple of the waves on the sandy shore, it was a silent land:\n\n    \u201cIn which it seemed always afternoon--\n    All round the coast the languid air did swoon--\n    Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.\u201d\n\nThe Queen paused once or twice to look around her; she was vaguely\ntouched and charmed by the still beauty of the scene.\n\n\u201cIt is very lovely!\u201d she said, more to herself than to any of her\ncompanions; \u201cThe world must have looked something like this in the first\ndays of creation,--so unspoilt and fresh and simple!\u201d\n\nThe Countess Amabil, walking with Sir Walter Langton, glanced\ncoquettishly at her cavalier and smiled.\n\n\u201cIt is idyllic!\u201d she said;--\u201cA sort of Arcadia without Corydon or\nPhyllis! Do all the inhabitants go to sleep or disappear in the daytime,\nI wonder?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot all, I imagine,\u201d replied Sir Walter; \u201cFor here comes one, though,\njudging from the slowness of his walk, he is in no haste to welcome his\nKing!\u201d\n\nThe personage he spoke of was indeed approaching, and all the members of\nthe Royal party watched his advance with considerable curiosity. He was\ntall and upright in bearing, but as he came nearer he was seen to be a\nman of great age, with a countenance on which sorrow and suffering had\nleft their indelible traces. There were furrows on that face which tears\nhad hollowed out for their swifter flowing, and the high intellectual\nbrow bore lines and wrinkles of anxiety and pain, which were the soul\u2019s\npen-marks of a tragic history. He was attired in simple fisherman\u2019s garb\nof rough blue homespun, and when he was within a few paces of the King,\nhe raised his cap from his curly silver hair with an old-world grace and\ndeferential courtesy. Sir Roger de Launay went forward to meet him and\nto explain the situation.\n\n\u201cHis Majesty the King,\u201d he said, \u201chas wished to make a surprise visit to\nhis people of The Islands,--and he is here in person with the Queen. Can\nyou oblige him with an escort to the principal places of interest?\u201d\n\nThe old man looked at him with a touch of amusement and derision.\n\n\u201cThere are no places here of interest to a King,\u201d he said; \u201cUnless\na poor man\u2019s house may serve for his curious comment! I am not his\nMajesty\u2019s subject--but I live under his protection and his laws,--and I\nam willing to offer him a welcome, since there is no one else to do so!\u201d\n\nHe spoke with a refined and cultured accent, and in his look and bearing\nevinced the breeding of a gentleman.\n\n\u201cAnd your name?\u201d asked Sir Roger courteously.\n\n\u201cMy name is R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard,\u201d he replied. \u201cI was shipwrecked on this coast\nyears ago. Finding myself cast here by the will of God, here I have\nremained!\u201d\n\nAs he said this, Sir Roger remembered what he had casually heard at\ntimes about the \u2018life-philosopher\u2019 who had built for himself a dwelling\non The Islands out of the timbers of wrecked vessels. This must surely\nbe the man! Delighted at having thus come upon the very person most\nlikely to provide some sort of diversion for their Majesties, and\nrequesting Ronsard to wait at a distance for a moment, he hastened back\nto the King and explained the position. Whereupon the monarch at once\nadvanced with alacrity, and as he approached the venerable personage who\nhad offered him the only hospitality he was likely to receive in\nthis part of his realm, he extended his hand with a frank and\nkindly cordiality. R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard accepted it with a slight but not\nover-obsequious salutation.\n\n\u201cWe owe you our thanks,\u201d said the King, \u201cfor receiving us thus readily,\nand without notice; which is surely the truest form of hospitable\nkindness! That we are strangers here is entirely our own fault, due to\nour own neglect of our Island subjects; and it is for this that we have\nsought to know something of the place privately, before visiting it with\nsuch public ceremonial and state as it deserves. We shall be indebted to\nyou greatly if you will lend us your aid in this intention.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Majesty is welcome to my service in whatever way it can be of\nuse to you,\u201d replied Ronsard slowly; \u201cAs you see, I am an old man and\npoor--I have lived here for well-nigh thirty years, making as little\ndemand as possible upon the resources of either rough Nature or smooth\ncivilization to provide me with sustenance. There is poor attraction for\na king in such a simple home as mine!\u201d\n\n\u201cMore than all men living, a king has cause to love simplicity,\u201d\n returned the monarch, as with his swift and keen glance he noted the old\nman\u2019s proud figure, fine worn features, and clear, though deeply-sunken\neyes;--\u201cfor the glittering shows of ceremony are chiefly irksome to\nthose who have to suffer their daily monotony. Let me present you to the\nQueen--she will thank you as I do, for your kindly consent to play the\npart of host to us to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d--murmured Ronsard--\u201cNo thanks--no thanks!\u201d Then, as the King\nsaid a few words to his fair Consort, and she received the old man\u2019s\nrespectful salutation in the cold, grave way which was her custom,\nhe raised his eyes to her face, and started back with an involuntary\nexclamation.\n\n\u201cBy Heaven!\u201d he said suddenly and bluntly, \u201cI never thought to see any\nwoman\u2019s beauty that could compare with that of my Gloria!\u201d\n\nHe spoke more to himself than to any listener, but the King hearing\nhis words, was immediately on the alert, and when the whole Royal party\nmoved on again, he, walking in a gracious and kindly way by the old\nman\u2019s side, and skilfully keeping up the conversation at first on mere\ngeneralities, said presently:--\n\n\u201cAnd that name of Gloria;--may I ask you who it is that bears so strange\nan appellation?\u201d\n\nRonsard looked at him somewhat doubtingly.\n\n\u201cYour Majesty considers it strange? Had you ever seen her, you would\nthink it the only fitting name for her,\u201d he answered,--\u201cFor she is\nsurely the most glorious thing God ever made!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour wife--or daughter?\u201d gently hinted the King.\n\nThe old man smiled bitterly.\n\n\u201cSir, I have never owned wife or child! For aught I know Gloria may have\nbeen born like the goddess Aphrodite, of the sunlight and the sea! No\nother parents have ever claimed her.\u201d\n\nHe checked himself, and appeared disposed to change the subject. The\nKing looked at him encouragingly.\n\n\u201cMay I not hear more of her?\u201d he asked.\n\nRonsard hesitated--then with a certain abruptness replied--\n\n\u201cNay--I am sorry I spoke of her! There is nothing to tell. I have said\nshe is beautiful--and beauty is always stimulating--even to Kings! But\nyour Majesty will have no chance of seeing her, as she is absent from\nhome to-day.\u201d\n\nThe King smiled;--had the rumours of his many gallantries reached The\nIslands then?--and was this \u2018life-philosopher\u2019 afraid that \u2018Gloria\n\u2018--whoever she was--might succumb to his royal fascinations? The thought\nwas subtly flattering, but he disguised the touch of amusement he felt,\nand spoke his next words with a kindly and indulgent air.\n\n\u201cThen, as I shall not see her, you may surely tell me of her? I am no\nbetrayer of confidence!\u201d\n\nA pale red tinged Ronsard\u2019s worn features--anon he said:--\n\n\u201cIt is no question of confidence, Sir,--and there is no secret or\nmystery associated with the matter. Gloria was, like myself, cast up\nfrom the sea. I found her half-drowned, a helpless infant tied to a\nfloating spar. It was on the other side of these Islands--among the\nrocks where there is no landing-place. There is a little church on the\nheights up there, and every evening the men and boys practise their\nsacred singing. It was sunset, and I was wandering by myself upon the\nshore, and in the church above me I heard them chant \u2018Gloria! Gloria!\nGloria in excelsis Deo!\u2019 And while they were yet practising this line\nI came upon the child,--lying like a strange lily, in a salt\npool,--between two shafts of rock like fangs on either side of her,\nbound fast with rope to a bit of ship\u2019s timber. I untied her little\nlimbs, and restored her to life; and all the time I was busy bringing\nher back to breath and motion, the singing in the church above me was\n\u2018Gloria!\u2019 and ever again \u2018Gloria!\u2019 So I gave her that name. That was\nnineteen years ago. She is married now.\u201d\n\n\u201cMarried!\u201d exclaimed the King, with a curious sense of mingled relief\nand disappointment. \u201cThen she has left you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no, she has not left me!\u201d replied Ronsard; \u201cShe stays with me till\nher husband is ready to give her a home. He is very poor, and lives in\nhope of better days. Meanwhile poverty so far smiles upon them that they\nare happy;--and happiness, youth and beauty rarely go together. For once\nthey have all met in the joyous life of my Gloria!\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like to see her!\u201d said the King, musingly; \u201cYou have\ninterested me greatly in her history!\u201d\n\nThe old man did not reply, but quickening his pace, moved on a little\nin advance of the King and his suite, to open a gate in front of them,\nwhich guarded the approach to a long low house with carved gables and\nlattice windows, over which a wealth of roses and jasmine clambered in\nlong tresses of pink and white bloom. Smooth grass surrounded the place,\nand tall pine trees towered in the background; and round the pillars\nof the broad verandah, which extended to the full length of the house\nfront, clematis and honeysuckle twined in thick clusters, filling the\nair with delicate perfume. The Royal party murmured their admiration of\nthis picturesque abode, while Ronsard, with a nimbleness remarkable\nfor a man of his age, set chairs on the verandah and lawn for his\ndistinguished guests. Sir Walter Langton and the Marquis Montala\nstrolled about the garden with some of the ladies, commenting on the\nsimple yet exquisite taste displayed in its planting and arrangement;\nwhile the King and Queen listened with considerable interest to the\nconversation of their venerable host. He was a man of evident culture,\nand his description of the coral-fishing community, their habits and\ntraditions, was both graphic and picturesque.\n\n\u201cAre they all away to-day?\u201d asked the King.\n\n\u201cAll the men on this side of The Islands--yes, Sir,\u201d replied Ronsard;\n\u201cAnd the women have enough to do inside their houses till their husbands\nreturn. With the evening and the moonlight, they will all be out in\ntheir fields and gardens, making merry with innocent dance and song,\nfor they are very happy folk--much happier than their neighbours on the\nmainland.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you acquainted with the people of the mainland, then?\u201d enquired the\nKing.\n\n\u201cSufficiently to know that they are dissatisfied;\u201d returned Ronsard\nquietly,--\u201cAnd that, deep down among the tangled grass and flowers of\nthat brilliant pleasure-ground called Society, there is a fierce and\nstarving lion called the People, waiting for prey!\u201d\n\nHis voice sank to a low and impressive tone, and for a moment his\nhearers looked astonished and disconcerted. He went on as though he had\nnot seen the expression of their faces.\n\n\u201cHere in The Islands there was the same discontent when I first came.\nEvery man was in heart a Socialist,--every young boy was a budding\nAnarchist. Wild ideas fired their brains. They sought Equality. No man\nshould be richer than another, they said. Equal lots,--equal lives. They\nhad their own secret Society, connected with another similar one across\nthe sea yonder. They were brave, clever and desperate,--moved by a\nburning sense of wrong,--wrong which they had not the skill to explain,\nbut which they felt. It was difficult to persuade or soothe such men,\nfor they were men of Nature,--not of Shams. But fierce and obstinate\nas they were, they were good to me when I was cast up for dead on their\nseashore. And I, in turn, have tried to be good to them. That is, I have\ntried to make them happy. For happiness is what we all work for and seek\nfor,--from the beginning to the end of life. We go far afield for it,\nwhen it oftener lies at our very doors. Well!--they are a peaceful\ncommunity now, and have no evil intentions towards anyone. They grudge\nno one his wealth--I think if the truth were known, they rather pity the\nrich man than envy him. So, at any rate, I have taught them to do. But,\nformerly, they were, to say the least of it, dangerous!\u201d\n\nThe King heard in silence, although the slightest quizzical lifting of\nhis eyebrows appeared to imply that \u2018dangerous\u2019 was perhaps too strong a\nterm by which to designate a handful of Socialistic coral-fishers.\n\n\u201cIt is curious,\u201d went on Ronsard slowly, \u201chow soon the sense of wrong\nand injustice infects a whole community. One malcontent makes a host of\nmalcontents. This is a fact which many governments lose sight of. If I\nwere the ruler of a country--\u201d\n\nHere he suddenly paused--then added with a touch of brusqueness--\n\n\u201cPardon me, Sir; I have never known the formalities which apply to\nconversation with a king, and I am too old to learn now. No doubt I\nspeak too boldly! To me you are no more than man; you should be more by\netiquette--but by simple humanity you are not!\u201d\n\nThe King smiled, well pleased. This independent commoner, with his rough\ngarb and rougher simplicity of speech, was a refreshing contrast to the\nobsequious personages by whom he was generally surrounded; and he felt\nan irresistible desire to know more of the life and surroundings of one\nwho had gained a position of evident authority among the people of his\nown class.\n\n\u201cGo on, my friend!\u201d he said. \u201cHonest expression of thought can offend\nnone but knaves and fools; and though there are some who say I have a\nsmack of both, yet I flatter myself I am wholly neither of the twain!\nContinue what you were saying--if you were ruler of a country, what\nwould you do?\u201d\n\nR\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard considered for a moment, and his furrowed brows set in a\npuzzled line.\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d he said slowly, at last, \u201cI should choose my friends and\nconfidants among the leaders of the people.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd is not that precisely what we all do?\u201d queried the King lightly;\n\u201cSurely every monarch must count his friends among the members of the\nGovernment?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the Government does not represent the actual people, Sir!\u201d said\nRonsard quietly.\n\n\u201cNo? Then what does it represent?\u201d enquired the King, becoming amused\nand interested in the discussion, and holding up his hand to warn back\nDe Launay, and the other members of his suite who were just coming\ntowards him from their tour of inspection through the garden--\u201cEvery\nmember of the Government is elected by the people, and returned by the\npopular vote. What else would you have?\u201d\n\n\u201cMinisters have not always the popular vote,\u201d said Ronsard; \u201cThey are\nselected by the Premier. And if the Premier should happen to be shifty,\ntreacherous or self-interested, he chooses such men as are most likely\nto serve his own ends. And it can hardly be said, Sir, that the People\ntruly return the members of Government. For when the time comes for one\nsuch man to be elected, each candidate secures his own agent to bribe\nthe people, and to work upon them as though they were so much soft\ndough, to be kneaded into a political loaf for his private and\nparticular eating. Poor People! Poor hard-working millions! In the main\nthey are all too busy earning the wherewithal to Live, to have any time\nleft to Think--they are the easy prey of the party agent, except--except\nwhen they gather to the voice of a real leader, one who though not in\nGovernment, governs!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd is there such an one?\u201d enquired the King, while as he spoke his\nglance fell suddenly, and with an unpleasant memory, on the flashing\nblue of the sapphire in the Premier\u2019s signet he wore; \u201cHere, or\nanywhere?\u201d\n\n\u201cOver there!\u201d said Ronsard impressively, pointing across the landscape\nseawards; \u201cOn the mainland there is not only one, but many! Women,--as\nwell as men. Writers,--as well as speakers. These are they whom Courts\nneglect or ignore,--these are the consuming fire of thrones!\u201d His old\neyes flashed, and as he turned them on the statuesque beauty of the\nQueen, she started, for they seemed to pierce into the very recesses of\nher soul. \u201cWhen Court and Fashion played their pranks once upon a time\nin France, there was a pen at work on the \u2018_Contrat Social_\u2019--the pen\nof one Rousseau! Who among the idle pleasure-loving aristocrats\never thought that a mere Book would have helped to send them to the\nscaffold!\u201d He clenched his hand almost unconsciously--then he spoke\nmore quietly. \u201cThat is what I mean, when I say that if I were ruler of\na country, I should take special care to make friends with the\npeople\u2019s chosen thinkers. Someone in authority\u201d--and here he smiled\nquizzically--\u201cshould have given Rousseau an estate, and made him a\nmarquis--_in time_! The leaders of an advancing Thought,--and not\nthe leaders of a fixed Government are the real representatives of the\nPeople!\u201d\n\nSomething in this last sentence appeared to strike the King very\nforcibly.\n\n\u201cYou are a philosopher, R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard,\u201d he said rising from his chair,\nand laying a hand kindly on his shoulder. \u201cAnd so, in another way am\nI! If I understand you rightly, you would maintain that in many cases\ndiscontent and disorder are the fermentation in the mind of one man,\nwho for some hidden personal motive works his thought through a whole\nkingdom; and you suggest that if that man once obtained what he wanted\nthere would be an end of trouble--at any rate for a time till the next\nmalcontent turned up! Is not that so?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so, Sir,\u201d replied Ronsard; \u201cand I think it has always been so.\nIn every era of strife and revolution, we shall find one dissatisfied\nSoul--often a soul of genius and ambition--at the centre of the\ntrouble.\u201d\n\n\u201cProbably you are right,\u201d said the monarch indulgently; \u201cBut evidently\nthe dissatisfied soul is not in _your_ body! You are no Don Quixote\nfighting a windmill of imaginary wrongs, are you?\u201d\n\nA dark red flush mounted to the old man\u2019s brow, and as it passed away,\nleft him pale as death.\n\n\u201cSir, I have fought against wrongs in my time; but they were not\nimaginary. I might have still continued the combat but for Gloria!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! She is your peace-offering to an unjust world?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo Sir; she is God\u2019s gift to a broken heart,\u201d replied Ronsard gently.\n\u201cThe sea cast her up like a pearl into my life; and so for her sake\nI resolved to live. For her only I made this little home--for her\nI managed to gain some control over the rough inhabitants of these\nIslands, and encouraged in them the spirit of peace, mirth and gladness.\nI soothed their discontent, and tried to instil into them something of\nthe Greek love of beauty and pleasure. But after all, my work sprang\nfrom a personal, I may as well say a selfish motive--merely to make the\nchild I loved, happy!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen do you not regret that she is married, and no longer yours to\ncherish entirely?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I regret nothing!\u201d answered Ronsard; \u201cFor I am old and must soon\ndie. I shall leave her in good and safe hands.\u201d\n\nThe King looked at him thoughtfully, and seemed about to ask another\nquestion, then suddenly changing his mind, he turned to his Consort and\nsaid a few words to her in a low tone, whereupon as if in obedience to\na command, she rose, and with all the gracious charm which she could\nalways exert if she so pleased, she enquired of Ronsard if he would\npermit them to see something of the interior of his house.\n\n\u201cMadam,\u201d replied Ronsard, with some embarrassment; \u201cAll I have is at\nyour service, but it is only a poor place.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo place is poor that has peace in it,\u201d returned the Queen, with one\nof those rare smiles of hers, which so swiftly subjugated the hearts of\nmen. \u201cWill you lead the way?\u201d\n\nThus persuaded, R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard could only bow a respectful assent, and\nobey the request, which from Royalty was tantamount to a command.\nSigning to the other members of the party, who had stood till now at a\nlittle distance, the Queen bade them all accompany her.\n\n\u201cThe King will stay here till we return,\u201d she said, \u201cAnd Sir Roger will\nstay with him!\u201d\n\nWith these words, and a flashing glance at De Launay, she stepped across\nthe lawn, followed by her ladies-in-waiting, with Sir Walter Langton and\nthe other gentlemen; and in another moment the brilliant little group\nhad disappeared behind the trailing roses and clematis, which hung\nin profusion from the oaken projections of the wide verandah round\nRonsard\u2019s picturesque dwelling. Standing still for a moment, with Sir\nRoger a pace behind him, the King watched them enter the house--then\nquickly turning round on his heel, faced his equerry with a broad smile.\n\n\u201cNow, De Launay,\u201d he said, \u201clet us find Von Glauben!\u201d\n\nSir Roger started with surprise, and not a little apprehension.\n\n\u201cVon Glauben, Sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes--Von Glauben! He is here! I saw his face two minutes ago, peering\nthrough those trees!\u201d And he pointed down a shadowy path, dark with the\nintertwisted gloom of untrained pine-boughs. \u201cI am not dreaming, nor am\nI accustomed to imagine spectres! I am on the track of a mystery, Roger!\nThere is a beautiful girl here named Gloria. The beautiful girl is\nmarried--possibly to a jealous husband, for she is apparently hidden\naway from all likely admirers, including myself! Now suppose Von Glauben\nis that husband!\u201d\n\nHe broke off and laughed. Sir Roger de Launay laughed with him; the\nidea was too irresistibly droll. But the King was bent on mischief, and\ndetermined to lose no time in compassing it.\n\n\u201cCome along!\u201d he said. \u201cIf this tangled path holds a secret, it shall\nbe discovered before we are many minutes older! I am confident I saw Von\nGlauben; and what he can be doing here passes my comprehension!\nFollow me, Roger! If our worthy Professor has a wife, and his wife is\nbeautiful, we will pardon him for keeping her existence a secret from us\nso long!\u201d\n\nHe laughed again; and turning into the path he had previously indicated,\nbegan walking down it rapidly, Sir Roger following closely, and\nrevolving in his own perplexed mind the scene of the morning, when Von\nGlauben had expressed such a strong desire to get away to The Islands,\nand had admitted that there was \u201ca lady in the case.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally, it is most extraordinary!\u201d he thought. \u201cThe King no sooner\ndecides to break through conventional forms, than all things seem\nloosened from their moorings! A week ago, we were all apparently fixed\nin our orbits of exact routine and work--the King most fixed of all--but\nnow, who can say what may happen next!\u201d\n\nAt that moment the monarch turned round.\n\n\u201cThis path seems interminable, Roger,\u201d he said; \u201cIt gets darker, closer\nand narrower. It thickens, in fact, like, the mystery we are probing!\u201d\n\nSir Roger glanced about him. A straight band of trees hemmed them in\non either side, and the daylight filtered through their stems pallidly,\nwhile, as the King had said, there seemed to be no end to the path they\nwere following. They walked on swiftly, however, exchanging no further\nword, when suddenly an unexpected sound came sweeping up through the\nheavy branches. It was the rush and roar of the sea,--a surging, natural\npsalmody that filled the air, and quivered through the trees with the\nmeasured beat of an almost human chorus.\n\n\u201cThis must be another way to the shore,\u201d said the King, coming to a\nstandstill; \u201cAnd there must be rocks or caverns near. Hark how the waves\nthunder and reverberate through some deep hollow!\u201d\n\nSir Roger listened, and heard the boom of water rolling in and rolling\nout again, with the regularity and rhythm of an organ swell, but he\ncaught an echo of something else besides, which piqued his curiosity\nand provoked him to a touch of unusual excitement,--it was the sweet and\napparently quickly suppressed sound of a woman\u2019s laughter. He glanced at\nhis Royal master, and saw at once that he, too, had sharp ears for that\nsilvery cadence of mirth, for his eyes flashed into a smile.\n\n\u201cOn, Roger,\u201d he said softly; \u201cWe are close on the heels of the problem!\u201d\n\nBut they had only pressed forward a few steps when they were again\nbrought to a sudden pause. A voice, whose gruffly mellow accents were\nfamiliar to both of them, was speaking within evidently close range, and\nthe King, with a warning look, motioned De Launay back a pace or two,\nhimself withdrawing a little into the shadow of the trees.\n\n\u201cAch! Do not sing, my princess!\u201d said the voice; \u201cFor if you open your\nrosy mouth of music, all the birds of the air, and all the little fishes\nof the sea will come to listen! And, who knows! Someone more dangerous\nthan either a bird or a fish may listen also!\u201d\n\nThe King grasped De Launay by the arm.\n\n\u201cWas I not right?\u201d he whispered. \u201cThere is no mistaking Von Glauben\u2019s\naccent!\u201d\n\nSir Roger looked, as he felt, utterly bewildered. In his own mind he\nfelt it very difficult to associate the Professor with a love affair.\nYet things certainly seemed pointing to some entanglement of the sort.\nSuddenly the King held up an admonitory finger.\n\n\u201cListen!\u201d he said.\n\nAnother voice spoke, rich and clear, and sweet as honey.\n\n\u201cWhy should I not sing?\u201d and there was a thrill of merriment in the\ndelicious accents. \u201cYou are so afraid of everything to-day! Why? Why\nshould I stay here with nothing to do? Because you tell me the King\nis visiting The Islands. What does that matter? What do I care for the\nKing? He is nothing to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou would be something, perhaps, to him if he saw you,\u201d replied the\nguttural voice of Von Glauben. \u201cIt is safer to be out of his way.\nYou are a very wilful princess this afternoon! You must remember your\nhusband is jealous!\u201d\n\nThe King started.\n\n\u201cHer husband! What the devil does Von Glauben know about her husband!\u201d\n\nDe Launay was dumb. A nameless fear and dismay began to possess him.\n\n\u201cMy husband!\u201d And the sweet voice laughed out again. \u201cIt would be\nstrange indeed for a poor sailor to be jealous of a king!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the poor sailor had a beautiful wife he worshipped, and the King\nshould admire the wife, he might have cause to be jealous!\u201d replied\nVon Glauben; \u201cAnd with some ladies, a poor sailor would stand no chance\nagainst a king! Why are you so rebellious, my princess, to-day? Have I\nnot brought a letter from your beloved which plainly asks you to keep\nout of the sight of the King? Have I not been an hour with you here,\nreading the most beautiful poetry of Heine?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is why I want to sing,\u201d said the sweet voice, with a touch of\nwilfulness in its tone. \u201cListen! I will give you a reading of Heine\nin music!\u201d And suddenly, rich and clear as a bell, a golden cadence of\nnotes rang out with the words:\n\n  \u201cAh, Hast thou forgotten, That I possessed thy heart?\u201d\n\nThe King sprang lightly out of his hiding-place, and with De Launay\nmoved on slowly and cautiously through the trees.\n\n\u201cAch, mein Gott!\u201d they heard Von Glauben exclaim--\u201cThat is a bird-call\nwhich will float on wings to the ears of the King!\u201d\n\nA soft laugh rippled on the air.\n\n\u201cDear friend and master, why are you so afraid?\u201d asked the caressing\nwoman\u2019s voice again;--\u201cWe are quite hidden away from the Royal\nvisitors,--and though you have been peeping at the King through the\ntrees, and though you know he is actually in our garden, he will never\nfind his way here! This is quite a secret little study and schoolroom,\nwhere you have taught me so much!--yes--so much!--and I am very\ngrateful! And whenever you come to see me you teach me something\nmore--you are always good and kind!--and I would not anger you for the\nworld! But what is the good of knowing and feeling beautiful things, if\nI may not express them?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do express them,--in yourself,--in your own existence and\nappearance!\u201d said the Professor gruffly; \u201cbut that is a physiological\naccident which I do not expect you to understand!\u201d\n\nThere was a moment\u2019s silence. Then came a slight movement, as of quick\nfeet clambering among loose pebbles, and the voice rang out again.\n\n\u201cThere! Now I am in my rocky throne! Do you remember--Ah, no!--you know\nnothing about it,--but I will tell you the story! It was here, in this\nvery place, that my husband first saw me!\u201d\n\n\u201cAch so!\u201d murmured Von Glauben. \u201cIt is an excellent place to make a\nfirst appearance! Eve herself could not have chosen more picturesque\nsurroundings to make a conquest of Adam!\u201d\n\nApparently his mild sarcasm fell on unheeding ears.\n\n\u201cHe was walking slowly all alone on the shore,\u201d went on the voice,\ndropping into a more plaintive and tender tone; \u201cThe sun had sunk,\nand one little star was sparkling in the sky. He looked up at the\nstar--and--\u201d\n\n\u201cThen he saw a woman\u2019s eye,\u201d interpolated Von Glauben; \u201cWhich is always\nmore attractive to weak man than an impossible-to-visit planet! What\ndoes Shakespeare say of women\u2019s eyes?\n\n  \u2018Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,\n  Having some business, do entreat her eyes\n  To twinkle in their spheres till they return.\n  What if her eyes were there, they in her head?\n  The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,\n  As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven\n  Would through the airy regions stream so bright,\n  That birds would sing and think it were not night!\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cAch! That is so!\u201d\n\nAs the final words left his lips, a rich note of melody stirred the air,\nand a song in which words and music seemed thoroughly welded together,\nrose vibratingly up to the quiet sky:\n\n        \u201cHere by the sea,\n        My Love found me!\n  Seagulls over the waves were swinging;\n  Mermaids down in their caves were singing,\n  And one little star in the rosy sky\n  Sparkled above like an angel\u2019s eye!\n        My Love found me,\n        And I and he\n    Plighted our troth eternally!\n        Oh day of splendour,\n        And self-surrender!\n    The day when my Love found me!\n\n        Here, by the sea,\n        My King crown\u2019d me!\n  Wild ocean sang for my Coronation,\n  With the jubilant voice of a mighty nation!--\n  \u2018Mid the towering rocks he set my throne,\n  And made me forever and ever his own!\n        My King crown\u2019d me,\n        And I and he\n    Are one till the world shall cease to be!\n        Oh sweet love story!\n        Oh night of glory!\n    The night when my King crown\u2019d me!\u201d\n\nNo language could ever describe the marvellous sweetness of the voice\nthat sung these lines; it was so full of exquisite triumph, tenderness\nand passion, that it seemed more supernatural than human. When the song\nceased, a great wave dashed on the shore, like a closing organ chord,\nand Von Glauben spoke.\n\n\u201cThere! You wanted your own way, my princess, and you have had it! You\nhave sung like one of the seraphim;--do not be surprised if mortals are\ndrawn to listen. Sst! What is that?\u201d\n\nThere was a pause. The King had inadvertently cracked a twig on one of\nthe pine-boughs he was holding back in an endeavour to see the speakers.\nBut he now boldly pushed on, beckoning De Launay to follow close, and in\nanother minute had emerged on a small sandy plateau, which led, by means\nof an ascending path, to a rocky eminence, encircled by huge boulders\nand rocky pinnacles, which somewhat resembled peaks of white coral,--and\nhere, on a height above him,--with the afternoon sun-glow bathing her\nin its full mellow radiance, sat a visibly enthroned goddess of the\nlandscape,--a girl, or rather a perfect woman, more beautiful than\nany he had ever seen, or even imagined. He stared up at her in dazzled\nwonder, half blinded by the brightness of the sun and her almost equally\nblinding loveliness.\n\n\u201cGloria!\u201d he exclaimed breathlessly, hardly conscious of his own\nutterance; \u201cYou are Gloria!\u201d\n\nThe fair vision rose, and came swiftly forward with an astonished look\nin her bright deep eyes.\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d she said, \u201cI am Gloria!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nA SEA PRINCESS\n\n\nScarcely had she thus declared herself, when the Bismarckian head and\nshoulders of Von Glauben appeared above the protecting boulders; and\nmoving with deliberate caution, the rest of his body came slowly after,\ntill he stood fully declared in an attitude of military \u2018attention.\u2019 He\nshowed neither alarm nor confusion at seeing the King; on the contrary,\nthe fixed, wooden expression of his countenance betokened some\ndeeply-seated mental obstinacy, and he faced his Royal master with the\nutmost composure, lifting the slouched hat he wore with his usual stiff\nand soldierly dignity, though carefully avoiding the amazed stare of his\nfriend, Sir Roger de Launay.\n\nThe King glanced him up and down with a smiling air of amused curiosity.\n\n\u201cSo this is how you pursue your scientific studies, Professor!\u201d he said\nlightly; \u201cWell!\u201d--and he turned his eyes, full of admiration, on the\nbeautiful creature who stood silently confronting him with all that\nperfect ease which expresses a well-balanced mind,--\u201cWisdom is often\nsymbolised to us as a marble goddess,--but when Pallas Athene takes so\nfair a shape of flesh and blood as this, who shall blame even a veteran\nphilosopher for sitting at her feet in worship!\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me, Sir,\u201d returned Von Glauben calmly; \u201cThere is no goddess of\nWisdom here, so please you, but only a very simple and unworldly young\nwoman. She is--\u201d Here he hesitated a moment, then went on--\u201cShe is\nmerely the adopted child of a fisherman living on these Islands.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am aware of that!\u201d said the King still smiling. \u201cR\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard is his\nname. He is my host to-day; and he has told me something of her. But,\ncertes, he did not mention that you had adopted her also!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben flushed vexedly.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d he stammered, \u201cI could explain--\u201d\n\n\u201cAnother time!\u201d interrupted the King, with a touch of asperity.\n\u201cMeanwhile, present your--your pupil in the poesy of Heine,--to me!\u201d\n\nThus commanded, the Professor, casting a vexed glance at De Launay,\nwho did not in the least comprehend his distress, went to the girl, who\nduring their brief conversation had stood quietly looking from one\nto the other with an expression of half-amused disdain on her lovely\nfeatures.\n\n\u201cGloria,\u201d he began reluctantly--then whispering in her ear, he\nmuttered--\u201cI told you your voice would do mischief, and it has done it!\u201d\n Then aloud--\u201cGloria,--this--this is the King!\u201d\n\nShe smiled, but did not change her erect and easy attitude.\n\n\u201cThe King is welcome!\u201d she said simply.\n\nShe had evidently no intention of saluting the monarch; and Sir Roger\nde Launay gazed at her in mingled surprise and admiration. She was\ncertainly wonderfully beautiful. Her complexion had the soft clear\ntransparency of a pink sea-shell--her eyes, large and lustrous, were as\ndensely blue as the dark azure in the depths of a wave,--and her hair,\nof a warm bronze chestnut, caught back with a single band of red coral,\nseemed to have gathered in its rich curling clusters all the deepest\ntints of autumn leaves flecked with a golden touch of the sun. Her\nfigure, clad in a straight garment of rough white homespun, was the\nmodel of perfect womanhood. She stood a little above the medium height,\nher fair head poised proudly on regal shoulders, while the curve of the\nfull bosom would have baffled the sculptural genius of a Phidias. The\nwhole exquisite outline of her person was the expressed essence of\nbeauty, from the lightest wave of her hair, down to her slender ankles\nand small feet; and the look that irradiated her noble features was that\nof child-like happiness and repose,--the untired expression of one who\nhad never known any other life than the innocent enjoyment bestowed upon\nher by God and divine Nature. Beautiful as his Queen-Consort was and\nalways had been, the King was forced to admit to himself that here was a\nwoman far more beautiful,--and as he looked upon her critically, he saw\nthat there was a light and splendour about her which only the happiness\nof Love can give. Her whole aspect was as of one uplifted into a\nfiner atmosphere than that of earth,--she seemed to exhale purity from\nherself, as a rose exhales perfume, and her undisturbed serenity and\ndignity, when made aware of the Royal presence, were evidently not the\noutcome of ill-breeding or discourtesy, but of mere self-respect and\nindependence. He approached her with a strange hesitation, which for him\nwas quite a new experience.\n\n\u201cI am glad I have been fortunate enough to meet you!\u201d he said\ngently;--\u201cSome kindly fate guided my steps down the path which brought\nme to this part of the shore, else I might have gone away without seeing\nyou!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat would have been no loss to your Majesty,\u201d answered Gloria\ncalmly;--\u201cFor to see me, is of no use to anyone!\u201d\n\n\u201cWould your husband say so?\u201d hazarded the King with a smile.\n\nHer eyes flashed.\n\n\u201cMy husband would say what is right,\u201d she replied. \u201cHe would know better\nhow to talk to you than I do!\u201d\n\nHe had insensibly drawn nearer to her as he spoke; meanwhile Von\nGlauben, with a disconsolate air, had joined Sir Roger de Launay, who,\nby an enquiring look and anxious uplifting of his eyebrows, dumbly asked\nwhat was to be the upshot of this affair,--only to receive a dismal\nshake of the head in reply.\n\n\u201cPossibly I know your husband,\u201d went on the King, anxious to continue\nconversation with so beautiful a creature. \u201cIf I do, and he is in my\npersonal service, he shall not lack promotion! Will you tell me his\nname?\u201d\n\nA startled look came into the girl\u2019s eyes, and a deep blush swept over\nher fair cheeks.\n\n\u201cI dare not!\u201d she said;--\u201cHe has forbidden me!\u201d\n\n\u201cForbidden you!\u201d The King recoiled a step--a vague suspicion rankled\nin his mind. \u201cThen, though your King asks you a friendly question, you\nrefuse to answer it?\u201d\n\nVon Glauben here gripped Sir Roger so fiercely by the arm, that the\nlatter nearly cried out with pain.\n\n\u201cShe must not tell,\u201d he muttered--\u201cShe must not--she will not!\u201d\n\nBut Gloria was looking straight at her Royal questioner.\n\n\u201cI have no King but my husband!\u201d she said firmly. \u201cI have sworn before\nGod to obey him in all things, and I will not break my vow!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood girl! Wise girl!\u201d exclaimed Von Glauben. \u201cAch, if all the\nbeautiful women so guarded their tongues and obeyed their husbands, what\na happy world it would be!\u201d\n\nThe King turned upon him.\n\n\u201cTrue! But you are not bound by the confidences of marriage,\nProfessor,--so that while in our service our will must be your law! You,\ntherefore, can perhaps tell me the name of the fortunate man who has\nwedded this fair lady?\u201d\n\nThe Professor\u2019s countenance visibly reddened.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d he stammered--\u201cWith every respect for your Majesty, I would\nrather lose my much-to-be-appreciated post with you than betray my\nfriends!\u201d\n\nThe King suddenly lost patience.\n\n\u201cBy Heaven!\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cIs my command to be slighted and set aside\nas if it were naught? Not while I am king of this country! What mystery\nis here that I am not to know?\u201d\n\nGloria laughed outright, and the pretty ripple of mirth, so unforced and\nnatural, diverted the monarch\u2019s irritation.\n\n\u201cOh, you are angry!\u201d she said, her lovely eyes twinkling and sparkling\nlike diamonds:--\u201cSo! Then your Majesty is no more than a very common man\nwho loses temper when he cannot have his own way!\u201d She laughed again,\nand the King stared at her unoffended,--being spellbound, both by her\nregal beauty, and her complete indifference to himself. \u201cI will speak\nlike the prophets do in the Bible and say, \u2018Lo! there is no mystery,\nO King!\u2019 I am only poor Gloria, a sailor\u2019s wife,--and the sailor has a\nplace on board your son the Crown Prince\u2019s yacht, and he does not want\nhis master to know that he is married lest he lose that place! Is not\nthat plain and clear, O King? And why should I disobey my beloved in\nsuch a simple matter?\u201d\n\nThe King was still in something of a fume.\n\n\u201cThere is no reason why you should disobey,\u201d he said more quietly, but\nstill with vexation;--\u201cBut, equally, there is no reason why your husband\nshould be dismissed from the Crown Prince\u2019s service, because he has\nchosen to marry. If you tell me his name, I will make all things easy\nfor him, for you, and your future. Can you not trust me?\u201d\n\nWith wonderful grace and quickness Gloria suddenly sprang forward,\ncaught the King\u2019s hand, kissed it, and then threw it lightly away from\nher.\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d she said, with a pretty defiance; \u201cI kiss the hand of the\ncountry\u2019s King--but I have my own King to serve!\u201d\n\nAnd pausing for no more words, she turned away, sprang lightly up the\nrocks as swiftly as a roe-deer, and disappeared. And from some hidden\ncorner, clear and full and sweet, her voice rang out above the peaceful\nplashing of the waves:\n\n\n           \u201cMy King crown\u2019d me!\n            And I and he\n  Are one till the world shall cease to be!\u201d\n\nStricken dumb and confused by the suddenness of her action, and the\nswiftness of her departure, the King stood for a moment inert, gazing\nup the rocky height with the air of one who has seen a vision of heaven\nwithdrawn again into its native element. Some darkening doubt troubled\nhis mind, and it was with an altogether changed and stern countenance\nthat he confronted Von Glauben.\n\n\u201cLast night, Professor, you were somewhat anxious for our health and\nsafety,\u201d he said severely; \u201cIt is our turn now to be equally anxious\nfor yours! We are of opinion that you, like ourselves, run some risk of\ndanger by meddling in affairs which do not concern you! Silence!\u201d\n This, as the Professor, deeply moved by his Royal master\u2019s evident\ndispleasure, made an attempt to speak. \u201cWe will hear all you have to say\nto-morrow. Meanwhile--follow your fair charge!\u201d And he pointed up in the\ndirection whither Gloria had vanished. \u201cHer husband\u201d--and he emphasized\nthe word,--\u201cwhoever he is, appears to have entrusted her safety to\nyou;--see that you do not betray his trust, even though you have\nbetrayed mine!\u201d\n\nAt this remark Von Glauben was visibly overcome.\n\n\u201cSir, you have never had reason to complain of any lack of loyalty in\nme to you and to your service,\u201d he said with an earnest dignity which\nbecame him well;--\u201cIn the matter of the poor child yonder, whose\nbeauty would surely be a fatal snare to any man, there is much to be\ntold,--which if told truly, will prove that I am merely the slave of\ncircumstances which were not created by me,--and which it is possible\nfor a faithful servant of your Majesty to regret! But a betrayer of\ntrust I have never been, and I beseech your Majesty to believe me when I\nsay that the acuteness of that undeserved reproach cuts me to the heart!\nI yield to no man in the respect and affection I entertain for your\nRoyal person, not even to De Launay here--who knows--who knows--\u201d\n\nHe broke off, unable through strong emotion to proceed.\n\n\u201c\u2018Who knows\u2019--What?\u201d enquired the King, turning his steadfast eyes on\nSir Roger.\n\n\u201cNothing, Sir! Absolutely nothing!\u201d replied the equerry, opening his\neyes as widely as their habitual langour would permit; \u201cI am absolutely\nignorant of everything concerning Von Glauben except that he is an\nhonest man! That I certainly do know!\u201d\n\nA slight smile cleared away something of the doubt and displeasure on\nthe King\u2019s face. Approaching the disconsolate Professor, he laid one\nhand on his shoulder and looked him steadily in the eyes.\n\n\u201cBy my faith, Von Glauben, if I thought positively that you could play\nme false in any matter, I would never believe a man again! Come! Forgive\nmy hasty speech, and do not look so downcast! Honest I have always\nknown you to be,--and that you will prove your honesty, I do not doubt!\nBut--there is something in this affair which awakens grave suspicion in\nmy mind. For to-day I press no questions--but to-morrow I must know\nall! You understand? _All_! Say this to the girl, Gloria,--say it to her\nhusband also--as, of course, you know who her husband is. If he serves\non Prince Humphry\u2019s yacht, that is enough to say that Humphry himself\nhas probably seen her. Under all the circumstances, I confess, my\ndear Von Glauben, that your presence here is a riddle which needs\nexplanation!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt shall be explained, Sir--\u201d murmured the Professor.\n\n\u201cNaturally! It must, of course be explained. But I hope you give me\ncredit for not being altogether a fool; and I have an idea that my son\u2019s\nfrequent mysterious visits to The Islands have something to do with this\nfair Gloria of Glorias!\u201d Von Glauben started involuntarily. \u201cYou perhaps\nthink it too? Or know it? Well, if it is so, I can hardly blame him\novermuch,--though I am sorry he should have selected a poor sailor\u2019s\nwife as a subject for his secret amours! I should have thought him\npossessed of more honour. However--to-morrow I shall look to you for a\nfull account of the matter. For the present, I excuse your attendance,\nand permit you to remain with her whom you call \u2018princess\u2019!\u201d\n\nHe stepped back, and, taking De Launay\u2019s arm, turned round at once, and\nwalked away back to Ronsard\u2019s house by the path he had followed with\nsuch eagerness and care.\n\nVon Glauben watched the two tall figures disappear, and then with a\ntroubled look, began to climb slowly up the rocks in the direction where\nGloria had gone. His reflections were not altogether as philosophical as\nusual, because as he said to himself--\u201cOne can never tell how a woman is\ngoing to meet misfortune! Sometimes she takes it well; and then the men\nwho have ruthlessly destroyed her happiness go on their way rejoicing;\nbut more often she takes it ill, and there is the devil to pay!\nYet--Gloria is not like any ordinary woman--she is a carefully selected\nspecimen of her sex, which a kindly Nature has produced as an example\nof what women were intended to be when they were first created. I wonder\nwhere she has hidden herself?\u201d\n\nArriving at the summit of the ascent, he peered down towards the sea.\nSlopes of rank grass and sea-daisies tufted the rocks on this side,\ndivided by certain deep hollows which the action of the waves had\nhoneycombed here and there; and below the grass was the shore, powdered\nthickly with sand, of a fine, light, and sparkling colour, like gold\ndust. Here in the full light of the sinking sun lay Gloria, her head\npillowed against a rough stone, on the top of which a tall cluster of\ndaisies, sometimes called moon-flowers, waved like white plumes.\n\n\u201cGloria!\u201d called Von Glauben.\n\nShe looked up, smiling.\n\n\u201cHas Majesty gone?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cGone for the present,\u201d replied the Professor, beginning to put one\nfoot cautiously before the other down a roughly hewn stairway in the\notherwise almost inaccessible cliff. \u201cBut, like the sun which is setting\nto-night, he will rise again to-morrow!\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I come and help you down?\u201d enquired the girl, turning on her\nelbow as she lay, and lifting her lovely face, radiant as a flower,\ntowards him.\n\n\u201cWhether down or up, you shall never help me, my princess!\u201d he replied.\n\u201cWhen I can neither climb nor fall without the assistance of a woman\u2019s\nhand, I shall take a pistol and tell it to whisper in my ear--\u2018Good-bye,\nHeinrich Von Glauben! You are all up--finish--gone!\u2019\u201d\n\nHere, with a somewhat elephantine jump, he alighted beside her and threw\nhimself on the warm sand with a deep sigh of mingled exhaustion and\nrelief.\n\n\u201cYou would be very wicked to put a pistol to your ear,\u201d said Gloria\nseverely;--\u201cIt is only a coward who shoots himself!\u201d\n\n\u201cAch so! And it is a brave man who shoots others! That is curious, is it\nnot, princess? It is a little bit of man\u2019s morality; but we have no time\nto discuss it now. We have something more serious to consider,--your\nhusband!\u201d\n\nShe looked at him wonderingly.\n\n\u201cMy husband? Do you really think he will be very angry that the King saw\nme?\u201d\n\nThe Professor appeared to be considering the question; but in reality he\nwas studying the exquisite delicacy of the face turned so wistfully\nupon him, and the lovely lines of the slim throat and rounded chin--\u201cSo\nbeautiful a creature\u201d--he was saying within himself--\u201cAnd must she also\nsuffer pain and disillusion like all the rest of her unfortunate sex!\u201d\n Aloud he replied.\n\n\u201cMy princess, it is not for me to say he will be \u2018angry,\u2019--for how could\nhe be angry with the one he loves to such adoration! He will be sorry\nand troubled--it will put him into a great difficulty! Ach!--a whole\nnest of difficulties!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d And Gloria\u2019s eyes filled with sudden tears. \u201cI would not grieve\nhim for the world! I cannot understand why it should matter at all, even\nif the King does find out that he is married. Are the rules so strict\nfor all the men who serve on board the Royal vessels?\u201d\n\nVon Glauben bit his lips to hide an involuntary smile. But he answered\nher with quite a martinet air.\n\n\u201cYes, they are strict--very strict! Particularly so in the case of your\nhusband. You see, my child--you do not perhaps quite understand--but he\nis a sort of superior officer on board; and in close personal attendance\non the Crown Prince.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe did not tell me that!\u201d said the girl a little anxiously; \u201cYet\nsurely it would not matter if he loses one place; can he not easily get\nanother?\u201d\n\nVon Glauben was looking at her with a grave, almost melancholy\nintentness.\n\n\u201cListen, my princess,--listen to your poor old friend, who means you\nso much good, and no harm at all! Your husband--and I too, for that\nmatter,--wished much to prevent the King from seeing you--for--for many\nreasons. When I heard he was coming to The Islands, I resolved to arrive\nhere before him, and so I did. I said nothing to Ronsard, not even to\nwarn him of the King\u2019s impending visit. I took you just quietly, as I\nhave often done, for a walk, with a book to read and to explain to you,\nbecause you tell me you want to study; though in my opinion you know\nquite enough--for a woman. I gave you a letter from your husband, and\nyou know he asked you in that letter to avoid all possibility of meeting\nwith the King. Good! Well, now, what happens? You sing--and lo! his\nMajesty, like a fish on a hook, is drawn up open-mouthed to your feet!\nNow, who is to blame? You or I?\u201d\n\nA little perplexed line appeared on the girl\u2019s fair brows. \u201cI am, I\nsuppose!\u201d she said somewhat plaintively,--\u201cBut yet, even now, I do\nnot understand. What is the King? He is nothing! He does nothing for\nanybody! People make petitions to him, and he never answers them--they\ntry to point out errors and abuses, and he takes no trouble to remedy\nthem--he is no better than a wooden idol! He is not a real man, though\nhe looks like one.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you think he looks like one?\u201d murmured Von Glauben; \u201cThat is to say\nyou are not altogether displeased with his appearance?\u201d\n\nGloria\u2019s eyes darkened a moment with thought,--then flashed with\nlaughter.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d she said frankly--\u201cHe is more kingly than I thought a king could\nbe. But he should not lose temper. That spoils all dignity!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben smiled.\n\n\u201cKings are but mortal,\u201d he said, \u201cand never to lose temper would be\nimpossible to any man.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is such a waste of time!\u201d declared Gloria--\u201cWhy should anyone lose\nself-control? It is like giving up a sword to an enemy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is one of R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard\u2019s teachings,\u201d--said the Professor--\u201cIt is\nexcellent in theory! But in practice I have seen R\u00e9n\u00e9 give way to temper\nhimself, with considerable enjoyment of his own mental thunderstorm. As\nfor the King, he is generally a very equable personage; and he has one\ngreat virtue--that is courage. He is brave as a lion--perhaps braver\nthan many lions!\u201d\n\nShe raised her eyes enquiringly.\n\n\u201cHas he proved it?\u201d\n\nRather taken aback by the question, he stared at her solemnly.\n\n\u201cProved it? Well! He has had no chance. The country has been at peace\nfor many years--but if there should ever be a war----\u201d\n\n\u201cWould he go and fight for the country?\u201d enquired Gloria.\n\n\u201cIn person? No. He would not be allowed to do that. His life would be\nendangered----\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course!\u201d interrupted the girl with a touch of contempt; \u201cBut if he\nwould allow himself to be ruled by others in such a matter, I do not\ncall him brave!\u201d\n\nThe Professor drew out his spectacles, and fixing them on his nose with\nmuch care, regarded her through them with bland and kindly interest.\n\n\u201cVery simple and primitive reasoning, my princess!\u201d he said; \u201cAnd from\nan early historic point of view, your idea is correct. In the olden\ntimes kings went themselves to battle, and led their soldiers on to\nvictory in person. It was very fine; much finer than our modern ways\nof warfare. But it has perhaps never occurred to you that a king\u2019s\nlife nowadays is always in danger? He can do nothing more completely\ncourageous than to show himself in public!\u201d\n\n\u201cAre kings then so hated?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cThey are not loved, it must be confessed,\u201d returned Von Glauben, taking\noff his spectacles again; \u201cBut that is quite their own fault. They\nseldom do anything to deserve the respect,--much less the affection of\ntheir subjects. But this king--this man you have just seen--certainly\ndeserves both.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, what has he done?\u201d asked Gloria wonderingly. \u201cI have heard people\nsay he is very wicked--that he takes other men\u2019s wives away from them--\u201d\n\nThe Professor coughed discreetly.\n\n\u201cMy princess, let me suggest to you that he could scarcely take other\nmen\u2019s wives away from them, unless those wives were perfectly willing to\ngo!\u201d\n\nShe gave an impatient gesture.\n\n\u201cOh, there are weak women, no doubt; but then a king should know better\nthan to put temptation in their way. If a man undertakes to be strong,\nhe should also be honourable. Then,--what of the taxes the King imposes\non the people? The sufferings of the poor over there on the mainland are\nterrible!--I know all about them! I have heard Sergius Thord!\u201d\n\nThe Professor gave an uncomfortable start.\n\n\u201cYou have heard Sergius Thord? Where?\u201d\n\n\u201cHere!\u201d And Gloria smiled at his expression of wonderment. \u201cHe has\nspoken often to our people, and he is father R\u00e9n\u00e9\u2019s friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what does he talk about when he speaks here?\u201d enquired Von Glauben.\n\u201cWhen does he come, and how does he go?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlways at night,\u201d answered Gloria; \u201cHe has a sailing skiff of his own,\nand on many an evening when the wind sets in our quarter, he arrives\nquite suddenly, all alone, and in a moment, as if by magic, the\nIslanders all seem to know he is here. On the shore, or in the fields he\nassembles them round him, and tells them many things that are plain and\ntrue. I have heard him speak often of the shortness of life and its many\nsorrows, and he says we could all make each other happy for the little\ntime we have to live, if we would. And I think he is right; it is only\nwicked and selfish people who make others unhappy!\u201d\n\nThe Professor was silent. Gloria, watching him, wondered at his somewhat\nperturbed expression.\n\n\u201cDo you know the King very well?\u201d she asked suddenly. \u201cHe seemed very\ncross with you!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben roused himself from a fit of momentary abstraction.\n\n\u201cYes,--he was cross!\u201d he rejoined. \u201cI, like your husband, am in his\nservice--and I ought to have been on duty to-day. It will be all right,\nhowever--all right! But--\u201d He paused for a moment, then went on--\u201cYou\nsay that only wicked and selfish people make others unhappy. Now suppose\nyour husband were wicked and selfish enough to make _you_ unhappy; what\nwould you say?\u201d\n\nA sweet smile shone in her eyes.\n\n\u201cHe could not make me unhappy!\u201d she said. \u201cHe would not try! He loves\nme, and he will always love me!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, suppose,\u201d persisted the Professor--\u201cJust for the sake of\nargument--suppose he had deceived you?\u201d\n\nWith a low cry she sprang up.\n\n\u201cImpossible!\u201d she exclaimed; \u201cHe is truth itself! He could not deceive\nanyone!\u201d\n\n\u201cCome and sit down again,\u201d said Von Glauben tranquilly; \u201cIt is\ndisturbing to my mind to see you standing there pronouncing your faith\nin the integrity of man! No male creature deserves such implicit trust,\nand whenever a woman gives it, she invariably finds out her mistake!\u201d\n\nBut Gloria stood still, The rich colour had faded from her cheeks--her\neyes were dilated with alarm, and her breath came and went quickly.\n\n\u201cYou must explain,\u201d she said hurriedly; \u201cYou must tell me what you\nmean by suggesting such a wicked thought to me as that my husband could\ndeceive me! It is not right or kind of you,--it is cruel!\u201d\n\nThe Professor scrambled up hastily out of his sandy nook, and\napproaching her, took her hand very gently and respectfully in his own\nand kissed it.\n\n\u201cMy dear--my princess--I was wrong! Forgive me!\u201d he murmured, and\nthere was a little tremor in his voice; \u201cBut can you not understand the\npossibility of a man loving a woman very much, and yet deceiving her for\nher good?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt could never be for her good,\u201d said Gloria firmly; \u201cIt would not be\nfor mine! No lie ever lasts!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben looked at her with a sense of reverence and something like\nawe. The after-glow of the sinking sun was burning low down upon the\nsea, and turning it to fiery crimson, and as she stood bathed in its\nsplendour, the white rocks towering above her, and the golden sands\nsparkling at her feet, she appeared like some newly descended angel\nexpressing the very truth of Heaven itself in her own presence on earth.\nAs they stood thus, the sudden boom of a single cannon echoed clear\nacross the waves.\n\n\u201cThere goes the King!\u201d said Von Glauben; \u201cMajesty departs for the\npresent, having so far satisfied his curiosity! That gun is the signal.\nChild!\u201d--and turning towards her again, he took both her hands in his,\nand spoke with emphatic gravity and kindness--\u201cRemember that I am your\nfriend always! Whatever chances to you, do not forget that you may\ncommand my service and devotion till death! In this strange life, we\nnever know from day to day what may happen to us, for constant change is\nthe law of Nature and the universe,--but after all, there is something\nin the soul of a true man which does not change with the elements,--and\nthat is--loyalty to a sworn faith! In my heart, I have sworn an oath of\nfealty to you, my beautiful little princess of the sea!--and it is a vow\nthat shall never be broken! Do you understand? And will you remember?\u201d\n\nHer large dark blue eyes looked trustingly into his.\n\n\u201cIndeed, I will never forget!\u201d she said, with a touch of wistfulness in\nher accents; \u201cBut I do not know why you should be anxious for me--there\nis nothing to fear for my happiness. I have all the love I care for in\nthe world!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd long may you keep it!\u201d said the Professor earnestly; \u201cCome! It will\nsoon be time for me to leave you, and I must see R\u00e9n\u00e9 before I go. If\nyou follow my advice, you will say nothing to him of having met the\nKing--not for the present, at any rate.\u201d\n\nShe agreed to this, though with some little hesitation,--then they\nascended the cliff, and walking by way of the pine-wood through which\nthe King had come, arrived at Ronsard\u2019s house, to find the old man quite\nalone, and peacefully engaged in tying up the roses and jessamine on\nthe pillars of his verandah. His worn face lighted up with animation and\ntenderness as Gloria approached him and threw her arms around his neck,\nand to her he related the incident of the King and Queen\u2019s unexpected\nvisit, as a sort of accidental, uninteresting, and wholly unimportant\noccurrence. The Queen, he said, was very beautiful; but too cold in her\nmanner, though she had certainly taken much interest in seeing the house\nand garden.\n\n\u201cIt was just as well you were absent, child,\u201d he added--\u201cRoyalty brings\nan atmosphere with it which is not wholesome. A king never knows what it\nis to be an honest man!\u201d\n\n\u201cThose are your old, discarded theories, Ronsard!\u201d said Von Glauben,\nshaking his head;--\u201cYou said you would never return to them!\u201d\n\n\u201cAye!\u201d rejoined Ronsard;--\u201cI have tried to put away all my old thoughts\nand dreams for her sake\u201d--and his gaze rested lovingly on Gloria as,\nstanding on tiptoe to reach a down-drooping rose, she gathered it and\nfastened it in her bosom. \u201cThere should only be peace and contentment\nwhere _she_ dwells! But sometimes my life\u2019s long rebellion against sham\nand injustice stirs in my blood, and I long to pull down the ignorant\npeople\u2019s idols of wood and straw, and set up men in place of dummies!\u201d\n\n\u201cA Mumbo-Jumbo of some kind has always been necessary in the world, my\nfriend,\u201d said the Professor calmly; \u201cEither in the shape of a deity or\na king. A wood and straw Nonentity is better than an incarnated fleshly\nSelfishness. Will you give me supper before I leave?\u201d\n\nRonsard smiled a cheery assent, and Gloria preceding them, and singing\nin a low tone to herself as she went, they all entered the house\ntogether.\n\nMeanwhile, the Royal yacht was scudding back to the mainland over crisp\nwaters on the wings of a soft breeze, with a bright moon flying through\nfleecy clouds above, and silvering the foam-crests of the waves\nbelow. There was music on board,--the King and Queen dined with their\nguests,--and laughter and gay converse intermingled with the sound\nof song. They talked of their day\u2019s experience--of the beauty of The\nIslands--of Ronsard,--his quaint house and quainter self,--so different\nto the persons with whom they associated in their own exclusive\nand brilliant Court \u2018set,\u2019 and the pretty Countess Amabil flirting\nharmlessly with Sir Walter Langton, suggested that a \u2018Flower Feast\u2019 or\nCarnival should be held during the summer, for the surprise and benefit\nof the Islanders, who had never yet seen a Royal pageant of pleasure on\ntheir shores.\n\nBut Sir Roger de Launay, ever watching the Queen, saw that she was very\npale, and more silent even than was her usual habit, and that her eyes\nevery now and again rested on the King, with something of wonder, as\nwell as fear.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nSECRET SERVICE\n\n\nIn one of the ultra-fashionable quarters of the brilliant and\novercrowded metropolis which formed the nucleus and centre of everything\nnotable or progressive in the King\u2019s dominions, there stood a large and\naggressively-handsome house, over-decorated both outside and in, and\nimplying in its general appearance vulgarity, no less than wealth. These\ntwo things go together very much nowadays; in fact one scarcely ever\nsees them apart. The fair, southern city of the sea was not behind other\nmodern cities in luxury and self-aggrandisement, and there were certain\nmembers of the population who made it their business to show all they\nwere worth in their domestic and home surroundings. One of the most\nflagrant money-exhibitors of this kind was a certain Jew named David\nJost. Jost was the sole proprietor of the most influential newspaper\nin the kingdom, and the largest shareholder in three other newspaper\ncompanies, all apparently differing in party views, but all in reality\nworking into the same hands, and for the same ends. Jost and his\ncompanies virtually governed the Press; and what was euphoniously termed\n\u2018public opinion\u2019 was the opinion of Jost. Should anything by chance\nhappen to get into his own special journal, or into any of the other\njournals connected with Jost, which Jost did not approve of, or which\nmight be damaging to Jost\u2019s social or financial interests, the editor\nin charge was severely censured; if the fault occurred again he was\npromptly dismissed. \u2018Public opinion\u2019 had to be formed on Jost\u2019s humour;\notherwise it was no opinion at all. A few other newspapers led a\nprecarious existence in offering a daily feeble opposition to Jost; but\nthey had not cash enough to carry on the quarrel. Jost secured all the\nadvertisers, and as a natural consequence of this, could well afford\nto be the \u2018voice of the people\u2019 ad libitum. He was immensely wealthy,\nopenly vicious, and utterly unscrupulous; and made brilliant speculative\n\u2018deals\u2019 in the unsuspecting natures of those who were led, by that bland\nand cheery demeanour which is generally associated with a large paunch,\nto consider him a \u2018good fellow\u2019 with his \u2018heart in the right place.\u2019\nWith regard to this last assertion, it may be doubted whether he had a\nheart at all, in any place, right or wrong. He was certainly not given\nto sentiment. He had married for money, and his wife had died in a\nmad-house. He was now anxious to marry again for position; and\nwhile looking round the market for a sufficiently perfect person of\nhigh-breeding, he patronized the theatre largely, and \u2018protected\u2019\nseveral ballet-girls and actresses. Everyone knew that his life was\nblack with villainy and intrigue of the most shameless kind, yet\neveryone swore that he was a good man. Such is the value of a limitless\nmoney-bag!\n\nIt was very late in the evening of the day following that on which the\nKing had paid his unexpected visit to The Islands,--and David Jost had\njust returned from a comic opera-house, where he had supped in private\nwith two or three painted heroines of the footlights. He was in an\nexcellent humour with himself. He had sprung a mine on the public; and\na carefully-concocted rumour of war with a foreign power had sent up\ncertain stocks and shares in which he had considerable interest. He\nsmiled, as he thought of the general uneasiness he was creating by a\nfew headlines in his newspaper; and he enjoyed to the full the tranquil\nsense of having flung a bone of discord between two nations, in order to\nwatch them from his arm-chair fighting like dogs for it tooth and claw,\ntill one or the other gave in.\n\n\u201cLutera will have to thank me for this,\u201d he said to himself; \u201cAnd he\nwill owe me both a place and a title!\u201d\n\nHe sat down at his desk in his warm and luxuriously-furnished\nstudy,--turned over a few letters, and then glanced up at the clock. Its\nhands pointed to within a few minutes of midnight. Taking up a copy of\nhis own newspaper, he frowned slightly, as he saw that a certain leading\narticle in favour of the Jesuit settlement in the country had not\nappeared.\n\n\u201cCrowded out, I suppose, for want of space,\u201d he said; \u201cI must see that\nit goes in to-morrow. These Jesuits know a thing or two; and they are\nnot going to plank down a thousand pounds for nothing. They have paid\nfor their advertisement, and they must have it. They ought to have had\nit to-day. Lutera must warn the King that it will not do to offend the\nChurch. There\u2019s a lot of loose cash lying idle in the Vatican,--we may\nas well have some of it! His Majesty has acted most unwisely in refusing\nto grant the religious Orders the land they want. He must be persuaded\nto yield it to them by degrees,--in exchange of course for plenty of\ncash down, without loss of dignity!\u201d\n\nAt that moment the door-bell rang softly, as if it were pulled with\nextreme caution. A servant answered it, and at once came to his master\u2019s\nroom.\n\n\u201cA gentleman to see you, sir, on business,\u201d he said.\n\nJost looked up.\n\n\u201cOn business? At this time of night? Say I cannot see him--tell him to\ncome again to-morrow!\u201d\n\nThe servant withdrew, only to return again with a more urgent statement.\n\n\u201cThe gentleman says he must see you, sir; he comes from the Premier.\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom the Premier?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir; his business is urgent, he says, and private. He sent in his\ncard, sir.\u201d\n\nHere he handed over the card in question, a small, unobtrusive bit of\npasteboard, laid in solitary grandeur on a very large silver salver.\n\nDavid Jost took it up, and scanned it with some curiosity. \u201c\u2018Pasquin\nLeroy\u2019! H\u2019m! Don\u2019t know the name at all. \u2018Urgent business; bear\nprivate credentials from the Marquis de Lutera\u2019!\u201d He paused again,\nconsidering,--then turned to the waiting attendant. \u201cShow him in.\u201d.\n\n\u201cYes, sir!\u201d\n\nAnother moment and Pasquin Leroy entered,--but it was an altogether\ndifferent Pasquin Leroy to the one that had recently enrolled himself\nas an associate of Sergius Thord\u2019s Revolutionary Committee. _That_\nparticular Pasquin had seemed somewhat of a dreamer and a visionary,\nwith a peculiar and striking resemblance to the King; _this_ Pasquin\nLeroy had all the alertness and sharpness common to a practised\njournalist, press-reporter or commercial traveller. Moreover, his\ncountenance, adorned with a black mustache, and small pointed beard,\nwore a cold and concentrated air of business--and he confronted the Jew\nmillionaire without the slightest embarrassment or apology for having\nbroken in upon his seclusion at so unseasonable an hour. He used a\npince-nez, and was constantly putting it to his eyes, as though troubled\nwith short-sightedness.\n\n\u201cI presume your matter cannot wait, sir,\u201d said Jost, surveying him\ncoolly, without rising from his seat,--\u201cbut if it can--\u201d\n\n\u201cIt cannot!\u201d returned Leroy, bluntly.\n\nJost stared.\n\n\u201cSo! You come from the Marquis de Lutera?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour credentials?\u201d\n\nLeroy stepped close up to him, and with a sudden movement, which was\nsomewhat startling, held up his right hand.\n\n\u201cThis signet is, I believe, familiar to you,--and it will be enough to\nprove that I come on confidential business which cannot be trusted to\nwriting!\u201d\n\nJost gazed at the flashing sapphire on the stranger\u2019s hand with a sense\nof deadly apprehension. He recognised the Premier\u2019s ring well enough;\nand he also knew that it would never have been sent to him in this\nmysterious way unless the matter in question was almost too desperate\nfor whispering within four walls. An uneasy sensation affected him;\nhe pulled at his collar, looked round the room as though in search of\ninspiration, and then finally bringing his small, swine-like eyes to\nbear on the neat soldierly figure before him, he said with a careless\nair:\n\n\u201cYou probably bring news for the Press affecting the present policy?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat remains to be seen!\u201d replied Leroy imperturbably; \u201cFrom a\nperfectly impartial standpoint, I should imagine that the present policy\nmay have to alter considerably!\u201d\n\nJost recoiled.\n\n\u201cImpossible! It cannot be altered!\u201d he said roughly,--then suddenly\nrecollecting himself, he assumed his usual indolent equanimity, and\nrising slowly, went to a side door in the room and threw it open.\n\n\u201cStep in here,\u201d he said; \u201cWe can talk without fear of interruption. Will\nyou smoke?\u201d\n\n\u201cWith pleasure!\u201d replied Leroy, accepting a cigar from the case Jost\nextended--then glancing with a slight smile at the broad, squat Jewish\ncountenance which had, in the last couple of minutes, lost something of\nits habitual redness, he added--\u201cI am glad you are disposed to discuss\nmatters with me in a friendly, as well as in a confidential way. It is\npossible my news may not be altogether agreeable to you;--but of course\nyou would be more willing to suffer personally, than to jeopardise the\nhonour of Ministers.\u201d\n\nHe uttered the last sentence more as a question than a statement.\n\nJost shifted one foot against the other uneasily.\n\n\u201cI am not so sure of that,\u201d he said after a pause, during which he had\ndrawn himself up, and had endeavoured to look conscientious; \u201cYou see I\nhave the public to consider! Ministers may fall; statesmen may be thrown\nout of office; but the Press is the same yesterday, to-day, and for\never!\u201d\n\n\u201cExcept when a great Editor changes his opinions,\u201d said Leroy\ntranquilly,--\u201cWhich is, of course, always a point of reason\nand conscience, as well as of--advantage! In the present case I\nthink--but--shall we not enter the sanctum of which you have so\nobligingly opened the door? We can scarcely be too private when the\nKing\u2019s name is in question!\u201d\n\nJost opened his furtive eyes in amazement.\n\n\u201cThe King? What the devil has he to do with anything but his women and\nhis amusements?\u201d\n\nA very close observer might have seen a curious expression flicker over\nPasquin Leroy\u2019s face at these words,--an expression half of laughter,\nhalf of scorn,--but it was slight and evanescent, and his reply was\nfrigidly courteous.\n\n\u201cI really cannot inform you; but I am afraid his Majesty is departing\nsomewhat from his customary routine! He is, in fact, taking an active,\ninstead of a passive part in national affairs.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen he must be warned off the ground!\u201d said Jost irritably; \u201cHe is a\nConstitutional monarch, and must obey the laws of the Constitution.\u201d\n\n\u201cPrecisely!\u201d And Leroy looked carefully at the end of his cigar; \u201cBut at\npresent he appears to have an idea that the laws of the Constitution are\nbeing tampered with by certain other kings;--for example,--the kings of\nfinance!\u201d\n\nJost muttered a half-inaudible oath.\n\n\u201cCome this way,\u201d he said impatiently;--\u201cBad news is best soon over!\u201d\n\nLeroy gave a careless nod of acquiescence,--then glancing round the\nroom, up at the clock, and down again to Jost\u2019s desk, strewn with\nletters and documents of every description, he smiled a little to\nhimself, and followed the all-powerful editor into the smaller adjoining\napartment. The door closed behind them both, and Jost turned the key in\nthe lock from within.\n\nFor a long time all was very silent. Jost\u2019s valet and confidential\nservant, sleepy and tired, waited in the hall to let his master\u2019s\nvisitor out,--and hearing no sound, ventured to look into the study now\nand then,--but to no purpose. He knew the sanctity of that inner chamber\nbeyond; he knew that when the Premier came to see the great Jost,--as\nhe often did,--it was in that mysterious further room that business was\ntransacted, and that it was as much as his place was worth to venture\neven to knock at the door. So, yawning heavily, he dozed on his bench\nin the hall,--woke with a start and dozed again,--while the clock slowly\nticked away the minutes till with a dull clang the hour struck One. Then\non again went the steady and wearisome tick-tick of the pendulum, for a\nquarter of an hour, half an hour,--and three-quarters,--till the\nutterly fatigued valet was about to knock down a few walking-sticks and\numbrellas, and make a general noise of reminder to his master as to how\nthe time was going, when, to his great relief, he heard the inner door\nopen at last, and the voice of the mysterious visitor ring out in clear,\nprecise accents.\n\n\u201cNothing will be done publicly, of course,--unless Parliament insists on\nan enquiry!\u201d The speaker came towards the hall, and the valet sprang up\nfrom his bench, and stood ready to show the stranger out.\n\nJost replied, and his accents were thick and unsteady.\n\n\u201cEnquiry cannot be forced! The Marquis himself can burk any such\nattempt.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut--if the King should insist?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe would be breaking all the rules of custom and precedent,\u201d said\nJost,--\u201cAnd he would deserve to be dethroned!\u201d\n\nPasquin Leroy laughed.\n\n\u201cTrue! Good-night, Mr. Jost! Can I do anything for you in Moscow?\u201d The\ntwo men now came into the full light shed by the great lamp in the hall.\nJost looked darkly red in the face--almost apoplectic; Leroy was as\ncool, imperturbable and easy of manner as a practised detective or\nprofessional spy.\n\n\u201cIn Moscow,\u201d Jost repeated--\u201cYou are going straight to Russia?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think so.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose you are in the secret service?\u201d\n\n\u201cExactly! A curious line of business, too, which the outside world knows\nvery little of. Ah!--if the excellent people--the masses as we\ncall them--knew what rogues had the ruling of their affairs in some\ncountries--not in this country, of course!\u201d he added with a quizzical\nsmile,--\u201cbut in some others, not very far away, I wonder how many\nrevolutions would break out within six months! Good-night, Mr. Jost!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-night!\u201d responded Jost briefly. \u201cYou will let me know any further\ndevelopments?\u201d\n\n\u201cMost assuredly!\u201d\n\nThe servant opened the door, and Pasquin Leroy slipped a gold coin worth\na sovereign into his hand, whereupon, of course, the worthy domestic\nconsidered him to be a \u2018real gentleman.\u2019 As soon as he had passed into\nthe street, and the door was shut and barred for the night, Jost bade\nhis man go to bed, a command which was gladly obeyed; and re-entering\nhis study, passed all the time till the breaking of dawn in\nrummaging out letters and documents from various desks, drawers and\ndespatch-boxes, and burning them carefully one by one in the open grate.\nWhile thus employed, he had a truly villainous aspect,--each flame he\nkindled with each paper seemed to show up a more unpleasing expression\non his countenance, till at last,--when such matter was destroyed as he\nhad at present determined on,--he drew himself up and stood for a moment\nsurveying the pile of light black ashes, which was all that was left of\nabout a hundred or more incriminating paper witnesses to certain matters\nin which he had more than a lawful interest.\n\n\u201cIt will be difficult now to trace my hand in the scheme!\u201d he said\nto himself, frowning heavily, as he considered various uncomfortable\ncontingencies arising out of his conversation with his late visitor.\n\u201cIf the thunderbolt falls, it will crush Carl P\u00e9rousse--not me. Yes! It\nmeans ruin for him--ruin and disgrace--but for me--well! I shall find\nit as easy to damn P\u00e9rousse as it has been to support him, for he cannot\ninvolve me without adding tenfold to his own disaster! I think it will\nbe safe enough for me--possibly not so safe for the Premier. However,\nI will write to him to-morrow, just to let him know I received his\nmessenger.\u201d\n\nIn the meantime, while David Jost was thus cogitating unpleasant and\neven dangerous possibilities, which were perhaps on the eve of occurring\nto himself and certain of his associates in politics and journalism,\nPasquin Leroy was hurrying along the city streets under the light of\na clear, though pallid and waning moon. Few wanderers were abroad;\nthe police walked their various rounds, and one or two miserable women\npassed him, like flying ghosts in the thin air of night. His mind was\nin a turmoil of agitation; and the thoughts that were tossing rapidly\nthrough his brain one upon the other, were such as he had never known\nbefore. He had fathomed a depth of rascality and deception, which but a\nshort month ago, he could scarcely have believed capable of existence.\nThe cruel injury and loss preparing for thousands of innocent\npersons through the self-interested plotting of a few men, was almost\nincalculable,--and his blood burned with passionate indignation as he\nrealized on what a verge of misery, bloodshed, disaster and crime the\nunthinking people of the country stood, pushed to the very edge of a\nfall by the shameless and unscrupulous designs of a few financiers,\nplaying their gambling game with the public confidence,--and cheating\nnations as callously as they would have cheated their partners at cards.\n\n\u201cThank God, it is not too late!\u201d he murmured; \u201cNot quite too late to\nsave the situation!--to rescue the people from long years of undeserved\ntaxation, loss of trade and general distress! It is a supreme task that\nhas been given me to accomplish!--but if there is any truth and right\nin the laws of the Universe, I shall surely not be misjudged while\naccomplishing it!\u201d\n\nHe quickened his pace;--and to avoid going up one of the longer\nthoroughfares which led to the citadel and palace, he decided to cross\none of the many picturesque bridges, arched over certain inlets from the\nsea, and forming canals, where barges and other vessels might be towed\nup to the very doors of the warehouses which received their cargoes.\nBut just as he was about to turn in the necessary direction, he halted\nabruptly at sight of two men, standing at the first corner in the way\nof his advance, talking earnestly. He recognized them at once as Sergius\nThord and the half-inebriated poet, Paul Zouche. With noiseless step\nhe moved cautiously into the broad stretch of black shadow cast by the\ngreat fa\u00e7ade of a block of buildings which occupied half the length of\nthe street in which he stood, and so managing to slip into the denser\ndarkness of a doorway, was able to hear what they were saying. The full,\nmellow, and persuasive tone of Thord\u2019s voice had something in it of\nreproach.\n\n\u201cYou shame yourself, Zouche!\u201d he said; \u201cYou shame me; you shame us all!\nMan, did God put a light of Genius in your soul merely to be quenched by\nthe cravings of a bestial body? What associate are you for us? How can\nyou help us in the fulfilment of our ideal dream? By day you mingle with\nlitterateurs, scientists, and philosophers,--report has it that you have\neven managed to stumble your way into my lady\u2019s boudoir;--but by night\nyou wander like this,--insensate, furious, warped in soul, muddled\nin brain, and only the heart of you alive,--the poor unsatisfied\nheart--hungering and crying for what itself makes impossible!\u201d\n\nZouche broke into a harsh laugh. Turning up his head to the sky, he\nthrust back his wild hair, and showed his thin eager face and glittering\neyes, outlined cameo-like by the paling radiance of the moon.\n\n\u201cWell spoken, my Sergius!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cYou always speak well! Your\nthoughts are of flame--your speech is of gold; the fire melts the\nore! And then again you have a conscience! That is a strange\npossession!--quite useless in these days, like the remains of the tail\nwe had when we were all happy apes in the primeval forest, pelting the\nMegatherium or other such remarkable beasts with cocoanuts! It was a\nmuch better life, Sergius, believe me! A Conscience is merely a mental\nAppendicitis! There should be a psychical surgeon with an airy lancet to\ncut it out. Not for me!--I was born perfect--without it!\u201d\n\nHe laughed again, then with an abrupt change of manner he caught Thord\nviolently by the arm.\n\n\u201cHow can you speak of shame?\u201d he said--\u201cWhat shame is left in either\nman or woman nowadays? Naked to the very skin of foulness, they flaunt\na nudity of vice in every public thoroughfare! Your sentiments, my grand\nSergius, are those of an old world long passed away! You are a reformer,\na lover of truth--a hater of shams--and in the days when the people\nloved truth,--and wanted justice,--and fought for both, you would have\nbeen great! But greatness is nowadays judged as \u2018madness\u2019--truth as\n\u2018want of tact\u2019--desire for justice is \u2018clamour for notoriety.\u2019 Shame?\nThere is no shame in anything, Sergius, but honesty! That is a disgrace\nto the century; for an honest man is always poor, and poverty is the\nworst of crimes.\u201d He threw up his arms with a wild gesture,--\u201cThe worst\nof crimes! Do I not know it!\u201d\n\nThord took him gently by the shoulder.\n\n\u201cYou talk, Zouche, as you always talk, at random, scarcely knowing, and\ncertainly not half meaning what you say. There is no real reason in your\nrages against fate and fortune. Leave the accursed drink, and you may\nstill win the prize you covet--Fame.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot I!\u201d said Zouche scornfully,--\u201cFame in its original sense belonged\nalso to the growing-time of the world--when, proud of youth and the\nglow of life, the full-fledged man judged himself immortal. Fame now is\nadjudged to the biped-machine who drives a motor-car best,--or to the\nfortunate soap-boiler who dines with a king! Poetry is understood to be\nthe useful rhyme which announces the virtues of pills and boot-blacking!\nMark you, Sergius!--my latest volume was \u2018graciously accepted by the\nKing\u2019! Do you know what that means?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Thord, a trifle coldly; \u201cAnd if it were not that I know\nyour strange vagaries, I should say you wronged your election as one of\nus, to send any of your work to a crowned fool!\u201d\n\nZouche laughed discordantly.\n\n\u201cYou would? No, you would not, my Sergius, if you knew the spirit in\nwhich I sent it! A spirit as wild, as reckless, as ranting, as defiant\nas ever devil indulged in! The humility of my presentation letter to his\nMajesty was beautiful! The reply of the flunkey-secretary was equally\nbeautiful in smug courtesy: \u2018Sir, I am commanded by the King to thank\nyou for the book of poems you have kindly sent for his acceptance!\u2019 I\nsay again, Thord, do you know what it means?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I only wish that instead of talking here, you would let me see you\nsafely home.\u201d\n\n\u201cHome! I have no home! Since _she_ died--\u201d He paused, and a grey shadow\ncrossed his face like the hue of approaching sickness or death.\n\u201cI killed her, poor child! Of course you know that! I neglected\nher,--deserted her--left her to die! Well! She is only one more added\nto the list of countless women martyrs who have been tortured out of an\nunjust world--and now--now I write verses to her memory!\u201d He shivered as\nwith cold, still clinging to Thord\u2019s arm. \u201cBut I did not tell you what\ngreat good comes of sending a book to the King! It means less to a\nwriter than to a boot-maker. For the boot-maker can put up a sign:\n\u2018Special Fitter for the ease of His Majesty\u2019s Corns\u2019--but if a poet\nshould say his verse is \u2018accepted\u2019 by a monarch, the shrewd public take\nit at once to be bad verse, and will have none of it! That is the case\nwith my book to-day!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did you send it?\u201d asked Thord, with grave patience. \u201cYour business\nwith kings is to warn, not to flatter!\u201d\n\n\u201cJust so!\u201d cried Zouche; \u201cAnd if His Most Gracious and Glorious had been\npleased to look inside the volume, he would have seen enough to startle\nhim! It was sent in hate, my Sergius,--not in humility,--just as the\nflunkey-secretary\u2019s answer was penned in derision, aping courtesy! How\nyou look, under this wan sky of night! Reproachful, yet pitying, as the\neyes of Buddha are your eyes, my Sergius! You are a fine fellow--your\nbrain is a dome decorated with glorious ideals!--and yet you are like\nall of us, weak in one point, as Achilles in the heel. One thing could\nturn you from man into beast--and that would be if Lotys loved--not\nyou--she never will love you--but another!\u201d--Thord started back as\nthough suddenly stabbed, and angrily shook off his companion, who only\nlaughed again,--a shrill, echoing laugh in which there was a note of\nmadness and desolation. \u201cBah!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cYou are a fool after all!\nYou work for a woman as I did--once! But mark you!--do not kill her--as\nI did--once! Be patient! Watch the light shine, even though it does not\nillumine your path; be glad that the rose blooms for itself, if not for\nyou! It will be difficult!--meanwhile you can live on hope--a bitter\nfruit to eat; but gnaw it to the last rind, my Sergius! Hope that Lotys\nmay melt in your fire, as a snowflake in the sun! Come! Now take the\npoor poet home,--the drunken child of inspiration--take him home to his\ngarret in the slums--the poet whose book has been accepted by the King!\u201d\n\nPulling himself up from his semi-crouching position, he seized Thord\u2019s\narm again more tightly, and began to walk along unsteadily. Presently he\npaused, smiling vacantly up at the gradually vanishing stars.\n\n\u201cLotys speaks to our followers on Saturday,\u201d he said; \u201cYou know that?\u201d\n\nThord bent his head in acquiescence.\n\n\u201cYou will be there, of course. I shall be there! What a voice she has!\nWhether we believe what she says or not, we must hear,--and hearing, we\nmust follow. Where shall we drink in the sweet Oracle this time?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt the People\u2019s Assembly Rooms,\u201d responded Thord; \u201cBut remember,\nZouche, she does not speak till nine o\u2019clock. That means that you will\nbe unfit to listen!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think so?\u201d responded Zouche airily, and leaning on Thord he\nstumbled onward, the two passing close in front of the doorway where\nPasquin Leroy stood concealed. \u201cBut I am more ready to understand wisdom\nwhen drunk, than when sober, my Sergius! You do not understand. I am\na human eccentricity--the result of an _amour_ between a fiend and an\nangel! Believe me! I will listen to Lotys with all my devil-saintly\nsoul,--you will listen to her with all your loving, longing heart--and\nwith us two thus attentive, the opinions of the rest of the audience\nwill scarcely matter! How the street reels! How the old moon dances! So\ndid she whirl pallidly when Antony clasped his Egyptian Queen, and lost\nActium! Remember the fate of Antony, Sergius! Kingdoms would have been\nseized and controlled by men such as you are, long before now--if there\nhad not always been a woman in the case--a Cleopatra--or a Lotys!\u201d\n\nStill laughing foolishly, he reeled onwards, Sergius Thord\nhalf-supporting, half-leading him, with grave carefulness and brotherly\ncompassion. They were soon out of sight; and Pasquin Leroy, leaving his\ndark hiding-place, crossed the bridge with an alert step, and mounted a\nsteep street leading to the citadel. From gaps between the tall leaning\nhouses a glimpse of the sea, silvered by the dying moonlight, flashed\nnow and again; and in the silence of the night the low ripple of small\nwaves against the breakwater could be distinctly heard. A sense of\nholy calm impressed him as he paused a moment; and the words of an old\nmonkish verse came back to him from some far-off depth of memory:\n\n  Lord Christ, I would my soul were clear as air,\n  With only Thy pure radiance falling through!\n\nHe caught his breath hard--there was a smarting sense as of tears in his\neyes.\n\n\u201cSo proudly throned, and so unloved!\u201d he muttered. \u201cYet,--has not the\nmisprisal and miscomprehension been merited? Whose is the blame? Not\nwith the People, who, despite the prophet\u2019s warning, \u2018still put their\ntrust in princes\u2019--but with the falsity and hollowness of the system!\nSovereignty is like an old ship stuck fast in the docks, and unfit\nfor sailing the wide seas--crusted with barnacles of custom and\nprejudice,--and in every gale of wind pulling and straining at a rusty\nchain anchor. But the spirit of Change is in the world; a hurrying\nmovement that has wings of fire, and might possibly be called\nRevolution! It is better that the torch should be lighted from the\nThrone than from the slums!\u201d\n\nHe went on his way quickly,--till reaching the outer wall of the\ncitadel, he was challenged by a sentinel, to whom he gave the password\nin a low tone. The man drew back, satisfied, and Leroy went on, mounting\nfrom point to point of the cliff, till he reached a private gate leading\ninto the wide park-lands which skirted the King\u2019s palace. Here stood a\nmuffled and cloaked figure evidently watching for him; for as soon as\nhe appeared the gate was noiselessly opened for his admittance, and he\npassed in at once. Then he and the person who had awaited his coming,\nwalked together through the scented woods of pine and rhododendrons, and\ntalking in low and confidential voices, slowly disappeared.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE KING\u2019S VETO\n\n\nThe Marquis de Lutera was a heavy sleeper, and for some time had been\ngrowing stouter than was advisable for the dignity of a Prime Minister.\nHe had been defeated of late years in one or two important measures;\nand his colleague, Carl P\u00e9rousse, had by gradual degrees succeeded in\nworming himself into such close connection with the rest of the members\nof the Cabinet, that he, Lutera, felt himself being edged out, not only\nfrom political \u2018deals,\u2019 but from the profits appertaining thereto. So,\ngrowing somewhat indifferent, as well as disgusted at the course affairs\nwere taking, he had made up his mind to retire from office, as soon as\nhe had carried through a certain Bill which, in its results, would have\nthe effect of crippling the people of the country, while helping on his\nown interests to a considerable degree. At the immediate moment he had\na chance of looming large on the political horizon. Carl P\u00e9rousse could\nnot do anything of very great importance without him; they were both\ntoo deeply involved together in the same schemes. In point of fact, if\nP\u00e9rousse could bring the Premier to a fall, the Premier could do the\nsame by P\u00e9rousse. The two depended on each other; and Lutera, conscious\nthat if P\u00e9rousse gained any fresh accession of power, it would be to\nhis, Lutera\u2019s, advantage, was gradually preparing to gracefully resign\nhis position in the younger and more ambitious man\u2019s favour. But he was\nnot altogether comfortable in his mind since his last interview with the\nKing. The King had shown unusual signs of self-will and obstinacy.\nHe had presumed to give a command affecting the national policy; and,\nmoreover, he had threatened, if his command were not obeyed, to address\nParliament himself on the subject in hand, from the Throne. Such an\nunaccustomed, unconstitutional idea was very upsetting to the Premier\u2019s\nmind. It had cost him a sleepless night; and when he woke to a new day\u2019s\nwork, he was in an extremely irritable humour. He was doubtful how to\nact;--for to complain of the King would not do; and to enlighten the\nmembers of the Cabinet as to his Majesty\u2019s declared determination to\ndispose amicably of certain difficulties with a foreign power, which\nthe Ministry had fully purposed fanning up into a flame of war, might\npossibly awaken a storm of dissension and discussion.\n\n\u201cWe all want money!\u201d said the Marquis gloomily, as he rose from his\ntumbled bed to take his first breakfast, and read his early morning\nletters--\u201cAnd to crush a small and insolent race, whose country is rich\nin mineral product, is simply the act of squeezing an orange for\nthe necessary juice. Life would be lost, of course, but we are\nover-populated; and a good war would rid the country of many scamps\nand vagabonds. Widows and orphans could be provided for by national\nsubscriptions, invested as the Ministry think fit, and paid to\napplicants after about twenty years\u2019 waiting!\u201d He smiled sardonically.\n\u201cThe gain to ourselves would be incalculable; new wealth, new schemes,\nnew openings for commerce and speculation in every way! And now the King\nsets himself up as an obstacle to progress! If he were fond of money, we\ncould explain the whole big combine, and offer him a share;--but with\na character such as he possesses, I doubt if it would work! With some\nmonarchs whom I could name, it would be perfectly easy. And yet,--for\nthe three years he has been on the throne, he has been passive\nenough,--asking no questions,--signing such documents as he has been\ntold to sign,--uttering such speeches as have been written for him,--and\nI was never more shocked and taken aback in my life than yesterday\nmorning, when he declared he had decided to think and act for himself!\nSimply preposterous! An ordinary man who presumes to think and act for\nhimself is always a danger to the community--but a king! Good Heavens!\nWe should have the old feudal system back again.\u201d\n\nHe sipped his coffee leisurely, and opened a few letters; there were\nnone of very pressing importance. He was just about to glance through\nthe morning\u2019s newspaper, when his man-servant entered bearing a note\nmarked \u2018Private and Immediate.\u2019 He recognized the handwriting of David\nJost.\n\n\u201cAnyone waiting for an answer?\u201d he enquired.\n\n\u201cNo, Excellency.\u201d\n\nThe man retired. The Marquis broke the large splotchy seal bearing the\ncoat-of-arms which Jost affected, but to which he had no more right than\nthe man in the moon, and read what seemed to him more inexplicable than\nthe most confusing conundrum ever invented.\n\n\u201cMY DEAR MARQUIS,--I received your confidential messenger last night,\nand explained the entire situation. He left for Moscow this morning, but\nwill warn us of any further developments. Sorry matters look so grave\nfor you. Should like a few minutes private chat when you can spare the\ntime.--\n\n\u201cYours truly, DAVID JOST.\u201d\n\nOver and over again the Marquis read this brief note, staring at its\nevery word and utterly unable to understand its meaning.\n\n\u201cWhat in the world is the fellow driving at!\u201d he exclaimed angrily--\u201c\u2018My\nmessenger\u2019! \u2018Explained the entire situation\u2019! The devil! \u2018Left for\nMoscow\u2019! Upon my soul, this is maddening!\u201d And he rang the bell sharply.\n\n\u201cWho brought this note?\u201d he asked, as his servant entered.\n\n\u201cMr. Jost\u2019s own man, Excellency.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas he gone?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Excellency.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait!\u201d And sitting down he wrote hastily the following lines:\n\n\u201cDEAR SIR,--Your letter is inexplicable. I sent no messenger to you last\nnight. If you have any explanation to offer, I shall be disengaged and\nalone till 11.30 this morning.\n\n\u201cYours truly,--DE LUTERA.\u201d\n\nFolding, sealing, and addressing this, he marked it \u2018Private\u2019 and gave\nit to his man.\n\n\u201cTake this yourself,\u201d he said, \u201cand put it into Mr. Jost\u2019s own hands.\nTrust no one to deliver it. Ask to see him personally, and then give it\nto him. You understand?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Excellency.\u201d\n\nHis note thus despatched, the Marquis threw himself down in his\narm-chair, and again read Jost\u2019s mysterious communication.\n\n\u201cWhatever messenger has passed himself off as coming from me, Jost must\nhave been crazy to receive him without credentials,\u201d he said. \u201cThere\nmust be a mistake somewhere!\u201d\n\nA vague alarm troubled him; he was not moved by conscientious scruples,\nbut the idea that any of his secret moves should be \u2018explained\u2019 to a\nstranger was, to say the least of it, annoying, and not conducive to\nthe tranquillity of his mind. A thousand awkward possibilities suggested\nthemselves at once to his brain, and as he carried a somewhat excitable\ndisposition under his heavy and phlegmatic exterior, he fumed and\nfretted himself for the next half hour into an impatience which only\nfound vent in the prosaic and everyday performance of dressing himself.\nAh!--if those who consider a Prime Minister great and exalted, could\nonly see him as he pulls on his trousers, and fastens his shirt collar,\nwhat a disillusion would be promptly effected! Especially if, like\nthe Marquis de Lutera, he happened to be over-stout, and difficult to\nclothe! This particular example of Premiership was an ungainly man; his\nproud position could not make him handsome, nor lend true dignity to his\ndeportment. Old Mother Nature has a way of marking her specimens, if we\nwill learn to recognize the signs she sets on certain particular \u2018makes\u2019\nof man. The Marquis de Lutera was \u2018made\u2019 to be a stock-jobber, not a\nstatesman. His bent was towards the material gain and good of himself,\nmore than the advantage of his country. His reasoning was a slight\nvariation of Falstaff\u2019s logical misprisal of honour. He argued; \u201cIf I\nam poor, then what is it to me that others are rich? If I am neglected,\nwhat do I care that the people are prosperous? Let me but secure and\nkeep those certain millions of money which shall ensure to me and my\nheritage a handsome endowment, not only for my life, but for all\nlives connected with mine which come after me,--and my \u2018patriotism\u2019 is\nsatisfied!\u201d\n\nHe had just finished insinuating himself by degrees into his morning\ncoat, when his servant entered.\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d he asked impatiently.\n\n\u201cMr. Jost is coming round at once, Excellency. He ordered his carriage\ndirectly he read your note.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe sent no answer?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone, Excellency.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen he arrives, show him into the library.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Excellency.\u201d\n\nThe Marquis thereupon left his sleeping apartment, and descended to the\nlibrary himself. The sun was streaming brilliantly into the room, and\nthe windows, thrown wide open, showed a cheerful display of lawn and\nflower-garden, filled with palms and other semi-tropical shrubs, for\nthough the Premier\u2019s house was in the centre of the fashionable quarter\nof the city, it had the advantage of extensive and well-shaded grounds.\nA law had been passed in the late King\u2019s time against the felling of\ntrees, it having been scientifically proved that trees in a certain\nquantity, not only purify the air from disease germs affecting the human\norganization, but also save the crops from many noxious insect-pests and\npoisonous fungi. Having learned the lesson at last, that the Almighty\nmay be trusted to know His own business, and that trees are intended for\nwider purposes than mere timber, the regulations were strict concerning\nthem. No one could fell a tree on his own ground without, first of all,\nmaking a statement at the National Office of Aboriculture as to\nthe causes for its removal; and only if these causes were found\nsatisfactory, could a stamped permission be obtained for cutting it down\nor \u2018lifting\u2019 it to other ground. The result of this sensible regulation\nwas that in the hottest days of summer the city was kept cool and shady\nby the rich foliage branching out everywhere, and in some parts running\ninto broad avenues and groves of great thickness and beauty. The Marquis\nde Lutera\u2019s garden had an additional charm in a beautiful alley of\norange trees, and the fragrance wafted into his room from the delicious\nblossoms would have refreshed and charmed anyone less troubled, worried\nand feverish, than he was at the time. But this morning the very\nsunshine annoyed him;--never a great lover of Nature, the trees and\nflowers forming the outlook on which his heavy eyes rested were almost\nan affront. The tranquil beauty of an ever renewed and renewing\nNature is always particularly offensive to an uneasy conscience and an\nexhausted mind.\n\nThe sound of wheels grinding along the outer drive brought a faint gleam\nof satisfaction on his brooding features, and he turned sharply\nround, as the door of the library was thrown open to admit Jost, whose\nappearance, despite his jaunty manner, betokened evident confusion and\nalarm.\n\n\u201cGood-morning, Mr. Jost!\u201d said the Marquis stiffly, as his confidential\nman ushered in the visitor,--then when the servant had retired and\nclosed the door, he added quickly--\u201cNow what does this mean?\u201d\n\nJost dropped into a chair, and pulling out a handkerchief wiped the\nperspiration from his brow.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know!\u201d he said helplessly; \u201cI don\u2019t know what it means! I have\ntold you the truth! A man came to see me late last night, saying he was\nsent by you on urgent business. He said you wished me to explain the\nposition we held, and the amount of the interests we had at stake, as\nthere were grave discoveries pending, and complexities likely to ensue.\nHe gave his name--there is his card!\u201d\n\nAnd with a semi-groan, he threw down the bit of pasteboard in question.\n\nThe Marquis snatched it up.\n\n\u201c\u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019! I never heard the name in my life,\u201d he said fiercely.\n\u201cJost, you have been done! You mean to tell me you were such a fool as\nto trust an entire stranger with the whole financial plan of campaign,\nand that you were credulous enough to believe that he came from\nme--me--De Lutera,--without any credentials?\u201d\n\n\u201cCredentials!\u201d exclaimed Jost; \u201cDo you suppose I would have received him\nat all had credentials been lacking? Not I! He brought me the most sure\nand confidential sign of your trust that could be produced--your own\nsignet-ring!\u201d\n\nThe Marquis staggered back, as though Jost\u2019s words had been so many\ndirect blows on the chest,--his countenance turned a livid white.\n\n\u201cMy signet-ring!\u201d he repeated,--and almost unconsciously he looked at\nthe hand from which the great jewel was missing; \u201cMy signet!\u201d--Then he\nforced a smile--\u201cJost, I repeat, you have been done!--doubly fooled!--no\none could possibly have obtained my signet,--for at this very moment it\nis on the hand of the King!\u201d\n\nJost rose slowly out of his chair, his eyes protruding out of his head,\nhis jaw almost dropping in the extremity of his amazement.\n\n\u201cThe King!\u201d--he gasped--\u201cThe King!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, man, the King!\u201d repeated De Lutera impatiently,--\u201cOnly yesterday\nmorning his Majesty, having mislaid his own ring for the moment,\nborrowed mine just before starting on his yachting cruise. How you\nstare! You have been fooled!--that is perfectly plain and evident!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King!\u201d repeated Jost stupidly--\u201cThen the man who came to me last\nnight--\u201d He broke off, unable to find any words for the expression of\nthe thoughts which began to terrify him.\n\n\u201cWell!--the man who came to you last night,\u201d echoed the Marquis,--\u201cHe\nwas not the King, I suppose, was he?\u201d And he laughed derisively.\n\n\u201cNo--he was not the King,\u201d said Jost slowly; \u201cI know _him_ well enough!\nBut it might have been someone in the King\u2019s service! For he knew, or\nsaid he knew, the King\u2019s intentions in a certain matter affecting both\nyou and Carl P\u00e9rousse,--and in a more distant way, myself--and warned\nme of a coming change in the policy. Ah!--it is now your turn to stare,\nMarquis! You had best be on your guard, for if the person who came to me\nlast night was not your messenger, he was the King\u2019s spy! And, in that\ncase, we are lost!\u201d\n\nThe Marquis paced the room with long uneven strides,--his mind was\ngreatly agitated, but he had no wish to show his perturbation too openly\nto one whom he considered as a mere tool in his service.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d went on Jost emphatically, \u201cthat the ring he wore was yours! I\nnoticed it particularly while I was talking to him. It would take a long\ntime and exceptional skill to make any imitation of that sapphire. There\nis no doubt that it was your signet!\u201d\n\nThe Premier halted suddenly in his nervous walk.\n\n\u201cYou told him the whole scheme, you say?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd his reply?\u201d\n\n\u201cWas, that the King had discovered it, and proposed insisting on an\nenquiry.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell! Then he warned me to look out for myself,--as anyone connected\nwith Carl P\u00e9rousse\u2019s financial deal would inevitably be ruined during\nthe next few weeks.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is going to work the ruin?\u201d asked the Marquis with a sneer; \u201cDo you\nnot know that if the King dared to give an opinion on a national crisis,\nhe would be dethroned?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are the People--\u201d began Jost.\n\n\u201cThe People! Human emmets--born for crushing under the heel of power!\nA couple of \u2018leaders\u2019 in your paper, Jost, can guide the fool-mob any\nway!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat depends!\u201d said Jost hesitatingly; \u201cIf what the fellow said last\nnight be true--\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not true!\u201d said the Premier authoritatively. \u201cWe are going on\nin precisely the same course as originally arranged. Neither King\nnor People can interfere! Go home, and write an article about love of\ncountry, Jost! You look in the humour for it!\u201d\n\nThe Jew\u2019s expression was anything but amiable.\n\n\u201cWhat is to be done about last night?\u201d he asked sullenly.\n\n\u201cNothing at present. I am going to the palace at two o\u2019clock--I shall\nsee the King, and find out whether my signet is lost, stolen or strayed.\nMeanwhile, keep your own counsel! If you have been betrayed into giving\nyour confidence to a spy in the foreign service, as I imagine--(for the\nKing has never employed a spy, and is not likely to do so), and he makes\nknown his information, it can be officially denied. The official denial\nof a Government, Jost, like charity, has before now covered a multitude\nof sins!\u201d\n\nAn instinctive disinclination for further conversation brought the\ninterview between them abruptly to a close, and Jost, full of a\nsuspicious alarm, which he was ashamed to confess, drove off to his\nnewspaper offices. The Premier, meantime, though harassed by secret\nanxiety, managed to display his usual frigid equanimity, when, after\nJost\u2019s departure, his private secretary arrived at the customary time,\nto transact under his orders the correspondence and business of the day.\nThis secretary, Eug\u00e8ne Silvano by name, was a quiet self-contained young\nman, highly ambitious, and keenly interested in the political situation,\nand, though in the Premier\u2019s service, not altogether of his way of\nthinking. He called the Marquis\u2019s attention now to a letter that\nhad missed careful reading on the previous day. It was from the\nVicar-General of the Society of Jesus, expressing surprise and\nindignation that the King should have refused the Society\u2019s request for\nsuch land as was required to be devoted to religious and educational\npurposes, and begging that the Premier would exert his influence with\nthe monarch to persuade him to withdraw or mitigate his refusal.\n\n\u201cI can do nothing;\u201d said the Marquis irritably,--\u201cthe lands they want\nbelong to the Crown. The King can dispose of them as he thinks best.\u201d\n\nThe secretary set the letter aside.\n\n\u201cShall I reply to that effect?\u201d he enquired.\n\nThe Marquis nodded.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said Silvano presently with a slight hesitation, \u201cthat you\nnever pay any attention to anonymous communications. Otherwise, there is\none here which might merit consideration.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does it concern?\u201d\n\n\u201cA revolutionary meeting,\u201d replied Silvano, \u201cwhere it appears the woman,\nLotys, is to speak.\u201d\n\nThe Premier shrugged his shoulders and smiled. \u201cYou must enlighten me!\nWho is the woman Lotys?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, that no one exactly knows!\u201d replied the secretary. \u201cA\nstrange character, without doubt, but--\u201d He paused and spoke more\nemphatically--\u201cShe has power!\u201d\n\nLutera gave a gesture of irritation.\n\n\u201cBah! Over whom does she exercise it. Over one man or many?\u201d\n\n\u201cOver one half the population at least,\u201d responded Silvano, quietly,\nturning over a few papers without looking up.\n\nThe Marquis stared at him, slightly amused.\n\n\u201cHave you taken statistics of the lady\u2019s followers,\u201d he asked; \u201cAre you\none of them yourself?\u201d\n\nSilvano raised his eyes,--clear dark eyes, deep-set and steady in their\nglance.\n\n\u201cWere I so, I should not be here;\u201d he replied--\u201cBut I know how she\nspeaks; I know what she does! and from a purely political point of view\nI think it unwise to ignore her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is this anonymous communication you speak of?\u201d asked the Premier,\nafter a pause.\n\n\u201cOh, it is brief enough,\u201d answered Silvano unfolding a paper, and he\nread aloud:\n\n\u201cTo the Marquis de Lutera, Premier.\n\n\u201cSatisfy yourself that those who meet on Saturday night where Lotys\nspeaks, have already decided on your downfall!\u201d\n\n\u201cOracular!\u201d said the Marquis carelessly;--\u201cTo decide is one thing--to\nfulfil the decision is another! Lotys, whoever she may be, can preach\nto her heart\u2019s content, for all I care! I am rather surprised, Silvano,\nthat a man of your penetration and intelligence should attach any\nimportance to revolutionary meetings, which are always going on more\nor less in every city under the sun. Why, it was but the other day,\nthe police were sent to disperse a crowd which had gathered round the\nfanatic, Sergius Thord; only the people had sufficient sense to disperse\nthemselves. A street-preacher or woman ranter is like a cheap-jack or\na dispenser of quack medicines;--the mob gathers to such persons out of\ncuriosity, not conviction.\u201d\n\nThe secretary made no reply, and went on with other matters awaiting his\nattention.\n\nAt a few minutes before two o\u2019clock the Marquis entered his carriage,\nand was driven to the palace. There he learned that the King was\nreceiving, more or less unofficially, certain foreign ambassadors and\nnoblemen of repute in the Throne-room. A fine band was playing military\nmusic in the great open quadrangle in front of the palace, where pillars\nof rose-marble, straight as the stems of pine-trees, held up fabulous\nheraldic griffins, clasping between their paws the country\u2019s shield.\nFlags were flying,--fountains flashing,--gay costumes gleamed here and\nthere,--and the atmosphere was full of brilliancy and gaiety,--yet the\nMarquis, on his way to the audience-chamber, was rendered uncomfortably\naware of one of those mysterious impressions which are sometimes\nconveyed to us, we know not how, but which tend to prepare us for\nsurprise and disappointment. Some extra fibre of sensitiveness in his\nnervous organization was acutely touched, for he actually fancied he saw\nslighting and indifferent looks on the faces of the various flunkeys and\nretainers who bowed him along the different passages, or ushered him up\nthe state stairway, when--as a matter of fact,--all was precisely the\nsame as usual, and it was only his own conscience that gave imaginary\nhints of change. Arrived at the ante-chamber to the Throne-room, he was\nsurprised to find Prince Humphry there, talking animatedly to the King\u2019s\nphysician, Professor Von Glauben. The Prince seemed unusually excited;\nhis face was flushed, and his eyes extraordinarily brilliant, and as\nhe saw the Premier, he came forward, extending his hand, and almost\npreventing Lutera\u2019s profound bow and deferential salutation.\n\n\u201cHave you business with the King, Marquis?\u201d enquired the young man\nwith a light laugh. \u201cIf you have, you must do as I am doing,--wait his\nMajesty\u2019s pleasure!\u201d\n\nThe Premier lifted his eyebrows, smiled deprecatingly, and murmuring\nsomething about pressure of State affairs, shook hands with Von Glauben,\nwhose countenance, as usual, presented an impenetrable mask to his\nthoughts.\n\n\u201cIt is rather a new experience for me,\u201d continued the Prince, \u201cto\nbe treated as a kind of petitioner on the King\u2019s favour, and kept in\nattendance,--but no matter!--novelty is always pleasing! I have been\ncooling my heels here for more than an hour. Von Glauben, too, has been\nwaiting;--contrary to custom, he has not even been permitted to enquire\nafter his Majesty\u2019s health this morning!\u201d\n\nLutera maintained his former expression of polite surprise, but said\nnothing. Instinct warned him to be sparing of words lest he should\nbetray his own private anxiety.\n\nThe Prince went on carelessly.\n\n\u201cMajesty takes humours like other men, and must, more than other men, I\nsuppose, be humoured! Yet there is to my mind something unnatural in a\nsystem which causes several human beings to be dependent on another\u2019s\ncaprice!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will not say so, Sir, when you yourself are King,\u201d observed the\nMarquis.\n\n\u201cLong distant be the day!\u201d returned the Prince. \u201cIndeed, I hope it may\nnever be! I would rather be the simplest peasant ploughing the fields,\nand happy in my own way, than suffer the penalties and pains surrounding\nthe possession of a Throne!\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly,\u201d put in Von Glauben sententiously, \u201cyou would have to take into\nconsideration, Sir, whether the peasant ploughing the fields is happy\nin his own way. I have made \u2018the peasant ploughing the fields\u2019 a special\nform of study,--and I have always found him a remarkably discontented,\noften ill-fed--and therefore unhealthy individual.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are all discontented, if it comes to that!\u201d said Prince Humphry with\na light laugh,--\u201cExcept myself! I am perfectly contented!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have reason to be, Sir,\u201d said Lutera, bowing low.\n\n\u201cYou are quite right, Marquis!--I have! More reason than perhaps you are\naware of!\u201d\n\nHis eyes lightened and flashed; he looked unusually handsome, and\nthe Premier\u2019s shifty glance rested on him for a moment with a certain\ncuriosity. But he had not been accustomed to pay very much attention to\nthe words or actions of the Heir-Apparent, considering him to be a very\n\u2018ordinary\u2019 young man, without either the brilliancy or the ambition\nwhich should mark him out as worthy of his exalted station. And before\nany further conversation could take place, Sir Roger de Launay entered\nthe room and announced to the Marquis that the King was ready to receive\nhim. Prince Humphry turning sharply round, faced the equerry.\n\n\u201cI am still to wait?\u201d he enquired, with a slight touch of hauteur.\n\nSir Roger bowed respectfully.\n\n\u201cYour instant desire to see the King, your father, Sir, was communicated\nto his Majesty at once,\u201d he replied. \u201cThe present delay is by his\nMajesty\u2019s own orders. I much regret----\u201d\n\n\u201cRegret nothing, my dear Sir Roger,\u201d he said. \u201cMy patience does not\neasily tire! Marquis, I trust your business will not take long?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall endeavour to make it as brief as possible, Sir,\u201d replied the\nPremier deferentially as he withdrew.\n\nIt was with a certain uneasiness, however, in his mind that he followed\nSir Roger to the Throne-room. There was no possibility of exchanging so\nmuch as a word with the equerry; besides, De Launay was not a talking\nman. Passing between the lines of attendants, pages, lords-in-waiting\nand others, he was conscious of a certain loss of his usual\nself-possession as he found himself at last in the presence of the\nKing,--who, attired in brilliant uniform, was conversing graciously\nand familiarly with a select group of distinguished individuals whose\ncostume betokened them as envoys or visitors from foreign courts in the\ndiplomatic service. Perceiving the Premier, however, he paused in his\nconversation, and standing quite still awaited his approach. Then he\nextended his hand, with his usual kindly condescension. Instinctively\nLutera\u2019s eyes searched that hand, with the expression of a guilty\nsoul searching for a witness to its innocence. There shone the great\nsapphire--his own signet--and to his excited fancy its blue glimmer\nemitted a witch-like glow of menace. Meanwhile the King was speaking.\n\n\u201cYou are just a few minutes late, Marquis!\u201d he said; \u201cHad you come\na little earlier, you would have met M. P\u00e9rousse, who has matters of\nimport to discuss with you.\u201d Here he moved aside from those immediately\nin hearing. \u201cIt is perhaps as well you should know I have \u2018vetoed\u2019\nhis war propositions. It will rest now with you, to call a Council\nto-morrow,--the next day,--or,--when you please!\u201d\n\nCompletely taken aback, the Premier was silent for a moment, biting his\nlips to keep down the torrent of rage and disappointment that threatened\nto break out in violent and unguarded speech.\n\n\u201cSir!--Your Majesty! Pardon me, but surely you cannot fail to understand\nthat in a Constitution like ours, the course decided upon by Ministers\n_cannot_ be vetoed by the King?\u201d\n\nThe monarch smiled gravely.\n\n\u201c\u2018Cannot\u2019 is a weak word, Marquis! I do not include it in my vocabulary!\nI fully grant you that a plan of campaign decided upon by Ministers as\nyou say, has _not_ been \u2018vetoed\u2019 by a reigning sovereign for at least\na couple of centuries,--and the custom has naturally fallen into\ndesuetude,--but if it should be found at any time,--(I do not say it\n_has_ been found) that Ministers are engaged in a seriously mistaken\npolicy, and are being misled by the doubtful propositions of private\nfinancial speculators, so much as to consider their own advantage more\nimportant and valuable than the prosperity of a country or the good of\na people,--then a king who does _not_ veto the same is a worse criminal\nthan those he tacitly supports and encourages!\u201d\n\nLutera turned a deadly white,--his eyes fell before the clear, straight\ngaze of his Sovereign,--but he said not a word.\n\n\u201cA king\u2019s \u2018veto\u2019 has before now brought about a king\u2019s dethronement,\u201d\n went on the monarch; \u201cShould it do so in my case, I shall not greatly\ncare,--but if things trend that way, I shall lay my thoughts openly\nbefore the People for their judgment. They seldom or never hear the\nSovereign whom they pay to keep, speak to them on a matter gravely\naffecting their national destinies,--but they shall hear _me_,--if\nnecessary!\u201d\n\nThe Marquis moistened his dry lips, and essayed to pronounce a few\nwords.\n\n\u201cYour Majesty will run considerable risk----\u201d\n\n\u201cOf being judged as something more than a mere dummy,\u201d said the\nKing--\u201cOr a fool set on a throne to be fooled! True! But the risk can\nonly involve life,--and life is immaterial when weighed in the balance\nagainst Honour. By the way, Marquis, permit me to return to you this\nvaluable gem\u201d;--Here drawing off the Premier\u2019s sapphire signet, he\nhanded it to him--\u201cAlmost I envy it! It is a fine stone!--and worthy of\nits high service!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour Majesty has increased its value by wearing it,\u201d said Lutera,\nrecovering a little of his strayed equanimity in his determination to\nprobe to the bottom of the mystery which perplexed his mind. \u201cMay I\nask----\u201d\n\n\u201cAnything in reason, my dear Marquis,\u201d returned the King lightly, and\nsmiling as he spoke. \u201cA thousand questions if you like!\u201d\n\n\u201cOne will suffice,\u201d answered the Premier. \u201cI had an unpleasant dream\nlast night about this very ring----\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d ejaculated the King; \u201cDid you dream that I had dropped it in the\nsea on my way to The Islands yesterday?\u201d\n\nHe spoke jestingly, yet with a kindly air, and Lutera gained courage to\nlook boldly up and straight into his eyes.\n\n\u201cI did not dream that you had lost it, Sir,\u201d he answered--\u201cbut that\nit had been stolen from your hand, and used by a spy for unlawful\npurposes!\u201d\n\nA strange expression crossed the King\u2019s face,--a look of inward\nillumination; he smiled, but there was a quiver of strong feeling under\nthe smile. Advancing a step, he laid his hand with a light, half-warning\npressure on the Premier\u2019s shoulder.\n\n\u201cDreams always go by contraries, Marquis!\u201d he said;--\u201cI assure you, on\nmy honour as a king and a gentleman, that from the moment you lent it\nto me, till now,--when I return it to you,--_that ring has never left my\nfinger_!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\n\u201cMORGANATIC\u201d OR--?\n\n\nThe Royal \u2018at home\u2019 was soon over. Many of those who had the felicity\nof breathing in the King\u2019s presence that afternoon remarked upon his\nMajesty\u2019s evident good health and high spirits, while others as freely\ncommented on the unapproachableness and irritability of the Marquis de\nLutera. Sir Walter Langton, the great English traveller, who was taking\nhis leave of the Sovereign that day, being bound on an expedition to the\ninnermost recesses of Africa, was not altogether agreeably impressed by\nthe Premier, whom he met on this occasion for the first and only time.\nThey had begun their acquaintance by talking generalities,--but drifted\nby degrees into the dangerous circle of politics, and were skirting\nround the edge of various critical questions of the day, when the\nMarquis said abruptly:\n\n\u201cAn autocracy would not flourish in your country, I presume, Sir Walter?\nThe British people have been too long accustomed to sing that they\n\u2018never, never will be slaves.\u2019 Your Government is really more or less of\na Republic.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll Governments are so in these days, I imagine,\u201d replied Langton.\n\u201cAutocracy on the part of a monarch is nowhere endured, save in\nRussia,--and what is Russia? A huge volcano, smouldering with fire, and\never threatening to break out in flame and engulf the Throne! Monarchs\nwere not always wisdom personified in olden times,--and I venture to\nconsider them nowadays less wise and more careless than ever. Only a\nreturn to almost barbaric ignorance and superstition would tolerate any\ncomplete monarchical authority in these present times of progress. It\nis only the long serfdom of Russia that hinders the triumph of Liberty\nthere, as elsewhere.\u201d\n\nThe Marquis listened eagerly, and with evident satisfaction.\n\n\u201cI agree with you!\u201d he said. \u201cYou consider, then, that in no country,\nunder any circumstances, could the people be expected to obey their\nmonarch blindly?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not! Even Rome, with its visible spiritual Head and\nSovereign, has no real power. It imagines it has; but let it make any\ndecided step to ensnare the liberties of the people at large, and\nthe result would be somewhat astonishing! Personally--\u201d and he smiled\ngravely--\u201cI have often thought that my own country would be very much\nbenefited by a couple of years existence under an autocrat--an autocrat\nlike Cromwell, for example. A man strong and fierce, intelligent and\ncandid,--who would expose shams and destroy abuses,--who would have no\nmercy on either religious, social, or political fraud, and who would\nperform the part of the necessary hard broom for sweeping the National\nhouse. But, unfortunately, we have no such man. You have,--in your\nSergius Thord!\u201d\n\nThe Premier heard this name with unconcealed amazement.\n\n\u201cSergius Thord! Why he is a mere fanatic----\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me!\u201d interrupted Sir Walter,--\u201cso was Cromwell!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my dear sir!\u201d remonstrated the Marquis smilingly,--\u201cIs it possible\nthat you really consider Sergius Thord any sort of an influence in this\ncountry? If you do, I assure you you are greatly mistaken!\u201d\n\n\u201cI think not,\u201d responded Sir Walter quietly; \u201cWith every respect for\nyou, Marquis, I believe I am not mistaken! Books written by Sergius\nThord are circulating in their thousands all over the world--his\nspeeches are reported not only here, but in journals which probably you\nnever hear of, in far-off countries,--in short, his propaganda is\nsimply enormous. He is a kind of new Rousseau, without,--so far as I\ncan learn,--Rousseau\u2019s private vices. He is a man I much wished to see\nduring my stay here, but I have not had the opportunity of finding him\nout. He is an undoubted genius,--but I need not remind you, Marquis,\nthat a man is never a prophet in his own country! The world\u2019s\n\u2018celebrity\u2019 is always eyed with more or less suspicion as a strange sort\nof rogue or vagabond in his own native town or village!\u201d\n\nAt that moment, the King, having concluded a conversation with certain\nof his guests, who were thereupon leaving the Throne-room, approached\nthem. He had not spoken a word to the Premier since returning him his\nsignet-ring, but now he said:\n\n\u201cMarquis, I was almost forgetting a special request I have to make of\nyou!\u201d\n\n\u201cA request from you is a command, Sir!\u201d replied Lutera with hypocritical\ndeference and something of a covert sneer, which did not escape the\nquick observation of Sir Walter Langton.\n\n\u201cIn certain cases it should be so,\u201d returned the King tranquilly; \u201cAnd\nin this you will probably make it so! I have received a volume of poems\nby one Paul Zouche. His genius appears to me deserving of encouragement.\nA grant of a hundred golden pieces a year will not be too much for his\nhundred best poems. Will you see to this?\u201d\n\nThe Marquis bowed.\n\n\u201cI have never heard of the man in question,\u201d he replied hesitatingly.\n\n\u201cProbably not,\u201d returned the King smiling;--\u201cHow often do Premiers read\npoetry, or notice poets? Scarcely ever, if we may credit history! But in\nthis case----\u201d\n\n\u201cI will make myself immediately acquainted with Paul Zouche, and inform\nhim of your Majesty\u2019s gracious intention,\u201d the Marquis hastened to say.\n\n\u201cIt is quite possible he may refuse the grant,\u201d continued the King;\n\u201cSometimes--though seldom--poets are prouder than Prime Ministers!\u201d\n\nWith a brief nod of dismissal he turned away, inviting Sir Walter\nLangton to accompany him, and there was nothing more for the Marquis to\ndo, save to return even as he had come, with two pieces of information\npuzzling his brain,--one, that the King\u2019s \u2018veto\u2019 had stopped a\ndeclaration of war,--unless,--which was a very remote contingency,--he\nand his party could persuade the people to go against the King,--the\nother, that some clever spy, with the assistance of a fraudulent\nimitation of his signet-ring, had become aware of the financial\ninterests involved in a private speculation depending on the intended\nwar, which included himself, Carl P\u00e9rousse, and two or three other\nmembers of the Ministry. And, out of these two facts might possibly\narise a whole train of misfortune, ruin and disgrace to those concerned.\n\nIt was considerably past three o\u2019clock in the afternoon when the King,\nretiring to his own private cabinet, desired Sir Roger de Launay to\ninform Prince Humphry that he was now prepared to receive him. Sir Roger\nhesitated a moment before going to fulfil the command. The King looked\nat him with an indulgent smile.\n\n\u201cThings are moving too quickly, you think, Roger?\u201d he queried. \u201cUpon\nmy soul, I am beginning to find a new zest in life! I feel some twenty\nyears younger since I saw the face of the beautiful Gloria yesterday! We\nmust promote her sailor husband, and bring his pearl of the sea to our\nCourt!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was on this very subject, Sir, that Von Glauben wished to see your\nMajesty the first thing this morning,\u201d said Sir Roger;--\u201cBut you refused\nhim so early an audience. Yet you will remember that yesterday you told\nhim you wished for an explanation of his acquaintance with this girl. He\nwas ready and prepared to give it, but was prevented,--not only by your\nrefusal to see him,--but also by the Prince.\u201d\n\nDrawing up a chair to the open window, the King seated himself\ndeliberately, and lit a cigar.\n\n\u201cPresumably the Prince knows more than the Professor!\u201d he said calmly;\n\u201cWe will hear both, and give Royalty the precedence! Tell Prince Humphry\nI am waiting for him.\u201d\n\nSir Roger withdrew, and in another two or three minutes returned,\nthrowing open the door and ushering in the Prince, who entered with a\nquick step, and brief, somewhat haughty salutation. Puffing leisurely at\nhis cigar, the King glanced his son up and down smilingly, but said not\na word. The Prince stood waiting for his father to speak, till at last,\ngrowing impatient and waiving ceremony, he began.\n\n\u201cI came, Sir, to spare Von Glauben your reproaches,--which he does not\nmerit. You accused him yesterday, he tells me, of betraying your trust;\nhe has neither betrayed your trust nor mine! I alone am to blame in this\nmatter!\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what matter?\u201d enquired the King quietly.\n\nPrince Humphry coloured deeply, and then grew pale. There was a ray of\ndefiance in the light of his fine eyes, but the tumult within his soul\nshowed itself only in an added composure of his features.\n\n\u201cYou wish me to speak plainly, I suppose,\u201d he said;--\u201cthough you know\nalready what I mean. I repeat,--I, and I alone, am to blame,--for--for\nanything that seemed strange to you yesterday, when you met Von Glauben\nat The Islands.\u201d\n\nThe King\u2019s serious face lightened with a gleam of laughter.\n\n\u201cNothing seemed very strange to me, Humphry,\u201d he said, \u201cexcept the\none fact that I found Von Glauben,--whom I supposed to be studying\nscientific problems,--engaged in studying a woman instead! A very\nbeautiful woman, too, who ought to be something better than a sailor\u2019s\nwife. And I do not understand, as yet, what he has to do with her,\nunless--\u201d Here he paused and went on more slowly--\u201cUnless he is, as\nI suspect, acting for you in some way, and trying to tempt the fair\ncreature with the prospect of a prince\u2019s admiration while the sailor\nhusband is out of the way! Remember, I know nothing--I merely hazard a\nguess. You are an habitu\u00e9 of The Islands;--though I learned, on enquiry\nof the interesting old gentleman who was good enough to be my host, R\u00e9n\u00e9\nRonsard, that nobody had ever seen you there. They had only seen your\nyacht constantly cruising about the bay. This struck me as curious, I\nmust confess. Some of your men were well known,--particularly one,--the\nhusband of the pretty girl I saw. Her name, it seems, is Gloria,--and I\nmust admit that it entirely suits her. I can hardly imagine that if you\nhave visited The Islands as often as you seem to have done, you can\nhave escaped seeing her. She is too beautiful to remain unknown to\nyou--particularly if her husband is, as they tell me, in your service. I\nasked her to give me his name, but she refused it point-blank. I do not\nwish to accuse you of an amour, which you are perhaps quite innocent\nof--but certain things taken in their conjunction look suspicious,--and\nI would remind you that honour in princes,--as in all men,--should come\nbefore self-indulgence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI entirely agree with you, Sir!\u201d said the Prince, composedly; \u201cAnd\nin the present case honour has been my first thought, as it will be my\nlast. Gloria is my wife!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour wife!\u201d The King rose, his tall figure looking taller, his eyes\nsparkling with anger from under their deep-set brows. \u201cYour wife! Are\nyou mad, Humphry! You!----the Heir-Apparent to the Throne! You have\nmarried her!\u201d\n\n\u201cI have!\u201d replied the Prince, and the words now came coursing rapidly\nfrom his lips in his excitement--\u201cI love her! I love her with all my\nheart and soul!--and I have given her the only shield and safeguard love\nin this world can give! I have married her in my own name--the name of\nour family,--which neither she nor any of the humble folk out yonder\nhave ever heard--but she is wedded to me as fast as Church and Law can\nmake it,--and there is only one wrong connected with my vows to her--she\ndoes not know who I am. I have deceived her there,--but in nothing else.\nHad I told her of my rank, she would never have married me. But now she\nis mine,--and for her sake I am willing to resign all pretension to the\nThrone in favour of my brother Rupert. Let it be so, I implore you! Let\nme live my own life of love and liberty in my own way!\u201d\n\nRigid as a statue the King stood,--his lips were set hard and his eyes\nlowered. Long buried thoughts rose up from the innermost recesses of his\nbeing, and rushed upon his brain in a deluge of remembrance and regret.\nWhat!--after all these years, had the ghost of his first love, the\nlittle self-slain maiden of his boyhood\u2019s dream, risen to avenge herself\nin the life of his son? The strangeness of the comparison between\nhimself as he was now, and the eager passionate youth he was then,\nsmote him with a sense of sharp pain. Away in those far-off days he had\nbelieved in love as the chief glory of existence; he had considered it\nas the poets would have us consider it,--a saving, binding, holding and\nimmortal influence, which leads to all pure and holy things, even unto\nGod Himself, the Highest and Holiest of all. When he lost that belief,\nhow great was his loss!--when he ceased to experience that pure\nidealistic emotion, how bitter became the monotony of living! Rapidly\nthe stream of memory swept over his innermost soul and shook his nerves,\nand it was only through a strong effort of self-repression that at last,\nlifting up his eyes he fixed them on the flushed face of his son, and\nsaid in measured tones.\n\n\u201cThis is a very unexpected and very unhappy confession of yours,\nHumphry! You have acted most unwisely!--you have been disloyal to me,\nwho am not only your father, but your King! You have proved yourself\nunworthy of the nation\u2019s trust,--and you have deceived, more cruelly\nthan you think, an innocent and too-confiding girl. I shall not dispute\nthe legality of your marriage;--that would not be worth my while.\nYou have no doubt taken every step to make it as binding as\npossible;--however, that is but a trifling matter in your case. You\nknow that such a marriage is, and can only be morganatic;--and as the\nimmediate consequence of your amazing folly, a suitable Royal alliance\nmust be arranged for you at once. The nuptials can be celebrated with\nthe attainment of your majority next year.\u201d\n\nHe spoke coldly and calmly, but his heart was beating with mingled wrath\nand pain, and even while he thus pronounced her doom, the exquisite\nface of Gloria floated before him like the vision of a perfect innocence\nruined and betrayed. He realised that he possibly had an unusual\ncharacter to reckon with in her,--and he had lately become fully aware\nthat there was as much determination and latent force in the disposition\nof his son, as in the mother who had given him birth. Pale and composed,\nthe young Prince heard him in absolute silence, and when he had\nfinished, still waited a moment, lest any further word should fall\nfrom the lips of his parent and Sovereign. Then he spoke in quite as\nmeasured, cold and tranquil a manner as the King had done.\n\n\u201cI need not remind you, Sir, that the days of tyranny are over. You\ncannot force me into bigamy against my will!\u201d\n\nHis father uttered a quick oath.\n\n\u201cBigamy! Who talks of bigamy?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do, Sir! I have married a beautiful and innocent woman,--she is my\nlawful wife in the sight of God and man; yet you coolly propose to give\nme a second wife under the \u2018morganatic\u2019 law, which, as I view it, is\nmerely a Royal excuse for bigamy! Now I have no wish to excuse myself\nfor marrying Gloria,--I consider she has honoured me far more than I\nhave honoured her. She has given me all her youth, her life, her love,\nher beauty and her trust, and whatever I am worth in this world shall\nbe hers and hers only. I am quite prepared\u201d--and he smiled somewhat\nsarcastically,--\u201cto make it a test case, and appeal to the law of the\nrealm. If that law tolerates a crime in princes, which it would punish\nin commoners, then I shall ask the People to judge me!\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d And the King surveyed him with a touch of ironical amusement\nand vague admiration for his audacity. \u201cAnd suppose the people fail to\nappreciate the romance of the situation?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I shall resign my nationality;\u201d said the young man coolly;\n\u201cBecause a country that legalises a wrong done to the innocent, is not\nworth belonging to! Concerning the Throne,--as I told you before--I am\nready to abandon it at once. I would rather lose all the kingdoms of the\nworld than lose Gloria!\u201d\n\nThere was a pause, during which the King took two or three slow paces\nup and down the room. At last he turned and faced his son; his eyes were\nsofter--his look more kindly.\n\n\u201cYou are very much in love just now, Humphry!\u201d he said; \u201cAnd I do not\nwish to be too hard on you in this matter, for there can be no question\nas to the extraordinary beauty of the girl you call your wife----\u201d\n\n\u201cThe girl who _is_ my wife,\u201d interrupted the Prince decisively.\n\n\u201cVery well; so let it be!\u201d said his father calmly; \u201cThe girl who _is_\nyour wife--for the present! I will give you time--plenty of time--to\nconsider the position reasonably!\u201d\n\n\u201cI have already considered it,\u201d he declared.\n\n\u201cNo doubt! You think you have considered it. But if _you_ do not want to\nmeditate any further upon your marriage problem, you must allow me the\nleisure to do so, as one who has seen more of life than you,--as one who\ntakes things philosophically--and also--as one who was young--once;--who\nloved--once;--and who had his own private dreams of happiness--once!\u201d He\nrested a hand on his son\u2019s shoulder, and looked him full and fairly in\nthe eyes. \u201cLet me advise you, Humphry, to go abroad! Travel round the\nworld for a year!\u201d\n\nThe Prince was silent,--but his eyes did not flinch from his father\u2019s\nsteady gaze. He seemed to be thinking rapidly; but his thoughts were not\nbetrayed by any movement or expression that could denote anxiety. He was\nalert, calm, and perfectly self-possessed.\n\n\u201cI have no objection,\u201d he said at last; \u201cA year is soon past!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is,\u201d agreed the King, with a sense of relief at his ready assent;\n\u201cBut by the end of that time----\u201d\n\n\u201cThings will be precisely as they are now,\u201d said the Prince tranquilly;\n\u201cGloria will still be my wife, and I shall still be her husband!\u201d\n\nThe King gave a gesture of annoyance.\n\n\u201cWhatever the result,\u201d he said, \u201cshe cannot, and will not be Crown\nPrincess!\u201d\n\n\u201cShe will not envy that destiny in my brother Rupert\u2019s wife,\u201d said\nPrince Humphry quietly; \u201cNor shall I envy my brother Rupert!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou talk like a fool, Humphry!\u201d said the King impatiently; \u201cYou cannot\nresign your Heir-Apparency to the Throne, without giving a reason;--and\nso making known your marriage.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is precisely what I wish to do,\u201d returned the young man. \u201cI have\nno intention of keeping my marriage secret. I am proud of it! Gloria is\nmine--the joy of my soul--the very pulse of my life! Why should I hide\nmy heart\u2019s light under a cloud?\u201d\n\nHis voice vibrated with tender feeling,--his handsome features were\nsoftened into finer beauty by the passion which invigorated him, and his\nfather looking at him, thought for a moment that so might the young gods\nof the fabled Parnassus have appeared in the height of their symbolic\npower and charm. His own eyes grew melancholy, as he studied this\nvigorous incarnation of ardent love and passionate resolve; and a slight\nsigh escaped him unconsciously.\n\n\u201cYou forget!\u201d he said slowly, \u201cyou have, up to the present deceived the\ngirl. She does not know who you are. When she hears that you have played\na part,--that you are no sailor in the service of the Crown Prince, as\nyou have apparently represented yourself to be, but the Crown Prince\nhimself, what will she say to you? Perhaps she will hate you for the\ndeception, as much as she now loves you!\u201d\n\nA shadow darkened the young Prince\u2019s open countenance, but it soon\npassed away.\n\n\u201cShe will never hate me!\u201d he said,--\u201cFor when I do tell her the truth,\nit will be when I have resigned all the ridiculous pomp and circumstance\nof my position for her sake----\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps she will not let you resign it!\u201d said the King; \u201cShe may be as\nunselfish as she is beautiful!\u201d\n\nThere was a slight, very slight note of derision in his voice, and the\nPrince caught it up at once.\n\n\u201cYou wrong yourself, Sir, more than you wrong my wife by any lurking\nmisjudgment of her,\u201d he said, with singularly masterful and expressive\ndignity. \u201cAs her husband, and the guardian of her honour, I also claim\nher obedience. What I desire is her law!\u201d\n\nThe King laughed a little forcedly.\n\n\u201cEvidently you have found the miracle of the ages, Humphry!\u201d he said;\n\u201cA woman who obeys her master! Well! Let us talk no more of it. You have\nbeen guilty of an egregious folly,--but nothing can make your marriage\notherwise than morganatic. And when the State considers a Royal alliance\nfor you advisable, you will be compelled to obey the country\u2019s wish,--or\nelse resign the Throne.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall obey the country\u2019s wish most decidedly,\u201d said the Prince,\n\u201cunless it asks me to commit bigamy,--as you suggest,--in which case I\nshall decline! Three or four Royal sinners of this class I know of,\nwho for all their pains have not succeeded in winning the attachment of\ntheir people, either for themselves or their heirs. Their people know\nwhat they are, well enough, and despise their fraudulent position as\nheartily as I do! I am perfectly convinced that if it were put to the\nvote of the country, no people in the world would wish their future\nmonarch to be a bigamist!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow you stick to a word and a phrase!\u201d exclaimed the King irritably;\n\u201cThe morganatic rule does away with the very idea of bigamy!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you prove it, Sir?\u201d queried the Prince. \u201cBigamy is the act of\ncontracting a second marriage while the first partner is alive. It is\npunished severely in commoners;--why should Royalty escape?\u201d\n\nThe King began to laugh. This boy was developing \u2018discursive\nphilosophies\u2019 such as his own old tutor had abhorred.\n\n\u201cUpon my life, I do not know, Humphry!\u201d he declared; \u201cYou must ask the\ndeparted shades of those who made themselves responsible for kingship\nin the first place. Personally, I do not come under the law. I have only\nmarried once myself!\u201d\n\nHis son looked full at him;--and the intensity of that look affected\nand unsteadied his usual calm nerves. But he was not one to shirk an\nunpleasant suggestion.\n\n\u201cYou would say, Humphry, if your filial respect permitted you, that my\none marriage has been amplified in various other ways. Perfectly true!\nWhen women lie down and ask you to walk over them, you do it if you are\na man and a king! When, on the contrary, women show you that they do\nnot care whether you are royal or the reverse, and despise you more than\nadmire you, you run after them for all you are worth! At least I do! I\nalways have done so. And, to a certain extent, it has been amusing. But\nthe limit is reached. I am growing old!\u201d Here he took up the cigar he\nhad thrown aside when his son had first startled him by the announcement\nof his marriage, and relighting it, began to smoke peaceably. \u201cI am, as\nI say, growing old. I have never found what is called love. You have--or\nthink you have! Enjoy your dream, Humphry--but--take my advice and go\nabroad! See whether travel does not work a change in you or,--in her!\u201d\n He paused a moment, and while the Prince still regarded him fixedly,\nadded; \u201cWill you tell the Queen?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will leave you to tell her, Sir, with your permission;\u201d replied the\nPrince; \u201cI cannot expect her sympathy.\u201d\n\n\u201cVon Glauben, then, is the only person you have trusted with your\nconfidence?\u201d\n\n\u201cVon Glauben was no party to my marriage, Sir. I was married fully three\nmonths before I told him. He was greatly vexed and troubled,--but when\nhe saw Gloria, he was glad.\u201d\n\n\u201cGlad!\u201d echoed the King; \u201cFor what reason, pray?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid, Sir,\u201d said the young man with a smile, \u201chis gladness was\nbut a part of his science! He said it was better for a prince to wed\na healthy and beautiful commoner, than the daughter of a hundred\nscrofulous kings!\u201d\n\nWith a movement of intense indignation, the monarch sprang up from the\nchair in which he had just seated himself.\n\n\u201cNow, by Heaven!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cVon Glauben goes too far! He shall\nsuffer for this!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d queried the Prince calmly; \u201cYou know that what he says is\nperfectly true. True? Why, there is scarcely a Royal house in the world\nsave our own, without its hereditary curse of disease or insanity.\nWe pay more attention to the breeding of horses than the breeding of\nkings!\u201d\n\nThe plain candour and veracity of the statement, left no room for\ndenial.\n\n\u201cYou have seen Gloria,\u201d went on the Prince; \u201cYou know she is the most\nbeautiful creature your eyes ever rested upon! Von Glauben told me you\nwere stricken dumb, and almost stupefied at sight of her----\u201d\n\n\u201cDamn Von Glauben!\u201d said the King.\n\nHis son smiled ever so slightly, but continued.\n\n\u201cYou have made yourself acquainted with her history--\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d said the King; \u201cThat she is a foundling picked up from the sea--a\ncastaway from a wreck!--no one knows who her father and mother were, and\nyet you, in your raving madness and folly of love, would make her Crown\nPrincess and future Queen!\u201d\n\nThe Prince went on unheedingly.\n\n\u201cShe is beautiful--and the simple method of her bringing up has left her\nunspoilt and innocent. She is ignorant of the world\u2019s ways--because--\u201d\n and his voice sank to a reverential tenderness--\u201cGod\u2019s ways are more\nfamiliar to her!\u201d He paused, but his father was silent; he therefore\nwent on. \u201cShe is healthy, strong, simple and true,--more fit for a\nthrone, if such were her destiny, than any daughter of any Royal house I\nknow of. Happy the nation that could call such a woman their Queen!\u201d\n\n\u201cAs I have already told you, Humphry,\u201d returned the King, \u201cyou are in\nlove!--with the love of a headstrong, passionate boy for a beautiful and\ncredulous girl. I do not propose to discuss the subject further. You are\nwilling to go abroad, you tell me,--then make your preparations at once.\nI will select one or two necessary companions for you, and you can start\nwhen you please. I would let Von Glauben accompany you, but--for the\npresent--I cannot well spare him. Your intended voyage must be made\npublic, and in this way nothing will be known of the manner in which\nyou have privately chosen to make a fool of yourself. I will explain\nthe situation to the Queen;--but beyond that I shall say nothing. Let me\nknow by to-morrow how soon you can arrange your departure.\u201d\n\nThe Prince bowed composedly, and was about to retire, when the King\ncalled him back.\n\n\u201cYou do not ask my pardon, Humphry, for the offence you have committed?\u201d\n\nThe young man flushed, and bit his lip.\n\n\u201cSir, I cannot ask pardon for what I do not consider is wrong! I have\nmarried the woman I love; and I intend to be faithful to her. You\nmarried a woman you did not love--and the result, according to my views,\nand also according to my experience of my mother and yourself, is\nmore or less regrettable. If I have offended you, I sincerely beg your\nforgiveness, but you must first point out the nature of the offence.\nSurely, it must be more gratifying to you to know that I prefer to be a\nman of honour than a common seducer?\u201d\n\nThe King looked at him, and his own eyes fell under his son\u2019s clear\ncandid gaze.\n\n\u201cEnough! You may go!\u201d he said briefly.\n\nThe door opened and closed again;--he was gone.\n\nThe King, left alone, fixed his eyes on the sparkling line of the sea,\nbrightly blue, and the flower-bordered terrace in front of him. Life was\nbecoming interesting;--the long burdensome monotony of years had changed\ninto a variety of contrasting scenes and colours,--and in taking up the\nproblem of human life as lived by others, more than as lived by himself,\nhe had entered on a new path, untrodden by conventionalities, and\nleading, he knew not whither. But, having begun to walk in it, he was\ndetermined to go on--and to use each new experience as a guide for the\nrest of his actions. His son\u2019s marriage with a commoner--one who indeed\nwas not only a commoner but a foundling--might after all lead to good,\nif properly taken in hand,--and he resolved not to make the worst of it,\nbut rather to let things take their own natural course.\n\n\u201cFor love,\u201d he said to himself somewhat bitterly, \u201cin nine cases out of\nten ends in satiety,--marriage, in separation by mutual consent! Let\nthe boy travel for a year, and forget, if he can, the fair face which\ncaptivates him,--for it is a fair face,--and more than that,--I honestly\nbelieve it is the reflex of a fair soul!\u201d\n\nHis eyes grew dreamy and absorbed; away on the horizon a little white\ncloud, shaped like the outspread wings of a dove, hovered over the sea\njust where The Islands lay.\n\n\u201cYes! Let him see new scenes--strange lands, and varying customs; let\nhim hear modern opinions of life, instead of reading the philosophies of\nAurelius and Epictetus, and the poetry written ages ago by the dead wild\nsouls of the past;--and so he will forget--and all will be well!\nWhile for Gloria herself,--and the old revolutionist Ronsard--we shall\ndoubtless find ways and means of consolation for them both!\u201d\n\nThus he mused,--yet in the very midst of his thoughts the echoing memory\nof a golden voice, round and rich with delight and triumph rang in his\nears:\n\n  \u201cMy King crown\u2019d me!\n    And I and he\n  Are one till the world shall cease to be!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE PROFESSOR ADVISES\n\n\n\u201cI have discovered the secret of successful living, Professor,\u201d said\nthe King, a couple of hours later as, walking in one of the many thickly\nwooded alleys of the palace grounds, he greeted Von Glauben, who had\nbeen told to meet him there, and who had been waiting the Royal approach\nwith some little trepidation,--\u201cIt is this,--to draw a straight line of\nconduct, and walk in it, regardless of other people\u2019s crooked curves!\u201d\n\nThe Professor looked at him, and saw nothing but kindliness expressed\nin his eyes and smile,--therefore, taking courage he replied without\nembarrassment,--\n\n\u201cTruly, Sir, if a man is brave enough to do this, he may conquer\neverything but death, and even face this last enemy without much alarm.\u201d\n\n\u201cI agree with you!\u201d replied the monarch; \u201cAnd Humphry\u2019s line has\ncertainly been straight enough, taken from the point of his own\nperspective! Do you not think so?\u201d\n\nVon Glauben hesitated a moment--then spoke out boldly.\n\n\u201cSir, as you now know all, I will frankly assure you that I think\nhis Royal Highness has behaved honourably, and as a true man! Society\npardons a prince for seducing innocence--but whether it will pardon him\nfor marrying it, is quite another question! And that is why I repeat,\nhe has behaved well. Though when he first told me he was married, I\nsuffered a not-to-be-explained misery and horror; \u2018For,\u2019 said he--\u2018I\nhave married an angel!\u2019 Which naturally I thought (deducting a certain\nquantity of the enthusiasm of youth for the statement) meant that he had\nmarried a bouncing housemaid with large hands and feet. \u2018That is well,\u2019\nI told him--\u2018For divorce is now made easy in this country, and you can\neasily return the celestial creature to her native element!\u2019 At which\nI resigned myself to hear some oaths, for violent expletives are\nalways refreshing to the masculine brain-matter. But his Royal Highness\nmaintained the good breeding which always distinguishes him, and merely\nproceeded with his strange confession of romance,--which, as you, Sir,\nare now happily aware of it, I need not recapitulate. Your knowledge of\nthe matter has lifted an enormous burden from my mind; Ach! Enormous!\u201d\n\nHe gave a deep breath, and drew himself up to his full height--squared\nhis shoulders, and then, as it were stood firm, as though waiting\nattack.\n\nThe King laughed good-naturedly, and took him by the arm.\n\n\u201cTell me all you know, Von Glauben!\u201d he said; \u201cI am acquainted with the\ngist and upshot of the matter,--namely, Humphry\u2019s marriage; but I am\nwholly ignorant of the details.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is little to tell, Sir,\u201d said Von Glauben;--\u201cOf the Prince\u2019s\nconstant journeyings to The Islands we were all aware long ago; but\nthe cause of those little voyages was not so apparent. To avoid the\nsuspicion with which a Royal visitor would be viewed, the Prince, it\nappears, assumed to be merely one of the junior officers on his own\nyacht,--and under this disguise became known and much liked by the\nIslanders generally. He fell in love at first sight with the beautiful\ngirl your Majesty saw yesterday--Gloria; \u2018Glory-of-the-Sea\u2019--as I\nsometimes call her, and they were married by the old parish priest in\nthe little church among the rocks--the very church where, as her adopted\nfather, Ronsard, tells me, he heard the choristers singing a \u2018Gloria in\nExcelsis\u2019 on the day he found her cast up on the shore.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d said the King, seeing that he paused; \u201cAnd is the marriage\nlegal, think you?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly so, Sir!\u201d replied Von Glauben; \u201cRegistered by law, as well\nas sanctified by church. The Prince tells me he married her in his\nown name,--but no one,--not even the poor little priest who married\nthem,--knew the surname of your Majesty\u2019s distinguished house, and I\nbelieve,--nay I am sure--\u201d here he heaved an unconscious sigh, \u201cit will\nbring a tragedy to the girl when she knows the true rank and title of\nher husband!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow came _you_ to make her acquaintance? Tell me everything!--you know\nI will not misjudge you!\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, Sir, I hope you will not!\u201d returned the Professor\nearnestly;--\u201cFor there was never a man more hopelessly involved than\nmyself in the net prepared for me by this romantic lover, who has\nthe honour to be your son. In the first place, directly I heard this\nconfession of marriage, I was for telling you at once; but as he had\nbound me by my word of honour before he began the story, to keep his\nconfidence sacred, I was unable to disburden myself of it. He said he\nwanted to secure me as a friend for his wife. \u2018That,\u2019 said I firmly, \u2018I\nwill never be! For there will be difficulty when all is known; and if\nit comes to a struggle between a pretty fishwife and the good of a\nking--ach!--mein Gott!--I am not for the fishwife!\u2019\u201d\n\nThe King smiled; and Von Glauben went on.\n\n\u201cWell, he assured me she was not a fishwife. I said \u2018What is she then?\u2019\n\u2018I tell you,\u2019 he replied, \u2018she is an angel! You will come and see her;\nyou will pass as an old friend of her sailor husband; and when you have\nseen her you will understand!\u2019 I was angry, and said I would not go with\nhim; but afterwards I thought perhaps it would be best if I did, as I\nmight be able to advise him to some wise course. So I accompanied him\none afternoon in the past autumn to The Islands (he was married last\nsummer) and saw the girl,--the \u2018Glory-of-the-Sea.\u2019 And I must confess\nto your Majesty, my heart went down before her beauty and innocence in\nabsolute worship! And if you were to kill me for it, I cannot help it--I\nam now as devoted to her service as I am to yours!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d said the King gently;--\u201cThen you must help me to console her in\nHumphry\u2019s absence!\u201d\n\nProfessor Von Glauben\u2019s eyes opened widely, with a vague look of alarm.\n\n\u201cIn his absence, Sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes! I am sending him abroad. He is quite willing to go, he tells me.\nHis departure will make all things perfectly easy for us. The girl must\nremain in her present ignorance as to the position of the man she has\nreally married. The sailor she supposes him to be will accompany the\nPrince on his yacht,--and it must be arranged that he never returns! She\nis young, and will easily be consoled!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben was silent.\n\n\u201c_You_ will not betray the Prince\u2019s identity with her lover,\u201d went\non the King, \u201cand no one else knows it. In fact, you will be the very\nperson best qualified to tell her of his departure, and--in due time, of\nhis fictitious death!\u201d\n\nThey were walking slowly under the heavy shadow of crossed ilex\nboughs,--and Von Glauben came to a dead halt.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d he said, in rather unsteady accents; \u201cWith every respect for your\nMajesty, I must altogether decline the task of breaking a pure heart,\nand ruining a young life! Moreover, if your Majesty, after all your\nrecent experiences,\u201d--and he laid great emphasis on these last words,\n\u201cthinks there is any ultimate good to be obtained by keeping up a lie,\nand practising a fraud, the lessons we have learned in these latter days\nare wholly unavailing! You began this conversation with me by speaking\nof a straight line of conduct, which should avoid other people\u2019s crooked\ncurves. Is this your Majesty\u2019s idea of a straight line?\u201d\n\nHe spoke with unguarded vehemence, but the King was not offended. On the\ncontrary, he looked whimsically interested and amused.\n\n\u201cMy dear Von Glauben, you are not usually so inconsistent! Humphry\nhimself has kept up a lie, and practised a fraud on the girl----\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly for a time!\u201d interrupted the Professor hastily.\n\n\u201cOh, we all do it \u2018only for a time.\u2019 Everything--life itself--is \u2018only\nfor a time!\u2019 You know as well as I do that this absurd marriage can\nnever be acknowledged. I explained as much to Humphry; I told him he\ncould guard himself by the morganatic law, provided he would consent\nto a Royal alliance immediately--but the young fool swore it would be\nbigamy, and took himself off in a huff.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was right! It would be bigamy;--it _is_ bigamy!\u201d, said the\nProfessor; \u201cCall it by what name you like in Court parlance, the act of\nhaving two wives is forbidden in this country. The wisest men have come\nto the conclusion that one wife is enough!\u201d\n\n\u201cHumphry\u2019s ideas being so absolutely childish,\u201d went on the King, \u201cit is\nnecessary for him to expand them somewhat. That is why I shall send\nhim abroad. You have a strong flavour of romance in your Teutonic\ncomposition, Von Glauben,--and I can quite sympathise with your\nadmiration for the \u2018Glory-of-the-Sea\u2019 as you call her. From a man\u2019s\npoint of view, I admire her myself. But I know nothing of her moral or\nmental qualities; though from her flat refusal to give me her husband\u2019s\nname yesterday, I judge her as wilful,--but most pretty women are that.\nAnd as for my line of conduct, it will, I assure you, be perfectly\n\u2018straight,\u2019--in the direction of my duty as a King,--apart altogether\nfrom sentimental considerations! And in this, as in other things,--\u201d\n he paused and emphasised his words--\u201cI rely on your honour and faithful\nservice!\u201d\n\nThe Professor made no reply. He was, thinking deeply. With a kind of\ngrim scorn, he pointed out to himself that his imagination was held\ncaptive by the mental image of a woman, whose eyes had expressed trust\nin him; and almost as tenderly as the lover in Tennyson\u2019s \u2018Maud\u2019 he\ncould have said that he \u2018would die, To save from some slight shame one\nsimple girl.\u2019 Presently he braced himself up, and confronted his Royal\nmaster.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d he said very quietly, yet with perfect frankness; \u201cYour Majesty\nmust have the goodness to pardon me if I say you must not rely upon\nme at all in this matter! I will promise nothing, except to be true to\nmyself and my own sense of justice. I have given up my own country for\nconscience\u2019 sake--I can easily give up another which is not my own, for\nthe same reason. In the matter of this marriage or \u2018m\u00e9salliance\u2019 as the\nworldly would call it,--I have nothing whatever to do. While the Prince\nasked me to keep his secret, I kept it. Now that he has confided it to\nyour Majesty, I am relieved and satisfied; and shall not in any way, by\nword or suggestion, interfere with your Majesty\u2019s intentions. But, at\nthe same time, I shall not assist them! For as regards the trusting\ngirl who has been persuaded that she has won a great love and complete\nhappiness for all her life,--I have sworn to be her friend;--and I must\nrespectfully decline to be a party to any further deception in her case.\nKnowing what I know of her character, which is a pure and grand one, I\nthink it would be far better to tell her the whole truth, and let her\nbe the arbiter of her own destiny. She will decide well and truly, I am\nsure!\u201d\n\nHe ceased; the King was silent. Von Glauben studied his face\nattentively.\n\n\u201cYou are a thinker, Sir,--a student and a philosopher. You are not\none of those kings who treat their kingship as a license for the free\nexercise of intolerant humours and vicious practices. Were you no\nmonarch at all, you would still be a sane and thoughtful man. Take my\nhumble advice, Sir--for once put the unspoilt nature of a pure woman to\nthe test, and find out what a grand creature God intended woman to\nbe, in her pristine simplicity and virtue! Send for Gloria to this\nCourt;--tell her the truth!--and await the result with confidence!\u201d\n\nThere was a pause. The King walked slowly up and down; at last he spoke.\n\n\u201cYou may be right! I do not say you are wrong. I will consider your\nsuggestion. Certainly it would be the straightest course. But first a\ncomplete explanation is due to the Queen. She must know all,--and if\nher interest can be awakened by such a triviality as her son\u2019s\nlove-affair--\u201d and he smiled somewhat bitterly,--\u201cperhaps she may agree\nto your plan as the best way out of the difficulty. In any case\u201d--here\nhe extended his hand which the Professor deferentially bowed over--\u201cI\nrespect your honesty and plain speaking, Professor! I have reason to\napprove highly of sincerity,--wherever and however I find it,--at the\npresent crisis of affairs. For the moment, I will only ask you to be on\nyour guard with Humphry;--and say as little as possible to him on the\nsubject of his marriage or intended departure from this country.\nKeep everything as quiet as may be;--till--till we find a clear and\nsatisfactory course to follow, which shall inflict as little pain as\npossible on all concerned. And now, a word with you on other matters.\u201d\n\nThey walked on side by side, through the garden walks and ways,\nconversing earnestly,--and by and by penetrating into the deeper\nrecesses of the outlying woodlands, were soon hidden among the crossing\nand recrossing of the trees. Had they kept to the open ground, from\nwhence the wide expanse of the sea could be viewed from end to end,\ntheir discussions might perhaps have been interrupted, and themselves\nsomewhat startled,--for they would have seen Prince Humphry\u2019s yacht,\nwith every inch of canvas stretched to the utmost, flying rapidly before\nthe wind like a wild white bird, winging its swift, straight way to the\nwest where the sun shot down Apollo-like shafts of gold on the gleaming\npurple coast-line of The Islands.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nAN \u201cHONOURABLE\u201d STATESMAN\n\n\nIt is not easy to trace the causes why it so often happens that\nsemi-educated, and more or less shallow men rise suddenly to a height\nof brilliant power and influence in the working of a country\u2019s policy.\nSometimes it is wealth that brings them to the front; sometimes the\nstrong support secretly given to them by others in the background,\nwho have their own motives to serve, and who require a public\nrepresentative; but more often still it is sheer unscrupulousness,--or\nwhat may be described as \u2018walking over\u2019 all humane and honest\nconsiderations,--that places them in triumph at the helm of affairs. To\nrise from a statesman to be a Secretary of State augurs a certain\namount of brain, though not necessarily of the highest quality; while it\ncertainly betokens a good deal of dash and impudence. Carl P\u00e9rousse, one\nof the most prominent among the political notabilities of Europe, had\nbegun his career by small peddling transactions in iron and timber\nmanufactures; he came of a very plebeian stock, and had received only\na desultory sort of education, picked up here and there in cheap\nprovincial schools. But he had a restless, domineering spirit of\nambition. Ashamed of his plebeian origin, and embittered from his\nearliest years by a sense of grudge against those who moved in the\nhighest and most influential circles of the time, the idea was always in\nhis mind that he would one day make himself an authority over the\nvery persons, who, in the rough and tumble working-days of his younger\nmanhood, would not so much as cast him a word or a look. He knew that\nthe first thing necessary to attain for this purpose was money; and he\nhad, by steady and constant plod, managed to enlarge and expand all his\nbusiness concerns into various, important companies, which he set afloat\nin all quarters of the world,--with the satisfactory result that by\nthe time his years had run well into the forties, he was one of the\nwealthiest men in the country. He had from the first taken every\nopportunity to insinuate himself into politics; and in exact proportion\nto the money he made, so was his success in acquiring such coveted\npositions in life as brought with them the masterful control of various\nconflicting aims and interests. His individual influence had extended by\nleaps and bounds till he had become only secondary in importance to\nthe Prime Minister himself; and he possessed a conveniently elastic\nconscience, which could be stretched at will to suit any party or any\nset of principles. In personal appearance he was not prepossessing.\nNature had branded him in her own special way \u2018Trickster,\u2019 for those who\ncared to search for her trademark. He was tall and thin, with a narrow\nhead and a deeply-lined, clean-shaven countenance, the cold immovability\nof which was sometimes broken up by an unpleasant smile, that merely\nwidened the pale set lips without softening them, and disclosed a\ncrooked row of smoke-coloured teeth, much decayed. He had small eyes,\nfurtively hidden under a somewhat restricted frontal development,--his\nbrows were narrow,--his forehead ignoble and retreating. But despite a\ngeneral badness, or what may be called a \u2018smirchiness\u2019 of feature, he\nhad learned to assume an air of superiority, which by its sheer audacity\nprevented a casual observer from setting him down as the vulgarian he\nundoubtedly was; and his amazing pluck, boldness and originality in\ndevising ways and means of smothering popular discontent under various\n\u2018shows\u2019 of apparent public prosperity, was immensely useful to all such\n\u2018statesmen,\u2019 whose statesmanship consisted in making as much money\nas possible for themselves out of the pockets of their credulous\ncountrymen. He was seldom disturbed by opposing influences; and even now\nwhen he had just returned from the palace with the full knowledge that\nthe King was absolutely resolved on vetoing certain propositions he had\nset down in council for the somewhat arbitrary treatment of a certain\nhalf-tributary power which had latterly turned rebellious, he was more\namused than irritated.\n\n\u201cI suppose his Majesty wants to distinguish himself by a melodramatic\n_coup d\u2019\u00e9tat_\u201d he said, leaning easily back in his chair, and studying\nthe tips of his carefully pared and polished finger-nails;--\u201cPoor fool!\nI don\u2019t blame him for trying to do something more than walk about his\npalace in different costumes at stated intervals,--but he will find his\n\u2018veto\u2019 out of date. We shall put it to the country;--and I think I can\nanswer for that!\u201d\n\nHe smiled, as one who knows where and how to secure a triumph, and his\nequanimity was not disturbed in the least by the unexpected arrival of\nthe Premier, who was just then announced, and who, coming in his turn\nfrom the King\u2019s diplomatic reception, had taken the opportunity to call\nand see his colleague on his way home.\n\n\u201cYou seem fatigued, Marquis!\u201d he said, as, rising to receive his\ndistinguished guest, he placed a chair for him opposite his own. \u201cWas\nhis Majesty\u2019s conversazione more tedious than usual?\u201d\n\nLutera looked at him with a dubious air.\n\n\u201cNo!--it was brief enough so far as I was immediately concerned,\u201d he\nreplied;--\u201cI do not suppose I stayed more than twenty minutes in\nthe Throne-room altogether. I understand you have been told that our\nproposed negotiations are to be vetoed?\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse smiled.\n\n\u201cI have been told--yes!--but I have been told many things which I do\nnot believe! The King certainly has the right of veto; but he dare not\nexercise it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDare not?\u201d echoed the Marquis--\u201cFrom his present unconstitutional\nattitude it seems to me he dare do anything!\u201d\n\n\u201cI tell you he dare not!\u201d repeated P\u00e9rousse quietly;--\u201cUnless he wishes\nto lose the Throne. I daresay if it came to that, we should get on quite\nas well--if not better--with a Republic!\u201d\n\nLutera looked at him with an amazed and reluctant admiration.\n\n\u201c_You_ talk of a Republic? You,--who are for ever making the most loyal\nspeeches in favour of the monarchy?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d queried P\u00e9rousse lightly;--\u201cIf the monarchy does not do as it\nis told, whip it like a naughty child and send it to bed. That has been\neasily arranged before now in history!\u201d\n\nThe Marquis sat silent,--thinking, or rather brooding heavily. Should\nhe, or should he not unburden himself of certain fears that oppressed\nhis mind? He cleared his throat of a troublesome huskiness and began,--\n\n\u201cIf the purely business transactions in which you are engaged----\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you also,\u201d put in P\u00e9rousse placidly.\n\nThe Premier shifted his position uneasily and went on.\n\n\u201cI say, if the purely business transactions of this affair were publicly\nknown----\u201d\n\n\u201cAs well expect Cabinet secrets to be posted on a hoarding in the open\nthoroughfare!\u201d said P\u00e9rousse. \u201cWhat afflicts you with these sudden pangs\nof distrust at your position? You have taken care to provide for all\nyour own people! What more can you desire?\u201d\n\nLutera hesitated; then he said slowly:--\n\n\u201cI think there is only one thing for me to do,--and that is to send in\nmy resignation at once!\u201d\n\nCarl P\u00e9rousse raised himself a little out of his chair, and opened his\nnarrow eyes.\n\n\u201cSend in your resignation!\u201d he echoed; \u201cOn what grounds? Do me the\nkindness to remember, Marquis, that I am not yet quite ready to take\nyour place!\u201d\n\nHe smiled his disagreeable smile,--and the Marquis began to feel\nirritated.\n\n\u201cDo not be too sure that you will ever have it to take,\u201d he said with\nsome acerbity; \u201cIf the King should by any means come to know of your\nfinancial deal----\u201d\n\n\u201cYou seem to be very suddenly afraid of the King!\u201d interrupted P\u00e9rousse;\n\u201cOr else strange touches of those catch-word ideals \u2018Loyalty\u2019 and\n\u2018Patriotism\u2019 are troubling your mind! You speak of _my_ financial\ndeal,--is not yours as important? Review the position;--it is simply\nthis;--for years and years the Ministry have been speculating in office\nmatters,--it is no new thing. Sometimes they have lost, and sometimes\nthey have won; their losses have been replaced by the imposition of\ntaxes on the people,--their gains they have very wisely said nothing\nabout. In these latter days, however, the loss has been considerably\nmore than the gain. \u2018Patriotism,\u2019 as stocks, has gone down. \u2018Honour\u2019\nwill not pay the piper. We cannot increase taxation just at present; but\nby a war, we can clear out some of the useless population, and invest in\ncontracts for supplies. The mob love fighting,--and every small victory\nwon, can be celebrated in beer and illuminations, to expand what is\ncalled \u2018the heart of the People.\u2019 It is a great \u2018heart,\u2019 and always\nleaps to strong drink,--which is cheap enough, being so largely\nadulterated. The country we propose to subdue is rich,--and both you and\nI have large investments of land there. With the success which our arms\nare sure to obtain, we shall fill not only the State coffers (which have\nbeen somewhat emptied by our predecessors\u2019 peculations), but our own\ncoffers as well. The King \u2018vetoes\u2019 the war; then let us hear what the\nPeople say! Of course we must work them up first; and then get their\nverdict while they are red-hot with patriotic excitement. The Press,\nordered by Jost, can manage that! Put it to the country; (through\nJost);--but do not talk of resigning when we are on the brink of\nsuccess! _I_ will carry this thing through, despite the King\u2019s \u2018veto\u2019!\u201d\n\n\u201cWait!\u201d said the Marquis, drawing his chair closer to P\u00e9rousse, and\nspeaking in a low uneasy tone; \u201cYou do not know all! There is some\nsecret agency at work against us; and, among other things, I fear that\na foreign spy has been inadvertently allowed to learn the mainspring of\nour principal moves. Listen, and judge for yourself!\u201d\n\nAnd he related the story of David Jost\u2019s midnight experience, carefully\nemphasising every point connected with his own signet-ring. As he\nproceeded with the narration, P\u00e9rousse\u2019s face grew livid,--once or twice\nhe clenched his hand nervously, but he said nothing till he had heard\nall.\n\n\u201cYour ring, you say, had never left the King\u2019s possession?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo the King himself assured me, this very afternoon.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen someone must have passed off an imitation signet on David Jost,\u201d\n continued P\u00e9rousse meditatively. \u201cWhat name did the spy give?\u201d\n\n\u201cPasquin Leroy.\u201d\n\nCarl P\u00e9rousse opened a small memorandum book, and carefully wrote the\nname down within it.\n\n\u201cWhatever David Jost has said, David Jost alone is answerable for!\u201d\n he then said calmly--\u201cA Jew may be called a liar with impunity, and\nwhatever a Jew has asserted can be flatly denied. Remember, he is in our\npay!\u201d\n\n\u201cI doubt if he will consent to be made the scapegoat in this affair,\u201d\n said Lutera; \u201cUnless we can make it exceptionally to his advantage;--he\nhas the press at his command.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive him a title!\u201d returned P\u00e9rousse contemptuously; \u201cThese Jew\npress-men love nothing better!\u201d\n\nThe Marquis smiled somewhat sardonically.\n\n\u201cJost, with a patent of nobility would cut rather an extraordinary\nfigure!\u201d he said; \u201cStill he would probably make good use of\nit,--especially if he were to start a newspaper in London! They would\naccept him as a great man there!\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse gave a careless nod; his thoughts were otherwise occupied.\n\n\u201cThis Pasquin Leroy has gone to Moscow?\u201d\n\n\u201cAccording to his own words, he was leaving this morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cI daresay that statement is a blind. I should not at all wonder if he\nis still in the city. I will get an exact description of him from Jost,\nand set Bernhoff on his track.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not forget,\u201d said the Marquis impressively, \u201cthat he told Jost in\napparently the most friendly and well-meaning manner possible, that the\nKing had discovered the whole plan of our financial campaign. He even\nreported _me_ as being ready to resign in consequence----\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich apparently you are!\u201d interpolated P\u00e9rousse with some sarcasm.\n\n\u201cI certainly have my resignation in prospect,\u201d returned Lutera\ncoldly--\u201cAnd, so far, this mysterious spy has seemingly probed my\nthoughts. If he is as correct in his report concerning the King, it is\nimpossible to say what may be the consequence.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, what can the King do?\u201d demanded P\u00e9rousse impatiently, and with\nscorn for the vacillating humour of his companion; \u201cGranted that he knew\neverything from the beginning----\u201d\n\n\u201cIncluding your large land purchases and contract concessions in the\nvery country you propose war with,\u201d put in the Marquis,--\u201cSay that he\nknew you had resolved on war, and had already started a company for the\nfabrication of the guns and other armaments, out of which you get the\nprincipal pickings--what then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat then?\u201d echoed P\u00e9rousse defiantly--\u201cWhy nothing! The King is as\npowerless as a target in a field, set up for arrows to be aimed at! He\ndare not divulge a State secret; he has no privilege of interference\nwith politics; all he can do is to \u2018lead\u2019 fashionable society--a poor\nbusiness at best--and at present his lead is not particularly apparent.\nThe King must do as We command!\u201d\n\nHe rose and paced up and down with agitated steps.\n\n\u201cTo-day, when he told me he had resolved to \u2018veto\u2019 my propositions, I\naccepted his information without any manifestation of surprise. I merely\nsaid it would have to be stated in the Senate, and that reasons would\nhave to be given. He agreed, and said that he himself would proclaim\nthose reasons. I told him it was impossible!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what was his reply?\u201d asked the Marquis.\n\n\u201cHis reply was as absurd as his avowed intention. \u2018Hitherto it has been\nimpossible,\u2019 he said; \u2018But in Our reign we shall make it possible!\u2019 He\ndeclined any further conversation with me, referring me to you and our\nchief colleagues in the Cabinet.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell! I pay no more attention to a King\u2019s sudden caprice than I do to\nthe veering of the wind! He will alter his mind in a few days, when the\nexigency of the matters in hand becomes apparent to him. In the same\nway, he will revoke his decision about that grant of land to the\nJesuits. He must let them have their way.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat benefit do we get by favouring the Jesuits?\u201d asked Lutera.\n\n\u201cJost gets a thousand a year for putting flattering notices of the\nschools, processions, festivals and such nonsense in his various\nnewspapers; and our party secures the political support of the Vatican\nin Europe,--which just now is very necessary. The Pope must give his\nChristian benediction not only to our Educational system, but also to\nthe war!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen the King has set himself in our way already, even in this matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has! Quite unaccountably and very foolishly. But we shall persuade\nhim still to be of our opinion. The ass that will not walk must be\nbeaten till he gallops! I have no anxiety whatever on any point; even\nthe advent of Jost\u2019s spy, with an imitation of your signet on his finger\nappears to me quite melodramatic, and only helps to make the general\nsituation more interesting,--to me at least;--I am only sorry to see\nthat you allow yourself to be so much concerned over these trifles!\u201d\n\n\u201cI have my family to think of,\u201d said the Marquis slowly; \u201cMy reputation\nas a statesman, and my honour as a minister are both at stake.\u201d P\u00e9rousse\nsmiled oddly, but said nothing. \u201cIf in any way my name became a subject\nof popular animadversion, it would entirely ruin the position I believe\nI have attained in history. I have always wished,--\u201d and there was a\ntinge of pathos in his voice--\u201cmy descendants to hold a certain pride in\nmy career!\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse looked at him with grim amusement.\n\n\u201cIt is a curious and unpleasant fact that the \u2018descendants\u2019 of these\ndays do not care a button for their ancestors,\u201d he said; \u201cThey generally\ntry to forget them as fast as possible. What do the descendants of\nRobespierre, (if there are any), care about him? The descendants of\nWellington? The descendants of Beethoven or Lord Byron? Among the many\nnumerous advantages attending the world-wide fame of Shakespeare is that\nhe has left no descendants. If he had, his memory would have been more\nvulgarised by _them,_ than by any Yankee kicker at his grave! One of the\nmost remarkable features of this progressive age is the cheerful ease\nwith which sons forget they ever had fathers! I am afraid, Marquis, you\nare not likely to escape the common doom!\u201d\n\nLutera rose slowly, and prepared to take his departure.\n\n\u201cI shall call a Cabinet Council for Monday,\u201d he said; \u201cThis is Friday.\nYou will find it convenient to attend?\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse, rising at the same time, assented smilingly.\n\n\u201cYou will see things in a better and clearer light by then,\u201d he said.\n\u201cRely on me! I have not involved you thus far with any intention of\nbringing you to loss or disaster. Whatever befalls you in this affair\nmust equally befall me; we are both in the same boat. We must carry\nthings through with a firm hand, and show no hesitation. As for the\nKing, his business is to be a Dummy; and as Dummy he must remain.\u201d\n\nLutera made no reply. They shook hands,--not over cordially,--and\nparted; and as soon as P\u00e9rousse heard the wheels of the Premier\u2019s\ncarriage grinding away from his outer gate, he applied himself\nvigorously to the handle of one of the numerous telephone wires fitted\nup near his desk, and after getting into communication with the quarter\nhe desired, requested General Bernhoff, Chief of the Police, to attend\nupon him instantly. Bernhoff\u2019s headquarters were close by, so that he\nhad but to wait barely a quarter of an hour before that personage,--the\nsame who had before been summoned to the presence of the\nKing,--appeared.\n\nTo him P\u00e9rousse handed a slip of paper, on which he had written the\nwords \u2018Pasquin Leroy.\u2019\n\n\u201cDo you know that name?\u201d he asked.\n\nGeneral Bernhoff looked at it attentively. Only the keenest and closest\nobserver could have possibly detected the slight flicker of a smile\nunder the stiff waxed points of his military moustache, as he read it.\nHe returned it carefully folded.\n\n\u201cI fancy I have heard it!\u201d he said cautiously; \u201cIn any case, I shall\nremember it.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood! There is a man of that name in this city; trace him if you\ncan! Take this note to Mr. David Jost\u201d--and while he spoke he hastily\nscrawled a few lines and addressed them--\u201cand he will give you an\nexact personal description of him. He is reported to have left for\nMoscow,--but I discredit that statement. He is a foreign spy, engaged,\nwe believe, in the work of taking plans of our military defences,--he\nmust be arrested, and dealt with rigorously at once. You understand?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly,\u201d replied Bernhoff, accepting the note handed to him; \u201cIf he\nis to be discovered, I shall not fail to discover him!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd when you think you are on the track, let me have information at\nonce,\u201d went on P\u00e9rousse; \u201cBut be well on your guard, and let no one\nlearn the object of your pursuit. Keep your own counsel!\u201d\n\n\u201cI always do!\u201d returned Bernhoff bluntly. \u201cIf I did not there might be\ntrouble!\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse looked at him sharply, but seeing the wooden-like impassiveness\nof his countenance, forced a smile.\n\n\u201cThere might indeed!\u201d he said; \u201cYour tact and discretion, General,\ndo much to keep the city quiet. But this affair of Pasquin Leroy is a\nprivate matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cDistinctly so!\u201d agreed Bernhoff quietly; \u201cI hold the position\nentirely!\u201d\n\nHe shortly afterwards withdrew, and Carl P\u00e9rousse, satisfied that he had\nat any rate taken precautions to make known the existence of a spy in\nthe city, if not to secure his arrest, turned to the crowding business\non his hands with a sense of ease and refreshment. He might not have\nfelt quite so self-assured and complacent, had he seen the worthy\nBernhoff smiling broadly to himself as he strolled along the street,\nwith the air of one enjoying a joke, the while he murmured,--\n\n\u201cPasquin Leroy,--engaged in taking plans of the military defences--is\nhe? Ah!--a very dangerous amusement to indulge in! Engaged in taking\nplans!--Ah!--Yes!--Very good,--very good; excellent! Do I know the\nname? Yes! I fancy I might have heard it! Oh, yes, very good\nindeed--excellent! And this spy is probably still in the city?\nYes!--Probably! Yes--I should imagine it quite likely!\u201d\n\nStill smiling, and apparently in the best of humours with himself\nand the world at large, the General continued his easy stroll by the\nsea-fronted ways of the city, along the many picturesque terraces,\nand up flights of marble steps built somewhat in the fashion of the\nprettiest corners of Monaco, till he reached the chief promenade and\nresort of fashion, which being a broad avenue running immediately\nunder and in front of the King\u2019s palace facing the sea, was in the late\nsunshine of the afternoon crowded with carriages and pedestrians. Here\nhe took his place with the rest, saluting a fellow officer here, or a\nfriend there,--and stood bareheaded with the rest of the crowd, when\na light gracefully-shaped landau, drawn by four greys, and escorted\nby postillions in the Royal liveries, passed like a triumphal car,\nenshrining the cold, changeless and statuesque beauty of the Queen,\nupon whom the public were never weary of gazing. She was a curiosity to\nthem--a living miracle in her unwithering loveliness; for, apparently\nunmoved by emotion herself, she roused all sorts of emotions in others.\nBernhoff had seen her a thousand times, but never without a sense of new\ndazzlement.\n\n\u201cAlways the same Sphinx!\u201d he thought now, with a slight frown shading\nthe bluff good-nature of his usual expression; \u201cShe is a woman who\nwill face Death as she faces Time,--with that cold smile of hers which\nexpresses nothing but scorn of all life\u2019s little business!\u201d\n\nHe proceeded meditatively on his way to the palace itself, where, on\ndemand, he was at once admitted to the private apartments of the King.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nROYAL LOVERS\n\n\nSilver-white glamour of the moon, and velvet darkness of deep branching\nfoliage held the quiet breadth of The Islands between them. Low on the\nshore the fantastic shapes of one or two tall cliffs were outlined black\non the fine sparkling sand,--tiny waves rose from the bosom of the calm\nsea, and cuddling together in baby ripples made bubbles of their crests,\nand broke here and there among the pebbles with low gurgles of laughter,\nand in the warm silence of the southern night the nightingales began to\ntune up their delicate fluty voices with delicious tremors and pauses in\nthe trying of their song. The under-scent of hidden violets among moss\nflowed potently upon the quiet air, mingled with strong pine-odours and\nthe salt breath of the gently heaving sea,--and all the land seemed as\nlonely and as fair as the fabled Eden might have been, when the first\ntwo human mated creatures knew it as their own. To every soul that loves\nfor the first time, the vision of that Lost Paradise is granted; to\nevery man and woman who know and feel the truth of the divine passion is\nvouchsafed a flashing gleam of glory from that Heaven which gives them\nto each other. For the voluptuary--for the animal man,--who like his\nfour-footed kindred is only conscious of instinctive desire, this pure\nexpansion of the heart and ennobling of the thought is as a sealed\nbook,--a never-to-be-divulged mystery of joy, which, because he cannot\nexperience it, he is unable to believe in. It is a glory-cloud in\nwhich the privileged ones are \u2018caught up and received out of sight.\u2019 It\ntransfuses the roughest elements into immortal influences,--it colours\nthe earth with fairer hues, and fills the days with beauty; every hour\nis a gem of sweet thought set in the dreaming soul, and the lover, at\ncertain times of rapt ecstasy, would smile incredulously were he told\nthat anyone living could be unhappy. For love goes back to the beginning\nof things,--to the time when the world was new. It has its birth in that\nprimeval light when \u2018the morning stars sang together, and all the\nsons of God shouted for joy.\u2019 If it is real, deep, passionate and\ndisinterested love, it sees no difficulties and knows no disillusions.\nIt is a sufficient assurance of God to make life beautiful. But in these\ndays of the eld-time of nations, when all things are being mixed and\nprepared for casting into a new mould of world-formation, where we and\nour civilizations are not, and shall not be,--any more than the Egyptian\nRameses is part of us now,--love in its pristine purity, faith and\nsimplicity, is rare. Very little romance is left to hallow it; and it is\ndoubtful whether the white moon, swinging like a silver lamp in heaven\nabove the peaceful Islands, shed her glory anywhere on any such\nlovers in the world, as the two who on this fair night of the southern\nspringtime, with arms entwined round each other, moved slowly up and\ndown on the velvet greensward outside Ronsard\u2019s cottage,--Gloria and her\n\u2018sailor\u2019 husband.\n\nGloria was happy,--and her happiness made her doubly beautiful. Clad in\nher usual attire of white homespun, with her rich hair falling unbound\nover her shoulders in girl-fashion, and just kept back by a band of\nwhite coral, she looked like a young goddess of the sea; her lustrous,\nstarlike eyes gazed up into the tender responsive ones of the handsome\nstripling she had so trustfully wedded, and not a shadow of doubt\nor fear darkened the heaven of her confidence. She did not know how\nbeautiful she was,--she did not realise that her body was like one of\nthe unfettered, graceful and perfectly-proportioned figures of women\nleft to our wondering reverence by the Greek sculptors,--she had never\nthought about herself at all, not even to compare her fair brilliancy\nof skin with the bronzed, weather-beaten faces of the fisher-folk among\nwhom she dwelt. Resting her delicate classic head against the encircling\narm of her lover and lord, her beauty seemed almost unearthly in its\npure transparency of feature, outlined by the silver glimmer of the\nmoonbeams; and the young man by her side, with his handsome dark head,\ntall figure and distinguished bearing, looked the fitting mate for her\nfair, blossoming womanhood. No two lovers were ever more ideally matched\nin physical perfection; and as they moved slowly to and fro on the soft\ndark grass, brushing the dewy scent from hanging rose-boughs that pushed\nout inviting tufts of white and pink bloom here and there from the\nsurrounding foliage, they would have served many a poet for some sweet\nidyll, or romance in rhyme, which should hold in its stanzas the magic\nof immortality. Yet there was a shade of uneasiness in the minds of\nboth,--Prince Humphry was more silent than usual, and seemed absorbed\nin thought; and Gloria, looking timidly up from time to time at the dark\npoetic face of her \u2018sailor\u2019 lover, felt with a woman\u2019s quick instinct\nthat something was troubling him, and remorsefully concluded that she\nwas to blame,--that he had heard of her having been seen by the King,\nand that he was evidently vexed by it. He had arrived that evening\nsuddenly and unexpectedly; for she and her \u2018little father,\u2019 as she\ncalled R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard, had just begun their frugal supper, when the Crown\nPrince\u2019s yacht swept into the bay and dropped anchor. Half an hour later\nhe, the much-beloved \u2018junior officer\u2019 in the Crown Prince\u2019s service had\nappeared at the cottage door, greatly to their delight, for they did not\nexpect to see him so soon. They had supped together, and then Ronsard\nhimself had gone to superintend a meeting at a small social club he had\nstarted for the amusement of the fisher-folk, wisely leaving the young\nwedded lovers to themselves. And they had for a long time been very\nquiet, save for such little words of love as came into tune with the\ninterchange of caresses,--and after a pause of anxious inward thought,\nGloria ventured on a timid query.\n\n\u201cDearest,--are you _very_ angry with me?\u201d\n\nHe started,--and stopping in his walk, turned the fair face up between\nhis two hands, as one might lift a rose on its stem, and kissed it\ntenderly.\n\n\u201cAngry? How can I ever be angry with you, Sweet? Besides what cause have\nI for anger?\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought, perhaps--\u201d murmured Gloria, \u201cthat if the Professor told you\nwhat I did yesterday,--when the King came--\u201d\n\n\u201cHe did tell me;\u201d and the Prince still gazed down on that heavenly\nbeauty which was the light of the world to him. \u201cHe told me that you\nsang;--and that your golden voice was a musical magnet which drew his\nMajesty to your feet! I am not surprised,--it was only natural! But\nI could have wished it had not happened just yet; however, it has\nhappened, and we must make the best of it!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was my fault,\u201d said the girl penitently;--\u201cI had the fancy to sing;\nand I _would_ sing, though the good Professor told me not to do so!\u201d\n\nThe Prince was silent. He was bracing his mind to the inevitable. He had\ndetermined that on this very night Gloria should know the truth. For he\nwas instinctively certain that if he went abroad, as his father wished\nhim to do, some means would be taken to remove her altogether from the\ncountry before his return; and his idea was to tell her all, and make\nher accompany him on his travels. As his wife, she was bound to obey\nhim, he argued within himself; she should, she must go with him!\nUnconsciously Gloria\u2019s next words supplied him with an opening to the\nsubject.\n\n\u201cWhy did you never tell me that the Professor was in the King\u2019s\nservice?\u201d she asked. \u201cHe seemed to know him quite well,--indeed, almost\nas a friend!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is the King\u2019s physician,\u201d answered the Prince abruptly; \u201cAnd,\ntherefore, he is very greatly in the King\u2019s confidence.\u201d\n\nHe walked on, still keeping his arm round her, and seemed not to see the\nhalf-frightened glance she gave him.\n\n\u201cThe King\u2019s physician!\u201d she echoed;--\u201cHe does not seem a great person at\nall,--he is quite a simple old German man!\u201d\n\nHer lover smiled.\n\n\u201cTo be physician to the King, my Gloria, is not a very wonderful honour!\nIt merely implies that the man so chosen is perhaps the ablest fencer\nwith sickness and death; the greatness is in the simple old German\nhimself, not in the King\u2019s preference. Von Glauben is a good man.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it;\u201d said Gloria gently; \u201cHe is good,--and very kind. He said\nhe would always be my friend,--but he was very strange in his manner\nyesterday, and almost I was vexed with him. Do you know what he said? He\nasked me what I should do if you--my husband, had deceived me? Can you\nimagine such a thing?\u201d\n\nNow was the supreme moment. With a violently beating heart the Prince\nhalted, and putting both arms round her waist, drew her up to him in\nsuch a way that their eyes looked close into each other\u2019s, and their\nlips were within kissing touch.\n\n\u201cYes, my sweetest one! I can imagine such a thing! Such a thing is\npossible! Consider it to be true! Consider that I _have_ deceived you!\u201d\n\nShe did not move from his clasp, but into her large, lovely trusting\neyes came a look of grief and terror, and her face grew ashy pale.\n\n\u201cIn what way?\u201d she whispered faintly; \u201cTell me! I--I--cannot believe\nit!\u201d\n\n\u201cGloria,--Gloria! My love, my darling! Do not tremble so! Do not fear!\nI have not deceived you in any evil way,--what I have done was for\nyour good and mine; but now--now there is no longer any need of\ndeception,--you may, and _shall_ know all the truth, my wife, my dearest\nin the world! You shall know me as I truly am at last!\u201d\n\nShe moved restlessly in his strong clasp,--she was trembling from head\nto foot, as if her blood was suddenly chilled.\n\n\u201cAs you truly are!\u201d she echoed, with pale lips--\u201cAre you not then what I\nhave believed you to be?\u201d\n\nAnd she made an effort to withdraw herself entirely from his embrace.\nBut he held her fast.\n\n\u201cI am your husband, Gloria!\u201d he said, \u201cand you are my wife! Nothing can\nalter that; nothing can change our love or disunite our lives. But I am\nnot the poor naval officer I have represented myself to be!--though I am\nglad I adopted such a disguise, because by its aid I wooed and won your\nlove! I am not in the service of the Crown Prince,--except in so far\nas I serve my own needs! Why, how you tremble!\u201d--and he held her\ncloser--\u201cDo not be afraid, my darling! Lift up your eyes and look at me\nwith your own sweet trusting look,--do not turn away from me, because\ninstead of being the Prince\u2019s servant, I am the Prince himself!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Prince!\u201d And with a cry of utter desolation, Gloria wrenched\nherself out of his arms, and stood apart, looking at him in wild alarm\nand bewilderment. \u201cThe Prince! You--you!--my husband! You,--the King\u2019s\nson! And you have married _me_!--oh, how cruel of you!--how cruel!--how\ncruel!\u201d\n\nCovering her face with her hands, she broke into a low sobbing,--and the\nPrince, cut to the heart by her distress, caught her again in his arms.\n\n\u201cHush, Gloria!\u201d he said, with an accent of authority, though his own\nvoice was tremulous; \u201cYou must not grieve like this! You will break my\nheart! Do you not understand? Do you not see that all my life is bound\nup in you?--that I give it to you to do what you will with?--that I care\nnothing for rank, state or throne without you?--that I will let all the\nworld go rather than lose you? Gloria, do not weep so!--do not weep!\nEvery tear of yours is a pang to me! What does it matter whether I am\nprince or commoner? I love you!--we love each other!--we are one in the\nsight of Heaven!\u201d\n\nHe held her passionately in his arms, kissing the soft clusters of hair\nthat fell against his breast, and whispering all the tenderest words\nof endearment he could think of to console and soothe her anguish. By\ndegrees she grew calmer, and her sobs gradually ceased. Dashing the\ntears from her eyes, she looked up,--her face white as marble.\n\n\u201cYou must not tell Ronsard!\u201d she said in faint tones that shook with\nfear; \u201cHe would kill you!\u201d\n\nThe Prince smiled indulgently; his only thought was for her, and so long\nas he could dry her tears, Ronsard\u2019s rage or pleasure was nothing to\nhim.\n\n\u201cHe would kill you!\u201d repeated Gloria, with wide open tear-wet eyes;\n\u201cHe hates all kings, in his heart!--and if he knew that you--_you_--my\nhusband,--were what you say you are;--if he thought you had married me\nunder a disguise, only to leave me and never to want me any more----\u201d\n\n\u201cGloria, Gloria!\u201d cried the Prince, in despair; \u201cWhy will you say such\nthings! Never to want you any more! I want you all my life, and every\nmoment of that life! Gloria, you must listen to me--you must not turn\nfrom me at the very time I need you most! Are you not brave? Are you not\ntrue? Do you not love me?\u201d\n\nWith a pathetic gesture she stretched out her hands to him.\n\n\u201cOh, yes, I love you!\u201d she said; \u201cI love you with all my heart! But you\nhave deceived me!--my dearest, you have deceived me! And if you had\nonly told me the truth, I would never,--for your own sake,--have married\nyou!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know that!\u201d said the Prince; \u201cAnd that is why I determined to win you\nunder the mask of poverty! Now listen, my Princess and my Queen!--for\nyou are both! I want all your help--all your love--all your trust! Do\nnot be afraid of Ronsard; he will, he can do nothing to harm me! You are\nmy wife, Gloria,--you have promised before God to obey me! I claim your\nobedience!\u201d\n\nShe stood silent, looking at him,--pale and fair as an ivory statue of\nPsyche, seen against the dark background of the heavily-branched trees.\nHer mind was stunned and confused; she had not yet grasped the full\nconsciousness of her position,--but as he spoke, the old primitive\nlessons of faith, steadfastness of purpose, and unwavering love and\ntrust in God, which her adopted father had instilled into her from\nchildhood, rose and asserted their sway over her startled, but unspoilt\nsoul.\n\n\u201cYou need not claim it!\u201d she said, slowly; \u201cIt is yours always! I shall\ndo whatever you tell me, even if you command me to die for your sake!\u201d\n\nWith a swift impulsive action, full of grace and spirit, he dropped on\none knee and kissed her hand.\n\n\u201cAnd so I pledge my faith to my Queen!\u201d he said joyously. \u201cGloria! my\n\u2018Glory-of-the-Sea\u2019!--you will forgive me for having in this one thing\nmisled you? Think of me as your sailor lover still!--it is a much harder\nthing to be a king\u2019s son than a simple, independent seafarer! Pity me\nfor my position, and help me to make it endurable! Come now with me down\nto that rocky nook on the shore where I first saw you,--and I will tell\nyou exactly how everything stands,--and how I trust to your love for me\nand your courage, to clear away all the difficulties before us. You do\nnot love me less?\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not love you less!\u201d she replied slowly; \u201cbut I cannot think of\nyou as quite the same!\u201d\n\nA shadow of pain darkened his face.\n\n\u201cGloria,\u201d he said sadly; \u201cIf your love was as great as mine you would\nforgive!\u201d\n\nShe stood a moment wavering and uncertain; their eyes were riveted\non each other in a strange spiritual attraction--her soft lips were a\nlittle relaxed from their gravity as she steadfastly regarded him. She\nwas embarrassed, conscious, and very pale; but he drank in gratefully\nthe wonder and shy worship of those pure eyes,--and waited. Suddenly\nshe sprang to him and closed her arms about his neck, kissing him with\nsimple and loving tenderness.\n\n\u201cI do forgive! Oh, I do forgive!\u201d she murmured; \u201cBecause I love you, my\ndarling--because I love you! Whatever you wish I will do for your love\u2019s\nsake--believe me!--but I am frightened just now!--it is as if I did not\nknow you--as if someone had taken you suddenly a long way off! Give me\na little time to recover my courage!--and to know\u201d--here a faint smile\ntrembled on her beautiful curved mouth--\u201cto know,--and to _feel_,--that\nyou are still my own!--even though the world may try to part you from\nme!--still my very own!\u201d\n\nThe warmth of passionate feeling in her face flushed it into a rose-glow\nthat spread from chin to brow,--and clasping her to his breast, he gave\nher the speechless answer that love inscribes on eyes and lips,--then,\nkeeping his arm tenderly about her, he led her gently into the path\nthrough the pinewood, which wound down to their favourite haunt by the\nsea.\n\nThe moonlight had now increased in brilliancy, and illumined the\nlandscape with all the opulence, splendour and superabundance of\nradiance common to the south,--the air was soft and balmy, and one great\nwhite cloud floating lazily under the silver orb, moved slowly to the\ncentre of the heavens,--the violet-blue of night falling around it like\nan imperial robe of state. The two youthful figures passed under the\npine-boughs, which closed over them odorously in dark arches of shadow,\nand wended their slow way down to the seashore, from whence they could\nsee the Royal yacht lying at anchor, every tapering line of her fair\nproportions distinctly outlined against the sky, and all her\nmasts shining as if they had been washed with silver dew; and\nthe Heir-Apparent to a throne was,--for once in the history of\nHeir-Apparents,--happy--happy in knowing that he was loved as princes\nseldom or never are loved,--not for his power, not for his rank, but\nsimply for himself alone, by one of the most beautiful women in the\nworld, who,--if she knew neither the ways of a Court, nor the wiles of\nfashion,--had something better than either of these,--the sanctity of\ntruth and the strength of innocence.\n\nR\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard, coming back from his pleasurable duties as host and\nchairman to his fishermen-friends, found the cottage deserted, and\nsmiled, as he sat himself down in the porch to smoke, and to wait for\nthe lover\u2019s return.\n\n\u201cWhat a thing it is to be young!\u201d he sighed, as he gazed meditatively\nat the still beauty of the night around him;--\u201cTo be young,--and in\nlove with the right person! Hours go like moments--the grass is never\ndamp--the air is never cold--there is never time enough to give all the\nkisses that are waiting to be given; and life is so beautiful, that we\nare almost able to understand why God created the universe! The rapture\npasses very quickly, unfortunately--with some people;--but if I ever\nprayed for anything--which I do not--I should pray that it might\nremain with Gloria! It surely cannot offend the Supreme Being who is\nresponsible for our existence, to see one woman happy out of all the\ntortured millions of them! One exception to the universal rule would not\nmake much difference! The law that the strong should prey on the weak,\nnearly always prevails,--but it is possible to hope and believe that on\nrare occasions the strong may be magnanimous!\u201d\n\nHe smoked on placidly, considering various points of philosophic\nmeditation, and by and by fell into a gentle doze. The doze deepened\ninto a dream which grew sombre and terrible,--and in it he thought\nhe saw himself standing bareheaded on a raised platform above surging\nmillions of people who all shouted with one terrific uproar of\nunison--\u201cRegicide! Regicide!\u201d He looked down upon his hands, and saw\nthem red with blood!--he looked up to the heavens, and they were flushed\nwith the same ominous hue. Blood!--blood!--the blood of kings,--the dust\nof thrones!--and he, the cause! Choked and tormented with a parching\nthirst, it seemed in the dream that he tried to speak,--and with all\nhis force he cried out--\u201cFor her sake I did it! For her sake!\u201d But\nthe clamour of the crowd drowned his voice,--and then it was as if the\ncoldness of death crept slowly over him,--slowly and cruelly, as though\nhis whole body were being enclosed within an iceberg,--and he saw\nGloria, the child of his love and care, laid out before him dead,--but\nrobed and crowned like a queen, and placed on a great golden bier of\nstate, with purple velvet falling about her, and tall candles blazing\nat her head and feet. And voices sang in his ears--\u201cGloria! Gloria in\nexcelsis Deo!\u201d--mingling with the muffled chanting of priests at some\ndistant altar; and he thought he made an attempt to touch the royal\nvelvet pall that draped her beautiful lifeless body, when he was roughly\nthrust back by armed men with swords and bayonets who asked him \u201cWhat do\nyou here? Are you not her murderer?\u201d--and he cried out wildly \u201cNo, no!\nNever could I have harmed the child of my love! Never could I hurt a\nhair of her head, or cause her an hour\u2019s sorrow! She is all I had in\nthe world!--I loved her!--I loved her! Let me see her!--let me\ntouch her!--let me kiss her once again!\u201d And then the scene suddenly\nchanged,--and it was found that Gloria was not dead at all, but walking\npeacefully alone in a garden of flowers, with lilies crowning her,\nand all the sunshine about her; and that the golden bier of state had\nchanged into a ship at sea which was floating, floating westward bearing\nsome great message to a far country, and that all was well for him and\nhis darling. The troubled vision cleared from his brain, and his sleep\ngrew calmer; he breathed more easily, and flitting glimpses of fair\nscenes passed before his dreaming eyes,--scenes in some peaceful and\nbeautiful world, where never a shadow of sorrow or trouble darkened the\nquiet contentment of happy and innocent lives. He smiled in his sleep,\nand heaved a deep sigh of pleasure,--and so, gently awoke, to feel a\nlight touch on his shoulder, and to see Gloria standing before him. A\nsmile was on her face,--the fragrance of the woodlands and the sea clung\nabout her garments,--she held a few roses in her hand, and there was\nsomething in her whole appearance that struck him as new, commanding,\nand more than ever beautiful.\n\n\u201cYou have returned alone?\u201d he said wonderingly.\n\n\u201cYes. I have returned alone! I have much to tell you, dear! Let us go\nin!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nOF THE CORRUPTION OF THE STATE\n\n\nThe large gaunt building, which was dignified by the name of the\n\u2018People\u2019s Assembly Rooms,\u2019 stood in a dim unfashionable square of the\ncity which had once been entirely devoted to warehouses and storage\ncellars. It had originally served a useful purpose in providing\ntemporary shelter for foreign-made furniture, which was badly\nconstructed and intrinsically worthless,--but which, being cheaply\nimported and showy in appearance, was patronized by some of the upper\nmiddle-classes in preference to goods of their own home workmanship.\nLately, however, the foreign import had fallen to almost less than\nnothing; and whether or no this was due to the secret machinations of\nSergius Thord and his Revolutionary Committee, no one would have had\nthe hardihood to assert. Foreign tradesmen, however, and foreign workmen\ngenerally had certainly experienced a check in their inroads upon\nhome manufactures, and some of the larger business firms had been so\nsuccessfully intimidated as to set up prominent announcements outside\ntheir warehouses to the effect that \u201cOnly native workmen need apply.\u201d\n Partly in consequence of the \u201cslump\u201d in foreign goods, the \u201cAssembly\nRooms,\u201d as a mere building had for some time been shut up, and given\nover to dust and decay, till the owners of the property decided to\nlet it out for popular concerts, meetings and dances, and so make some\nlittle money out of its bare whitewashed walls and comfortless ugliness.\nThe plan had succeeded fairly well, and the place was beginning to be\nknown as a convenient centre where thousands were wont to congregate, to\nenjoy cheap music and cheap entertainment generally. It was a favourite\nvantage ground for the disaffected and radical classes of the metropolis\nto hold forth on their wrongs, real or imaginary,--and the capacities of\nthe largest room or hall in the building were put to their utmost\nextent to hold the enormous audiences that always assembled to hear the\npicturesque, passionate and striking oratory of Sergius Thord.\n\nBut there were one or two rare occasions when even Sergius Thord\u2019s\nattractions as a speaker were thrown into the background, by the\nappearance of that mysterious personality known as Lotys,--concerning\nwhom a thousand extravagant stories were rife, none of which were true.\nIt was rumoured among other things as wild and strange, that she was\nthe illegitimate child of a certain great prince, whose amours were\nlegion--that she had been thrown out into the street to perish, deserted\nas an infant, and that Sergius Thord had rescued her from that impending\nfate of starvation and death,--and that it was by way of vengeance for\nthe treatment of her mother by the Exalted Personage involved, that\nshe had thrown in her lot with the Revolutionary party, to aid their\npropaganda by her intellectual gifts, which were many. She was known to\nbe very poor,--she lived in cheap rooms in a low quarter of the city;\nshe was seldom or never seen in the public thoroughfares,--she appeared\nto have no women friends, and she certainly mixed in no form of social\nintercourse or entertainment. Yet her name was on the lips of the\nmillion, and her influence was felt far beyond the city\u2019s radius.\nEven among some of the highest and wealthiest classes of society this\npeculiar appellation of \u201cLotys,\u201d carrying no surname with it, and\nspoken at haphazard had the effect of causing a sudden silence, and\nthe interchange of questioning looks among those who heard it, and who,\nwithout knowing who she was, or what her aims in life really were, voted\nher \u201cdangerous.\u201d Those among the superior classes who had by rare\nchance seen her, were unanimous in their verdict that she was not\nbeautiful,--\u201cbut!\u201d--and the \u201cbut\u201d spoke volumes. She was known\nto possess something much less common, and far more potent than\nbeauty,--and that was a fascinating, compelling spiritual force,\nwhich magnetised into strange submission all who came within its\ninfluence,--and many there were who admitted, though with bated breath\nthat \u2018An\u2019 if she chose\u2019 she could easily become a very great personage\nindeed.\n\nShe herself was, or seemed to be, perfectly unconscious of the many\ndiscussions concerning her and her origin. She had her own secret\nsorrows,--her sad private history, which she shut close within her own\nbreast,--but out of many griefs and poverty-stricken days of struggle\nand cruel environment, she had educated herself to a wonderful height of\nmoral self-control and almost stoical rectitude. Her nature was a broad\nand grand one, absolutely devoid of pettiness, and full of a strong,\nalmost passionate sympathy with the wrongs of others,--and she had\nformed herself on such firm, heroic lines of courage and truth and\nself-respect, that the meaner vices of her sex were absolutely unknown\nto her. Neither vanity, nor envy, nor malice, nor spleen disturbed the\ncalmly-flowing current of her blood,--her soul was absorbed in pity for\nhuman kind, and contemplation of its many woes,--and so living alone,\nand studiously apart from the more frivolous world, she had attained a\nfinely tempered and deeply thoughtful disposition which gave her equally\nthe courage of the hero and the resignation of the martyr. She had long\nput away out of her life all possibility of happiness for herself. She\nhad, by her unwearying study of the masses of working, suffering men and\nwomen, come to the sorrowful conclusion that real happiness could only\nbe enjoyed by the extremely young, and the extremely thoughtless,--and\nthat love was only another name for the selfish and often cruel and\ndestructive instincts of animal desire. She did not resent these ugly\nfacts, or passionately proclaim against the gloomy results of life such\nas were daily displayed to her,--she was only filled with a profound and\nceaseless compassion for the evils which were impossible to cure.\nHer tireless love for the sick, the feeble, the despairing, the\nbroken-hearted and the dying, had raised her to the height of an angel\u2019s\nquality among the very desperately poor and criminal classes;--the\nfiercest ruffians of the slums were docile in her presence and obedient\nto her command;--and many a bold plan of robbery,--many a wicked\nscheme of murder had been altogether foregone and abandoned through the\nintervention of Lotys, whose intellectual acumen, swift to perceive the\nsavage instinct, or motive for crime, was equally swift to point out\nits uselessness as a means of satisfying vengeance. No preacher could\npersuade a thief of the practical ingloriousness of thieving, as Lotys\ncould,--and a prison chaplain, remonstrating with an assassin after his\ncrime, was not half as much use to the State as Lotys, who could induce\nsuch an one to resign his murderous intent altogether, before he had so\nmuch as possessed himself of the necessary weapon. Thousands of people\nwere absolutely under her moral dominion,--and the power she exercised\nover them was so great, and yet so unobtrusive, that had she bidden the\nwhole city rise in revolt, she would most surely have been obeyed by the\nlarger and fiercer half of its population.\n\nWith the moneyed classes she had nothing in common, though she viewed\nthem with perhaps more pity than she did the very poor. An overplus of\ncash in any one person\u2019s possession that had not been rightfully earned\nby the work of brain or body, was to her an incongruity, and a defection\nfrom the laws of the universe;--show and ostentation she despised,--and\nthough she loved beautiful things, she found them,--as she herself\nsaid,--much more in the everyday provisions of nature, than in the\nelaborate designs of art. When she passed the gay shops in the\nprincipal thoroughfares she never paused to look in at the jewellers\u2019\nwindows,--but she would linger for many minutes studying the beauty of\nthe sprays of orchids and other delicate blossoms, arranged in baskets\nand vases by the leading florists; while,--best delight of all to her,\nwas a solitary walk inland among the woods, where she could gather\nviolets and narcissi, and, as she expressed it \u2018feel them growing\nabout her feet.\u2019 She would have been an extraordinary personality as a\nman,--as a woman she was doubly remarkable, for to a woman\u2019s gentleness\nshe added a force of will and brain which are not often found even in\nthe stronger sex.\n\nMysterious as she was in her life and surroundings, enough was known of\nher by the people at large, to bring a goodly concourse of them to the\nAssembly Rooms on the night when she was announced to speak on a subject\nof which the very title seemed questionable, namely, \u201cOn the Corruption\nof the State.\u201d The police had been notified of the impending meeting,\nand a few stalwart emissaries of the law in plain clothes mixed with the\nin-pouring throng. The crowd, however, was very orderly;--there was\nno pushing, no roughness, and no coarse language. All the members of\nSergius Thord\u2019s Revolutionary Committee were present, but they came as\nstragglers, several and apart,--and among them Paul Zouche the poet,\nwas perhaps the most noticeable. He had affected the picturesque in his\nappearance;--his hat was of the Rembrandt character, and he had donned\na very much worn, short velveteen jacket, whose dusty brown was relieved\nby the vivid touch of a bright red tie. His hair was wild and bushy, and\nhis eyes sparkled with unwonted brilliancy, as he nodded to one or\ntwo of his associates, and gave a careless wave of the hand to Sergius\nThord, who, entering slowly, and as if with reluctance, took a seat at\nthe very furthest end of the hall, where his massive figure showed least\nconspicuous among the surging throng. Keeping his head down in a pensive\nattitude of thought, his eyes were, nevertheless, sharp to see every\nperson entering who belonged to his own particular following,--and a\nray of satisfaction lighted up his face, as he perceived his latest new\nassociate, Pasquin Leroy, quietly edge his way through the crowd, and\nsecure a seat in one of the obscurest and darkest corners of the badly\nlighted hall. He was followed by his comrades, Max Graub and Axel\nRegor,--and Thord felt a warm glow of contentment in the consciousness\nthat these lately enrolled members of the Revolutionary Committee were\nso far faithful to their bond. Signed and sealed in the blood of\nLotys, they had responded to the magnetism of her name with the prompt\nobedience of waves rising to the influence of the moon,--and Sergius,\nfull of a thousand wild schemes for the regeneration of the People, was\nmore happy to know them as subjects to her power, than as adherents\nto his own cause. He was calmly cognisant of the presence of General\nBernhoff, the well-known Chief of Police;--though he was rendered a\ntrifle uneasy by observing that personage had seated himself as closely\nas possible to the bench occupied by Leroy and his companions. A faint\nwonder crossed his mind as to whether the three, in their zeal for the\nnew Cause they had taken up, had by any means laid themselves open to\nsuspicion; but he was not a man given to fears; and he felt convinced in\nhis own mind, from the close personal observation he had taken of Leroy,\nand from the boldness of his speech on his enrolment as a member of the\nRevolutionary Committee, that, whatever else he might prove to be, he\nwas certainly no coward.\n\nThe hall filled quickly, till by and by it would have been impossible to\nfind standing room for a child. A student of human nature is never long\nin finding out the dominant characteristic of an audience,--whether its\nattitude be profane or reverent, rowdy or attentive, and the bearing of\nthe four or five thousand here assembled was remarkable chiefly for its\nseriousness and evident intensity of purpose. The extreme orderliness of\nthe manner in which the people found and took their seats,--the entire\nabsence of all fussy movement, fidgeting, staring, querulous changing of\nplaces, whispering or laughter, showed that the crowd were there for\na deeper purpose than mere curiosity. The bulk of the assemblage was\ncomposed of men; very few women were present, and these few were all of\nthe poor and hard-working classes. No female of even the lower middle\nranks of life, with any faint pretence to \u2018fashion,\u2019 would have been\nseen listening to \u201cthat dreadful woman,\u201d--as Lotys was very often called\nby her own sex,--simply because of the extraordinary fascination she\nsecretly exercised over men. Pasquin Leroy and his companions spoke now\nand then, guardedly, and in low whispers, concerning the appearance\nand demeanour of the crowd, Max Graub being particularly struck by the\ngeneral physiognomy and type of the people present.\n\n\u201cPlenty of good heads!\u201d he said cautiously. \u201cThere are thinkers\nhere--and thinkers are a very dangerous class!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are many people who \u2018think\u2019 all their lives and \u2018do\u2019 nothing!\u201d\n said Axel Regor languidly.\n\n\u201cTrue, my friend! But their thought may lead, while, they themselves\nremain passive,\u201d joined in Pasquin Leroy sotto-voce;--\u201cIt is not at all\nimpossible that if Lotys bade these five thousand here assembled burn\ndown the citadel, it would be done before daybreak!\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no doubt at all of that,\u201d said Graub. \u201cOne cannot forget that\nthe Bastille was taken while the poor King Louis XVI. was enjoying\na supper-party and \u2018a little orange-flower-water refreshment\u2019 at\nVersailles!\u201d\n\nLeroy made an imperative sign of silence, for there was a faint stir\nand subdued hum of expectation in the crowd. Another moment,--and Lotys\nstepped quietly and alone on the bare platform. As she confronted her\naudience, a low passionate sound, like the murmur of a rising storm,\ngreeted her,--a sound that was not anything like the customary applause\nor encouragement offered to a public speaker, but that suggested\nextraordinary satisfaction and expectancy, which almost bordered on\nexultation. Pasquin Leroy, raising his eyes as she entered, was startled\nby an altogether new impression of her to that which he had received on\nthe night he first saw her. Her personality was somehow different--her\nappearance more striking, brilliant and commanding. Attired in the same\nplain garment of dead white serge in which he had previously seen\nher, with the same deep blood-red scarf crossing her left shoulder and\nbreast,--there was something to-night in this mere costume that seemed\nemblematic of a far deeper power than he had been at first inclined to\ngive her. A curious sensation began to affect his nerves,--a sudden and\noverwhelming attraction, as though his very soul were being drawn out\nof him by the calm irresistible dominance of those slumbrous dark-blue\niris-coloured eyes, which had the merit of appearing neither brilliant\nnor remarkable as eyes merely, but which held in their luminous depths\nthat intellectual command which represents the active and passionate\nlife of the brain, beside which all other life is poor and colourless.\nThese eyes appeared to rest upon him now from under their drooping\nsleepy white eyelids with an inexpressible tenderness and fascination,\nand he was suddenly reminded of Heinrich Heine\u2019s quaint love-fancy;\n\u201cBehind her dreaming eyelids the sun has gone to rest; when she opens\nher eyes it will be day, and the birds will be heard singing!\u201d He began\nto realise depths in his own nature which he had till now been almost\nunconscious of; he knew himself to a certain extent, but by no means\nthoroughly; and awakening as he was to the fact that other lives around\nhim presented strange riddles for consideration, he wondered whether\nafter all, his own life might not perhaps prove one of the most complex\namong human conundrums? He had often meditated on the inaccessibility of\nideal virtues, the uselessness of persuasion, the commonplace absurdity,\nas he had thought, of trying to embody any lofty spiritual dream,--yet\nhe was himself a man in whom spiritual forces were so strong that he was\npersonally unaware of their overflow, because they were as much a part\nof him as his breathing capacity. True, he had never consciously tested\nthem, but they were existent in him nevertheless.\n\nHe watched Lotys now, with an irritable, restless attention,--there\nwas a thrill of vague expectation in his soul as of new things to be\ndone,--changes to be made in the complex machinery of human nature,--and\na great wonder, as well as a great calm, fell upon him as the first\nclear steady tones of her voice chimed through the deep hush which had\nprepared the way for her first words. Her voice was a remarkable one,\nvibrant, yet gentle,--ringing out forcefully, yet perfectly sweet. She\nbegan very simply,--without any attempt at a majestic choice of words,\nor an impressive flow of oratory. She faced her audience quietly,--one\nbare rounded arm resting easily on a small uncovered deal table in front\nof her;--she had no \u2018notes\u2019 but her words were plainly the result of\ndeliberate and careful thinking-out of certain problems needful to be\nbrought before the notice of the people. Her face was colourless,--the\ndead gold hair rippling thickly away in loose clusters from the white\nbrows, fell into their accustomed serpentine twisted knot at the nape of\nher neck; and the scarlet sash she wore, alone relieved the statuesque\nwhite folds of her draperies; but as she spoke, something altogether\nsuperphysical seemed to exhale from her as heat exhales from fire--a\nstrange essence of overpowering and compelling sweetness stole into\nthe heavy heated air, and gave to the commonplace surroundings and the\npoorly clothed crowd of people an atmosphere of sacredness and beauty.\nThis influence deepened steadily under the rhythmic cadence of her\nvoice, till every agitated soul, every resentful and troubled heart in\nthe throng was conscious of a sudden ingathering of force and calm, of\nself-respect and self-reliance. The gist of her intention was plainly to\nset people thinking for themselves, and in this there could be no manner\nof doubt but that she succeeded. Of the \u2018Corruption of the State\u2019 she\nspoke as a thing thoroughly recognised by the masses.\n\n\u201cWe know,--all of us,\u201d--she said, in the concluding portion of her\naddress, \u201cthat we have Ministers who personally care nothing for the\nprosperity or welfare of the country. We know--all of us,--that we\nhave a bribed Press; whose business it is to say nothing that shall\nrun counter to Ministerial views. We know,--all of us,--that it is this\nbribed Ministerial press which leads the ignorant, (who are not behind\nthe scenes,) to wrong and false conclusions;--and that it is solely upon\nthese wrong and false conclusions of the wilfully misled million,\nthat the Ministry itself rests for support. On one side the Press\nis manipulated by the Jews; on the other by the Jesuits. There is no\njournal in this country that will, or dare, publish the true reflex of\npopular opinion. Therefore the word \u2018free\u2019 cannot be applied to that\nrecording-force of nations which we call Journalism; inasmuch as it\nis now a merely purchased Chattle. We should remember, when we read\n\u2018opinions of the Press,\u2019--on any great movement or important change in\npolicy, that we are merely accepting the opinions of the bound and paid\nSlave of Capitalists;--and we should take care to form our judgment for\nourselves, rather than from the Capitalist point of view. Were there a\nstrong man to lead,--the shiftiness, treachery, and deliberate neglect\npractised on the million by those who are now in office, could\nnot possibly last;--but where there is no strength, there must be\nweakness,--and where a long career of deceit has been followed, instead\nof a course of plain dealing, failure in the end is inevitable.\nWith failure comes disaster; and often something which augments\ndisaster--Revolt. The people, weary of constant imposition,--of\nincessant delays of the justice due to them,--as well as the\nunscrupulous breaking of promises solemnly pledged,--will--in the\nlong run, take their own way, as they have done before in history, of\nsecuring instant amelioration of those wrongs which their paid rulers\nfail to redress. Who will dare to say that, under such circumstances,\nit is ill for the people to act? Sometimes it is a greater Consciousness\nthan their own that moves them; and the wronged and half-forgotten Cause\nof all worlds makes His command known through His creatures, who obey\nHis impulse,--even as the atoms gathering in space cluster at His will\ninto solar systems, and bring forth their burden of life!\u201d\n\nShe paused, and leaning forward a little, her eyes poured out their\nflashing searchlight as it seemed into the very souls of her hearers.\n\n\u201cDear friends!--dear children!\u201d she said, and in her tone there was the\ntenderness of a great compassion, almost bordering on tears,--\u201cWhat\nis it, think you all, that makes the age in which we live so sad, so\ncolourless, so restless and devoid of hope and peace? It is not that we\nare the inhabitants of a less wonderful or less beautiful world,--it is\nnot as if the sun had ceased to shine, or the birds had forgotten how\nto sing! Triumphs of science,--triumphs of learning and discovery, these\nare all on the increase for our help and furtherance. With so much\ngain in evident advancement, what is it we have lost?--what is it\nwe miss?--whence come the dreariness and emptiness and satiety,--the\nintolerable sense of the futility of life, even when life has most\nto offer? Dear children, you are all so sad!--many of you so\nbroken-hearted!--why is it?--how is it? Poverty alone is not the\ncause,--for it is quite possible to be poor, yet happy! True enough it\nis that in these days you are ground down by the imposition of taxes,\nwhich try all the strength of your earnings to pay; but even this is\nan evil you could mitigate for yourselves, by strong and united public\nprotest. How is it that you do not realise your own strength? You are\nnot like the poor brutes of the field and forest, who lack the reason\nwhich would show them how superior in physical force alone they are to\nthe insignificant biped who commands them. Could the ox understand his\nown strength, he would never be led to the slaughter-house;--he and\nhis kind would become a terror instead of a provision. You are not\noxen,--yet often you are as patient, as dull, as blind and reasonless\nas they! You form clubs, societies, and trades-unions;--but in how many\ncases do you not enter upon small and querulous differences which so\nweaken your unity that presently it falls to pieces and has no more\npower in it? This is what your tyrants in trade rely on and hope for;\nthe constant recurrence of quarrels and dissensions among yourselves.\nNo Society lasts which tolerates conflicting argument or differing\nsentiments in itself. Why is it that the Jesuits,--whom you are all\nunanimous in hating,--are still the strongest political Brotherhood\non the face of the earth? Because they are bound to maintain in every\nparticular the tenets of their Order. No matter how vile, or how\nreprehensibly false their theories, they are compelled to carry on the\nwork and propaganda of their Union, despite all loss and sacrifice to\nthemselves. This is the secret of their force. Expelled from one land,\nthey take root in another. Suppressed entirely by Pope Clement XIV., in\n1773, they virtually ignored suppression, and took up their headquarters\nin Russia. The influence they exerted there still lies on the serf\npopulation, like one of the many chains fastened to a Siberian exile\u2019s\nbody. Yet they were driven from Russia in 1820,--from Holland in\n1816,--from Switzerland in 1847, and from Germany in 1872. Latterly they\nhave been expelled from France. Nevertheless, in spite of these numerous\nexpulsions, and the universal odium in which they are held,--they still\nflourish; still are they able to maintain their twenty-two generals and\ntheir four Vicars;--and still all countries have, in their turn, to deal\nwith their impending or fulfilled invasion. Why is it that a Society\nso criminal in historic annals, should yet remain as a force in our\nadvanced era of civilization? Simply, because it is of One Mind! Bent on\nevil, or good,--self-renunciation or self-aggrandisement,--it is still\nof One Mind! Friends,--were you like them, also of One Mind, your\ninjuries, your oppressions, your taxations would not last long! The\nremedy for all is easy, and rests with yourselves,--only yourselves! But\nsome of you have lost heart--and other some have lost patience. You look\nround upon the squalid corners of this great city--you shudder at the\ncruelty of the daily life with which you have to contend,--you enter\npoor rooms, which you are compelled to call \u2018home,\u2019 where the sick and\ndying, the newly-born and the dead are huddled all together,--ten,\nand sometimes fifteen in one small den of four whitewashed walls;--and\nsickened and tired, you cry out \u2018Is life worth no more than this? Is\nGod\u2019s scheme for the human race no more than this? Then why were we born\nat all? Or, being born, why may we not die at once, self-slain?\u2019 Ah,\nyes, dear friends!--you often feel like this; we all of us often feel\nlike this! But--it is not God who has made life thus hard for you,--it\nis yourselves! It is you who consent to be down-trodden,--it is you who\nresign your freewill, your thought, your originality of character, into\nthe dominating power of others. True,--wealth controls affairs to a vast\nextent nowadays,--but there is a stronger power than wealth, and that is\nSoul! It is not the possession of gold that has given the greatest\nmen their position. This is a commercial age, we own,--and\ncertainly,--because of the base and degrading love of\naccumulation,--Intellectuality is for the moment often set aside as\nsomething valueless--but whenever Intellectuality truly asserts itself,\nthere is at once made visible an acting force of the Divine, which\nis practically limitless and irresistible. Think for yourselves,\nfriends!--do not let a hired Press think for you! Think for\nyourselves--judge for yourselves, and act for yourselves! By your\nobservation of a statesman\u2019s life, you shall know his capabilities. If\nhe has once been a turncoat, he will be a turncoat again. If he has been\nknown to speculate privately in a forthcoming political crisis, which he\nalone knows of in advance----\u201d\n\nHere the speaker was interrupted by what sounded more like a snarl than\na shout. \u201cP\u00e9rousse! P\u00e9rousse!\u201d\n\nThe name was hissed out, and tossed from one rank to another of the\naudience, and one or two of the police present glanced enquiringly\ntowards Bernhoff their chief,--but he sat with folded arms and\ninscrutable demeanour, making no sign. Lotys raised her small,\nbeautifully-shaped white hand to enjoin silence. She was obeyed\ninstantly.\n\n\u201cI speak of no one man,\u201d she said with deliberate emphasis; \u201cI accuse no\none man,--or any man! I say \u2018if\u2019 any man gambles with State policy, he\nis a traitor to the country! But such gambling is not a novelty in the\nhistory of nations. It has been practised over and over again. Only mark\nyou all this one God\u2019s truth!--that whenever it _has_ occurred--whenever\nthe rulers of a State _are_ corrupt,--whenever society sinks into such\nmoral defilement that it sees nothing better, nothing higher than the\nlove of money,--then comes the downfall!--then Ruin and Anarchy set up\ntheir dominion,--and Heaven\u2019s rage rolls out upon the offenders, till\ntheir offence be cleansed away in rivers of blood and tears!\u201d\n\nShe waited a moment,--and changing her attitude, seemed as it were,\nto project her thought into her audience, by the sudden passion of her\ncommanding gesture, and the flash of her deep luminous eyes.\n\n\u201cWe have heard of the Great Renunciation!\u201d she said; \u201cHow God Himself\ntook human form, and came to this low little earth to prove how nobly\nwe should live and die! But in our day,--we with our preachers and\nteachers, our press and our parliamentary orators,--our atheistical\nstatesmen on all hands, have come upon the Great Obliteration!--the\nObliteration of God altogether in our ways of life! We push Him out, as\nif He were not. He is not in our Churches--He is not in our Laws--He\nis not in our Commerce. Only when we are brought low by pain and\nsickness--when we are confronted by death itself--then we call out \u2018God!\nGod!\u2019 like cowards, praying for help from the Power we have negatived\nall our lives! Here is the evil, O children all!--we have forgotten Our\nFather! We arrange all our affairs in life without giving Him a thought!\nOur pleasures, our gains, our advantages,--are calculated without\nconsulting His good pleasure. He is last, or not at all,--when He should\nbe first, and in everything! The end of this is misery;--it must be so;\nit cannot by law be anything else. For what is God? Who is God? God is\na name merely,--but we give it to that Unseen, but ever working Force\nwhich rules the Universe! The coldest atheist that ever breathed\nmust own that somehow,--by some means or other,--the Universe _is_\nruled,--for if it were not, we should know nothing of it. Therefore,\nwhen we set aside, or leave out the consciousness and acknowledgment of\nthe Ruler, the ruling of our affairs must, of necessity, go wrong!\n\n\u201cI cannot preach to you--I cannot out of my own conscience recommend to\nyou one or the other form of faith as the way to peace and wisdom;--but\nI can and do Beseech you to remember the Note Dominant of this great\nUniverse--the Note that sounds through high and low,--through small\nand great alike!--and that must and will in due course absorb all our\ndiscords into Everlasting Harmony! Try not to put this fact out of your\nlives,--that Justice and Order are the rule of the spheres; and that\nwhenever we depart from these, even in the smallest contingency,\nconfusion reigns. How hard it is to believe in Justice and Order, you\nwill tell me,--when the poor are not treated with the same consideration\nas the rich,--and when money will buy place and position! True! It is\nhard to believe,--but it is believable nevertheless. As the lungs and\nthe heart are the life of the human body, so are Justice and Order the\nlife of the Universe,--and when these are pushed out of place, or become\ndiseased in the composition of a human state or community, then the\nlife of that state or community is threatened;--and unless remedies are\nquickly to hand, it must end. You all know the position of things among\nyourselves to-day;--you all know that there is no trust to be placed in\nChurches, Kings or Parliaments;--that the world is in a state of ferment\nand unrest,--moving towards Change;--change imminent--change, possibly,\ndisastrous! And if it is You who know, it is likewise You who must seize\nthe hour as it approaches!--seize it as you would seize a robber by the\nthroat, and demand its business;--search its heart;--deprive it of its\nweapons;--and learn from it its message! A message it may be of wild\nalarm--of tearing up old conventions;--of thrusting forth old abuses; a\nmessage full of clamour and outcry--but whatever the uproar, doubt not\nthat we shall hear the voice of the Forgotten God thundering in our\nears at the close! We shall have found our way closer to Him--and with\npenitence and prayer, we shall ask to be forgiven for having wandered\naway from Him so long!\n\n\u201cAnd will He not pardon? Yes,--He will, because He must! To Him we owe\nour existence;--He alone is responsible for our life, our probation, our\nprogress, our striving through many errors towards Perfection! He,\nwho sees all, must needs have pity for His creature Man! Out of the\nevolutions of a blind Time, He has made the poor weak human being, who\nin the first days of his sojourn on earth had neither covering nor home.\nLess protected than the beasts of the forest, he found himself compelled\nto Think!--to think out his own means of shelter,--to contrive his own\nweapons of defence. Slowly, and by painful degrees, from Savagery he has\nemerged to Civilization;--wherefore it is evident that his Maker meant\nThought to be his first principle, and Action his second. He who does\nnot work, shall not eat;--he who does not use all his faculties for\nimprovement, shall by and by have none to use. Injustice and corruption\nare amongst us, merely because we ourselves have failed to resist their\nfirst inroads. Who is it that complains of wrong? Let him hasten to\nhis own amending,--and he will find a thousand hands, a thousand hearts\nready to work with him! All Nature is on the side of health in the body,\nas of health in the State. All Nature fights against disease,--physical\nand moral. Therefore do not,--dear friends and children!--sit idle and\npassive, submitting yourselves to be deceived, as if you had no force\nto withstand deception! Show that you hate lies, and will have none of\nthem,--show that you will not be imposed upon--and decline to be led\nor governed by party agents, who persuade you to your own and your\ncountry\u2019s destruction! The voice of the People can no longer be heard\nin a purchased Press;--let it echo forth then, in stronger form\nthan ephemeral print, which to-day is glanced at, and to-morrow is\nforgotten;--wherever and whenever you are given the chance to meet,\nand to speak, let your authority as the workers, the ratepayers, and\nsupporters of the State be heard; and do not You, without whom even the\nKing could not keep his throne, consent to be set aside as the Unvalued\nMajority! Prove, by your own firm attitude that without You, nothing\ncan be done! It is time, oh people of my heart!--it is time you spoke\nclearly! God is moving His thought through your souls--God stirs in you\nthe fear, the discontent, the suspicion that all is not well with your\ncountry;--and it is the Spirit of God which breathes in the warning note\nof the time--\n\n  \u201c\u2018Hark to the voice of the time!\n    The multitude think forthemselves,\n    And weigh their condition each one;\n    The drudge has a spirit sublime,\n    And whether he hammers or delves,\n    He reads when his labour is done;\n    And learns, though he groan under poverty\u2019s ban,\n    That freedom to Think, is the birthright of man!\u2019\n\n\u201cLearn,\u201d she continued,--as a low deep murmur of agreement ran through\nthe room; \u201cLearn to what strange uses God puts even such men of this\nworld, whose sole existence has been for the cause of amassing\nmoney! They have acted as the merest machines, gathering in the\nmillions;--gathering, gathering them in! For what purpose? Lo, they are\nsmitten down in the prime of their lives, and the gold they have\npiled up is at once scattered! Much of it becomes used for educational\npurposes;--and some of these dead millionaires have, as it were thrown\nEducation at the heads of the people, and almost pauperised it. Far\naway in Great Britain, a millionaire has recently made the Scottish\nUniversity education \u2018free\u2019 to all students,--instead of, as it used to\nbe, hard to get, and well worth working to win. Now,--through the wealth\nof one man, it is turned into a pauper\u2019s allowance;--like offering the\nsmallest silver coin to a reduced gentleman. The pride,--the skill,--the\nself-renunciation,--the strong determination to succeed, which form\nfine character, and which taught the struggling student to win his\nown University education, are all wiped out;--there is no longer any\nnecessity for the practice of these manly and self-sustaining virtues.\nThe harm that will be done is probably not yet perceivable; but it will\nbe incalculable. Education, turned into a kind of pauper\u2019s monopoly,\nwill have widely different results to those just now imagined! But\nwith all the contemptuous throwing out of the unneeded kitchen-waste of\nmillionaires,--still Education is the thing to take at any price, and\nunder any circumstances;--because it alone is capable of giving power!\nIt alone will \u2018put down the mighty from their seats, and exalt the\nhumble and the meek.\u2019 It alone will give us the force to fight our\ntaskmasters with their own weapons, and to place them where they should\nbe, coequal with us, but not superior,--considerate of us, but not\ncommanding us,--and above all things, bound to make their records of\nsuch work as they do for the State--clean!\u201d\n\nA hurricane of applause interrupted her,--she waited till it subsided,\nthen went on quietly.\n\n\u201cThere should be no scheming in the dark; no secret contracts for which\nwe have to pay blindly;--no refusal to explain the way in which the\npeople\u2019s hard-earned money is spent; and before foreign urbanities and\ndiplomacies and concessions are allowed to take up time in the Senate,\nit is necessary that the frightful and abounding evils of our own\nland,--our own homes,--be considered. For this we purpose to demand\nredress,--and not only to demand it, but to obtain it! Ministers\nmay refuse to hear us; but the Country\u2019s claims are greater than any\nMinistry! A King\u2019s displeasure may cause court-parasites to tremble--but\na People\u2019s Honour is more to be guarded than a thousand thrones!\u201d\n\nAs she concluded with these words, she seemed to grow taller, nobler,\nmore inspired and commanding,--and while the applause was yet shaking\nthe rafters of the hall, she left the platform. Shouts of \u201cLotys!\nLotys!\u201d rang out again and again with passionate bursts of\ncheering,--and in response to it she came back, and by a slight gesture\ncommanded silence.\n\n\u201cDear friends, I thank you all for listening to me!\u201d she said simply,\nher rich voice trembling a little; \u201cI speak only with a woman\u2019s impulse\nand unwisdom--just as I think and feel--and always out of my great\nlove for you! As you all know, I have no interests to serve;--I am only\nLotys, your own poor friend,--one who works with you, and dwells among\nyou, seeing and sharing your hard lives, and wishing with all my heart\nthat I could help you to be happier and freer! My life is at\nyour service,--my love for you is all too great for any words to\nexpress,--and my gratitude for your faith and trust in me forms my daily\nthanksgiving! Now, dear children all,--for you are truly as children in\nyour patience, submission and obedience to bitter destiny!--I will ask\nyou to disperse quietly without noise or confusion, or any trouble that\nmay give to the paid men of law ungrateful work to do;--and in your\nhomes, think of me!--remember my words!--and while you maintain order by\nthe steadiness and reasonableness of your difficult lives, still avoid\nand resent that slavish obedience to the yoke fastened upon you by\ncapitalists,--who have no other comfort to offer you in poverty than the\nworkhouse; and no other remedy for the sins into which you are thrust\nby their neglect, than the prison! Take, and keep the rights of your\nhumanity!--the right to think,--the right to speak,--the right to know\nwhat is being done with the money you patiently earn for others;--and\nwork, all together in unity. Put aside all petty differences,--all small\nrancours and jealousies; and even as a Ministry may unite to defraud\nand deceive you, so do you, the People, unite to expose the fraud, and\nreject the deception! There is no voice so resonant and convincing as\nthe voice of the public; there is no power on earth more strong or more\nirresistible than the power of the People!\u201d\n\nShe stood for one moment more,--silent; her eyes brilliant, her face\nbeautiful with inspired thought,--then with a quiet, half-deprecatory\ngesture, in response to the fresh outbreak of passionate cheering, she\nretired from the platform. Pasquin Leroy, whose eyes had been riveted on\nher from the first to the last word of her oration, now started as from\na dream, and rose up half-unconsciously, passing his hand across his\nbrow, as though to exorcise some magnetic spell that had crept over\nhis brain. His face was flushed, his pulses were throbbing quickly. His\ncompanions, Max Graub and Axel Regor, looked at him inquisitively. The\naudience was beginning to file out of the hall in orderly groups.\n\n\u201cWhat next?\u201d said Graub; \u201cShall ye go?\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose so,\u201d said Leroy, with a quick sigh, and forcing a smile;\n\u201cBut--I should have liked to speak with her----\u201d\n\nAt that moment his shoulder was touched by a man he recognised as Johan\nZegota. He gave the sign of the Revolutionary Committee bond, to which\nLeroy and his comrades responded.\n\n\u201cWill you all three come over the way?\u201d whispered Zegota cautiously; \u201cWe\nare entertaining Lotys to supper at the inn opposite,--the landlord is\none of us. Thord saw you sitting here, and sent me to ask you to join\nus.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith pleasure,\u201d assented Leroy; \u201cWe will come at once!\u201d\n\nZegota nodded and disappeared.\n\n\u201cSo you will see the end of this escapade!\u201d said Max Graub, a trifle\ncrossly. \u201cIt would have been much better to go home!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have enjoyed escapades in your time, have you not, my friend? Some\neven quite recently?\u201d returned Leroy gaily. \u201cOne or two more will not\nhurt you!\u201d\n\nThey edged their way out among the quietly moving crowd, and\nhappening to push past General Bernhoff, that personage gave an almost\nimperceptible salute, which Leroy as imperceptibly returned. It was\nclear that the Chief of Police was acquainted with Pasquin Leroy, the\n\u2018spy\u2019 on whose track he had been sent by Carl P\u00e9rousse, and moreover,\nthat he was evidently in no hurry to arrest him. At any rate he allowed\nhim to pass with his friends unmolested, out of the People\u2019s Assembly\nRooms, and though he followed him across the road, \u2018shadowing him,\u2019\nas it were, into a large tavern, whose lighted windows betokened\nsome entertainment within, he did not enter the hostelry himself, but\ncontented his immediate humour by walking past it to a considerable\ndistance off, and then slowly back again. By and by Max Graub came out\nand beckoned to him, and after a little earnest conversation Bernhoff\nwalked off altogether, the ring of his martial heels echoing for some\ntime along the pavement, even after he had disappeared. And from within\nthe lighted tavern came the sound of a deep, harmonious, swinging\nchorus--\n\n  \u201cWay, make way!--for our banner is unfurled,\n      Let each man\nstand by his neighbour!   The thunder of our footsteps shall roll\nthrough the world,      In the March of the Men of Labour!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d said Max Graub, pausing to listen ere re-entering the\ntavern--\u201cIf--and it is a great \u2018if\u2019--if every man will stand by his\nneighbour, the thunder will be very loud,--and by all the deities that\never lived in the Heaven blue, it is a thunder that is likely to last\nsome time! The possibility of standing by one\u2019s neighbour is the only\ndoubtful point!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE SCORN OF KINGS\n\n\nInside the tavern, from whence the singing proceeded, there was a\nstrange scene,--somewhat disorderly yet picturesque. Lotys, seated at\nthe head of a long supper-table, had been crowned by her admirers with\na wreath of laurels,--and as she sat more or less silent, with a rather\nweary expression on her face, she looked like the impersonation of\na Daphne, exhausted by the speed of her flight from pursuing Apollo.\nBeside her, nestling close against her caressingly, was a little\ngirl with great black Spanish eyes,--eyes full of an appealing,\nhalf-frightened wistfulness, like those of a hunted animal. Lotys kept\none arm round the child, and every now and again spoke to her some\nlittle caressing word. All the rest of the guests at the supper-board\nwere men,--and all of them members of the Revolutionary Committee. When\nPasquin Leroy and his friends entered, there was a general clapping of\nhands, and the pale countenance of Lotys flushed a delicate rose-red, as\nshe extended her hand to each.\n\n\u201cYou begin your career with us very well!\u201d she said gently, her eyes\nresting musingly on Leroy; \u201cI had not expected to see you to-night!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadame, I had never heard you speak,\u201d he answered; and as he addressed\nher, he pressed her hand with unconscious fervour, while his eloquent\neyes dilated and darkened, as, moved by some complex emotion, she\nquickly withdrew her slender fingers from his clasp. \u201cAnd I felt I\nshould never know you truly as you are, till I saw you face the people.\nNow----\u201d\n\nHe paused. She looked at him wonderingly, and her heart began to beat\nwith a strange quick thrill. It is not always easy to see the outlines\nof a soul\u2019s development, or the inchoate formation of a great love,--and\nthough everything in a certain sense moved her and appealed to her that\nwas outside herself, it was difficult to her to believe or to admit that\nshe, in her own person, might be the cause of an entirely new set of\nthoughts and emotions in the mind of one man. Seeing he was silent, she\nrepeated softly and with a half smile.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now\u2019?\u201d\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d continued Leroy quickly, and in a half-whisper; \u201cI do know you\npartly,--but I must know you more! You will give me the chance to do\nthat?\u201d\n\nHis look said more than his words, and her face grew paler than before.\nShe turned from him to the child at her side--\n\n\u201cPequita, are you very tired?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d was the reply, given brightly, and with an upward glance of the\ndark eyes.\n\n\u201cThat is right! Pasquin Leroy my friend! this is Pequita,--the child we\ntold you of the other night, the only daughter of Sholto. She will dance\nfor us presently, will you not, my little one?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, indeed!\u201d and the young face lighted up swiftly at the suggestion;\nwhile Leroy, taking the seat indicated to him at the supper-table,\nexperienced a tumult of extraordinary sensations,--the chief one of\nwhich was, that he felt himself to have been \u2018snubbed,\u2019 very quietly but\neffectually, by a woman who had succeeded, though he knew not how, in\nsuddenly awakening in him a violent fever of excitement, to which he was\nat present unable to give a name. Rallying himself, however, he glanced\nup and down the board smilingly, lifting his glass to salute Sergius\nThord, who responded from his place at the bottom of the table,--and\nvery soon he regained his usual placidity, for he had enormous strength\nof will, and kept an almost despotic tyranny over his feelings. His\ncompanions, Max Graub and Axel Regor, were separated from him, and from\neach other, at different sides of the table, and Paul Zouche the poet,\nwas almost immediately opposite to him. He was glad to see that he was\nnext but one to Lotys--the man between them being a desperado-looking\nfellow with a fierce moustache, and exceedingly gentle eyes,--who, as\nhe afterwards discovered, was one of the greatest violinists in the\nworld,--the favourite of kings and Courts,--and yet for all that, a\nprominent member of the Revolutionary Committee. The supper, which was\nof a simple, almost frugal character, was soon served, and the landlord,\nin setting the first plate before Lotys, laid beside it a knot of deep\ncrimson roses, as an offering of homage and obedience from himself. She\nthanked him with a smile and glance, and taking up the flowers, fastened\nthem at her breast. Conversation now became animated and general; and\none of the men present, a delicate-looking young fellow, with a head\nresembling somewhat that of Keats, started a discussion by saying\nsuddenly--\n\n\u201cJost has sold out all his shares in that new mine that was started\nthe other day. It looks as if he did not think, after all his newspaper\npuffs, that the thing was going to work.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf Jost has sold, P\u00e9rousse will,\u201d said his neighbour; \u201cThe two are\nconcerned together in the floating of the whole business.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet another piece of news!\u201d put in Paul Zouche suddenly; \u201cFor if we\ntalk of stocks and shares, we talk of money! What think you, my friends!\nI, Paul Zouche, have been offered payment for my poems! This very\nafternoon! Imagine! Will not the spheres fall? A poet to be paid for\nhis poems is as though one should offer the Creator a pecuniary\nconsideration for creating the flowers!\u201d\n\nHis face was flushed, and his eyes deliriously bright.\n\n\u201cListen, my Sergius!\u201d he said; \u201cWonders never cease in this world; but\nthis is the most wonderful of all wonders! Out of the merest mischief\nand monkeyish malice, the other day I sent my latest book of poems to\nthe King--\u201d\n\n\u201cShame! shame!\u201d interrupted a dozen voices. \u201cAgainst the rules, Paul!\nYou have broken the bond!\u201d\n\nPaul Zouche laughed loudly.\n\n\u201cHow you yell, my baboons!\u201d he cried; \u201cHow you screech about the rules\nof your lair! Wait till you hear! You surely do not suppose I sent the\nbook out of any humility or loyalty, or desire for notice, do you? I\nsent it out of pure hate and scorn, to show him as a fool-Majesty, that\nthere was something he could not do--something that should last when\n_he_ was forgotten!--a few burning lines that should, like vitriol,\neat into his Throne and outlast it! I sent it some days ago, and got an\nacknowledgment from the flunkey who writes Majesty\u2019s letters. But this\nafternoon I received a much more important document,--a letter from\nEug\u00e8ne Silvano, secretary to our very honourable and trustworthy\nPremier! He informs me in set terms, that his Majesty the King has been\npleased to appreciate my work as a poet, to the extent of offering me a\nhundred golden pieces a year for the term of my natural life! Ha-ha! A\nhundred golden pieces a year! And thus they would fasten this wild bird\nof Revolutionary song to a Royal cage, for a bit of sugar! A hundred\ngolden pieces a year! It means food and lodging--warm blankets to sleep\nin--but it means something else,--loss of independence!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you will not accept it?\u201d said Pasquin Leroy, looking at him with\ninterest over the rim of the glass from which he was just sipping his\nwine.\n\n\u201cAccept it! I have already refused it! By swift return of post!\u201d\n\nShouts of \u201cBravo! bravo!\u201d echoed around him on all sides; men sprang up\nand shook hands with him and patted him on the back, and even over the\ndark face of Sergius Thord there passed a bright illumining smile.\n\n\u201cZouche, with all thy faults, thou art a brave man!\u201d said the young man\nwith the Keats-like head, who was in reality confidential clerk to one\nof the largest stockbrokers in the metropolis; \u201cA thousand times better\nto starve, than to accept Royal alms!\u201d\n\n\u201cTo your health, Zouche!\u201d said Lotys, leaning forward, glass in hand.\n\u201cYour refusal of the King\u2019s offered bounty is a greater tragedy than any\nyou have ever tried to write!\u201d\n\n\u201cHear her!\u201d cried Zouche, exultant; \u201cShe knows exactly how to put it!\nFor look you, there are the true elements of tragedy in a worn coat\nand scant food, while the thoughts that help nations to live or die are\nburning in one\u2019s brain! Then comes a King with a handful of gold--and\ngold would be useful--it always is! But--by Heaven! to pay a poet for\nhis poems is, as I said before, as if one were to meet the Deity on His\nway through space, scattering planets and solar systems at a touch, and\nthen to say--\u2018Well done, God! We shall remunerate You for your creative\npower as long as You shall last--so much per aeon!\u2019\u201d\n\nLeroy laughed.\n\n\u201cYou wild soul!\u201d he said; \u201cWould you starve then, rather than accept a\nking\u2019s bounty?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would!\u201d answered Paul. \u201cLook you, my brave Pasquin! Read back over\nall the centuries, and see the way in which these puppets we call kings\nhave rewarded the greatest thinkers of their times! Is it anywhere\nrecorded that the antique virgin, Elizabeth of England, ever did\nanything for Shakespeare? True--he might have been \u2018graciously\npermitted\u2019 to act one of his sublime tragedies before her--by\nHeaven!--she was only fit to be his scrubbing woman, by intellectual\ncomparison! Kings and Queens have always trembled in their shoes, and on\ntheir thrones, before the might of the pen!--and it is natural therefore\nthat they should ignore it as much as conveniently possible. A general,\nwhose military tactics succeed in killing a hundred thousand innocent\nmen receives a peerage and a hundred thousand a year,--a speculator who\nsnatches territory and turns it into stock-jobbing material, is called\nan \u2018Empire Builder\u2019; but the man whose Thought destroys or moulds a new\nWorld, and raises up a new Civilization, is considered beneath a crowned\nMajesty\u2019s consideration! \u2018Beneath,\u2019 by Heaven!--I, Paul Zouche, may yet\nmount behind Majesty\u2019s chair, and with a single rhyme send his crown\nspinning into space! Meanwhile, I have flung back his hundred golden\npieces, with as much force in the edge of my pen as there would be in\nmy hand if _you_ were his Majesty sitting there, and I flung them across\nthe table now!\u201d\n\nAgain Leroy laughed. His eyes flashed, but there was a certain regret\nand wistfulness in them.\n\n\u201cYou approve, of course?\u201d he said, turning to Sergius Thord.\n\nSergius looked for a moment at Zouche with an infinitely grave and\nkindly compassion.\n\n\u201cI think Paul has acted bravely;\u201d he then said slowly; \u201cHe has been true\nto the principles of our Order. And under the circumstances, it must\nhave been difficult for him to refuse what would have been a certain\ncompetence,--\u201d\n\n\u201cNot difficult, Sergius!\u201d exclaimed Zouche, \u201cBut purely triumphant!\u201d\n\nThord smiled,--then went on--\u201cYou see, my friend,\u201d and he addressed\nhimself now to Leroy; \u201cKings have scorned the power of the pen too\nlong! Those who possess that power are now taking vengeance for neglect.\nThousands of pens all over the world to-day are digging the grave of\nRoyalty, and building up the throne of Democracy. Who is to blame?\nRoyalty itself is to blame, for deliberately passing over the claims\nof art and intellect, and giving preference to the claims of money. The\nmoneyed man is ever the friend of Majesty,--but the brilliant man\nof letters is left out in the cold. Yet it is the man of letters who\nchronicles the age, and who will do so, we may be sure, according to his\nown experience. As the King treats the essayist, the romancist or the\nhistorian, so will these recording scribes treat the King!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is possible, though,\u201d suggested Leroy, \u201cthat the King meant well in\nhis offer to our friend Zouche?\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite possible!\u201d agreed Thord; \u201cOnly his offer of one hundred gold\npieces a year to a man of intellect, is out of all proportion to the\nsalary he pays his cook!\u201d\n\nA slight flush reddened Leroy\u2019s bronzed cheek. Thord observed him\nattentively, and saw that his soul was absorbed by some deep-seated\nintellectual irritation. He began to feel strangely drawn towards him;\nhis eyes questioned the secret which he appeared to hold in his mind,\nbut the quiet composure of the man\u2019s handsome face baffled enquiry.\nMeanwhile around the table the conversation grew louder and less\nrestrained. The young stockbroker\u2019s clerk was holding forth eloquently\nconcerning the many occasions on which he had seen Carl P\u00e9rousse at\nhis employer\u2019s office, carefully going into the closest questions\nof financial losses or gains likely to result from certain political\nmoves,--and he remembered one day in particular, when, after purchasing\na hundred thousand shares in a certain company, P\u00e9rousse had turned\nsuddenly round on his broker with the cool remark--\u201cIf ever you breathe\na whisper about this transaction, I will shoot you dead!\u201d\n\nWhereat the broker had replied that it was not his custom to give away\nhis clients\u2019 business, and that threats were unworthy of a statesman.\nThen P\u00e9rousse had become as friendly as he had been before menacing;\nand the two had gone out of the office and lunched together. And the\nconfidential clerk thus chattering his news, declared that his employer\nwas now evidently uneasy; and that from that uneasiness he augured a\nsudden fluctuation or fall in what had lately seemed the most valuable\nstock in the market.\n\n\u201cAnd you? Your news, Valdor,\u201d cried one or two eager voices, while\nseveral heads leaned forward in the direction of the fiercely-moustached\nman who sat next to Lotys. \u201cWhere have you been with your fiddle? Do you\narrive among us to-night infected by the pay, or the purple of Royalty?\u201d\n\nLouis Valdor, by birth a Norseman, and by sympathies a cosmopolitan,\nlooked up with a satiric smile in his dark eyes.\n\n\u201cThere is no purple left to infect a man with, in the modern slum of\nRoyalty!\u201d he said; \u201cTobacco-smoke, not incense, perfumes the palaces of\nthe great nowadays--and card-playing is more appreciated than music! Yet\nI and my fiddle have made many long journeys lately,--and we have sent\nour messages of Heaven thrilling through the callous horrors of Hell!\nA few nights since, I played at the Russian Court--before the beautiful\nEmpress--cold as a stone--with her great diamonds flashing on her\nunhappy breast,--before the Emperor, whose furtive eyes gazed unseeingly\nbefore him, as though black Fate hovered in the air--before women, whose\nlives are steeped in the lowest intrigue--before men, whose faces are\nas bearded masks, covering the wolf\u2019s snarl,--yes!--I played before\nthese,--played with all the chords of my heart vibrating to the violin,\ntill at last a human sigh quivered from the lips of the statuesque\nEmpress,--till a frown crossed the brooding brow of her spouse--till the\nintriguing women shook off the spell with a laugh, and the men did the\nsame with an oath--and I was satisfied! I received neither \u2018pay,\u2019 nor\njewel of recognition,--I had played \u2018for the honour\u2019 of appearing before\ntheir Majesties!--but my bow was a wand to wake the little poisoned asp\nof despair that stings its way into the heart under every Royal mantle\nof ermine, and that sufficed me!\u201d\n\n\u201cSometimes,\u201d said Leroy, turning towards him; \u201cI pity kings!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019 faith, so do I!\u201d returned Valdor. \u201cBut only sometimes! And if you\nhad seen as much of them as I have, the \u2018sometimes\u2019 would be rare!\u201d\n\n\u201cYet you play before them?\u201d put in Max Graub.\n\n\u201cBecause I must do so to satisfy the impresarios who advertise me to the\npublic,\u201d said Valdor. \u201cAlas!--why will the public be so foolish as to\nwish their favourite artist to play before kings and queens? Seldom,\nif ever, do these Royal people understand music,--still less do they\nunderstand the musician! Believe me, I have been treated as the veriest\nscullion by these jacks-in-office; and that I still permit myself\nto play before them is a duty I owe to this Brotherhood,--because it\ndeepens and sustains my bond with you all. There is no king on the\nface of the earth who has dignity and nobleness of character enough to\ncommand my respect,--much less my reverence! I take nothing from kings,\nremember!--they dare not offer me money--they dare not insult me with\na jewelled pin, such as they would give to a station-master who sees a\nRoyal train off. Only the other day, when I was summoned to play before\na certain Majesty, a lord-in-waiting addressed me when I arrived with\nthe insolent words--\u2018You are late, Monsieur Valdor!--You have kept the\nKing waiting!\u2019 I replied--\u2018Is that so? I regret it! But having kept his\nMajesty waiting, I will no longer detain him; au revoir!\u2019 And I returned\nstraightway to the carriage in which I had come. Majesty did without his\nmusic that evening, owing to the insolence of his flunkey-man! Whether I\never play before him again or not, is absolutely immaterial to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me,\u201d said Pasquin Leroy, pushing the flask of wine over to him\nas he spoke; \u201cWhat is it that makes kings so unloved? I hate them\nmyself!--but let us analyse the reasons why.\u201d\n\n\u201cDiscuss--discuss!\u201d cried Paul Zouche; \u201cWhy are kings hated? Let Thord\nanswer first!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes--yes! Let Thord answer first!\u201d was echoed a dozen times.\n\nThord, thus appealed to, looked up. His melancholy deep eyes were\nsombre, yet full of fire,--lonely eyes they were, yearning for love.\n\n\u201cWhy are kings hated?\u201d he repeated; \u201cBecause today they are the effete\nrepresentatives of an effete system. I can quite imagine that if, as in\nolden times, kings had maintained a position of personal bravery, and\npersonal influence on their subjects, they would have been as much\nbeloved as they are now despised. But what we have to see and to\nrecognise is this: in one land we hear of a sovereign who speculates\nhand-and-glove with low-born Jew contractors and tradesmen,--another\nmonarch makes no secret of his desire to profit financially out of a\ngambling hell started in his dominions,--another makes his domestic\naffairs the subject of newspaper comment,--another is always\napostrophising the Almighty in public;--another is insane or\nstupid,--and so on through the whole gamut. Is it not natural that an\nintelligent People should resent the fact that their visibly governing\nhead is a gambler, or a voluptuary? Myself, I think the growing\nunpopularity of kings is the result of their incapability for kingship.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow let me speak!\u201d cried Paul Zouche excitedly; \u201cThere is another root\nto the matter,--a root like that of a certain tropical orchid, which\naccording to superstition, is shaped like a man, and utters a\nshriek when it is pulled out of the earth! Pull out this screaming\nmystery,--hatred of kings! In the first place it is because they are\nhateful in themselves,--because they have been brought up and educated\nto take an immeasurable and all-absorbing interest in their own\nidentity, rather than in the lives, hopes and aims of their subjects. In\nthe second--as soon as they occupy thrones, they become overbearing\nto their best friends. It is a well-known fact that the more loyal and\nfaithful you are to a king, the more completely is he neglectful of\nyou! \u2018Put not your trust in princes,\u2019 sang old David. He knew how\nuntrustworthy they were, being a king himself, and a pious one to boot!\nThirdly and lastly,--they only give their own personal attention to\ntheir concubines, and leave all their honest and respectable subjects to\nbe dealt with by servants and secretaries. Our King, for example, never\nsmiles so graciously as on Madame Vantine, the wife of Vantine the\nwine-grower;--and he buys Vantine\u2019s wines as well as his wife, which\nbrings in a double profit to the firm!\u201d\n\nLeroy looked up.\n\n\u201cAre you sure of that?\u201d\n\nZouche met his eyes with a stare and a laugh.\n\n\u201cSure? Of course I am sure! By my faith, your resemblance to his\nMajesty is somewhat striking to-night, my bold Leroy! The same straight\nbrows--the same inscrutable, woman-conquering smile! I studied his\nportrait after the offer of the hundred golden pieces--and I swear you\nmight be his twin brother!\u201d\n\n\u201cI told you so!\u201d replied Leroy imperturbably;--\u201cIt is a hateful\nresemblance! I wish I could rid myself of it. Still after all, there\nis something unique in being countenanced like a King, and minded as a\nSocialist!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue!\u201d put in Thord gently;--\u201cI am satisfied, Pasquin Leroy, that you\nare an honest comrade!\u201d\n\nLeroy met his eyes with a grave smile, and touched his glass by way of\nacknowledgement.\n\n\u201cYou do not ask me,\u201d he said then, \u201cwhether I have been able to serve\nyour Cause in any way since last we met?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is not our regular meeting,\u201d said Johan Zegota; \u201cWe ask no\nquestions till the general monthly assembly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see!\u201d And Leroy looked whimsically meditative--\u201cStill, as we are all\nfriends and brothers here, there is no harm in conveying to you the fact\nthat I have so far moved, in the appointed way, that Carl P\u00e9rousse has\nordered the discovery and arrest of one Pasquin Leroy, supposed to be a\nspy on the military defences of the city!\u201d\n\nLotys gave a little cry.\n\n\u201cNot possible! So soon!\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite possible, Madame,\u201d said Leroy inclining his head towards her\ndeferentially. \u201cI have lost no time in doing my duty!\u201d And his eyes\nflashed upon her with a passionate, half-eager questioning. \u201cI must\ncarry out my Chief\u2019s commands!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you are in danger, then?\u201d said Sergius Thord, bending an anxious\nlook of enquiry upon him.\n\n\u201cNot more so than you, or any of my comrades are,\u201d replied Leroy; \u201cI\nhave commenced my campaign--and I have no doubt you will hear some\nresults of it ere long!\u201d\n\nHe spoke so quietly and firmly, yet with such an air of assurance and\nauthority, that something of an electric thrill passed through the\nentire company, and all eyes were fixed on him in mingled admiration and\nwonderment.\n\n\u201cOf the \u2018Corruption of the State,\u2019 concerning which our fair teacher\nhas spoken to-night,\u201d he continued, with another quick glance at\nLotys--\u201cthere can be no manner of doubt. But we should, I think, say the\n\u2018Corruption of the Ministry\u2019 rather than of the State. It is not because\na few stock-jobbers rule the Press and the Cabinet, that the State is\nnecessarily corrupt. Remove the corruptors,--sweep the dirt from the\nhouse--and the State will be clean.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will require a very long broom!\u201d said Paul Zouche. \u201cTake David Jost,\nfor example,--he is the fat Jew-spider of several newspaper webs,--and\nto sweep him out is not so easy. His printed sheets are read by the\nmillion; and the million are deluded into believing him a reliable\nauthority!\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing so easy as to prove him unreliable,\u201d said Leroy composedly;\n\u201cAnd then----\u201d\n\n\u201cThen the million will continue to read his journals out of\nsheer curiosity, to see how long a liar can go on lying!\u201d said\nZouche;--\u201cBesides a Jew can turn his coat a dozen times a day; he has\ninherited Joseph\u2019s \u2018coat of many colours\u2019 to suit many opinions. At\npresent Jost supports P\u00e9rousse, and calls him the greatest statesman\nliving; but if P\u00e9rousse were once proved a fraud, Jost would pen a\nsublimely-conscientious leading article, beginning in this strain;--\u2019\nWe are now at liberty to confess that we always had our doubts of M.\nP\u00e9rousse!\u2019\u201d\n\nA murmur of angry laughter went round the board.\n\n\u201cThere was an article this evening in one of Jost\u2019s off-shoot journals,\u201d\n went on Zouche, \u201cwhich must have been paid for at a considerable cost.\nIt chanted the praises of one Monsignor Del Fortis,--who, it appears,\npreached a sermon on \u2018National Education\u2019 the other day, and told all\nthe sleepy, yawning people how necessary it was to have Roman Catholic\nschools in every town and village, in order that souls might be saved.\nThe article ended by saying--\u2018We hear on good authority that his Majesty\nthe King has been pleased to grant a considerable portion of certain\nCrown lands to the Jesuit Order, for the necessary building of a\nmonastery and schools\u2019----\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a lie!\u201d broke in Pasquin Leroy, with sudden vehemence. \u201cThe\nKing is in many respects a scoundrel, but he does not go back on his\nword!\u201d\n\nAxel Regor looked fixedly across at him, with a warning flash in the\nlight of his cold languid eyes.\n\n\u201cBut how do you know that the King has given his word?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was in the paper,\u201d said Leroy, more guardedly; \u201cI was reading about\nit, as you know, on the very night I encountered Thord.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! But you must recollect, my friend, that a statement in the papers\nis never true nowadays!\u201d said Max Graub, with a laugh; \u201cWhenever I read\nanything in the newspaper, unless it is an official telegram, I know it\nis a lie; and even official telegrams have been known to emanate from\nunofficial sources!\u201d\n\nBy this time supper was nearly over, and the landlord, clearing the\nremains of the heavier fare, set fruit and wine on the board. Sergius\nThord filled his glass, and made a sign to his companions to do the\nsame. Then he stood up.\n\n\u201cTo Lotys!\u201d he said, his fine eyes darkening with the passion of his\nthought. \u201cTo Lotys, who inspires our best work, and helps us to retain\nour noblest ideals!\u201d\n\nAll present sprang to their feet.\n\n\u201cTo Lotys!\u201d\n\nPasquin Leroy fixed a straight glance on the subject of the toast,\nsitting quietly at the head of the table.\n\n\u201cTo Lotys!\u201d he repeated; \u201cAnd may she always be as merciful as she is\nstrong!\u201d\n\nShe lifted her dark-blue slumbrous eyes, and met his keen scrutinizing\nlook. A very slight tremulous smile flickered across her lips. She\ninclined her head gently, and in the same mute fashion thanked them all.\n\n\u201cPlay to us, Valdor!\u201d she then said; \u201cAnd so make answer for me to our\nfriends\u2019 good wishes!\u201d\n\nValdor dived under the table, and brought up his violin case, which he\nunlocked with jealous tenderness, lifting his instrument as carefully as\nthough it were a sleeping child whom he feared to wake. Drawing the bow\nacross the strings, he invoked a sweet plaintive sound, like the first\nsigh of the wind among the trees; then, without further preliminary\nwandered off into a strange labyrinth of melody, wherein it seemed that\nthe voices of women and angels clamoured one against the other,--the\nappeals of earth with the refusals of Heaven,--the loneliness of life\nwith the fulness of immortality,--so, rising, falling, sobbing, praying,\nalternately, the music expostulated with humanity in its throbbing\nchords, till it seemed as if some Divine interposition could alone\nend the heart-searching argument. Every man sat motionless and mute,\nlistening; Paul Zouche, with his head thrown back and eyes closed as in\na dream,--Johan Zegota\u2019s hard, plain and careworn face growing softer\nand quieter in its expression,--while Sergius Thord, leaning on one\nelbow, covered his brow with one hand to shade the lines of sorrow\nthere.\n\nWhen Valdor ceased playing, there was a burst of applause.\n\n\u201cYou play before kings,--kings should be proud to hear you!\u201d said Leroy.\n\n\u201cAh! So they should,\u201d responded Valdor promptly; \u201cOnly it happens that\nthey are not! They treat me merely as a _laquais de place_,--just as\nthey would treat Zouche, had he accepted his Sovereign\u2019s offer. But\nthis I will admit,--that mediocre musicians always get on very well with\nRoyal persons! I have heard a very great Majesty indeed praise a\ncommon little American woman\u2019s abominable singing, as though she were\na prima-donna, and saw him give a jewelled cigar-case to an amateur\npianist, whose fingers rattled on the keyboard like bones on a tom-tom.\nBut then the common little American woman invited his Majesty\u2019s \u2018ch\u00e8res\namies\u2019 to her house; and the amateur pianist was content to lose money\nto him at cards! Wheels within wheels, my friend! In a lesser degree\nthe stock-jobber who sets a little extra cash rolling on the Exchange is\ncalled an \u2018Empire Builder.\u2019 It is a curious world! But kings were\nnever known to be \u2018proud\u2019 of any really \u2018great\u2019 men in either art or\nliterature; on the contrary, they were always afraid of them, and always\nwill be! Among musicians, the only one who ever got decently honoured\nby a monarch was Richard Wagner,--and the world swears that _his_ Royal\npatron was mad!\u201d\n\nPaul Zouche opened his eyes, filled his glass afresh, and tossed down\nthe liquor it contained at a gulp.\n\n\u201cBefore we have any more music,\u201d he said, \u201cand before the little Pequita\ngives us the dance which she has promised,--not to us, but to Lotys--we\nought to have prayers!\u201d\n\nA loud laugh answered this strange proposition.\n\n\u201cI say we ought to have prayers!\u201d repeated Zouche with semi-solemn\nearnestness,--\u201cYou talk of news,--news in telegram,--news in\nbrief,--official scratchings for the day and hour,--and do you take no\nthought for the fact that his Holiness the Pope is ill--perhaps dying?\u201d\n\nHe stared wildly round upon them all; and a tolerant smile passed over\nthe face of the company.\n\n\u201cWell, if that be so, Paul,\u201d said a man next to him, \u201cit is not to be\nwondered at. The Pope has arrived at a great age!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo age at all!--no age at all!\u201d declared Zouche. \u201cA saint of God\nshould live longer than a pauper! What of the good old lady admitted to\nhospital the other day whose birth certificate proved her beyond doubt\nto be one hundred and twenty-one years old? The dear creature had not\nmarried;--nor has his Holiness the Pope,--the real cause of death is\nin neither of them! Why should he not live as long as his aged sister,\npossessing, as he does the keys of Heaven? He need not unlock the little\ngolden door, even for himself, unless he likes. That is true orthodoxy!\nPasquin Leroy, you bold imitation of a king, more wine!\u201d\n\nLeroy filled the glass he held out to him. The glances of the company\ntold him Zouche was \u2018on,\u2019 and that it was no good trying to stem the\nflow of his ideas, or check the inconsequential nature of his speech.\nLotys had moved her chair a little back from the table, and with both\narms encircling the child, Pequita, was talking to her in low and tender\ntones.\n\n\u201cBrethren, let us pray!\u201d cried Zouche; \u201cFor all we know, while we sit\nhere carousing and drinking to the health of our incomparable Lotys, the\nsoul of St. Peter\u2019s successor may be careering through Sphere-Forests,\nand over Planet-Oceans, up to its own specially built and particularly\nfurnished Heaven! There is only one Heaven, as we all know,--and the\nspace is limited, as it only holds the followers of St. Peter, the good\ndisciple who denied Christ!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is an exploded creed, Zouche,\u201d said Thord quietly; \u201cNo man of\nany sense or reason believes such childish nonsense nowadays! The most\ncasual student of astronomy knows better.\u201d\n\n\u201cAstronomy! Fie, for shame!\u201d And Zouche gave a mock-solemn shake of the\nhead; \u201cA wicked science! A great heresy! What are God\u2019s Facts to the\nChurch Fallacies? Science proves that there are millions and millions\nof solar systems,--millions and millions of worlds, no doubt\ninhabited;--yet the Church teaches that there is only one Heaven,\nspecially reserved for good Roman Catholics; and that St. Peter and\nhis successors keep the keys of it. God,--the Deity--the Creator,--the\nSupreme Being, has evidently nothing at all to do with it. In fact,\nHe is probably outside it! And of a surety Christ, with His ideas of\nhonesty and equality, could never possibly get into it!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere you are right!\u201d said Valdor; \u201cYour words remind me of a\nconversation I overheard once between a great writer of books and a\ncertain Prince of the blood Royal. \u2018Life is a difficult problem!\u2019 said\nthe Prince, smoking a fat cigar. \u2018To the student, it is, Sir,\u2019 replied\nthe author; \u2018But to the sensualist, it is no more than the mud-stye\nof the swine,--he noses the refuse and is happy! He has no need of the\nHigher life, and plainly the Higher life has no need of him. Of course,\u2019\nhe added with covert satire, \u2018your Highness believes in a Higher life?\u2019\n\u2018Of course, of course!\u2019 responded the Royal creature, unconscious of any\nveiled sarcasm; \u2018We must be Christians before anything!\u2019 And that same\nevening this hypocritical Highness \u2018rooked\u2019 a foolish young fellow of\nover one thousand English pounds!\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly natural!\u201d said Zouche. \u201cThe fashionable estimate of\nChristianity is to go to church o\u2019 Sundays, and say \u2018I believe in God,\u2019\nand to cheat at cards on all the other days of the week, as active\ntestimony to a stronger faith in the devil!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd with it all, Zouche,\u201d said Lotys suddenly; \u201cThere is more good in\nhumanity than is apparent.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd more bad, beloved Lotys,\u201d returned Paul. \u201cTout le deux se disent!\nBut let us think of the Holy Father!--he who, after long years of\npatient and sublime credulity, is now, for all we know, bracing himself\nto take the inevitable plunge into the dark waters of Eternity! Poor\nfrail old man! Who would not pity him! His earthly home has been so\nsmall and cosy and restricted,--he has been taken such tender care\nof--the faithful have fallen at his feet in such adoring thousands,--and\nnow--away from all this warmth and light and incense, and colour of\npictures and stained-glass windows, and white statuary and purple\nvelvets, and golden-fringed palanquins,--now--out into the cold he\nmust go!--out into the darkness and mystery and silence!--where all the\nformer generations of the world, immense and endless, and all the old\nreligions, are huddled away in the mist of the mouldered past!--out into\nthe thick blackness, where maybe the fiery heads of Bel and the\nDragon may lift themselves upward and leer at him!--or he may meet the\nfrightful menace of some monstrous Mexican deity, once worshipped with\nthe rites of blood!--out--out into the unknown, unimaginable Amazement\nmust the poor naked Soul go shuddering on the blast of death, to face he\ntruly knows not what!--but possibly he has such a pitiful blind trust\nin good, that he may be re-transformed into some pleasant living\nconsciousness that shall be more agreeable even than that of Pope of\nRome! \u2018Mourir c\u2019est rien,--mais souffrir!\u2019 That is the hard part of it!\nLet us all pray for the Pope, my friends!--he is an old man!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen you are silent, Zouche,\u201d said Thord with a half smile; \u201cWe may\nperhaps meditate upon him in our thoughts,--but not while you talk thus\nvolubly! You take up time--and Pequita is getting tired.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Lotys; \u201cPequita and I will go home, and there will be no\ndancing to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Lotys! You will not be so cruel!\u201d said Zouche, pushing his grey\nhair back from his brows, while his wild eyes glittered under the\ntangle, like the eyes of a beast in its lair; \u201cThink for a moment! I do\nnot come here and bore you with my poems, though I might very well do\nso! Some of them are worth hearing, I assure you;--even the King--curse\nhim!--has condescended to think so, or else why should he offer me pay\nfor them? Kings are not so ready to part with money, even when it is\nGovernment money! In England once a Premier named Gladstone, gave two\nhundred and fifty pounds a year pension to the French Prince, Lucien\nBuonaparte, \u2018for his researches into Celtic literature\u2019! Bah! There were\nmany worthier native-born men who had worked harder on the same subject,\nto choose from,--without giving good English money to a Frenchman! There\nis a case of your Order and Justice, Lotys! You spoke to-night of these\ntwo impossible things. Why will you touch on such subjects? You know\nthere is no Order and no Justice anywhere! The Universe is a chance\nwhirl of gas and atoms; though where the two mischiefs come from nobody\nknows! And why the devil we should be made the prey of gas and atoms is\na mystery which no Church can solve!\u201d\n\nAs he said this, there was a slight movement of every head towards\nLotys, and enquiring eyes looked suggestively at her. She saw the look,\nand responded to it.\n\n\u201cYou are wrong, Zouche!--I have always told you you are wrong,\u201d she said\nemphatically, \u201cIt is in your own disordered thoughts that you see no\njustice and no order,--but Order there is, and Justice there is,--and\nCompensation for all that seems to go wrong. There is an Intelligence at\nthe core of Creation! It is not for us to measure that Intelligence,\nor to set any limits to it. Our duty is to recognize it, and to set\nourselves as much as possible in harmony with it. Do you never, in sane\nmoments, study the progress of humanity? Do you not see that while the\nbrute creation remains stationary, (some specimens of it even becoming\nextinct), man goes step by step to higher results? This is, or should\nbe, sufficient proof that death is not the end for us. This world is\nonly one link in our chain of intended experience. I think it depends on\nourselves as to what we make of it. Thought is a great power by which we\nmould ourselves and others; and we have no right to subvert that power\nto base uses, or to poison it by distrust of good, or disbelief in the\nSupreme Guidance. You would be a thousand times better as a man, Zouche,\nand far greater as a poet, if you could believe in God!\u201d\n\nShe spoke with eloquence and affectionate earnestness, and among all the\nmen there was a moment\u2019s silence.\n\n\u201cWell, _you_ believe in Him;\u201d said Zouche at last, \u201cand I will catch\nhold of your angel\u2019s robe as you pass into His Presence and say to\nHim;--\u2019 Here comes poor Zouche, who wrote of beautiful things among ugly\nsurroundings, and who, in order to be true to his friends, chose poverty\nrather than the gold of a king!\u2019\u201d\n\nLotys smiled, very sweetly and indulgently.\n\n\u201cSuch a plea would stand you in good stead, Zouche! To be always true\nto one\u2019s friends, and to persistently believe in beauty, is a very long\nstep towards Heaven!\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not say I _believed_ in beauty,\u201d said Zouche suddenly and\nobstinately;--\u201cI dream it--I think it--but I do not see it! To me the\nworld is one Horror--nothing but a Grave into which we all must fall!\nThe fairest face has a hideous skull behind it,--the dazzling blue of\nthe sea covers devouring monsters in its depths--the green fields, the\nlovely woodlands, are full of vile worms and noxious beetles,--and\nspace itself swarms with thick-strewn worlds,--flaming comets,--blazing\nnebulae,--among which our earth is but a gnat\u2019s wing in a huge flame!\nHorrible!--horrible!\u201d And he spoke with a kind of vehement fury. \u201cLet us\nnot think of it! Why should we insist on Truth? Let us have lies!--dear,\nsweet lies and fond delusions! Let us believe that men are all honest,\nand women all loving!--that there are virgins and saints and angels,\nas well as bishops and curates, looking after us in this wild world of\nterror,--oh, yes!--let us believe!--better the Pope\u2019s little private\nsnuggery of a Heaven, than the crushing truth which says \u2018Our God is a\nconsuming fire\u2019! Knowledge deepens sorrow,--truth kills!--we must--we\nmust have a little love, and a few lies to lean upon!\u201d\n\nHis voice faltered,--and a sudden ashy paleness overspread his\nfeatures,--his head fell back helplessly, and he seemed transfixed and\ninsensible. Leroy and one or two of the others rose in alarm, thinking\nhe had swooned, but Sergius Thord warned them back by a sign. The little\nPequita, slipping from the arms of Lotys, went softly up to him.\n\n\u201cPaul! Dear Paul!\u201d she said in her soft childish tones.\n\nZouche stirred, and stretching out one hand, groped with it blindly in\nthe air. Pequita took it, warming it between her own little palms.\n\n\u201cPaul!\u201d she said; \u201cDo wake up! You have been asleep such a long time!\u201d\n\nHe opened his eyes. The grey pallor passed from his face; he lifted his\nhead and smiled.\n\n\u201cSo! There you are, Pequita!\u201d he said gently; \u201cDear little one! So brave\nand cheerful in your hard life!\u201d\n\nHe lifted her small brown hand, and kissed it. The feverish tension\nof his brain relaxed,--and two large tears welled up in his eyes, and\nrolled down his cheeks. \u201cPoor little girl!\u201d he murmured weakly; \u201cPoor\nlittle hard-working girl!\u201d\n\nAll the men sat silent, watching the gradual softening of Zouche\u2019s\ndrunken delirium by the mere gentle caress of the child; and Pasquin\nLeroy was conscious of a curious tightening of the muscles of his\nthroat, and a straining compassion at his heart, which was more like\nacute sympathy with the griefs and sins of humanity than any emotion he\nhad ever known. He saw that the thoughtful, pitiful eyes of Lotys were\nfull of tears, and he longed, in quite a foolish, almost boyish fashion,\nto take her in his arms and by a whispered word of tenderness, persuade\nthose tears away. Yet he was a man of the world, and had seen and known\nenough. But had he known them humanly? Or only from the usual standpoint\nof masculine egotism? As he thought this, a strain of sweet and solemn\nmusic stole through the room,--Louis Valdor had risen to his feet, and\nholding the violin tenderly against his heart, was coaxing out of its\nwooden cavity a plaintive request for sympathy and attention. Such\ndelicious music thrilled upon the dead silence as might have fitted\nShelley\u2019s exquisite lines.\n\n   \u201cThere the voluptuous nightingales,\n      Are awake through all the broad noon-day,\n  When one with bliss or sadness fails,\n      And through the windless ivy-boughs\n  Sick with sweet love, droops dying away\n      On its mate\u2019s music-panting bosom;\n      Another from the swinging blossom,\n  Watching to catch the languid close\n      Of the last strain; then lifts on high\n      The wings of the weak melody,\n  Till some new strain of feeling bear\n      The song, and all the woods are mute;\n  When there is heard through the dim air\n  The rush of wings, and rising there\n      Like many a lake-surrounded flute\n  Sounds overflow the listener\u2019s brain,\n  So sweet that joy is almost pain.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank God for music!\u201d said Sergius Thord, as Valdor laid aside his bow;\n\u201cIt exorcises the evil spirit from every modern Saul!\u201d\n\n\u201cSometimes!\u201d responded Valdor; \u201cBut I have known cases where the evil\nspirit has been roused by music instead of suppressed. Art, like virtue,\nhas two sides!\u201d\n\nZouche was still holding Pequita\u2019s hand. He looked ill and exhausted,\nlike a man who had passed through a violent paroxysm of fever.\n\n\u201cYou are a good child, Pequita!\u201d he was saying softly; \u201cTry to be always\nso!--it is difficult--but it is easier to a woman than to a man! Women\nhave more of good in them than men!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow about the dance?\u201d suggested Thord; \u201cThe hour is late,--close on\nmidnight--and Lotys must be tired.\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I dance now?\u201d enquired Pequita.\n\nLotys smiled and nodded. Four or five of the company at once got up, and\nhelped to push aside the table.\n\n\u201cWill you play for me, Monsieur Valdor?\u201d asked the little girl, still\nstanding by the side of Zouche.\n\n\u201cOf course, my child! What shall it be? Something to suggest a fairy\nhopping over mushrooms in the moonlight?--or Shakespeare\u2019s Ariel\nswinging on a cobweb from a bunch of may?\u201d\n\nPequita considered, and for a moment did not reply, while Zouche, still\nholding her little brown hand, kissed it again.\n\n\u201cYou are very fond of dancing?\u201d asked Pasquin Leroy, looking at her dark\nface and big black eyes with increasing interest.\n\nShe smiled frankly at him.\n\n\u201cYes! I would like to dance before the King!\u201d\n\n\u201cFie, fie, Pequita!\u201d cried Johan Zegota, while murmurs of laughter and\nplayful cries of \u2018Shame, Shame\u2019 echoed through the room.\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d said Pequita; \u201cIt would do me good, and my father too! Such\npoor, sad people come to the theatre where I dance,--they love to see\nme, and I love to dance for them--but then--they too would be pleased if\nI could dance at the Royal Opera, because they would know I could then\nearn enough money to make my father comfortable.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a very matter-of-fact statement in favour of kings!\u201d exclaimed Max\nGraub;--\u201cHere is a child who does not care a button for a king as king;\nbut she thinks he would be useful as a figure-head to dance to,--for\nidiotic Fashion, grouping itself idiotically around the figure-head,\nwould want to see her dance also--and then--oh simple conclusion!--she\nwould be able to support her father! Truly, a king has often been put to\nworse uses!\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Pasquin Leroy, \u201cI could manage to get you a trial at the\nRoyal Opera, Pequita! I know the manager.\u201d\n\nShe looked up with a sudden blaze of light in her eyes, sprang towards\nhim, dropped on one knee with an exquisite grace, and kissed his hand.\n\n\u201cOh!--you will be goodness itself!\u201d she cried;--\u201cAnd I will be\ngrateful--indeed I will!--so grateful!\u201d\n\nHe was startled and amazed at her impulsive action, and taking her\nlittle hand, gently pressed it.\n\n\u201cPoor child!\u201d he said;--\u201cYou must not thank me till I succeed. It is\nvery little to do--but I will do all I can.\u201d\n\n\u201cSomeone else will be grateful too!\u201d said Lotys in her rich thrilling\nvoice; and her eyes rested on him with that wonderful magnetic sweetness\nwhich drew his soul out of him as by a spell; while Zouche, only\npartially understanding the conversation said slowly:--\n\n\u201cPequita deserves all the good she can get; more than any of us. We do\nnothing but try to support ourselves; and we talk a vast amount about\nsupporting others,--but Pequita works all the time and says nothing. And\nshe is a genius--she does not know it, but she is. Give us the Dagger\nDance, Pequita! Then our friend Leroy can judge of you at your best, and\nmake good report of you.\u201d\n\nPequita looked at Lotys and received a sign of assent. She then nodded\nto Valdor.\n\n\u201cYou know what to play?\u201d\n\nValdor nodded in return, and took up his violin. The company drew back\ntheir seats, and sat, or stood aside, from the centre of the room.\nPequita disappeared for a moment, and returned divested of the plain\nrusty black frock she had worn, and merely clad in a short scarlet\npetticoat, with a low white calico bodice--her dark curls tumbling in\ndisorder, and grasping in her right hand a brightly polished, unsheathed\ndagger. Valdor began to play, and with the first wild chords the\nchildish figure swayed, circled, and leaped forward like a young Amazon,\nthe dagger brandished aloft, and gleaming here and there as though it\nwere a snaky twist of lightning. Very soon Pasquin Leroy found himself\nwatching the evolutions of the girl dancer with fascinated interest.\nNothing so light, so delicate or so graceful had he ever seen as this\nlittle slight form bending to and fro, now gliding with the grace of a\nswan on water--now leaping swiftly as a fawn,--while the attitudes she\nthrew herself into, sometimes threatening, sometimes defiant, and often\ncommanding, with the glittering steel weapon held firmly in her tiny\nhand, were each and all pictures of youthful pliancy and animation.\nAs she swung and whirled,--sometimes pirouetting so swiftly that her\nscarlet skirt looked like a mere red flower in the wind,--her bright\neyes flashed, her dark hair tangled itself in still richer masses, and\nher lips, crimson as the pomegranate, were half parted with her panting\nbreath.\n\n\u201cBrava! Brava!\u201d shouted the men, becoming more and more excited as their\neyes followed the flash of the dagger she held, now directed towards\nthem, now shaken aloft, and again waved threateningly from side to side,\nor pointed at her own bosom, while her little feet twinkled over\nthe floor in a maze of intricate and perfectly performed steps;--and\n\u201cBrava!\u201d cried Pasquin Leroy, as breathless, but still glowing and\nbright with her exertions, she suddenly out of her own impulse, dropped\non one knee before him with the glittering dagger pointed straight at\nhis heart!\n\n\u201cWould that please the King?\u201d she asked, her pearly teeth gleaming into\na mischievous smile between the red lips.\n\n\u201cIf it did not, he would be a worse fool than even I take him for!\u201d\n replied Leroy, as she sprang up again, and confronted him. \u201cHere is a\nlittle souvenir from me, child!--and if ever you do dance before his\nMajesty, wear it for my sake!\u201d\n\nHe took from his pocket a ring, in which was set a fine brilliant of\nunusual size and lustre.\n\nShe looked at it a moment as he held it out to her.\n\n\u201cOh, no,\u201d she faltered, \u201cI cannot take it--I cannot! Lotys dear, you\nknow I cannot!\u201d\n\nLotys, thus appealed to, left her seat and came forward. Taking the ring\nfrom Leroy\u2019s hand, she examined it a moment, then gently returned it.\n\n\u201cThis is too great a temptation for Pequita, my friend,\u201d she said\nquietly, but firmly. \u201cIn duty bound, she would have to sell it in order\nto help her poor father. She could not justly keep it. Let me be the\narbiter in this matter. If you can carry out your suggestion, and obtain\nfor her an engagement at the Royal Opera, then give it to her, but not\ntill then! Do you not think I am right?\u201d\n\nShe spoke so sweetly and persuasively, that Leroy was profoundly\ntouched. What he would have liked would have been to give the child a\nroll of gold pieces,--but he was playing a strange part, and the time to\nact openly was not yet.\n\n\u201cIt shall be as you wish, Madame!\u201d he said with courteous deference.\n\u201cPequita, the first time you dance before the King, this shall be\nyours!\u201d\n\nHe put aside the jewel, and Pequita kissed his hand impulsively,--as\nimpulsively she kissed the lips of her friend Lotys--and then came the\ngeneral dispersal and break-up of the assembly.\n\n\u201cTell me;\u201d said Sergius Thord, catching Leroy\u2019s hand in a close and\nfriendly grasp ere bidding him farewell; \u201cAre you in very truth in\npersonal danger on account of serving our Cause?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d replied Leroy frankly, returning the warm pressure; \u201cAnd rest\nassured that if I were, I would find means to elude it! I have managed\nto frighten Carl P\u00e9rousse, that is all--and Jost!\u201d\n\n\u201cJost!\u201d echoed Sergius; \u201cThe Colossus of the Press? Surely it would take\nmore than one man to frighten him!\u201d\n\nLeroy laughed.\n\n\u201cI grant you the Jewish centres of journalism are difficult to shake!\nBut they all depend on stocks and shares!\u201d\n\nA touch on his arm caused him to turn round,--Paul Zouche confronted\nboth him and Thord, with a solemn worn face, and lack-lustre eyes.\n\n\u201cGood-night, friends!\u201d he said; \u201cI have not kicked at a king with my\nboot, but I have with my brain!--and the effort is exhausting! I am\ngoing home to bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is your home?\u201d asked Leroy suddenly.\n\nZouche looked mysterious.\n\n\u201cIn a palace, dear sir! A palace of golden air, peopled with winged\ndreams! No money could purchase it;--no \u2018Empire Builder\u2019 could build\nit!--it is mine and mine alone! And I pay no taxes!\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you put this to some use for me?\u201d said Leroy, holding out a gold\npiece; \u201cSimply as comrade and friend?\u201d\n\nZouche stared at him.\n\n\u201cYou mean it?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I mean it! Zouche, believe me, you are going to be the\nfashion! You will be able to do _me_ a good turn before long!\u201d\n\nZouche took the gold piece, and as he took it, pressed the giver\u2019s hand.\n\n\u201cYou mean well!\u201d he said tremulously; \u201cYou know--as Sergius does, that\nI am poor,--often starving--often drunk--but you know also that there\nis something _here_!\u201d--and he touched his forehead meaningly. \u201cBut to be\nthe \u2018fashion\u2019! Bah! I do not belong to the Trade-ocracy! Nobody becomes\nthe \u2018fashion\u2019 nowadays unless they have cheated their neighbours by\nshort weight and falsified accounts! Good-night! You might be the King\nfrom your looks;--but you have something better than kingship--Heart!\nGood-night, Pequita! You danced well! Good-night, Lotys! You spoke well!\nEveryone does everything well, except poor Zouche!\u201d\n\nPequita ran up to him.\n\n\u201cGood-night, dear Paul!\u201d\n\nHe stooped and kissed her gently.\n\n\u201cGood-night, little one! If ever you show your twinkling feet at the\nOpera, _you_ will be the \u2018fashion\u2019--and will you remember Paul then?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlways--always!\u201d said Pequita tenderly; \u201cFather and Lotys and I will\nalways love you!\u201d\n\nZouche gave a short laugh.\n\n\u201cAlways love me! Me! Well!--what strange things children will say, not\nknowing in the least what they mean!\u201d\n\nHe gave a vague salute to the entire company, and walked out of the\ntavern with drooping head. Others followed him,--every man in going,\nshook hands with Lotys and Sergius Thord,--the lamps were extinguished,\nand the landlord standing in the porch of his tavern watched them all\nfile out, and bade them all a cordial farewell. Pequita\u2019s home was with\nher father in the house where Sergius Thord dwelt, and Lotys kissing her\ntenderly good-night, left her to Thord\u2019s care.\n\n\u201cAnd who will see you home, Lotys?\u201d enquired Thord.\n\n\u201cMay I for once have that honour?\u201d asked Pasquin Leroy. His two\ncompanions stared in undisguised amazement, and there was a moment\u2019s\nsilence.\n\nThen Lotys spoke.\n\n\u201cYou may!\u201d she said simply.\n\nThere was another silence while she put on her hat, and wrapped herself\nin her long dark cloak. Then Thord took Pequita by the hand.\n\n\u201cGood-night, Lotys!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-night, Sergius!\u201d\n\nLeroy turned to his two friends and spoke to them in a low tone.\n\n\u201cGo your ways!\u201d he said peremptorily; \u201cI will join you later!\u201d\n\nVain were their alarmed looks of remonstrance; and in another moment all\nthe party had separated, and only Max Graub and Axel Regor remained on\nthe pavement outside the tavern, disconsolately watching two figures\ndisappearing in the semi-shadowed moonlight--Pasquin Leroy and\nLotys--walking closely side by side.\n\n\u201cWas there ever such a drama as this?\u201d muttered Graub, \u201cHe may lose his\nlife at any moment!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he does,\u201d responded Regor, \u201cIt will not be our fault. We do our best\nto guard him from the consequence of one folly,--and he straightway runs\ninto another! There is no help for it; we have sworn to obey him, and we\nmust keep our oath!\u201d\n\nThey passed slowly along the street, too absorbed in their own\nuncomfortable reflections for the interchange of many words. By the\nrules of the Revolutionary Committee, they were not allowed \u2018to follow\nor track any other member\u2019 so they were careful to walk in a reverse\ndirection to that taken by their late comrades. The great bell of the\nCathedral boomed midnight as they climbed towards the citadel, and the\npale moon peeping whitely through piled-up fleecy clouds, shed a silver\nglare upon the quiet sea. And down into the \u2018slums,\u2019 down, and ever\ndeeper, into the sad and cheerless \u2018Quarter of the Poor\u2019 Pasquin Leroy\nwalked as though he trod lightly on a path of flowers,--his heart\nbeating high, and his soul fully awakened within him, thrilled, he knew\nnot why, to the heart\u2019s core by the soft low voice of Lotys,--and glad\nthat in the glimpses of the moonlight her eyes were occasionally lifted\nto his face, with something of a child\u2019s trust, if not of a woman\u2019s\ntenderness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nAN INVITATION TO COURT\n\n\nThe spring was now advancing into full summer, and some time had passed\nsince the Socialist party had gathered under their leaders to the voice\nof Lotys. Troublous days appeared to be impending for the Senate, and\nrumours of War,--war sometimes apparently imminent, and again suddenly\naverted,--had from time to time worried the public through the Press.\nBut what was even more disturbing to the country, was the proposed\ninfliction of new, heavy and irritating taxes, which had begun to affect\nthe popular mind to the verge of revolt. Twice since Lotys had spoken\nat the People\u2019s Assembly Rooms had Sergius Thord addressed huge mass\nmeetings, which apparently the police had no orders to disperse, and his\npower over the multitude was increasing by leaps and bounds. Whenever\nhe spoke, wherever he worked, the indefatigable Pasquin Leroy was\nconstantly at his side, and he, in his turn began to be recognized\nby the Revolutionary Committee as one of their most energetic\nmembers,--able, resolute, and above all, of an invaluably inscrutable\nand self-contained demeanour. His two comrades were not so effectual\nin their assistance, and appeared to act merely in obedience to his\ninstructions. Their attitude, however, suited everyone concerned as\nwell as, if not better than, if they had been overzealous. Owing to what\nLeroy had stated concerning the possibility of his arrest as a spy,\nhis name was never mentioned in public by one single member of the\nBrotherhood; and to the outside Socialist following, he therefore\nappeared simply as one of the many who worked under Sergius Thord\u2019s\ncommand. Meanwhile, there were not lacking many other subjects for\npopular concern and comment; all of which in their turn gave rise to\nanxious discussion and vague conjecture. A Cabinet Council had been\nheld by the Premier, at which, without warning, the King had attended\npersonally, but the results were not made known to the public. Yet\nthe general impression was that his Majesty seemed to be perfectly\nindifferent to the feelings or the well-being of his subjects; in fact,\nas some of them said with dismal shakings of the head, \u201cIt was all a\npart of the system; kings were not allowed to do anything even for the\nbenefit of their people.\u201d And rising Socialism, ever growing stronger,\nand amassing in its ranks all the youthful and ambitious intellects of\nthe time, agreed and swore that it was time for a Republic. Only by a\ncomplete change of Government could the cruelly-increasing taxation\nbe put down; and if Government was to be changed, why not the dummy\nfigure-head of Government as well?\n\nThus Rumour talked, sometimes in whispers--sometimes in shouts;--but\nthrough it all the life of the Court and fashion went on in the same\nway,--the King continued to receive with apparent favour the most\nsuccessful and most moneyed men from all parts of the world; the Queen\ndrove or walked, or rode;--and the only prospective change in the social\nroutine was the report that the Crown Prince was about to leave the\ncountry for a tour round the world, and that he would start on his\njourney in his own yacht about the end of the month. The newspapers made\na great fuss in print over this projected tour; but the actual people\nwere wholly indifferent to it. They had seen very little of the Crown\nPrince,--certainly not enough to give him their affection; and whether\nhe left the kingdom or stayed in it concerned them not at all. He had\ndone nothing marked or decisive in his life to show either talent,\noriginality of character, or resolution; and the many \u2018puffs\u2019 in the\npress concerning him, were scarcely read at all by the public, or\nif they were, they were not credited. The expression of an ordinary\nworking-man with regard to his position was entirely typical of the\ngeneral popular sentiment;--\u201cIf he would only do something to prove he\nhad a will of his own, and a mind, he would perhaps be able to set the\nThrone more firmly on its legs than it is at present.\u201d\n\nHow thoroughly the young man _had_ proved that he indeed possessed \u2018a\nwill of his own,\u2019 was not yet disclosed to the outside critics of his\nlife and conduct. Only the King and Queen, and Professor von Glauben\nknew it;--for even Sir Roger de Launay had not been entrusted with the\nstory of his secret marriage. The Queen had received the news with her\nusual characteristic immobility. A faint cold smile had parted her lips\nas she listened to the story of her son\u2019s romance,--and her reply to the\nKing\u2019s brief explanation was almost as brief:--\n\n\u201cNearly all the aristocracy marry music-hall women!\u201d she said; \u201cOne\nshould therefore be grateful that a Crown Prince does not go lower in\nhis matrimonial choice than an innocent little peasant!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe marriage is useless, of course,\u201d said the King; \u201cIt has satisfied\nHumphry\u2019s exalted notions of honour; but it can never be acknowledged or\nadmitted.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course not!\u201d she agreed languidly; \u201cIt certainly clears up the\nmystery of The Islands, which you were so anxious to visit;--and\nI suppose the next thing you will do is to marry him again to some\ndaughter of a Royal house?\u201d\n\n\u201cMost assuredly!\u201d\n\n\u201cAs _you_ were married to _me?_\u201d she said, raising her eyes to his\nface with that strange deep look which spoke eloquently of some mystery\nhidden in her soul.\n\nHis cheeks burned with an involuntary flush. He bowed.\n\n\u201cPrecisely! As I married you!\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cThe experiment was hardly successful!\u201d she said with her little cold\nsmile. \u201cI fear you have often regretted it!\u201d\n\nHe looked at her, studying her beauty intently,--and the remembrance of\nanother face, far less fair of feature, but warm and impassioned by the\nlovely light of sympathy and tenderness, came between his eyes and hers,\nlike a heavenly vision.\n\n\u201cHad you loved me,\u201d he said slowly, \u201cI might never have known what it\nwas to need love!\u201d\n\nA slight tremor ran through her veins. There was a strange tone in his\nvoice,--a soft cadence to which she was unaccustomed,--something that\nsuggested a new emotion in his life, and a deeper experience.\n\n\u201cI never loved anyone in my life!\u201d she answered calmly--\u201cAnd now the\ndays are past for loving. Humphry, however, has made up for my lack of\nthe tender passion!\u201d\n\nShe turned away indifferently, and appeared to dismiss the matter\naltogether from her mind. The first time she saw her son, however, after\nhearing of his marriage, she looked at him curiously.\n\n\u201cAnd so your wife is very lovely, Humphry!\u201d she said with a slightly\nderisive smile.\n\nHe was not startled by the suddenness of her observation nor put out by\nit.\n\n\u201cShe is the loveliest woman I have ever seen,--not excepting yourself,\u201d\n he replied.\n\n\u201cIt is a very foolish affair!\u201d she continued composedly; \u201cBut\nfortunately in our line of life such things are easily arranged;--and\nyour future will not be spoiled by it. I am glad you are going abroad,\nas you will very soon forget!\u201d\n\nThe Prince regarded her steadfastly with something of grave wonderment\nas well as compassion,--but he made no reply, and with the briefest\nexcuse left her presence as soon as possible, in order to avoid further\nconversation on the subject. She, herself, however, found her mind\ncuriously perturbed and full of conjectures concerning her son\u2019s idyllic\nlove-story, in which all considerations for her as Queen and mother\nseemed omitted,--and where she, as it were, appeared to be shut outside\na lover\u2019s paradise, the delights of which she had never experienced.\nThe King held many private conferences with her on the matter, in which\nsometimes Professor von Glauben was permitted to share;--and the\nupshot of these numerous discussions resulted in a scheme which was as\nastonishing in its climax as it was unexpected. Over and over again it\nhas been proved to nations as well as to individuals, that the whole\ncourse of events may be changed by the fixed determination of one\nresolute mind; but it is not often that the moral force of a mere girl\nsucceeds in competing with the authority of kings and parliaments. But\nso it chanced on this occasion, and in the following manner.\n\nOne glorious early morning, the sun having risen without a cloud in the\ndeep blue of the sky, and the sea being as calm as an inland lake, the\nKing\u2019s yacht was seen to weigh anchor and steam away at her fullest\nspeed towards The Islands. Little or no preparation had been made\nfor her short voyage; there was no Royal party on board, and the only\npassenger was Professor von Glauben. He sat solitary on deck in a\nluxurious chair, smoking his meerschaum pipe, and dubiously considering\nthe difficult and peculiar situation in which he was placed. He made\nno attempt to calculate the possible success or failure of his\nmission--\u2018for,\u2019 said he very sagely, \u2018it all depends on a woman, and God\nalone knows what a woman will do! Her ways are dark and wonderful, and\naltogether beyond the limit of the comprehension of man!\u2019\n\nHis journey was undertaken at the King\u2019s command; and equally by the\nKing\u2019s command he had been compelled to keep it a secret from Prince\nHumphry. He had never been to The Islands since the King\u2019s \u2018surprise\nvisit\u2019 there, and he was of course not aware that Gloria now knew the\nreal rank and position of her supposed \u2018sailor\u2019 husband. He was at\npresent charged to break the news to her, and bring her straightway to\nthe palace, there to confront both the King and Queen, and learn from\nthem the true state of affairs.\n\n\u201cIt is a cruel ordeal,\u201d he said, shaking his head sorrowfully; \u201cYet I\nmyself am a party to its being tried. For once in my life I have pinned\nmy faith on the unspoilt soul of an unworldly woman. I wonder what will\ncome of it? It rests entirely with Gloria herself, and with no one else\nin the world!\u201d\n\nAs the yacht arrived at its destination and dropped anchor at some\ndistance from the pier, owing to the shallowness of the tide at that\nhour of the day, The Islands presented a fair aspect in the dancing\nbeams of the summer sunlight. Numbers of fruit trees were bursting into\nblossom,--the apple, the cherry, the pink almond and the orange blossom\nall waved together and whispered sweetness to one another in the pure\nair, and the full-flowering mimosa perfumed every breath of wind.\nFishermen were grouped here and there on the shore, mending or drying\ntheir nets; and in the fields beyond could be perceived many workers\npruning the hedges or guiding the plough. The vision of a perfect\nArcadia was presented to the eye; and so the Professor thought, as\ngetting into the boat lowered for him, he was rowed from the yacht to\nthe landing-place, and there dismissed the sailors, warning them that at\nthe first sound of his whistle they should swiftly come for him again.\n\n\u201cWhat a pity to spoil her peace of mind--her simplicity of life!\u201d he\nthought, as he walked at a slow and reluctant pace towards Ronsard\u2019s\ncottage; \u201cAnd I fear we shall have trouble with the old man! I wonder if\nhis philosophy will stand hard wear and tear!\u201d\n\nThe pretty, low timber-raftered house confronted him at the next bend in\nthe road, and presented a charming aspect of tranquillity. The grass in\nfront of it was smooth as velvet and emerald-green, and in one of the\nflower borders Ronsard himself was digging and planting. He looked up as\nhe heard the gate open, but did not attempt to interrupt his work;--and\nVon Glauben advanced towards him with a considerable sense of anxiety\nand insecurity in his mind. Anon he paused in the very act of greeting,\nas the old man turned his strong, deeply-furrowed countenance upon him\nwith a look of fierce indignation and scorn.\n\n\u201cSo! You are here!\u201d he said; \u201cHave you come to look upon the evil your\nRoyal master has worked? Or to make dutiful obeisance to Gloria as\nCrown-Princess?\u201d\n\nVon Glauben was altogether taken aback.\n\n\u201cThen--you know--?\u201d he stammered.\n\n\u201cOh yes, I know!\u201d responded Ronsard sternly and bitterly; \u201cI know\neverything! There has been full confession! If the husband of my Gloria\nwere more prince than man, my knife would have slit his throat! But he\nis more man than prince!--and I have let him live--for her sake!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell--that is so far good!\u201d said Von Glauben, wiping the perspiration\nfrom his brow, and heaving a deep sigh of relief; \u201cAnd as you fully\ncomprehend the situation, it saves me the trouble of explaining it! You\nare a philosopher, Ronsard! Permit me to remind you of that fact! You\nknow, like myself, that what is done, even if it is done foolishly,\ncannot be undone!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it! Who should know it so well as I!\u201d and Ronsard set a delicate\nrose-tree roughly in the hole he had dug for it, and began to fiercely\npile in the earth around it;--\u201cFate is fate, and there is no gainsaying\nit! The law of Compensation will always have its way! Look you,\nman!--and listen! I, R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard, once killed a king!--and now in my\nold age, the only creature I ever loved is tricked by the son of a king!\nIt is just! So be it!\u201d\n\nHe bent his white head over his digging again, and Von Glauben was for\na moment silent, vaguely amazed and stupefied by this sudden declaration\nof a past crime.\n\n\u201cYou should not say \u2018tricked,\u2019 my friend!\u201d he at last ventured to\nremark; \u201cPrince Humphry is an honest lad;--he means to keep his word!\u201d\n\nRonsard looked up, his eyes gleaming with fury.\n\n\u201cKeep his word? Bah! How can he? Who in this wide realm will give him\nthe honourable liberty to keep his word? Will he acknowledge Gloria as\nhis wife before the nation?--she a foundling and a castaway? Will he\nmake her his future queen? Not he! He will forsake her, and live with\nanother woman, in sin which the law will sanctify!\u201d\n\nHe went on planting the rose-tree, then,--dropping his spade,--tossed up\nhis head and hands with a wild gesture.\n\n\u201cWhat, and who is this God who so ordains our destiny!\u201d he exclaimed;\n\u201cFor surely this is His work,--not mine! Hidden away from all the world\nwith my life\u2019s secret buried in my soul, I, without wife, or children or\nfriends, or any soul on earth to care whether I lived or died, was sent\nan angel comforter;--the child I rescued from the sea! \u2018Gloria, Gloria\nin excelsis Deo!\u2019 the choristers sang in the church when I found her! I\nthought it true! With her,--in every action, in every thought and\nword, I strove,--and have faithfully striven,--to atone for my past\ncrime;--for I was forced through others to kill that king! When proved\nguilty of the deed, I was told by my associates to assume madness,--a\nmere matter of acting,--and, being adjudged as insane, I was sent with\nother criminals on a convict ship, bound for a certain coast-prison,\nwhere we were all to be kept for life. The ship was wrecked off the\nrocks yonder, and it was reported that every soul on board went down,\nbut I escaped--only I,--for what inscrutable reason God alone knows!\nFinding myself saved and free, I devoted my life to hard work, and to\ndoing all the good I could think of to atone--to atone--always to atone!\nThen the child was sent to me; and I thought it was a sign that my\npenance was accepted; but no!--no!--the compensating curse falls,--not\non me,--not on me, for if only so, I would welcome it--but on Her!--the\nchild of my love--the heart of my heart!--on Her!\u201d\n\nHe turned away his face, and a hard sob broke from his labouring chest.\nVon Glauben laid a gentle, protective hand on his shoulder.\n\n\u201cRonsard, be a man!\u201d he said in a kind, firm voice; \u201cThis is the first\ntime you have told me your true history--and--I shall respect your\nconfidence! You have suffered much--equally you have loved much! Doubt\nnot that you are forgiven much. But why should you assume, or foresee\nunhappiness for Gloria? Why talk of a curse where perhaps there is only\nan intended blessing? Is she unhappy, that you are thus moved?\u201d\n\nRonsard furtively dashed away the tears from his eyes.\n\n\u201cShe? Gloria unhappy? No,--not yet! The delights of spring and summer\nhave met in her smile,--her eyes, her movements! It was she herself who\ntold me all! If he had told me, I would have killed him!\u201d\n\n\u201cEminently sensible!\u201d said Von Glauben, recovering his usual phlegmatic\ncalm; \u201cYou would have killed the man she loves best in the world. And so\nwith perfect certainty you would have killed her as well,--and probably\nyourself afterwards. A perfect slaughterhouse, like the last scene in\nHamlet, by the so admirable Shakespeare! It is better as it is. Life is\nreally very pleasant!\u201d\n\nHe sniffed the perfumed air,--listened with appreciation to the trilling\nof a bird swinging on a bough of apple-blossom above him, and began to\nfeel quite easy in his mind. Half his mission was done for him, Prince\nHumphry having declared himself in his true colours. \u201cI always said,\u201d\n mused the Professor, \u201cthat he was a very honest young man! And I think\nhe will be honest to the end.\u201d Aloud he asked:\n\n\u201cWhen did you know the truth?\u201d\n\n\u201cSome days since,\u201d replied Ronsard. \u201cHe--Gloria\u2019s husband--I can as yet\ncall him by no other name--came suddenly one evening;--the two went out\ntogether as usual, and then--then my child returned alone. She told\nme all,--of the disguise he had assumed--and of his real identity--and\nI--well! I think I was mad! I know I spoke and acted like a madman!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, rather say like a philosopher!\u201d murmured Von Glauben with a\nhumorous smile; \u201cRemember, my good fellow, that there is no human being\nwho loses self-control more easily and rapidly than he who proclaims the\nadvantage of keeping it! And what did Gloria say to you?\u201d\n\nRonsard looked up at the tranquil skies, and was for a moment silent.\nThen he answered.\n\n\u201cGloria is--just Gloria! There is no woman like her,--there never\nwill be any woman like her! She said nothing at all while I raged and\nswore;--she stood before me white and silent,--grand and calm, like some\ngreat angel. Then when I cursed _him,_--she raised her hand, and like\na queen she said: \u2018I forbid you to utter one word against him!\u2019 I stood\nbefore her mute and foolish. \u2018I forbid you!\u2019 She,--the child I reared\nand nurtured--menaced me with her \u2018command\u2019 as though I were her slave\nand servant! You see I have lost her!--she is not mine any more--she is\n_his_--to be treated as he wills, and made the toy of his pleasure! She\ndoes not know the world, but I know it! I know the misery that is in\nstore for her! But there is yet time--and I will live to avenge her\nwrong!\u201d\n\n\u201cPossibly there will be no wrong to avenge,\u201d said Von Glauben\ncomposedly; \u201cBut if there is, I have no doubt you would kill another\nking!\u201d Ronsard turned pale and shuddered. \u201cIt is stupid work, killing\nkings,\u201d went on the Professor; \u201cIt never does any good; and often\nincreases the evil it was intended to cure. Your studies in philosophy\nmust have taught you that much at least! As for your losing Gloria,--you\nlost her in a sense when you gave her to her husband. It is no use\ncomplaining now, because you find he is not the man you took him for.\nThe mischief is done. At any rate you are bound to admit that Gloria\nhas, so far, been perfectly happy; she will be happy still, I truly\nbelieve, for she has the secret of happiness in her own beautiful\nnature. And you, Ronsard, must make the best of things, and meet fate\nwith calmness. To-day, for instance, I am here by the King\u2019s command,--I\nbear his orders,--and I have come for Gloria. They want her at the\nPalace.\u201d\n\nRonsard stepped out of his flower-border, and stood on the greensward\namazed, and indignantly suspicious.\n\n\u201cThey want her at the Palace!\u201d he repeated; \u201cWhy? What for? To do her\nharm? To make her miserable? To insult and threaten her? No, she shall\nnot go!\u201d\n\n\u201cLook here, my friend,\u201d said the Professor with mild patience; \u201cYou\nhave--for a philosopher--a most unpleasant habit of jumping to wrong\nconclusions! Please endeavour to compose the tumult in your soul, and\nlisten to me! The King has sent for Gloria, and I am instructed to take\ncharge of her, and escort her to the presence of their Majesties. No\ninsult, no threat, no wrong is intended. I will bring her back again\nsafe to you immediately the audience is concluded. Be satisfied,\nRonsard! For once \u2018put your trust in princes,\u2019 for her husband will be\nthere,--and do you think he would suffer her to be insulted or wronged?\u201d\n\nRonsard\u2019s sunken eyes looked wild,--his aged frame trembled violently,\nand he gave a hopeless gesture.\n\n\u201cI do not know--I do not know!\u201d he said incoherently; \u201cI am an old man,\nand I have always found it a wicked world! But--if you give me your word\nthat she shall come to no harm, I will trust _you_!\u201d\n\nSilently Von Glauben took his hand and pressed it. Two or three minutes\npassed, weighted with unuttered and unutterable thoughts in the minds of\nboth men; and then, in a somewhat hushed voice, the Professor said:\n\n\u201cRonsard, I am just now reminded of the tragic story of Rudolf of\nAustria, who killed himself through the maddening sorrow of an ill-fated\nlove! We, in our different lines of life should remember that,--and let\nno young innocent heart suffer through our follies--our rages against\nfate--our conventions--our more or less idiotic laws of restraint and\nhypocrisy. The tragedy of Prince Rudolf and the unhappy Marie Vetsera\nwhom he worshipped, was caused by the sin and the falsehood of\nothers,--not by the victims of the cruel catastrophe. Therefore, I say\nto you, my friend, be wise in time!--and control the natural stormy\ntendency of your passions in this present affair. I assure you, on my\nfaith and honour as a man, that the King has a kindly heart and a brave\none,--together with a strong sense of justice. He is not truly known to\nhis people;--they only see him through the pens of press reporters, or\nthe slavish descriptions of toadies and parasites. Then again, the Crown\nPrince is an honourable lad; and from what I know of him, he is not\nlikely to submit to conventional usages in matters which are close to\nhis life and heart. Gloria herself is of such an exceptional character\nand disposition, that I think she may be safely left to arbitrate her\nown destiny----\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the Queen?\u201d interrupted Ronsard suddenly;--\u201cShe, at any rate, as a\nwoman, wife and mother, will be gentle?\u201d\n\n\u201cGentle, she certainly is,\u201d said Von Glauben, with a slight sigh; \u201cBut\nonly because she does not consider it worth while to be otherwise! God\nhas put a stone in the place where her heart should be! However,--she\nwill have little to say, and still less to do with to-day\u2019s business.\nYou tell me you will trust me; I promise you, you shall not repent your\ntrust! But I must see Gloria herself. Where is she?\u201d\n\nRonsard pointed towards the cottage.\n\n\u201cShe is in there, studying,\u201d he said; \u201cBooks of the old time;--books\nthat few read. She gets them all from Sergius Thord. How would it be,\nthink you, if he knew?\u201d\n\nThe pleasantly rubicund countenance of the Professor grew a shade paler.\n\n\u201cSergius Thord--Sergius Thord?--H\u2019m--h\u2019m--let me see!--who is he? Ah!\nI remember,--he is the Socialist lion, for ever roaring through the\nstreets and seeking whom he may devour! I daresay he is not without\ncleverness!\u201d\n\n\u201cCleverness!\u201d echoed Ronsard; \u201cThat is a tame word! He has genius, and\nthe people swear by him. Since the proposed new taxation, and other\ninjustices of the Government, he has gained adherents by many thousands.\nYou,--whom I once took to be a mere German schoolmaster, a friend of the\nyoung \u2018sailor\u2019 whom my child so innocently wedded,--you whom I now know\nto be the King\u2019s physician--surely you cannot live on the mainland, and\nin the metropolis, without knowing of the power of Sergius Thord?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know something--not much;\u201d replied the Professor guardedly; \u201cBut\ncome, my friend, _I_ have not deceived you! I was in very truth a poor\n\u2018German schoolmaster,\u2019 once,--before I became a student of medicine\nand surgery. And that I am the King\u2019s physician, is merely one of\nthose accidental circumstances which occur in a world of chance.\nBut schoolmaster as I have been, I doubt if I would set our\n\u2018Glory-of-the-Sea\u2019 to study books recommended to her by Sergius Thord.\nThe poetry of Heine is more suitable to her age and sex. Let us break\nin upon her meditations.\u201d And he walked across the grass with one arm\nthrust through that of Ronsard; \u201cFor she must prepare herself. We ought\nto be gone within an hour.\u201d\n\nThey passed under the low, rose-covered porch into a wide square room,\nwith raftered ceiling and deep carved oak ingle nook,--and here at the\ntable, with a quarto volume opened out before her, sat Gloria, resting\nher head on one fair hand, her rich hair falling about her in loose\nshining tresses, and her whole attitude expressive of the deepest\nabsorption in study. As they entered, she looked up and smiled,--then\nrose, her hand still resting on the open book.\n\n\u201cAt last you have come again, dear Professor!\u201d she said; \u201cI began to\nthink you had grown weary in well-doing!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben stared at her, stricken speechless for a moment. What\nmysterious change had passed over the girl, investing her with such an\nair of regal authority? It was impossible to say. To all appearance she\nwas the same beautiful creature, clad in the same simple white homespun\ngown,--yet were she Empress of half the habitable globe, she could\nnot have looked more environed with dignity, sweetness and delicately\ngracious manner. He understood the desolating expression of\nRonsard,--\u2018You see I have lost her!--she is not mine any more--she is\nhis!\u2019 He recognised and was suddenly impressed by that fact;--she\nwas \u2018his\u2019--the wife of the Crown Prince and Heir-Apparent to the\nThrone;--and evidently with the knowledge of her position had arisen the\npride of love and the spirit of grace to support her honours worthily.\nAnd so, as Von Glauben met her eyes, which expressed their gentle wonder\nat his silence, and as she extended her hand to him, he came slowly\nforward and bowing low, respectfully kissed that hand.\n\n\u201cPrincess,\u201d he said, in a voice that trembled ever so slightly; \u201cI shall\nnever be weary in well-doing,--if you are good enough to call my\nservice and friendship for you by that name! I hesitated to come\nbefore,--because I thought--I feared--I did not know!--\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand!\u201d said Gloria tranquilly; \u201cYou did not think the Prince,\nmy husband, would tell me the truth so soon! But I know all, and now--I\nam glad to know it! Dearest,\u201d and she moved swiftly to Ronsard who was\nstanding silent in the doorway--\u201ccome in and sit down! You make yourself\nso tired sometimes in the garden;\u201d and she threw a loving arm about him.\n\u201cYou must rest; you look so pale!\u201d\n\nFor all answer, he lifted the hand that hung about his neck, to his lips\nand kissed it tenderly.\n\n\u201cThey want you, Gloria!\u201d he said tremulously; \u201cThey want you at the\nPalace. You must go to-day!\u201d\n\nShe lifted her brilliant eyes enquiringly to Von Glauben, who responded\nto the look by at once explaining his mission. He was there, he said, by\nthe King\u2019s special command;--their Majesties had been informed of their\nson\u2019s marriage by their son himself; and they desired at once to see\nand speak with their unknown daughter-in-law. The interview would be\nprivate; his Royal Highness the Crown Prince would be present;--it might\nlast an hour, perhaps longer,--and he, Von Glauben, was entrusted to\nbring Gloria to the Palace, and escort her back to The Islands again\nwhen all was over. Thus, with elaborate and detailed courtesy, the\nProfessor unfolded the nature of his enterprise, while Gloria, still\nkeeping one arm round Ronsard, heard and smiled.\n\n\u201cI shall obey the King\u2019s command!\u201d she said composedly; \u201cThough,--having\nno word from the Prince, my husband, concerning this mandate,--I might\nvery well refuse to do so! But it may be as well that their Majesties\nand their son\u2019s wife should plainly, and once for all, understand each\nother. Dear Professor, you look sadly troubled. Is there some little\nconvention, some special ceremonial of so-called \u2018good manners,\u2019 which\nyou are commissioned to teach me, before I make my appearance at Court\nunder your escort?\u201d\n\nHer lovely lips smiled,--her eyes laughed,--she looked the very\nincarnation of Beauty triumphant. Von Glauben\u2019s brain whirled,--he felt\nbewitched and dazzled.\n\n\u201cI?--to teach you anything? No, my princess!--and please think how\nloyally I have called you \u2018Princess\u2019 from the beginning!--I have always\ntold you that you have a spiritual knowledge far surpassing all material\nwisdom. Conventions and ceremonials are not for you,--you will make\nfashion, not follow it! I am not troubled, save for your sake, dear\nchild!--for you know nothing of the world, and the ways of the Court may\nat first offend you--\u201d\n\n\u201cThe ways of Hell must have seemed dark to Proserpine,\u201d said Ronsard in\nhis harsh, strong voice; \u201cBut Love gave her light!\u201d\n\n\u201cA very just reminder!\u201d said Von Glauben, well pleased;--\u201cConsider\nGloria to be the new Proserpine to-day! And now she must forgive me for\nplaying the part of a tyrannical friend, and urging her to hasten her\npreparations.\u201d\n\nGloria bent down and kissed Ronsard gently.\n\n\u201cTrust me, little father!\u201d she whispered; \u201cYou have not taught me great\nlessons of truth in vain!\u201d\n\nAloud she said.\n\n\u201cThe King and Queen wish to see me and speak with me,--and I know the\nreason why! They desire to fully explain to me all that my husband\nhas already told me,--which is that according to the rules made for\nmonarchs, our marriage is inadmissible. Well!--I have my answer ready;\nand you, Professor, shall hear me give it! Wait but a few moments and I\nwill come with you.\u201d\n\nShe left the room. The two men looked at each other in silence. At last\nVon Glauben said:--\n\n\u201cRonsard, I think you will soon reap the reward of your\n\u2018life-philosophy\u2019 system! You have fed that girl from her childhood on\nstrong intellectual food, and trained the mental muscles rather than the\nphysical ones. Upon my word, I believe you will see a good result!\u201d\n\nRonsard, who had grown much calmer and quieter during the last few\nminutes, raised himself a little from the chair into which he had sunk\nwith an air of fatigue, and looked dreamily towards the open lattice\nwindow, where the roses hung in a curtain of crimson blossom.\n\n\u201cIf it be so, I shall praise God!\u201d he said; \u201cBut the years have come and\ngone with me so peacefully since I made my home on these quiet shores,\nthat the exercise of what I have presumed to call \u2018philosophy\u2019 has had\nno chance. Philosophy! It is well to preach it,--but when the blow of\nmisfortune falls, who can practise it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can,\u201d replied the Professor;--\u201cI can! Gloria can! I think we all\nthree have clear brains. There is a tendency in the present age\nto overlook and neglect the greatest power in the whole human\ncomposition,--the mental and psychical part of it. Now, in the present\ncurious drama of events, we have a chance given to exercise it; and it\nwill be our own faults if we do not make our wills rule our destinies!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the position is intolerable--impossible!\u201d said Ronsard, rising and\npacing the room with a fresh touch of agitation. \u201cNothing can do away\nwith the fact that we--my child and I--have been cruelly deceived!\nAnd now there can be only one of two contingencies; Gloria must be\nacknowledged as the Prince\u2019s wife,--in which case he will be forced to\nresign all claim to the Throne;--or he must marry again, which makes her\nno wife at all. That is a disgrace which her pride would never submit\nto, nor mine;--for did I not kill a king?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me advise you for the future not to allude to that disagreeable\nincident!\u201d said Von Glauben persuasively: \u201cExercise discretion,--as I\ndo! Observe that I do not ask you what king you killed;--I am as careful\non that matter as I am concerning the reasons for which I myself left\nmy native Fatherland! I make it a rule never to converse on painful\nsubjects. You tell me you have tried to atone; then believe that the\natonement is made, and that Gloria is the sign of its acceptance,\nand--happy augury!--here she comes.\u201d\n\nThey both instinctively turned to confront the girl as she entered. She\nhad changed her ordinary white homespun gown for another of the same\nkind, equally simple, but fresh and unworn; her glorious bronze-chestnut\nhair was unbound to its full rippling length, and was held back by a\nband or fillet of curiously carved white coral, which surmounted the\nrich tresses somewhat in the fashion of a small crown, and she\ncarried, thrown over one arm, the only kind of cloak she ever wore,--a\nburnous-like wrap of the same white homespun as her dress, with a hood,\nwhich, as the Professor slowly took out his glasses and fixed them on\nhis nose out of mere mechanical habit, to look at her more closely, she\ndrew over her head and shoulders, the soft folds about her exquisite\nface completing a classic picture of such radiant beauty as is seldom\nseen nowadays among the increasingly imperfect and repulsive specimens\nof female humanity which \u2018progress\u2019 combined with sensuality, produce\nfor the \u2018advancement\u2019 of the race.\n\n\u201cI have no Court dress,\u201d she said smiling; \u201cAnd if I had I should not\nwear it! The King and Queen shall see me as my husband sees me,--what\npleases him, must suffice to please them! I am quite ready!\u201d\n\nVon Glauben removed the spectacles he had needlessly put on. They were\ndim with a moisture which he furtively polished off, blinking his eyes\nmeanwhile as if the light hurt him. He was profoundly moved--thrilled\nto the very core of his soul by the simplicity, frankness and courage of\nthis girl whose education was chiefly out of wild Nature\u2019s lesson-book,\nand who knew nothing of the artificial world of fashion.\n\n\u201cAnd I, my princess, am at your service!\u201d he said; \u201cRonsard, it is but a\nfew hours that we shall be absent. To-night with the rising of the\nmoon we shall return, and I doubt not with the Prince himself as chief\nescort! Keep a good heart and have faith! All will be well!\u201d\n\n\u201cAll _shall_ be well if Love can make it so!\u201d said Ronsard;--\u201cGloria--my\nchild--!\u201d He held out his wrinkled hands pathetically, unable to say\nmore. She sank on her knees before him, and tenderly drawing down those\nhands upon her head, pressed them closely there.\n\n\u201cYour blessing, dearest!\u201d she said; \u201cNot in speech--but in thought!\u201d\n\nThere was a moment\u2019s sacred silence;--then Gloria rose, and throwing\nher arms round the old man, the faithful protector of her infancy and\ngirlhood, kissed him tenderly. After that, she seemed to throw all\nseriousness to the winds, and running out under the roses of the porch\nmade two or three light dancing steps across the lawn.\n\n\u201cCome!\u201d she cried, her eyes sparkling, her face radiant with the gaiety\nof her inward spirit; \u201cCome, Professor! This is not what we call a\npoet\u2019s day of dreams,--it is a Royal day of nonsense! Come!\u201d and here\nshe drew herself up with a stately air--\u201cWE are prepared to confront the\nKing!\u201d\n\nThe Professor caught the infection of her mirth, and quickly followed\nher; and within the next half-hour R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard, climbing slowly to\nthe summit of one of the nearest rocks on the shore adjacent to his\ndwelling, shaded his eyes from the dazzling sunlight on the sea, and\nstrained them to watch the magnificent Royal yacht steaming swiftly over\nthe tranquil blue water, with one slight figure clad in white leaning\nagainst the mast, a figure that waved its hand fondly towards The\nIslands, and of whom it might have been said:\n\n  \u201cHer gaze was glad past love\u2019s own singing of,\n  And her face lovely past desire of love!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nA FAIR D\u00c9BUTANTE\n\n\nThat same afternoon there was a mysterious commotion at the\nPalace,--whispers ran from lip to lip among the few who had seen her,\nthat a beautiful woman,--lovelier than the Queen herself,--had, under\nthe escort of the uncommunicative Professor von Glauben, passed into\nthe presence of the King and Queen, to receive the honour of a private\naudience. Who was she? What was she? Where did she come from? How was\nshe dressed? This last question was answered first, being easiest\nto deal with. She was attired all in white,--\u2018like a picture\u2019 said\nsome--\u2018like a statue\u2019 said others. No one, however, dared ask any direct\nquestion concerning her,--her reception, whoever she was, being of a\nstrictly guarded nature, and peremptory orders having been given to\nadmit no one to the Queen\u2019s presence-chamber, to which apartment she\nhad been taken by the King\u2019s physician. But such dazzling beauty as\nhers could not go altogether unnoticed by the most casual attendant,\nsentinel, or lord-in-waiting, and the very fact that special commands\nhad been issued to guard all the doors of entrance to the Royal\napartments on either hand, during her visit, only served to pique and\ninflame the general curiosity.\n\nMeantime,--while lesser and inferior personages were commenting on the\npossibility of the unknown fair one being concerned with some dramatic\nincident that might have to be included among the King\u2019s numerous\ngallantries,--the unconscious subject of their discussion was quietly\nseated alone in an ante-room adjoining the Queen\u2019s apartments, waiting\ntill Professor von Glauben should announce that their Majesties were\nready to receive her. She was not troubled or anxious, or in any way\nill at ease. She looked curiously upon the splendid evidences of\nRoyal state, wealth and luxury which surrounded her, with artistic\nappreciation but no envy. She caught sight of her own face and figure\nin a tall mirror opposite to her, set in a silver frame; and she studied\nherself quietly and critically with the calm knowledge that there was\nnothing to deplore or to regret in the way God and Nature had been\npleased to make her. She was not in the slightest degree vain,--but\nshe knew that a healthy and quiet mind in a healthy and unspoilt body,\ntogether form what is understood as the highest beauty,--and that these\ntwo elements were not lacking in her. Moreover, she was conscious of a\ngreat love warming her heart and strengthening her soul,--and with\nthis great motive-force to brace her nerves and add extra charm to her\nnatural loveliness, she had no fear. She had enjoyed the swift voyage\nacross the sparkling sea, and the fresh air had made her eyes doubly\nlustrous, her complexion even more than usually fair and brilliant.\nShe did not permit herself to be rendered unhappy or anxious as to the\npossible attitude of the King and Queen towards her,--she was prepared\nfor all contingencies, and had fully made up her mind what to say.\nTherefore, there was no need to fret over the position, or to be\ntimorously concerned because she was called upon to confront those who\nby human law alone were made superior in rank to the rest of mankind.\n\n\u201cIn God\u2019s sight all men are equal!\u201d she said to herself: \u201cThe King is\na mere helpless babe at birth, dependant on others,--as he is a mere\nhelpless corpse at death. It is only men\u2019s own foolish ideas and\nconventions of usage in life that make any difference!\u201d\n\nAt that moment the Professor entered hurriedly, and impulsively seizing\nher hands in his own, kissed them and pressed them tenderly. His face\nwas flushed--he was evidently strongly excited.\n\n\u201cGo in there now, Princess!\u201d he whispered, pointing to the adjacent\nroom, of which the door stood ajar; \u201cAnd may God be on your side!\u201d\n\nShe rose up, and releasing her hands gently from his nervous grasp,\nsmiled.\n\n\u201cDo not be afraid!\u201d she said; \u201cYou, too, are coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cI follow you!\u201d he replied.\n\nAnd to himself he said: \u201cAch, Gott in Himmel! Will she keep her so\nbeautiful calm? If she will--if she can--a throne would be well lost for\nsuch a woman!\u201d\n\nAnd he watched her with an admiration amounting almost to fear, as she\npassed before him and entered the Royal presence-chamber with a proud\nlight step, a grace of bearing and a supreme distinction, which, had she\nbeen there on a day of diplomatic receptions, would have made half the\nwomen accustomed to attend Court, look like the merest vulgar plebeians.\n\nThe room she entered was very large and lofty. A dazzle of gold ceiling,\npainted walls and mirrors flashed upon her eyes, with the hue of silken\ncurtains and embroidered hangings,--the heavy perfume of hundreds of\nflowers in tall crystal vases and wide gilded stands made the air drowsy\nand odorous, and for a moment, Gloria, just fresh from the sweet breath\nof the sea, felt sickened and giddy,--but she recovered quickly, and\nraised her eyes fearlessly to the two motionless figures, which, like\nidols set in a temple for worship, waited her approach. The King,\nstiffly upright, and arrayed in military uniform, stood near the Queen,\nwho was seated in a throne-like chair over-canopied with gold,--her\ntrailing robes were of a pale azure hue bordered with ermine, and\ntouched here and there with silver, giving out reflexes of light, stolen\nas it seemed from the sea and sky,--and her beautiful face, with its\nclear-cut features and cold pallor, might have been carved out of ivory,\nfor all the interest or emotion expressed upon it. Gloria came straight\ntowards her, then stopped. With her erect supple form, proud head\nand fair features, she looked the living embodiment of sovereign\nwomanhood,--and the Queen, meeting the full starry glance of her eyes,\nstirred among her Royal draperies, and raised herself with a slow\ngraceful air of critical observation, in which there was a touch\nof languid wonder mingled with contempt. Still Gloria stood\nmotionless,--neither abashed nor intimidated,--she made no curtsey or\nreverential salutation of any kind, and presently removing her gaze from\nthe Queen, she turned to the King.\n\n\u201cYou sent for me,\u201d she said; \u201cAnd I have come. What do you want with\nme?\u201d\n\nThe King smiled. What a dazzling Perfection was here, he thought! A\nsecond Una unarmed, and strong in the courage of innocence! But he was\nacting a special part, and he determined to play it well and thoroughly.\nSo he gave her no reply, but turned with a stiff air to Von Glauben.\n\n\u201cTell the girl to make her obeisance to the Queen!\u201d he said.\n\nThe Professor very reluctantly approached the \u2018Glory-of-the-Sea\u2019 with\nthis suggestion, cautiously whispered. Gloria obeyed at once. Moving\nswiftly to the Queen\u2019s chair, she bent low before her.\n\n\u201cMadam!\u201d she said, \u201cI am told to kneel to you, because you are the\nQueen,--but it is not for that I do so. I kneel, because you are my\nhusband\u2019s mother!\u201d\n\nAnd raising the cold impassive hand covered with great gems, that\nrested idly on the rich velvets so near to her touch, she gently kissed\nit,--then rose up to her full height again.\n\n\u201cIs it always like this here?\u201d she asked, gazing around her. \u201cDo you\nalways sit thus in a chair, dressed grandly and quite silent?\u201d\n\nThe smile deepened on the King\u2019s face; the Queen, perforce moved at last\nfrom her inertia, half rose with an air of amazement and indignation,\nand Von Glauben barely saved himself from laughing outright.\n\n\u201cYou,\u201d continued Gloria, fixing her bright glance on the King; \u201cYou have\nseen me before! You have spoken to me. Then why do you pretend not to\nknow me now? Is that Court manners? If so, they are not good or kind!\u201d\n\nThe King relaxed his formal attitude, and addressed his Consort in a low\ntone.\n\n\u201cIt is no use dealing with this girl in the conventional way,\u201d he said;\n\u201cShe is a mere child at heart, simple and uneducated;--we must treat her\nas such. Perhaps you will speak to her first?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Sir, I much prefer that you should do so,\u201d she replied. \u201cWhen I\nhave heard her answers to you, it will be perhaps my turn!\u201d\n\nThereupon the King advanced a step or two, and Gloria regarded him\nsteadfastly. Meeting the pure light of those lovely eyes, he lost\nsomething of his ordinary self-possession,--he was conscious of a\ncertain sense of embarrassment and foolishness;--his very uniform,\nablaze with gold and jewelled orders, seemed a clown\u2019s costume compared\nwith the classic simplicity of Gloria\u2019s homespun garb, which might have\nfitly clothed a Greek goddess. Sensible of his nervous irritation, he\nhowever overcame it by an effort, and summoning all his dignity, he\n\u2018graciously,\u2019 as the newspaper parasites put it, extended his hand.\nGloria smiled archly.\n\n\u201cI kissed your hand the other day when you were cross!\u201d she said; \u201cYou\nwould like it kissed again? There!\u201d\n\nAnd with easy grace of gesture she pressed her lips lightly upon it. It\nwould have needed something stronger than mere flesh and blood to resist\nthe natural playfulness and charm of her action, combined with her\nunparalleled beauty, and the King, who was daily and hourly proving\nfor himself the power and intensity of that Spirit of Man which makes\nclamour for higher things than Man\u2019s conventionalities, became for the\nmoment as helplessly overwhelmed and defeated by a woman\u2019s smile,\na woman\u2019s eyes, as any hero of old times, whose conquests have been\nreported to us in history as achieved for the sake of love and beauty.\nBut he was compelled to disguise his thoughts, and to maintain an\noutward expression of formality, particularly in the presence of his\nQueen-Consort,--and he withdrew the hand that bore her soft kiss upon it\nwith a well-simulated air of chill tolerance. Then he spoke gravely, in\nmeasured precise accents.\n\n\u201cGloria Ronsard, we have sent for you in all kindness,\u201d he said; \u201cout of\na sincere wish to remedy any wrong which our son, the Crown Prince has,\nin the light folly and hot impulse of his youth, done to you in your\nlife. We are given to understand that there is a boy-and-girl attachment\nbetween you; that he won your attachment under a disguised identity, and\nthat you were thus innocently deceived,--and that, in order to satisfy\nhis own honourable scruples, as well as your sense of maidenly virtue,\nhe has, still under a disguise, gone through the ceremony of marriage\nwith you. Therefore, it seems that you now imagine yourself to be his\nlawful wife. This is a very natural mistake for a girl to make who is as\nyoung and inexperienced as you are, and I am sorry,--very sorry for the\nfalse position in which my son the Crown Prince has so thoughtlessly\nplaced you. But, after very earnest consideration, I,--and the Queen\nalso,--think it much better for you to know the truth at once, so that\nyou may fully realize the situation, and then, by the exercise of a\nlittle common sense, spare yourself any further delusion and pain. All\nwe can do to repair the evil, you may rest assured shall be done. But\nyou must thoroughly understand that the Crown Prince, as heir to the\nThrone, cannot marry out of his own station. If he should presume to\ndo so, through some mad and hot-headed impulse, such a marriage is not\nadmitted or agreed to by the nation. Thus you will see plainly that,\nthough you have gone through the marriage ceremony with him, that counts\nas nothing in your case,--for, according to the law of the realm, and in\nthe sight of the world, you are not, and cannot be his wife!\u201d\n\nGloria raised her deep bright eyes and smiled.\n\n\u201cNo?\u201d she said, and then was silent.\n\nThe King regarded her with surprise, and a touch of anger. He had\nexpected tears, passionate declamations, and reiterated assurances of\nthe unalterable and indissoluble tie between herself and her lover, but\nthis little indifferently-queried \u201cNo?\u201d upset all his calculations.\n\n\u201cHave you nothing to say?\u201d he asked, somewhat sternly.\n\n\u201cWhat should I say?\u201d she responded, still smiling; \u201cYou are the King; it\nis for you to speak!\u201d\n\n\u201cShe does not understand you, Sir,\u201d interrupted the Queen coldly; \u201cYour\nwords are possibly too elaborate for her simple comprehension!\u201d\n\nGloria turned a fearless beautiful glance upon her.\n\n\u201cPardon me, Madam, but I do understand!\u201d she said; \u201cI understand that by\nthe law of God I am your son\u2019s wife, and that by the law of the world I\nam no wife! I abide by the law of God!\u201d\n\nThere was a moment\u2019s dead silence. Professor von Glauben gave a discreet\ncough to break it, and the King, reminded of his presence turned towards\nhim.\n\n\u201cHas she no sense of the position?\u201d he demanded.\n\n\u201cSir, I have every reason to believe that she grasps it thoroughly!\u201d\n replied Von Glauben with a deferential bow.\n\n\u201cThen why----\u201d\n\nBut here he was again interrupted by the Queen. She, raising herself in\nher chair, her beautiful head and shoulders lifted statue-like from\nher enshrining draperies of azure and white, stretched forth a hand and\nbeckoned Gloria towards her.\n\n\u201cCome here, child!\u201d she said; then as Gloria advanced with evident\nreluctance, she added; \u201cCome closer--you must not be afraid of me!\u201d\n\nGloria smiled.\n\n\u201cNay, Madam, trouble not yourself at all in that regard! I never was\nafraid of anyone!\u201d\n\nA shadow of annoyance darkened the Queen\u2019s fair brows.\n\n\u201cSince you have no fear, you may equally have no shame!\u201d she said\nin icy-cold accents; \u201cTherefore it is easy to understand why you\ndeliberately refuse to see the harm and cruelty done to our son, the\nCrown Prince, by his marriage with you, if such marriage were in the\nleast admissible, which fortunately for all concerned, it is not. He\nis destined to occupy the Throne, and he must wed someone who is fit to\nshare it. Kings and princes may love where they choose,--but they can\nonly marry where they must! You are my son\u2019s first love;--the thought\nand memory of that may perhaps be a consolation to you,--but do not\nassume that you will be his last!\u201d\n\nGloria drew back from her; her face had paled a little.\n\n\u201cYou can speak so!\u201d she said sorrowfully; \u201cYou,--his mother! Poor\nQueen--poor woman! I am sorry for you!\u201d\n\nWithout pausing to notice the crimson flush of vexation that flew\nover the Queen\u2019s delicate face at her words, she turned, now with some\nhaughtiness, to the King.\n\n\u201cSpeak plainly!\u201d she said; \u201cWhat is it you want of me?\u201d\n\nHer flashing eyes, her proud look startled him--he moved back a step\nor two. Then he replied with as much firmness and dignity as he could\nassume.\n\n\u201cNothing is wanted of you, my child, but obedience and loyalty! Resign\nall claim upon the Crown Prince as his wife; promise never to see him\nagain, or correspond with him,--and--you shall lose nothing by the\nsacrifice you make of your little love affair to the good of the\ncountry.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe good of the country!\u201d echoed Gloria in thrilling tones. \u201cDo _you_\nknow anything about it? You--who never go among your people except to\nhunt and shoot and amuse yourself generally? You, who permit wicked\nliars and spendthrifts to gamble with the people\u2019s money! The good of\nthe country! If my life could only lift the burden of taxation from the\ncountry, I would lay it down gladly and freely! If I were Queen, do you\nthink I could be like her?\u201d and she stretched forth her white arm to\nwhere the Queen, amazed, had risen from her seat, and now stood erect,\nher rich robes trailing yards on the ground, and flashing at every point\nwith jewels. \u201cDo you think I could sit unmoved, clad in rich velvet and\ngems, while one single starving creature sought bread within my kingdom?\nNay, I would sell everything I possessed and go barefoot rather! I would\nbe a sister, not a mere \u2018patroness\u2019 to the poor;--I would never wear a\nsingle garment that had not been made for me by the workers of my own\nland;--and the \u2018good of the country\u2019 should be \u2018good\u2019 indeed, not \u2018bad,\u2019\nas it is now!\u201d\n\nBreathless with the sudden rush of her thoughts into words, she stood\nwith heaving bosom and sparkling eyes, the incarnation of eloquence and\ninspiration, and before the astonished monarch could speak, she went on.\n\n\u201cI am your son\u2019s wife! He loves me--he has wedded me honourably and\nlawfully. You wish me to disclaim that. I will not! From him and him\nalone, must come my dismissal from his heart, his life and his soul. If\nhe desires his marriage with me dissolved, let him tell me so himself\nface to face, and before you and his mother! Then I shall be content to\nbe no more his wife. But not till then! I will promise nothing without\nhis consent. He is my husband,--and to him I owe my first obedience.\nI seek no honour, no rank, no wealth,--but I have won the greatest\ntreasure in this world, his love!--and that I will keep!\u201d\n\nA door opened at the further end of the room--a curtain was quietly\npushed aside, and the Crown Prince entered. With a composed, almost\nformal demeanour, he saluted the King and Queen, and then going up to\nGloria, passed his arm around her waist, and held her fast.\n\n\u201cWhen you have concluded your interview with my wife, Sir,--an interview\nof which I had no previous knowledge,\u201d he said quietly, addressing the\nKing; \u201cI shall be glad to have one of my own with her!\u201d\n\nThe King answered him calmly enough.\n\n\u201cYour wife,--as you call her,--is a very incorrigible young person,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cThe sooner she returns to her companions, the fisher-folk on The\nIslands, the better! From her looks I imagined she might have sense;\nbut I fear that is lacking to her composition! However, she is perfectly\nwilling to consider her marriage with you dissolved, if you desire it. I\ntrust you _will_ desire it;--here, now, and at once, in my presence\nand that of the Queen, your mother;--and thus a very unpleasant and\nunfortunate incident in your career will be satisfactorily closed!\u201d\n\nPrince Humphry smiled.\n\n\u201cDissolve the heavens and its stars into a cup of wine, and drink them\nall down at one gulp!\u201d he said; \u201cAnd then, perhaps, you may dissolve my\nmarriage with this lady! If you consider it illegal, put the question\nto the Courts of Law;--to the Pope, who most strenuously supports\nthe sanctity of the marriage-tie;--ask all who know anything of the\nsacrament, whether, when two people love each other, and are bound by\nholy matrimony to be as one, and are mutually resolved to so remain, any\nearthly power can part them! \u2018Those whom God hath joined together, let\nno man put asunder.\u2019 Is that mere lip mockery, or is it a holy bond?\u201d\n\nThe King gave an impatient gesture.\n\n\u201cThere is no use in argument,\u201d he said, \u201cwhen argument has to be carried\non with such children as yourselves. What cannot be done by persuasion,\nmust be done by force. I wished to act kindly and reasonably by both of\nyou--and I had hoped better things from this interview,--but as matters\nhave turned out, it may as well be concluded.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait!\u201d said Gloria, disengaging herself gently from her husband\u2019s\nembrace; \u201cI have something to say which ought to meet your wishes, even\nthough it may not be all you desire. I will not promise to give up my\nhusband;--I will not promise never to see him, and never to write to\nhim--but I will swear to you one thing that should completely put your\nfears and doubts of me at rest!\u201d\n\nBoth the King and Queen looked at her wonderingly;--a brighter, more\ndelicate beauty seemed to invest her,--she stood very proudly upright,\nher small head lifted,--her rich hair glistening in the soft sunshine\nthat streamed in subdued tints through the high stained-glass windows\nof the room,--her figure, slight and tall, was like that of the goddess\ndreamt of by Endymion.\n\n\u201cYou are so unhappy already,\u201d she continued, turning to the Queen; \u201cYou\nhave lost so much, and you need so much, that I should be sorry to\nadd to your burden of grief! If I thought I could make you glad,--if\nI thought I could make you see the world through my eyes, with all the\npatient, loving human hearts about you, waiting for the sympathy you\nnever give; I would come to you often, and try to find the warm pulse of\nyou somewhere under all that splendour which you clothe yourself in,\nand which is as valueless to me as the dust on the common road! And if\nI could show _you_\u201d and here she fixed her steadfast glance upon the\nKing,--\u201cwhere you might win friends instead of losing them,--if I could\npersuade you to look and see where the fires of Revolution are beginning\nto smoulder and kindle under your very Throne,--if I could bear messages\nfrom you of compassion and tenderness to all the disaffected and\ndisloyal, I would ask you on my knees to let me be your daughter in\naffection, as I am by marriage; and I would unveil to you the secrets of\nyour own kingdom, which is slowly but steadily rising against you! But\nyou judge me wrongly--you estimate me falsely,--and where I might have\ngiven aid, your own misconception of me makes me useless! You consider\nme low-born and a mere peasant! How can you be sure of that?--for truly\nI do not know who I am, or where I came from. For aught I can tell,\nthe storm was my father, and the sea my mother,--but my parents may as\neasily have been Royal! You judge me half-educated,--and wholly unworthy\nto be your son\u2019s wife. Will the ladies of your Court compete with me in\nlearning? I am ready! What I hear of their attainments has not as\nyet commanded my respect or admiration,--and you yourself as King, do\nnothing to show that you care for either art or learning! I wonder,\nindeed, that you should even pause to consider whether your son\u2019s wife\nis educated or not!\u201d\n\nAbsolutely silent, the King kept his eyes upon her. He was experiencing\na novel sensation which was altogether delightful to him, and more\ninstructive than any essay or sermon. He, the ostensible ruler of the\ncountry, was face to face with a woman who had no fear of him,--no awe\nfor his position,--no respect for his rank, but who simply spoke to him\nas though he had been any ordinary person. He saw a scarcely perceptible\nsmile on his son\u2019s handsome features,--he saw that Von Glauben\u2019s eyes\ntwinkled, despite his carefully preserved seriousness of demeanour, and\nhe realized the almost absurd powerlessness of his authority in such an\nembarrassing position. The assumption of a mute contempt, such as\nwas vaguely expressed by the Queen, appeared to him to be the best\npolicy;--he therefore adopted that attitude, without however producing\nthe least visible effect. Gloria\u2019s face, softly flushed with suppressed\nemotion, looked earnest and impassioned, but neither abashed nor afraid.\n\n\u201cI have read many histories of kings,\u201d she continued slowly; \u201cOf their\ntreacheries and cruelties; of their neglect of their people! Seldom\nhave they been truly great! The few who are reported as wise, lived and\nreigned so many ages ago, that we cannot tell whether their virtues\nwere indeed as admirable as described,--or whether their vices were not\ncondoned by a too-partial historian. A Throne has no attraction for me!\nThe only sorrow I have ever known in my life, is the discovery that the\nman I love best in the world is a king\u2019s son! Would to God he were poor\nand unrenowned as I thought him to be, when I married him!--for so we\nshould always have been happy. But now I have to think for him as well\nas for myself;--his position is as hard as mine,--and we accept our fate\nas a trial of our love. Love cannot be forced,--it must root itself, and\ngrow where it will. It has made us two as one;--one in thought,--one in\nhope,--one in faith! No earthly power can part us. You would marry him\nto another woman, and force him to commit a great sin \u2018for the good of\nthe country\u2019? I tell you, if you do that,--if any king or prince does\nthat,--God\u2019s curse will surely fall upon the Throne, and all that do\ninherit it!\u201d\n\nShe did not raise her voice,--she spoke in low thrilling accents,\nwithout excitement, but with measured force and calm. Then she beckoned\nthe Crown Prince to her side. He instantly obeyed her gesture. Taking\nhim by the hand, she advanced a little, and with him confronted both the\nKing and Queen.\n\n\u201cHear me, your Majesties both!\u201d she said in clear, firm accents; \u201cAnd\nwhen you have heard, be satisfied as to \u2018the good of the country,\u2019 and\nlet me depart to my own home in peace, away from all your crushing and\nmiserable conventions. I take your son by the hand, and even as I swore\nmy faith to him at the marriage altar, so I swear to you that he is\nfree to follow his own inclination;--his law is mine,--his will my\npleasure,--and in everything I shall obey him, save in this one decree,\nwhich I make for myself in your Majesties\u2019 sovereign presence--that\nnever, so help me God, will I claim or share my husband\u2019s rank as Crown\nPrince, or set foot within this palace, which is his home, again, till\na greater voice than that of any king,--the voice of the Nation itself,\ncalls upon me to do so!\u201d\n\nThis proud declaration was entirely unexpected; and both the King and\nQueen regarded the beautiful speaker in undisguised amazement. She,\ngently dropping the Prince\u2019s hand, met their eyes with a wistful pathos\nin her own.\n\n\u201cWill that satisfy you?\u201d she asked, a slight tremor shaking her voice as\nshe put the question.\n\nThe King at once advanced, and now spoke frankly, and without any\nceremony.\n\n\u201cAssuredly! You are a brave girl! True to your love, and true to the\ncountry at one and the same time! But while I accept your vow, let me\nwarn you not to indulge in any lurking hope or feeling that the Nation\nwill ever recognize your marriage. Your own willingly-taken oath at\nthis moment practically makes it null and void, so far as the State\nis concerned;--but perhaps it strengthens it as a bond of--youthful\npassion!\u201d\n\nAn open admiration flashed in his bold fine eyes as he spoke,--and\nGloria grew pale. With an involuntary movement she turned towards the\nQueen.\n\n\u201cYou--Madam--you--Ah! No,--not you!--you are cruel!--you have not a\nwoman\u2019s heart! My love--my husband!\u201d\n\nThe Prince was at once beside her, and she clung to him trembling.\n\n\u201cTake me away!\u201d she whispered; \u201cTake me away altogether--this place\nstifles me!\u201d\n\nHe caught her in his strong young arms, and was about to lead her to the\ndoor, when she suddenly appeared to remember something, and releasing\nherself from his clasp, put him away from her with a faint smile.\n\n\u201cNo, dearest! You must stay here;--stay here and make your father and\nmother understand all that I have said. Tell them I mean to keep my vow.\nYou know how thoroughly I mean it! The Professor will take me home!\u201d\n\nThen the Queen moved, and came towards her with her usual slow noiseless\ngrace.\n\n\u201cLet me thank you!\u201d she said, with an air of gracious condescension;\n\u201cYou are a very good girl, and I am sure you will keep your word! You\nare so beautiful that you are bound to do well; and I hope your future\nlife will be a happy one!\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope so, Madam!\u201d replied Gloria slowly; \u201cI think it will! If it is\nnot happier than yours, I shall indeed be unfortunate!\u201d\n\nThe Queen drew back, offended; but the King, who had been whispering\naside to Von Glauben, now approached and said kindly.\n\n\u201cYou must not go away, my child, without some token of our regard. Wear\nthis for Our sake!\u201d\n\nHe offered her a chain of gold bearing a simple yet exquisitely\ndesigned pendant of choice pearls. Her face crimsoned, and she pushed it\ndisdainfully aside.\n\n\u201cKeep it, Sir, for those whose love and faith can be purchased with\njewelled toys! Mine cannot! You mean kindly no doubt,--but a gift from\nyou is an offence, not an honour! Fare-you-well!\u201d\n\nAnother moment and she was gone. Von Glauben, at a sign from the King,\nhastily followed her. Prince Humphry, who had remained almost entirely\nmute during the scene, now stood with folded arms opposite his Royal\nparents, still silent and rigid. The King watched him for a minute or\ntwo--then laid a hand gently on his arm.\n\n\u201cWe do not blame you over-much, Humphry!\u201d he said; \u201cShe is a beautiful\ncreature, and more intelligent than I had imagined. Moreover she has\ngreat calmness, as well as courage.\u201d\n\nStill the Prince said nothing.\n\n\u201cYou are satisfied, Madam, I presume?\u201d went on the King addressing his\nConsort;--\u201cThe girl could hardly make a more earnest vow of abnegation\nthan she has done. And when Humphry has travelled for a year and seen\nother lands, other manners, and other faces, we may look upon this\nboyish incident in his career as finally closed. I think both you and I\ncan rest assured that there will be no further cause for anxiety?\u201d\n\nHe put the question carelessly. The Queen bent her head in acquiescence,\nbut her eyes were fixed upon her son, who still said nothing.\n\n\u201cWe have not received any promise from Humphry himself,\u201d she said;\n\u201cApparently he is not disposed to take a similar oath of loyalty!\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, Madam, you judge me rightly for once!\u201d said the Prince, quietly;\n\u201cI am certainly not disposed to do anything but to be master of my own\nthoughts and actions.\u201d\n\n\u201cRemain so, Humphry, by all means!\u201d said the King indulgently. \u201cThe\npresent circumstances being so far favourable, we exact nothing more\nfrom you. Love will be love, and passion must have its way with boys of\nyour age. I impose no further restriction upon you. The girl\u2019s own word\nis to me sufficient bond for the preservation of your high position. All\nyoung men have their little secret love-affairs; we shall not blame you\nfor yours now, seeing, as we do, the satisfactory end of it in sight!\nBut I fear we are detaining you!\u201d This with elaborate politeness. \u201cIf\nyou wish to follow your fair _inamorata_, the way is clear! You may\nretire!\u201d\n\nWithout any haste, but with formal military stiffness the Prince\nsaluted,--and turning slowly on his heel, left the presence-chamber.\nAlone, the King and his beautiful Queen-Consort looked questioningly at\none another.\n\n\u201cWhat think you, Madam, of the heroine of this strange love-story?\u201d he\nasked with a touch of bitterness in his voice. \u201cDoes it not strike you\nthat even in this arid world of much deception, there may be after all\nsuch a thing as innocence?--such a treasure as true and trusting\nlove? Were not the eyes of this girl Gloria, when lifted to your face,\nsomething like the eyes of a child who has just said its prayers to\nGod,--who fears nothing and loves all? Yet I doubt whether you were\nmoved!\u201d\n\n\u201cWere you?\u201d she asked indifferently, yet with a strange fluttering at\nher heart, which she could not herself comprehend.\n\n\u201cI was!\u201d he answered. \u201cI confess it! I was profoundly touched to see a\ngirl of such beauty and innocence confront us here, with no other shield\nagainst our formal and ridiculous conventionalities, save the pure\nstrength of her own love for Humphry, and her complete trust in him. It\nis easy to see that her life hangs on his will; it is not so much her\nwith whom we have to deal, as with him. What he says, she will evidently\nobey. If he tells her he has ceased to love her, she will die quite\nuncomplainingly; but so long as he does love her, she will live, and\nexpand in beauty and intelligence on that love alone; and you may be\nassured, Madam, that in that case, he will never wed another woman! Nor\ncould I possibly blame him, for he is bound to find all--or most women\ninferior to her!\u201d\n\nShe regarded him wonderingly.\n\n\u201cYour admiration of her is keen, Sir!\u201d she said, amazed to find herself\nsomewhat irritated. \u201cPerhaps if she were not morganatically your\ndaughter-in-law, you might be your son\u2019s rival?\u201d\n\nHe turned upon her indignantly.\n\n\u201cMadam, the days were, when you, as my wife, had it in your power\nto admit no rivals to the kingdom of your own beauty! Since then,\nI confess, you have had many! But they have been worthless rivals\nall,--crazed with their own vanity and greed, and empty of truth and\nhonour. A month or two before I came to the Throne, I was beginning to\nthink that women were viler than vermin,--I had grown utterly weary of\ntheir beauty,--weary--ay, sick to death of their alluring eyes, sensual\nlips, and too freely-offered caresses; the uncomely, hard-worked woman,\nearning bread for her half-starved children, seemed the only kind of\nfeminine creature for which I could have any respect--but now--I am\nlearning that there _are_ good women who are fair to see,--women who\nhave hearts to love and suffer, and who are true--ay--true as the sun in\nheaven to the one man they worship!\u201d\n\n\u201cA man who is generally quite unworthy of them!\u201d said the Queen with a\nchill laugh; \u201cYour eloquence, Sir, is very touching, and no doubt\nleads further than I care to penetrate! The girl Gloria is certainly\nbeautiful, and no doubt very innocent and true at present,--but when\nHumphry tires of her, as he surely will, for all men quickly tire of\nthose that love them best,--she will no doubt sink into the ordinary\nways of obtaining consolation. I know little concerning these amazingly\ngood women you speak of; and nothing concerning good men! But I quite\nagree with you that many women are to be admired for their hard work.\nYou see when once they do begin to work, men generally keep them at it!\u201d\n She gathered up her rich train on one arm, and prepared to leave the\napartment. \u201cIf you think,\u201d she continued, \u201cas you now say, that Humphry\nwill never change his present sentiments, and never marry any other\nwoman, the girl\u2019s oath is a mere farce and of no avail!\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the contrary, it is of much avail,\u201d said the King, \u201cfor she has\nsworn before us both never to claim any right to share in Humphry\u2019s\nposition, till the nation itself asks her to do so. Now as the\nnation will never know of the marriage at all, the \u2018call\u2019 will not be\nforthcoming.\u201d\n\nThe Queen paused in the act of turning away.\n\n\u201cIf you were to die,\u201d she said; \u201cHumphry would be King. And as King, he\nis quite capable of making Gloria Queen!\u201d\n\nHe looked at her very strangely.\n\n\u201cMadam, in the event of my death, all things are possible!\u201d he said; \u201cA\ndying Sovereignty may give birth to a Republic!\u201d\n\nThe Queen smiled.\n\n\u201cWell, it is the most popular form of government nowadays,\u201d she\nresponded, carelessly moving slowly towards the door; \u201cAnd perhaps\nthe most satisfactory. I think if I were not a Queen, I should be a\nrepublican!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I, if I were not a King,\u201d he responded, \u201cshould be a Socialist!\nSuch are the strange contradictions of human nature! Permit me!\u201d He\nopened the door of the room for her to pass out,--and as she did so, she\nlooked up full in his face.\n\n\u201cAre you still interested in your new form of amusement?\u201d she said; \u201cAnd\ndo you still expose yourself to danger and death?\u201d\n\nHe bowed assent.\n\n\u201cStill am I a fool in a new course of folly, Madam!\u201d he answered with a\nsmile, and a half sigh. \u201cSo many of my brother monarchs are wadded\nround like peaches in wool, with precautions for their safety, lest they\nbruise at a touch, that I assure you I take the chances of danger and\ndeath as exhilarating sport, compared to their guarded condition. But it\nis very good of you to assume such a gracious solicitude for my safety!\u201d\n\n\u201cAssume?\u201d she said. Her voice had a slight tremor in it,--her eyes\nlooked soft and suffused with something like tears. Then, with her usual\nstately grace, she saluted him, and passed out.\n\nStruck at the unwonted expression in her face, he stood for a moment\namazed. Then he gave vent to a low bitter laugh.\n\n\u201cHow strange it would be if she should love me now!\u201d he murmured.\n\u201cBut--after all these years--too late! Too late!\u201d\n\nThat night before the King retired to rest, Professor von Glauben\nreported himself and his duty to his Majesty in the privacy of his own\napartments. He had, he stated, accompanied Gloria back to her home in\nThe Islands; and, he added somewhat hesitatingly, the Crown Prince had\nreturned with her, and had there remained. He, the Professor, had left\nthem together, being commanded by the Prince so to do.\n\nThe King received this information with perfect equanimity.\n\n\u201cThe boy must have his way for the present,\u201d he said. \u201cHis passion will\nsoon exhaust itself. All passion exhausts itself sooner or--later!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat depends very much on the depth or shallowness of its source, Sir,\u201d\n replied the Professor.\n\n\u201cTrue! But a boy!--a mere infant in experience! What can he know of the\ndepths in the heart and soul! Now a man of my age----\u201d\n\nHe broke off abruptly, seeing Von Glauben\u2019s eyes fixed steadfastly upon\nhim, and the colour deepened in his cheek. Then he gave a slight laugh.\n\n\u201cI tell you, Von Glauben, this little love-affair--this absurd\ntoy-marriage is not worth thinking about. Humphry leaves the country\nat the end of this month,--he will remain absent a year,--and at\nthe expiration of that time we shall marry him in good earnest to a\nroyally-born bride. Meanwhile, let us not trouble ourselves about this\nsentimental episode, which is so rapidly drawing to its close.\u201d\n\nThe Professor bowed respectfully and retired. But not to sleep. He had a\nglowing picture before his eyes,--a picture he could not forget, of the\nCrown Prince and Gloria standing with arms entwined about each other\nunder the rose-covered porch of Ronsard\u2019s cottage saying \u201cGood-night\u201d\n to him, while Ronsard himself, his tranquillity completely restored,\nand his former fears at rest, warmly shook his hand, and with a curious\nmingling of pride and deference thanked him for all his friendship--\u2018all\nhis goodness!\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd no goodness at all is mine,\u201d said the meditative Professor, \u201csave\nthat of being as honest as I can to both sides! But there is some change\nin the situation which I do not quite understand. There is some new\nplan on foot I would swear! The Prince was too triumphant--Gloria too\nhappy--Ronsard too satisfied! There is something in the wind!--but I\ncannot make out what it is!\u201d\n\nHe pondered uneasily for a part of the night, reflecting that when\nhe had returned from The Islands in the King\u2019s yacht, he had met the\nPrince\u2019s own private vessel on her way thither, gliding over the waves,\na mere ghostly bunch of white sails in the glimmering moon. He had\nconcluded that it was under orders to embark the Prince for home\nagain in the morning; and yet, though this was a perfectly natural and\nprobable surmise, he had been unable to rid himself altogether of a\ndoubtful presentiment, to which he could give no name. By degrees,\nhe fell into an uneasy slumber, in which he had many incompleted\ndreams,--one of which was that he found himself all alone on the wide\nocean which stretched for thousands of miles beyond The Islands,--alone\nin a small boat, endeavouring to row it towards the great Southern\nContinent that lay afar off in the invisible distance,--where few but\nthe most adventurous travellers ever cared to wander. And as he pulled\nwith weak, ineffectual oars against the mighty weight of the rolling\nbillows, he thought he heard the words of an old Irish song which he\nremembered having listened to, when as quite a young man he had paid his\nfirst and last visit to the misty and romantic shores of Britain.\n\n                \u201cCome o\u2019er the sea\n              _Cushla ma chree_!--\n         Mine through sunshine, storm and snows!--\n                 Seasons may roll,\n                 But the true soul,\n         Burns the same wherever it goes;\n  Let fate frown on, so we love and part not,\n  \u2018T is life where thou art, \u2018t is death where thou art not!\n                 Then come o\u2019er the sea,\n              _Cushla ma chree_!\n           Mine wherever the wild wind blows!\u201d\n\nThen waking with a violent start, he wondered what set of brain-cells\nhad been stirred to reproduce rhymes that he had, or so he deemed, long\nago forgotten. And still musing, he almost mechanically went on with the\nwild ditty.\n\n            \u201cWas not the sea\n            Made for the free,\n  Land for Courts and chains alone!--\n            Here we are slaves,\n            But on the waves,\n  Love and liberty are our own!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis will never do!\u201d he exclaimed, leaping from his bed; \u201cI am becoming\na mere driveller with advancing age!\u201d\n\nHe went to the window and looked out. It was about six o\u2019clock in the\nmorning,--the sun was shining brightly into his room. Before him lay the\nsea, calm as a lake, and clear-sparkling as a diamond;--not a boat was\nin sight;--not a single white sail on the distant horizon. And in the\nfreshness and stillness of the breaking day, the world looked but just\nnewly created.\n\n\u201cHow we fret and fume in our little span of life!\u201d he murmured. \u201cA few\nyears hence, and for us all the troubles which we make for ourselves\nwill be ended! But the sun and the sea will shine on just the same--and\nLove, the supremest power on earth, will still govern mankind, when\nthrones and kings and empires are no more!\u201d\n\nHis thoughts were destined to bear quick fruition. The morning deepened\ninto noon--and at that hour a sealed dispatch brought by a sailor, who\ngave no name and who departed as soon as he had delivered his packet,\nwas handed to the King. It was from the Crown Prince, and ran briefly\nthus:--\n\n\u201cAt your command, Sir, and by my own desire, I have left the country\nover which you hold your sovereign dominion. Whither I travel, and how,\nis my own affair. I shall return no more _till the Nation demands my\nservice_,--whereof I shall doubtless hear should such a contingency ever\narise. I leave you to deal with the situation as seems best to your good\npleasure and that of the Government,--but the life God has given me\ncan only be lived once, and to Him alone am I responsible for it. I am\nresolved therefore to live it to my own liking,--in honesty, faith and\nfreedom. In accordance with this determination, Gloria, my wife, as in\nher sworn marriage-duty bound, goes with me.\u201d\n\nFor one moment the King stood transfixed and astounded; a cloud of anger\ndarkened his brows. Crumpling up the document in his hand, he was about\nto fling it from him in a fury. What! This mere boy and girl had\nbaffled the authority of a king! Anon, his anger cooled--his countenance\ncleared. Smoothing the paper out he read its contents again,--then\nsmiled.\n\n\u201cWell! Humphry has something of me in him after all!\u201d he said. \u201cHe is\nnot entirely his mother! He has a heart,--a will, and a conscience,--all\nthree generally lacking to sons of kings! Let me be honest with myself!\nIf he had given way to me, I should have despised him!--\u2018but for Love\u2019s\nsake he has opposed me; and by my soul!--I respect him!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nTHE KING\u2019S DEFENDER\n\n\nRumour, we are told, has a million tongues, and they were soon all at\nwork, wagging out the news of the Crown Prince\u2019s mysterious departure.\nEach tongue told a different story, and none of the stories tallied.\nNo information was to be obtained at Court. There nothing was said, but\nthat the Prince, disliking the formal ceremony of a public departure,\nhad privately set sail in his own yacht for his projected tour round\nthe world. Nobody believed this; and the general impression soon gained\nground that the young man had fallen into disgrace with his Royal\nparents, and had been sent away for a time till he should recognize the\nenormity of his youthful indiscretions.\n\n\u201cSent away--you understand!\u201d said the society gossips; \u201cTo avoid further\nscandal!\u201d\n\nThe Prince\u2019s younger brothers, Rupert and Cyprian, were often plied\nwith questions by their intimates, but knowing nothing, and truly caring\nless, they could give no explanation. Neither King nor Queen spoke a\nword on the subject; and Sir Roger de Launay, astonished and perplexed\nbeyond measure as he was at this turn in affairs, dared not put any\nquestions even to his friend Professor von Glauben who, as soon as the\nnews of the Prince\u2019s departure was known, resolutely declined to speak,\nso he said, \u201con what did not concern him.\u201d Gradually, however, this\nexcitement partially subsided to give place to other forms of social\ncommotion, which beginning in trifles, swiftly expanded to larger and\nmore serious development. The first of these was the sudden rise of\na newspaper which had for many years subsisted with the greatest\ndifficulty in opposition to the many journals governed by David Jost. It\nhappened in this manner.\n\nSeveral leading articles written in favour of a Jesuit settlement in\nthe country, had appeared constantly in Jost\u2019s largest and most widely\ncirculated newspaper, and the last of these \u2018leaders,\u2019 had concluded\nwith the assertion that though his Majesty, the King, had at first\nrefused the portion of Crown-lands needed by the Society for building,\nhe had now \u2018graciously\u2019 re-considered the situation, and had been\npleased to revoke his previous decision. Whereat, the very next morning\nthe rival \u2018daily\u2019 had leaped into prominence by merely two headlines:\n\nTHE JESUIT SETTLEMENT STATEMENT BY HIS MAJESTY THE KING.\n\nAnd there, plainly set forth, was the Royal and authoritative refusal to\ngrant the lands required, \u2018Because of the earnest petition of our loving\nsubjects against the said grant,\u2019--and till \u2018our loving subjects\u2019\u2019\nobjections were removed, the lands would be withheld. This public\nannouncement signed by the King in person, created the most\nextraordinary sensation throughout the whole country. It was the one\ntopic at every social meeting; it was the one subject of every sermon.\nPreachers stormed and harangued in every pulpit, and Monsignor Del\nFortis, lifting up his harsh raucous voice in the Cathedral itself,\naddressed an enormous congregation one Sunday morning on the matter,\nand denounced the King, the Queen, and the mysteriously-departed Crown\nPrince in the most orthodox Christian manner, commending them to the\nflames of hell, and the mercy of a loving God at one and the same\nmoment.\n\nMeanwhile, the newspaper that had been permitted to publish the King\u2019s\nstatement got its circulation up by tens of thousands, the more so as\ncertain brilliant and fiery articles on the political situation began\nto appear therein signed by one Pasquin Leroy, a stranger to the reading\npublic, but in whom the spirit of a modern \u2018Junius\u2019 appeared to have\nentered for the purpose of warning, threatening and commanding. A\nscathing and audacious attack upon Carl P\u00e9rousse, Secretary of State, in\nwhich the small darts of satire flew further than the sharpest arrows of\nassertion, was among the first of these, and P\u00e9rousse himself, maddened\nlike a bull at the first prick of the toreador, by the stinging truths\nthe writer uttered, or rather suggested, lost no time in summoning\nGeneral Bernhoff to a second interview.\n\n\u201cDid I not tell you,\u201d he said, pointing to the signature at the end of\nthe offending article, \u201cto \u2018shadow\u2019 that man, and arrest him as a common\nspy?\u201d\n\nBernhoff bowed stiffly.\n\n\u201cYou did! But it is difficult to arrest one who is not capable of being\narrested. I must be provided first with proofs of his guilt; and I must\nalso obtain the King\u2019s order.\u201d\n\n\u201cProofs should be easy enough for you to obtain,\u201d said P\u00e9rousse\nfiercely; \u201cAnd the King will sign any warrant he is told. At least, you\ncan surely find this rascal out?--where he lives, and what are his means\nof subsistence?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he were here, I could,\u201d responded Bernhoff calmly; \u201cI have made\nall the necessary preliminary enquiries. The man is a gentleman of\nconsiderable wealth. He writes for his own amusement, and--from\na distance. I advise you--\u201d and here the General held up an\nobstinate-looking finger of warning; \u201cI advise you, I say, to let him\nalone! I can find no proof whatever that he is a spy.\u201d\n\n\u201cProof! I can give you enough--\u201d began P\u00e9rousse hotly, then paused in\nconfusion. For what could he truly say? If he told the Chief of Police\nthat this Pasquin Leroy was believed to have counterfeited the Prime\nMinister\u2019s signet, in order to obtain an interview with David Jost, why\nthen the Chief of Police would be informed once and for all that the\nPrime Minister was in confidential communication with the Jew-proprietor\nof a stock-jobbing newspaper! And that would never do! It would, at\nthe least, be impolitic. Inwardly chafing with annoyance, he assumed an\noutward air of conscientious gravity.\n\n\u201cYou will regret it, General, I think, if you do not follow out my\nsuggestions respecting this man,\u201d he said coldly; \u201cHe is writing for the\npress in a strain which is plainly directed against the Government. Of\ncourse we statesmen pay little or no heed to modern journalism, but the\nKing, having taken the unusual, and as I consider it, unwise step of\nproclaiming certain of his intentions in a newspaper which was, until\nhis patronage, obscure and unsuccessful, the public attention has been\nsuddenly turned towards this particular journal; and what is written\ntherein may possibly influence the masses as it would not have done a\nfew weeks ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cI quite believe that!\u201d said Bernhoff tersely; \u201cBut I cannot arrest\na man for writing clever things. Literary talent is no proof of\ndishonesty.\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse looked at him sharply. But there was no satire in\nBernhoff\u2019s fixed and glassy eye, and no expression whatever in his\nwoodenly-composed countenance.\n\n\u201cWe entertain different opinions on the matter, it is evident!\u201d he\nsaid; \u201cYou will at least grant that if he cannot be arrested, he can be\ncarefully watched?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe _is_ carefully watched!\u201d replied Bernhoff; \u201cThat is to say, as far\nas _I_ can watch him!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d and P\u00e9rousse smiled, somewhat relieved. \u201cThen on the first\nsuspicion of a treasonable act----\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall arrest him--in the King\u2019s name, when the King signs the\nwarrant,\u201d said Bernhoff; \u201cBut he is one of Sergius Thord\u2019s followers,\nand at the present juncture it might be unwise to touch any member of\nthat particularly inflammable body.\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse frowned.\n\n\u201cSergius Thord ought to have been hanged or shot years ago----\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why did not you hang or shoot him?\u201d enquired Bernhoff.\n\n\u201cI was not in office.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy do you not hang or shoot him now?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy? Because----\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d interrupted Bernhoff, again lifting his grim warning finger;\n\u201cIf you did, the city would be in a tumult and more than half the\nsoldiery would be on the side of the mob! By way of warning, M.\nP\u00e9rousse, I may as well tell you frankly, on the authority of my\nposition as Head of the Police, that the Government are on the edge of a\ndangerous situation!\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse looked contemptuous.\n\n\u201cEvery Government in the world is on the edge of a dangerous situation\nnowadays!\u201d he retorted;--\u201cBut any Government that yields to the mob\nproves itself a mere ministry of cowardice.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet the mob often wins,--not only by excess of numbers, but by sheer\nforce of--honesty!\u201d--said Bernhoff sententiously; \u201cIt has been known to\nsweep away, and re-make political constitutions before now.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has,\u201d--agreed P\u00e9rousse, drawing pens and paper towards him, and\nfeigning to be busily occupied in the commencement of a letter--\u201cBut it\nwill not indulge itself in such amusements during _my_ time!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! I wonder how long your time will last!\u201d muttered Bernhoff to\nhimself as he withdrew--\u201cSix months or six days? I would not bet on the\nlonger period!\u201d\n\nIn good truth there was considerable reason for the General\u2019s dubious\noutlook on affairs. A political storm was brewing. A heavy tidal wave\nof discontent was sweeping the masses of the people stormily against the\nrocks of existing authority, and loud and bitter and incessant were the\ncomplaints on all sides against the increased taxation levied upon every\nrate-payer. Fiercest of all was the clamour made by the poor at\nthe increasing price of bread, the chief necessity of life; for the\nimposition of a heavy duty upon wheat and other cereals had made the\ncommon loaf of the peasant\u2019s daily fare almost an article of luxury.\nStormy meetings were held in every quarter of the city,--protests were\ndrawn up and signed by thousands,--endless petitions were handed to\nthe King,--but no practical result came from these. His Majesty was\n\u2018graciously pleased\u2019 to seem blind, deaf and wholly indifferent to the\nagitated condition of his subjects. Now and then a Government orator\nwould mount the political rostrum and talk \u2018patriotism\u2019 for an hour\nor so, to a more or less sullen audience, informing them with much\nhigh-flown eloquence that, by responding to the Governmental demands\nand supporting the Governmental measures, they were strengthening the\nresources of the country and completing the efficiency of both Army\nand Navy; but somehow, his hydraulic efforts at rousing the popular\nenthusiasm failed of effect. Whereas, whenever Sergius Thord spoke,\nthousands of throats roared acclamation,--and the very sight of Lotys\npassing quietly down the poorer thoroughfares of the city was sufficient\nto bring out groups of men and women to their doors, waving their hands\nto her, sending her wild kisses,--and almost kneeling before her in\nan ecstasy of trust and adoration. Thord himself perceived that the\nsituation was rapidly reaching a climax, and quietly prepared himself\nto meet and cope with it. Two of the monthly business meetings of the\nRevolutionary Committee had been held since that on which Pasquin Leroy\nand his two friends had been enrolled as members of the Brotherhood,\nand at the last of these, Thord took Leroy into his full confidence, and\ngave him all the secret clues of the Revolutionary organization which\nhoneycombed the metropolis from end to end. He had trusted the man in\nmany ways and found him honest. One trifling proof of this was perhaps\nthe main reason of Thord\u2019s further reliance upon him; he had fulfilled\nhis half-suggested promise to bring the sunshine of prosperity into the\nhard-working, and more or less sordid life of the little dancing-girl,\nPequita. She had been sent for one morning by the manager of the\nRoyal Opera, who having seen the ease, grace, and dexterity of her\nperformance, forthwith engaged her for the entire season at a salary\nwhich when named to the amazed child, seemed like a veritable shower of\ngold tumbling by rare chance out of the lap of Dame Fortune. The\nmanager was a curt, cold business man, and she was afraid to ask him any\nquestions, for when the words--\u201cI am sure a kind friend has spoken to\nyou of me--\u201d came timidly from her lips, he had shut up her confidence\nat once by the brief answer--\n\n\u201cNo. You are mistaken. We accept no personal recommendations. We only\nemploy proved talent!\u201d\n\nAll the same Pequita felt sure that she owed the sudden lifting of her\nown and her father\u2019s daily burden of life, to the unforgetting care and\nintercession of Leroy. Lotys was equally convinced of the same, and\nboth she and Sergius Thord highly appreciated their new associate\u2019s\nunobtrusive way of doing good, as it were, by stealth. Pequita\u2019s\nexquisite grace and agility had made her at once the fashion; the Opera\nwas crowded nightly to see the \u2018wonderful child-dancer\u2019; and valuable\ngifts and costly jewels were showered upon her, all of which she brought\nto Lotys, who advised her how to dispose of them best, and put by the\nmoney for the comfort and care of her father in the event of sickness,\nor the advance of age. Flattered and petted by the great world as she\nnow was, Pequita never lost her head in the whirl of gay splendour, but\nremained the same child-like, loving little creature,--her one idol\nher father,--her only confidante, Lotys, whose gentle admonitions and\nconstant watchfulness saved her from many a dangerous pitfall. As yet,\nshe had not attained the wish she had expressed, to dance before the\nKing,--but she was told that at any time his Majesty might visit the\nOpera, and that steps would be taken to induce him to do so for the\nspecial purpose of witnessing her performance. So with this half promise\nshe was fain to be content, and to bear with the laughing taunts of\nher \u2018Revolutionary\u2019 friends, who constantly teased her and called her\n\u2018little traitor\u2019 because she sought the Royal favour.\n\nAnother event, which was correctly or incorrectly traced to Leroy\u2019s\nsilently working influence, was the sudden meteoric blaze of Paul Zouche\ninto fame. How it happened, no one knew;--and _why_ it happened was\nstill more of a mystery, because by all its own tenets and traditions\nthe social world ought to have set itself dead against the \u2018Psalm of\nRevolution,\u2019--the title of the book of poems which created such an\namazing stir. But somehow, it got whispered about that the King\nhad attempted to \u2018patronise\u2019 the poet, and that the poet had very\nindignantly resented the offered Royal condescension. Whereat, by\ndegrees, there arose in society circles a murmur of wonder at the poet\u2019s\n\u2018pluck,\u2019 wonder that deepened into admiration, with incessant demand for\nhis book,--and admiration soon expanded, with the aid of the book, into\na complete \u201ccraze.\u201d Zouche\u2019s name was on every lip; invitations to great\nhouses reached him every week;--his poems began to sell by thousands;\nyet with all this, the obstinacy of his erratic nature asserted itself\nas usual, undiminished, and Zouche withdrew from the shower of praise\nlike a snail into its shell,--answered none of the flattering requests\nfor \u2018the pleasure of his company,\u2019 and handed whatever money he made\nby his poems over to the funds of the Revolutionary Committee, only\naccepting as much out of it as would pay for his clothes, food, lodging,\nand--drink! But the more he turned his back on Fame, the more hotly\nit pursued him;--his very churlishness was talked about as something\nremarkable and admirable,--and when it was suggested that he was fonder\nof strong liquor than was altogether seemly, people smiled and nodded\nat each other pleasantly, tapped their foreheads meaningly and murmured:\n\u2018Genius! Genius!\u2019 as though that were a quality allied of divine\nnecessity to alcoholism.\n\nThese two things,--the advent of a new dancer at the Opera, and the\nfame of Paul Zouche, were the chief topics of \u2018Society\u2019 outside its own\ntawdry personal concern; but under all the light froth and spume of the\npleasure-seeking, pleasure-loving whirl of fashion, a fierce tempest\nwas rising, and the first whistlings of the wind of revolt were already\nbeginning to pierce through the keyholes and crannies of the stately\nbuilding allotted to the business of Government;--so much so indeed that\none terrible night, all unexpectedly, a huge mob, some twenty thousand\nstrong, surrounded it, armed with every conceivable weapon from muskets\nto pickaxes, and shouted with horrid din for \u2018Bread and Justice!\u2019--these\nbeing considered co-equal in the bewildered mind of the excited\nmultitude. Likewise did they scream with protrusive energy: \u2018Give us\nback our lost Trades!\u2019 being fully aware, despite their delirium, that\nthese said \u2018lost Trades\u2019 were being sold off into \u2018Trusts,\u2019 wherein\nMinisters themselves held considerable shares, A two-sided clamour\nwas also made for \u2018The King! The King!\u2019 one side appealing, the other\nmenacing,--the latter under the belief that his Majesty equally had\n\u2018shares\u2019 in the bartered Trades,--the former in the hope that the\ncountry\u2019s Honour might still be saved with the help of their visible\nHead.\n\nMuch difficulty was experienced in clearing this surging throng of\nindignant humanity, for though the soldiery were called out to effect\nthe work, they were more than half-hearted in their business, having\nconsiderable grievances of their own to avenge,--and when ordered\nto fire on the people, flatly refused to do so. Two persons however\nsucceeded at last in calming and quelling the tumult. One was Sergius\nThord,--the other Lotys. Carl P\u00e9rousse, seized with an access of\n\u2018nerves\u2019 within the cushioned luxury of his own private room in the\nrecesses of the Government buildings, from whence he had watched the\ndemonstration, peered from one of the windows, and saw one half of the\nhuge mob melt swiftly away under the command of a tall, majestic-looking\ncreature, whose massive form and leonine head appeared Ajax-like above\nthe throng; and he watched the other half turn round in brisk order,\nlike a well-drilled army, and march off, singing loudly and lustily,\nheaded by a woman carried shoulder-high before them, whose white robes\ngleamed like a flag of truce in the glare of the torches blazing around\nher;--and to his utter amazement, fear and disgust, he heard the very\nsoldiers shouting her name: \u201cLotys! Lotys!\u201d with ever-increasing and\nthunderous plaudits of admiration and homage. Often and often had he\nheard that name,--often and often had he dismissed it from his thoughts\nwith light masculine contempt. Often, too, had it come to the ears\nof his colleague the Premier, who as has been shown, even in intimate\nconverse with his own private secretary, feigned complete ignorance\nof it. But it is well understood that politicians generally, and\ndiplomatists always, assume to have no knowledge whatever concerning\nthose persons of whom they are most afraid. Yet just now it was\nunpleasantly possible that \u201cthe stone which the builders rejected\u201d might\nindirectly be the means of crushing the Ministry, and reorganizing\nthe affairs of the country. His meditations on this occasion were\ninterrupted by a touch on the shoulder from behind, and, looking up, he\nsaw the Marquis de Lutera.\n\n\u201cAlmost a riot!\u201d he said, forcing a pale smile,--\u201cBut not quite!\u201d\n\n\u201cSay, rather, almost a revolution!\u201d retorted the Marquis\nbrusquely;--\u201cJesting is out of place. We are on the brink of a very\nserious disaster! The people are roused. To-night they threatened to\nburn down these buildings over our heads,--to sack and destroy the\nKing\u2019s Palace. The Socialist leader, Thord, alone saved the situation.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith the aid of his mistress?\u201d suggested P\u00e9rousse with a sneer.\n\n\u201cYou mean the woman they call Lotys? I am not aware that she is his\nmistress. I should rather doubt it. The people would not make such a\nsaint of her if she were. At any rate, whatever else she may be, she\nis certainly dangerous;--and in a country less free than ours would be\nplaced under arrest. I must confess I never believed in her \u2018vogue\u2019 with\nthe masses, until to-night.\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse was silent. The great square in front of the Government\nbuildings was now deserted,--save for the police and soldiery on guard;\nbut away in the distance could still be heard faint echoes of singing\nand cheering from the broken-up sections of the crowd that had lately\ndisturbed the peace.\n\n\u201cHave you seen the King lately?\u201d enquired Lutera presently.\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy his absolute \u2018veto\u2019 against our propositions at the last Cabinet\nCouncil, the impending war which would have been so useful to us, has\nbeen quashed in embryo,\u201d went on the Premier with a frown;--\u201cThis of\ncourse you know! And he has the right to exercise his veto if he likes.\nBut I scarcely expected you after all you said, to take the matter so\neasily!\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse smiled, and shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.\n\n\u201cHowever,\u201d continued the Marquis with latent contempt in his tone;--\u201cI\nnow quite understand your complacent attitude! You have simply turned\nyour \u2018Army Supplies Contract\u2019 into a \u2018Trust\u2019 Combine with other\nnations,--so you will not lose, but rather gain by the transaction!\u201d\n\n\u201cI never intended to lose!\u201d said P\u00e9rousse calmly; \u201cI am not troubled\nwith scruples. One form of trade is as good as another. The prime object\nof life nowadays is to make money!\u201d\n\nLutera looked at him, but said nothing.\n\n\u201cTo amalgamate all the steel industries into one international Union,\nand get as many shares myself in the combine is not at all an unwise\nproject,\u201d went on P\u00e9rousse,--\u201cFor if our country is not to fight, other\ncountries will;--and they will require guns and swords and all such\naccoutrements of war. Why should we not satisfy the demand and pocket\nthe cash?\u201d\n\nStill the Marquis looked at him steadily.\n\n\u201cAre you aware,\u201d--he asked at last, \u201cthat Jost, to save his \u2018press\u2019\nprestige, has turned informer against you?\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse sprang up, white with fury.\n\n\u201cBy Heaven, if he has dared!--\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no \u2018if\u2019 in the case\u201d--said Lutera very coldly--\u201cHe has, as he\nhimself says, \u2018done his duty.\u2019 You must be pretty well cognisant of\nwhat a Jew\u2019s notions of \u2018duty\u2019 are! They can be summed up in one\nsentence;--\u2018to save his own pocket.\u2019 Jost is driven to fury and\ndesperation by the sudden success of the rival newspaper, which has been\nso prominently favoured by the King. The shares in his own journalistic\nconcerns are going down rapidly, and he is determined--naturally\nenough--to take care of himself before anyone else. He has sold out of\nevery company with which you have been, or are associated--and has--so\nI understand,--sent a complete list of your proposed financial \u2018deals,\u2019\ninvestments and other \u2018stock\u2019 to--\u201d\n\nHe paused.\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d exclaimed P\u00e9rousse irascibly--\u201cTo whom?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo those whom it may concern,\u201d--replied Lutera evasively--\u201cI really can\ngive you no exact information. I have said enough by way of warning!\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse looked at him heedfully, and what he saw in that dark brooding\nface was not of a quieting or satisfactory nature.\n\n\u201cYou are as deeply involved as I am--\u201d he began.\n\n\u201cPardon!\u201d and the Marquis drew himself up with some dignity--\u201cI _was_\ninvolved;--I am not now. I have also taken care of myself! I may have\nbeen misled, but I shall let no one suffer for my errors. I have sent in\nmy resignation.\u201d\n\n\u201cFool!\u201d ejaculated P\u00e9rousse, forgetting all courtesy in the sudden\naccess of rage that took possession of him at these words;--\u201cFool, I\nsay! At the very moment when you ought to stick to the ship, you desert\nit!\u201d\n\n\u201cAre _you_ not ready to run to the helm?\u201d enquired Lutera with a satiric\nsmile; \u201cSurely you can have no doubt but that his Majesty will command\nyou to take office!\u201d\n\nWith this, he turned on his heel, and left his colleague to a space\nof very disagreeable meditation. For the first time in his bold and\nunscrupulous career, P\u00e9rousse found himself in an awkward position.\nIf it were indeed true that Jost and Lutera had thrown up the game,\nespecially Jost, then he, P\u00e9rousse, was lost. He had made of Jost, not\nonly a tool, but a confidant. He had used him, and his great leading\nnewspaper for his own political and financial purposes. He had entrusted\nhim with State secrets, in order to speculate thereon in all the\nmoney-markets of the world. He had induced him to approach the Premier\nwith crafty promises of support, and to inveigle him by insidious\ndegrees into the same dishonourable financial \u2018deal.\u2019 So that if this\none man,--this fat, unscrupulous turncoat of a Jew,--chose to speak out,\nhe, Carl P\u00e9rousse, Secretary of State, would be the most disgraced and\nruined Minister that ever attempted to defraud a nation! His brows grew\nmoist with fever-heat, and his tongue parched, with the dry thirst of\nfear, as the gravity of the situation was gradually borne in upon him.\nHe began to calculate contingencies and possibilities of escape from the\ntoils that seemed closing around him,--and much to his irritation and\nembarrassment, he found that most of the ways leading out of difficulty\npointed first of all to,--the King.\n\nThe King! The very personage whom he had called a Dummy, only bound\nto do as he was told! And now, if he could only persuade the King that\nhe,--the poor Secretary of State,--was a deeply-injured man, whose\nlife\u2019s effort had been solely directed towards \u2018the good of the\ncountry,\u2019 yet who nevertheless was cruelly wronged and calumniated by\nhis enemies, all might yet be well.\n\n\u201cWere he only like other monarchs whom I know,\u201d he reflected. \u201cI could\nhave easily involved him in the Trades deal! Then the press could have\nbeen silenced, and the public fooled. With five or six hundred thousand\nshares in the biggest concerns, he would have been compelled to work\nunder me for the amalgamation of our Trades with the financial forces of\nother countries, regardless of the rubbish talked by \u2018patriots\u2019 on the\nloss of our position and prestige. But he is not fond of money,--he is\nnot fond of money! Would that he were!--for so _I_ should be virtually\nking of the King!\u201d\n\nCogitating various problems on his return to his own house that evening,\nhe remembered that despite numerous protests and petitions, the King\nhad, up to the present, paid no attention to the appeals of his people\nagainst the increasing inroads of taxation. The only two measures he had\ncarried with a high and imperative hand, were first,--the \u2018vetoing\u2019 of\nan intended declaration of war,--and the refusal of extensive lands to\nthe Jesuits. The first was the more important action, as, while it had\nwon the gratitude and friendship of a previously hostile State, it had\nlost several \u2018noble\u2019 gamblers in the griefs of nations, some millions\nof money. The check to the Jesuits was comparatively trivial, yet it had\nalready produced far-reaching effects, and had offended the powers at\nthe Vatican. But, beyond this, things remained apparently as they were;\ntrue, the Socialists were growing stronger;--but there was no evidence\nthat the Government was growing weaker.\n\n\u201cAfter all,\u201d thought P\u00e9rousse, as a result of his meditations; \u201cthere is\nno immediate cause for anxiety. If Lutera has sent in his resignation,\nit may not be accepted. That rests--like other things--with the\nKing.\u201d And a vague surprise affected him at this fact. \u201cCurious!\u201d he\nmuttered,--\u201cVery curious that he, who was a Nothing, should now be a\nSomething! The change has taken place very rapidly,--and very strangely!\nI wonder what--or who--is moving him?\u201d\n\nBut to this inward query he received no satisfactory reply. The\nmysterious upshot of the whole position was the same,--namely, that\nsomehow, in the most unaccountable, inexplicable manner, the wind and\nweather of affairs had so veered round, that the security of Ministers\nand the stability of Government rested, not with themselves or the\nnature of their quarrels and discussions, but solely on one whom they\nwere accustomed to consider as a mere ornamental figure-head,--the King.\n\nSome few days after the unexpected turbulent rising of the mob, it was\njudged advisable to give the people something in the way of a \u2018gala,\u2019\nor spectacle, in order to distract their attention from their own\ngrievances, and to draw them away from their Socialistic clubs and\nconventions, to the contemplation of a parade of Royal state and\nsplendour. The careful student of History cannot fail to note that\nwhenever the rottenness and inadequacy of a Government are most\napparent, great \u2018shows\u2019 and Royal ceremonials are always resorted to, in\norder to divert the minds of the people from the bitter consideration of\na deficient Exchequer and a diminishing National Honour. The authorities\nwho organize these State masquerades are wise in their generation. They\nknow that the working-classes very seldom have the leisure to think for\nthemselves, and that they often lack the intelligent ability to foresee\nthe difficulties and dangers menacing their country\u2019s welfare;--but\nthat they are always ready, with the strangest fatuity, patience, and\ngood-nature, to take their wives and families to see any new variation\nof a world\u2019s \u2018Punch and Judy\u2019 play, particularly if there is a savour of\nRoyalty about it, accompanied by a brass band, well-equipped soldiers,\nand gilded coaches. Though they take no part in the pageant, beyond\nconsenting to be hustled and rudely driven back by the police like\nintrusive sheep, out of the sacred way of a Royal progress, they\nnevertheless have an instinctive (and very correct) idea that somehow or\nother it is all part of the \u2018fun\u2019 for which they have paid their money.\nThere is no more actual reverence or respect for the positive Person of\nRoyalty in such a parade, than there is for the Wonderful Performing Pig\nwho takes part in a circus-procession through a country town. The public\nimpression is simple,--That having to pay for the up-keep of a Throne,\nits splendours should be occasionally \u2018trotted out\u2019 to see whether they\nare worth the nation\u2019s annual expenditure.\n\nMoved entirely by this plain and practical sentiment, the popular breast\nwas thrilled with some amount of interest and animation when it was\nannounced that his Majesty the King would, on a certain afternoon, go in\nstate to lay the foundation-stone of the Grand National Theatre, which\nwas the very latest pet project of various cogitating Jews and cautious\nmillionaires. The Grand National Theatre was intended to \u2018supply,\u2019\naccording to a stock newspaper phrase, \u2018a long-felt want.\u2019 It was to be\na \u2018philanthropic\u2019 scheme, by which the \u2018Philanthropists\u2019 would receive\nexcellent interest for their money. Ostensibly, it was to provide the\n\u2018masses\u2019 with the highest form of dramatic entertainment at the lowest\ncost;--but there were many intricate wheels within wheels in the\nelaborate piece of stock-jobbing mechanism, by which the public would\nbe caught and fooled--as usual--and the speculators therein rendered\ntriumphant. Sufficient funds were at hand to start the building of the\nnecessary edifice, and the King\u2019s \u2018gracious\u2019 consent to lay the first\nstone, with full state and ceremony, was hailed by the promoters of\nthe plan as of the happiest augury. For with such approval and support\nopenly given, all the Snob-world would follow the Royal \u2018lead\u2019--quite\nas infallibly as it did in the case of another monarch who, persuaded to\ndrink of a certain mineral spring, and likewise to \u2018take shares\u2019 in its\nbottled waters, turned the said spring into a \u2018paying concern\u2019 at\nonce, thereby causing much rejoicing among the Semites. The \u2018mob\u2019 might\ncertainly decline to imitate the Snob-world,--but, considering the\nrecent riotous outbreak, it might be as well that the overbold and\nunwashen populace should be awed by the panoply and glory of earthly\nMajesty passing by in earthly splendour.\n\nAlas, poor Snob-world! How often has it thought the same thing! How\noften has it fancied that with show and glitter and brazen ostentation\nof mere purse-power, it can quell the rage for Justice, which, like\na spark of God\u2019s own eternal Being, burns for ever in the soul of a\nPeople! Ah, that rage for Justice!--that divine fury and fever which\nwith strong sweating and delirium shakes the body politic and cleanses\nit from accumulated sickly humours and pestilence! What would the\nnations be without its periodical and merciful visitations! Tearing\ndown old hypocrisies,--rooting up weedy abuses,--rending asunder rotten\nconventions,--what wonder if thrones and sceptres, and even the heads\nof kings get sometimes mixed into the general swift clearance of\nlong-accumulated dirt and disorder! And vainly at such times does the\nSnob-world anxiously proffer golden pieces for the price of its life!\nThere shall not then be millions enough in all the earth, to purchase\nthe safety of one proved Liar who has wilfully robbed his neighbour!\n\nNo hint of the underworkings of the people\u2019s thought, or the movement\nof the times was, however, apparent in the aspect of the gay multitudes\nthat poured along the principal thoroughfares of the metropolis on the\nday appointed for the ceremony in which the King had consented to take\nthe leading part. Poor and rich together, vied with one another to\nsecure the various best points of view from whence the Royal pageant\ncould be seen, winding down in glittering length from the Palace and\nCitadel, past the Cathedral, and so on to the great open square, where,\nsurrounded by fluttering flags and streamers, a huge block of stone hung\nsuspended by ropes from a crane, ready to be lowered at the Royal touch,\nand fixed in its place by the Royal trowel, as the visible and solid\nbeginning of the stately fabric, which, according to pictorial models\nwas to rise from this, its first foundation, into a temple of art and\narchitecture, devoted to Melpomene and Thalia.\n\nIt was a glorious day,--the sun shone with vigorous heat and lustre from\na cloudless sky,--the sea was calm as an inland pool--and people wore\ntheir lightest, brightest and most festive attire. Fair \u201csociety\u201d dames,\nclad in the last capricious mode of ever-changing Fashion, and shading\ntheir delicate, and not always natural, complexions with airy parasols,\nfilmy and finely-coloured as the petals of flowers, queened it over\nthe flocking crowds of pedestrians, as they were driven past in their\nsoftly-cushioned carriages drawn by high-stepping horses;--all the\nboudoirs and drawing-rooms of the most exclusive houses seemed to have\nemptied their luxury-loving occupants into the streets,--and the whole\ntown was, for a few hours at any rate, apparently given over to holiday.\nAs the long line of soldiery preceding the King\u2019s carriage, wound\ndown from the Citadel, groups of people cheered, and waved hats and\nhandkerchiefs,--then, when his Majesty\u2019s own escort came into view, the\ncheering was redoubled,--and at last when the cumbrous, over-gilded,\nover-painted \u201cCinderella\u201d State-coach appeared, and the familiar, but\nsomewhat sternly-composed features of the King himself were perceived\nthrough the glass windows, a roar of acclamation, like the thundering of\na long wave on an extensive stretch of rock-bound coast, echoed far\nand near, and again and again was repeated with increased and\never-increasing clamour. Who,--hearing such an enthusiastic\ngreeting--would or could have imagined for one moment that the King, who\nwas the object and centre of these tremendous plaudits, was at the same\ntime judged as an enemy and an obstruction to justice by more than\none half of the population! Yet it was so,--and so has often been. The\npopulace will shout itself hoarse for any cause; whether it be a king\ngoing to be crowned, or a king going to be executed, the stimulus is\nthe same, and the enthusiasm as passionate. It is merely the contagious\nhysteria of a moment that tickles their lungs to expansion in\nnoise;--but the real sentiment of admiration for a fine character which\nmight perhaps have moved the subjects of Richard Coeur de Lion to\ncries of exultation, is generally non-existent. And why? For no cause\ntruly!--save that Lion-Hearts in kings no more pulsate through nations.\n\nBy the time the Royal procession reached its destination the crowd\nhad largely increased, and the press of people round the scene of the\nforthcoming function was great enough to be seriously embarrassing\nto both the soldiery and the police. Slowly the gorgeous State-coach\nlumbered up to the entrance of the ground railed off for the\nceremony,--and between a line of armed guards, the King alighted.\nVociferous cheering again broke out on all sides, which his Majesty\nacknowledged in the usual formal manner by a monotonous military salute\nperformed at regular intervals. Received with obsequious deference by\nall the persons concerned in the Grand National Theatre project, he\nconversed with one or two, shook hands with others, and was just on the\npoint of addressing a few of his usual suave compliments to some pretty\nwomen who had been invited to adorn the scene, when David Jost advanced\nsmilingly, evidently sure of a friendly recognition. For had not\nthe King, when Crown Prince and Heir-Apparent, hunted game in his\npreserves?--yea, had he not even dined with him?--and had not he, Jost,\nwritten whole columns of vapid twaddle about the \u2018Royal smile\u2019 and the\n\u2018Royal favour\u2019 till the outside public had sickened at every stroke\nof his flunkey pen? How came it, then, that his Majesty seemed on this\noccasion to have no recollection of him, and looked over and beyond\nhim in the airiest way, as though he were a far-off Jew in Jerusalem,\ninstead of being the assumptive-Orthodox proprietor of several European\nnewspapers published for the general misinformation and plunder of\ngullible Christians? Dismayed at the Royal coldness of eye, Jost stepped\nback with an uncomfortably crimson face; and one of the ladies present,\npersonally knowing him, and seeing his discomfiture, ventured to call\nthe King\u2019s attention to his presence and to make way for his approach,\nby murmuring gently, \u201cMr. Jost, Sir!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, indeed!\u201d said the monarch, with calm grey eyes still fixed on\nvacancy,--\u201cI do not know anyone of that name! Permit me to admire\nthat exquisite arrangement of flowers!\u201d and, smiling affably on the\nastonished and embarrassed lady, he led her aside, altogether away from\nJost\u2019s vicinity.\n\nStricken to the very dust of abasement by this direct \u201ccut\u201d so publicly\nadministered, the crestfallen editor and proprietor of many journals\nstood aghast for a moment,--then as various unbidden thoughts began\nto chase one another through his bewildered head, he was seized with a\nviolent trembling. He remembered every foolish, imprudent and disloyal\nremark he had made to the stranger named Pasquin Leroy who had called\nupon him bearing the Premier\u2019s signet,--and reflecting that this very\nPasquin Leroy was now, by some odd chance, a contributor of political\nleaders and other articles to the rival daily newspaper which had\npublished the King\u2019s official refusal of a grant of land to the Jesuits,\nhe writhed inwardly with impotent fury. For might not this unknown man,\nLeroy,--if he were,--as he possibly was,--a friend of the King\u2019s--go\nto the full length of declaring all he knew and all he had learned from\nJost\u2019s own lips, concerning certain \u2018financial secrets,\u2019 which if fully\ndisclosed, would utterly dismember the Government and put the nation\nitself in peril? Might he not already even have informed the King? With\nhis little, swine-like eyes retreating under the crinkling fat of his\nlowering brows, Jost, hot and cold by turns, wandered confusedly out\nof the \u2018exclusive\u2019 set of persons connected with the \u2018Grand\nNational Theatre\u2019 scheme, who were now gathered round the suspended\nfoundation-stone to which the King was approaching. He pretended not\nto see the curious eyes that stared at him, or the sneering mouths that\nsmiled at the open slight he had received. Pushing his way through\nthe crowd, he jostled against the thin black-garmented figure of a\npriest,--no other than Monsignor Del Fortis, who, with an affable word\nof recognition, drew aside to allow him passage. Affecting his usual\n\u2018company-manner\u2019 of tolerant good-nature, he forced himself to speak to\nthis \u2018holy\u2019 man, who, at any rate, had paid him good money in round\nsums for so-called \u2018articles\u2019 or rather puff-advertisements in his paper\nconcerning Church matters.\n\n\u201cGood-day, Monsignor!\u201d he said--\u201cYou are not often seen at a Royal\npageant! How comes it that you, of all persons in the world have brought\nyourself to witness the laying of the foundation-stone of a Theatre?\nDoes not your calling forbid any patronage of the mimic Art?\u201d\n\nThe priest\u2019s thin lips parted, showing a glimmer of wolfish teeth behind\nthe pale stretched line of flesh.\n\n\u201cNot by any means!\u201d he replied suavely--\u201cIn the present levelling and\namalgamation of social interests, the Church and Stage are drawing very\nclosely together.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue!\u201d said Jost, with a grin--\u201cOne might very well be taken for the\nother!\u201d\n\nDel Fortis looked at him meditatively.\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d he said, waving his lean hand towards the centre of the\nbrilliant crowd where now the King stood, \u201cis a kind of drama in its\nway. And you, Mr. Jost, have just played one little scene in it!\u201d\n\nJost reddened, and bit his lip.\n\n\u201cI am also another actor on the boards,\u201d continued Del Fortis smiling\ndarkly;--\u201cif only as a spectator in the \u2018super\u2019 crowd. And other\ncomedians and tragedians are doubtless present, of whom we may hear\nanon!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King has nasty humours sometimes,\u201d said Jost shortly, looking down\nat the flower in his buttonhole, and absently flicking off one of its\npetals with his fat forefinger--\u201cHe ought to be made to pay for them!\u201d\n\n\u201cHa, ha! Very good! Certainly!\u201d and Del Fortis gave a\npiously-deprecating nod--\u201cHe ought to be made to pay! Especially when\nhe hurts the feelings of his old friends! Are you going, Mr. Jost? Yes?\nWhat a pity! But you no doubt have your reporters present?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, there are plenty of them about,\u201d--said Jost carelessly, \u201cBut I\nshall condense all the account of these proceedings into a few lines.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa,--ha!\u201d laughed Del Fortis,--\u201cI understand! Revenge--revenge!\nBut--in certain cases--the briefest description is sometimes the most\ngraphic--and startling! Good-day!\u201d\n\nJost returned the salute curtly, and went,--not to leave the scene\naltogether, but merely to take up a position of vantage immediately\nabove and behind the surging crowd, where from a distance he could watch\nall that was going on. He saw the King lift his hand towards the ropes\nand pulleys of the crane above him,--and as it was touched by the Royal\nfinger, the foundation stone was slowly lowered into the deep socket\nprepared for it, where gold and silver coins of the year\u2019s currency\nhad already been strewn. Then, with the aid of a silver trowel set in a\nhandle of gold, and obsequiously presented by the managing director of\nthe scheme, his Majesty dabbed in a little mortar, and declared in a\nloud voice that the stone was \u2018well and truly laid.\u2019 A burst of cheering\ngreeted the announcement, and the band struck up the country\u2019s National\nHymn, this being the usual sign that the ceremony was at an end.\nWhereupon the King, shaking hands again cordially with the various\nparties concerned, and again shedding the lustre of his smile upon\nthe various ladies with whom he had been conversing, made his way very\nleisurely to his State equipage, which, with its six magnificently\ncaparisoned horses, stood prepared for his departure, the door\nbeing already held open for him by one of the attendant powdered and\ngold-laced flunkeys. Sir Roger de Launay walked immediately behind his\nSovereign, and Professor von Glauben was close at hand, companioned by\ntwo of the gentlemen of the Royal Household. All at once a young man\npushed himself out of the crowd nearest to the enclosure,--paused a\nmoment irresolute, and then, with a single determined bound reached the\nKing\u2019s side.\n\n\u201cThief of the People\u2019s money! Take that!\u201d he shouted, wildly,--and,\nbrandishing aloft a glittering stiletto, he aimed it straight at the\nmonarch\u2019s heart!\n\nBut the blow never reached its destination, for a woman, closely veiled\nin black, suddenly threw herself swiftly and adroitly between the\nKing\u2019s body and the descending blade, shielding his breast with both her\noutstretched arms. The dagger struck her violently, piercing her flesh\nthrough the upper part of her right shoulder, and under the sheer force\nof the blow, she fell senseless.\n\nThe whole incident took place in less time than it could be breathlessly\ntold,--and even as she who had risked her life to save the King\u2019s, sank\nbleeding to the ground, the police seized the assassin red-handed in his\nmad and criminal act, and wrenched the murderous weapon from his hand.\nHe was a mere lad of eighteen or twenty, and seemed dazed, submitting to\nbe bound and handcuffed without a word. The King, perfectly tranquil and\nunhurt, bared his head to the wild cries and hysterical cheering of the\nexcited spectators to whom his narrow escape from death appeared a kind\nof miracle, moving them to frantic paroxysms of passionate enthusiasm,\nand then bent anxiously down over the prostrate form of his rescuer,\nendeavouring himself to raise her from the ground. A hundred hands at\nonce proffered assistance;--Sir Roger de Launay, pale to the lips with\nthe shock of sick horror he had experienced at what might so easily have\nbeen a national catastrophe, assisted the police in forming a strong\ncordon round the person of his beloved Royal master, in order to guard\nhim against any further possible attack,--and Professor von Glauben,\nobeying the King\u2019s signal, knelt down by the unconscious woman\u2019s side to\nexamine the extent of her injury. Gently he turned back the close folds\nof her enveloping veil,--then gave a little start and cry:\n\n\u201cGott in Himmel!\u201d And he hastily drew down the veil again as the King\napproached with the question--\n\n\u201cIs she dangerously hurt?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Sir!--I think not--I hope not--but--!\u201d\n\nAnd the Professor\u2019s eyes looked volumes of suggestion. Catching his\nexpression, the King drew still nearer.\n\n\u201cUncover her face,--give her air!\u201d he commanded.\n\nWith a perplexed side-glance at Sir Roger de Launay, the Professor\nobeyed,--and the sunshine fell full on the white calm features and\nclosed eyelids of \u201cthe woman known as Lotys.\u201d Her black dress was darkly\nstained and soaked with oozing blood--and the deep dull gold of her hair\nwas touched here and there with the same crimson hue;--but there was a\nsmile on her lips, and her face was as fair and placid as though it had\nbeen smoothed out of all pain and trouble by the restful touch of Death.\nSilently, and with a perfectly inscrutable demeanour, the King surveyed\nher for a moment. Then, raising his plumed hat with grave grace and\ncourtesy, he looked on all those who stood about him, soldiery, police\nand spectators.\n\n\u201cDoes anyone here present know this lady?\u201d he demanded.\n\nA crowd of eager heads were pushed forward, and then a low murmur began,\nwhich deepened into a steady roar of delighted acclamation.\n\n\u201cLotys! Lotys!\u201d\n\nThe name was caught up quickly and repeated from mouth to mouth--till\naway on the extreme outskirts of the crowd it was tossed back again with\nshouts--\u201cLotys! Lotys!\u201d\n\nSwiftly the news ran like an electric current through the whole body of\nthe populace, that it was Lotys, their own Lotys, their friend, their\nfellow-worker, the idol of the poorer classes, that had saved the life\nof the King! Half-incredulous, half-admiring, the mob listened to the\ngrowing rumour, and the general excitement increased in intensity among\nthem. David Jost, from his point of observation, caught the infection,\nand realizing at once the value of the dramatic \u201ccopy\u201d for his paper, to\nbe obtained out of such a situation, jumped into the nearest vehicle and\nwas driven straight to his offices, there to send electric messages\nof the news to every quarter of the world, and to endeavour by printed\nloyal outbursts of \u201cgush\u201d to turn the current of the King\u2019s displeasure\nagainst him into a more favourable direction. Meanwhile the King himself\ngave orders that his wounded rescuer should be conveyed in one of the\nRoyal carriages straight to the Palace, and there attended by his own\nphysician. Professor von Glauben was entrusted with the carrying-out of\nthis command,--and the monarch, then entering his own State-equipage,\nstarted on his homeward progress.\n\nThundering cheers now greeted him at every step;--for an hour at least\nthe populace went mad with rapture, shouting, singing and calling\nalternately for \u201cThe King!\u201d and \u201cLotys!\u201d with no respect of persons,\nor consideration as to their differing motives and opposite stations in\nlife. Two facts only were clear to them,--first an attempt had been\nmade to assassinate the King,--secondly, that Lotys had frustrated the\nattempt, and risked her own life to save that of the monarch. These\nwere enough to set fire to the passionate sentiments of a warm-blooded,\nrestless Southern people, and they gave full sway to their feelings\naccordingly. So, amid deafening plaudits, the Royal procession wended\nits way back to the Citadel, the State-coach moving at a snail\u2019s pace in\norder to allow the people to see the King for themselves, and make sure\nhe was uninjured, as they cheered, and followed it in surging throngs\nto the very gates of the Palace,--while in another and reverse direction\nthe wretched youth whose miserable effort to commit a dastard crime had\nso fortunately failed, was marched off, under the guard of a strong\nbody of police to the State-Prison, there to await his trial and\ncondemnation. A small crowd, hooting and cursing the criminal, pursued\nhim as he went, and one personage, austere and dignified, also followed,\nat a distance, as though curious to see the last of the would-be\nmurderer ere he was shut out from liberty,--and this was Monsignor Del\nFortis.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nA WOMAN\u2019S REASON\n\n\nWhen Lotys recovered from her death-like swoon, she found herself on a\nsofa among heaped-up soft cushions, in a small semi-darkened room hung\nwith draperies of rose satin, which were here and there drawn aside\nto show exquisite groupings of Saxe china and rare miniatures on\nivory;--the ceiling above her was a painted mirror, where Venus in her\ncar of flowers, drawn by doves, was pictured floating across a crystal\nsea,--the floor was strewn with white bearskins,--the corners were\nfilled with palms and flowers. As she regarded these unaccustomed\nsurroundings wonderingly, a firm hand was laid on her wrist, and a\nbrusque voice said in her ear:--\n\n\u201cLie still, if you please! You have been seriously hurt! You must rest.\u201d\n\nShe turned feebly towards the speaker, and saw a big burly man with a\nbald head, seated at her side, who held a watch in one hand, and felt\nher pulse with the other. She could not discern his features plainly,\nfor his back was set to the already shaded light, and her own eyes were\nweak and dim.\n\n\u201cYou are very kind!\u201d she murmured--\u201cI do not quite remember--Ah, yes!\u201d\n and a quick flash of animation passed over her face--\u201cI know now! The\nKing! Is--is all well?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll is well, thanks to you!\u201d replied the gruff voice--\u201cYou have saved\nhis life.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank God!\u201d--and she closed her eyes again wearily, while two slow\ntears trickled from under the shut white lids--\u201cThank God!\u201d\n\nProfessor von Glauben, placed in charge of her by the King\u2019s command,\ngently relinquished the small white hand he held, and stepping\nnoiselessly to a table near at hand, poured out from one of the various\nlittle flasks set thereon, a cordial the properties of which were alone\nknown to himself, and held the glass to her lips.\n\n\u201cDrink this off at once!\u201d--he said authoritatively, yet kindly.\n\nShe obeyed. He then, turning aside with the empty glass, sat down\nand watched her from a little distance. Soon a faint flush tinged her\ndead-white skin, and presently, with a deep sigh, she opened her eyes\nagain. Then she became aware of a stiffness and smart in her right\nshoulder, and saw that it was tightly bandaged, and that the bodice of\nher dress was cut away from it. Lying perfectly still, she gradually\nbrought her strong spirit of self-control to bear on the situation, and\ntried to collect her scattered thoughts. Very few minutes sufficed her\nto recollect all that had happened, and as she realised more and more\nvividly that she was in some strange and luxurious abode where she had\nno business or desire to be, she gathered all the forces of her mind\nto her aid, and with but a slight effort, sat upright. Professor\nvon Glauben came towards her with an exclamation of warning--but she\nmotioned him back with a very decided gesture.\n\n\u201cPlease do not trouble!\u201d she said--\u201cI am quite able to move--to\nstand--see!\u201d And she rose to her feet, trembling a little, and steadying\nherself by resting one hand on the edge of the sofa. \u201cI do not know who\nyou are, but I am sure you have been most kind to me! And if you would\ndo me a still greater kindness, you will let me go away from here at\nonce!\u201d\n\n\u201cImpossible, Madame!\u201d declared the Professor, firmly--\u201cHis Majesty, the\nKing----\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat of his Majesty, the King?\u201d demanded Lotys with sudden hauteur--\u201cAm\nI not mistress of my own actions?\u201d\n\nThe Professor made an elaborate bow.\n\n\u201cMost unquestionably you are, Madame!\u201d he replied--\u201cBut you are also for\nthe moment, a guest in the King\u2019s Palace; and having saved his life,\nyou will surely not withhold from him the courteous acceptance of his\nhospitality?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King\u2019s Palace!\u201d she echoed, and a little disdainful smile crossed\nher lips--\u201cI,--Lotys,--in the King\u2019s Palace!\u201d She moved a few steps, and\ndrew herself proudly erect. \u201cYou, sir, are a servant of the King\u2019s?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am his Majesty\u2019s resident physician, at your service!\u201d he said, with\nanother bow--\u201cI have had the honour of attending to the wound you so\nheroically received in his defence,--and though it is not a dangerous\nwound, it is an exceedingly unpleasant one I assure you,--and will give\nyou a good deal of pain and trouble. Let me advise you very earnestly\nto stay where you are, and rest--do not think of leaving the Palace\nto-night.\u201d\n\nShe sighed restlessly. \u201cI must not think of staying in it!\u201d she replied.\n\u201cBut I do not wish to seem churlish--or ungrateful for your care and\nkindness;--will you tell the King--\u201d Here she broke off abruptly, and\nfixed her eyes searchingly on his face. \u201cStrange!\u201d she murmured--\u201cI seem\nto have seen you before,--or someone very like you!\u201d\n\nThe Professor was troubled with a sudden fit of coughing which made him\nvery red in the face, and obliged him to turn away for a moment in order\nto recover himself. Still struggling with that obstinate catch in his\nthroat he said:\n\n\u201cYou were saying, Madame, that you wished me to tell the King\nsomething?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d said Lotys eagerly--\u201cif you will be so good! Tell him that\nI thank him for his courtesy;--but that I must go away from this\nPalace,--that I cannot--may not--stop in it an hour longer! He does not\nknow who it is that saved his life,--if he did, he would not wish me to\nremain a moment under his roof! He would be as anxious and willing for\nme to leave as I am to go! Will you tell him this?\u201d\n\n\u201cMadame, I will tell him,\u201d replied the Professor deferentially, yet with\na slight smile--\u201cBut--if it will satisfy your scruples, or ease your\nmind at all,--I may as well inform you that his Majesty does know who\nyou are! The populace itself declared your name to him, with shouts of\nacclamation.\u201d She flushed a vivid red, then grew very pale.\n\n\u201cIf that be so, then he must also be aware that I am his sworn enemy!\u201d\n she said,--\u201cAnd, that in accordance with the principles I hold, I cannot\npossibly remain under his roof! Therefore I trust, sir, you will have\nthe kindness to provide me with a way of quick exit before my presence\nhere becomes too publicly reported.\u201d\n\nThe Professor was slightly nonplussed. He considered for a moment; then\nrapidly made up his mind.\n\n\u201cMadame, I will do so!\u201d he said--\u201cThat is, if you will permit me first\nof all to announce your intention of leaving the Palace, to the King.\nPardon me for suggesting that his Majesty can hardly regard as an enemy\na lady who has saved his life at the risk of her own.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not save it because he is the King,\u201d she said curtly, \u201cAnd you\nare at liberty to tell him so. Please make haste to inform him at once\nof my desire to leave the Palace,--and say also, that if he considers he\nowes me any gratitude, he will show it by not detaining me.\u201d\n\nThe Professor bowed and retired. Lotys, left alone, sat down for a\nmoment in one of the luxuriously cushioned chairs, and pressed her left\nhand hard over her eyes to try and still their throbbing ache. Her\nright arm was bound up and useless,--and the pain from the wound in her\nshoulder caused her acute agony,--but she had a will of iron, and she\nhad trained her mental forces to control, if not entirely to master, her\nphysical weaknesses. She thought, not of her own suffering, but of the\nexciting incident in which mere impulse had led her to take so marked a\nshare. It was by pure accident that she had joined the crowd assembled\nto see the King lay the foundation-stone of the proposed new Theatre.\nShe had been as it were, entangled in the press of the people, and\nhad got pushed towards the centre of the scene almost against her own\nvolition. And while she had stood,--a passive and unwilling spectator\nof the pageant,--her attention had been singularly attracted towards the\nuneasy and restless movements of the youth who had afterwards attempted\nthe assassination of the monarch. She had watched him narrowly; though\nshe could not have explained why she did so, even to herself. He was\na complete stranger to her, and yet, with her quick intuition, she\nhad discerned a curious expression of anxiety and fear in his face, as\nthough of the impending horror of a crime,--a look which, because it\nwas so strained and unnatural, had aroused her suspicion. When she had\nsprung forward to shield the King, only one idea had inspired her,--and\nthat idea she would not now fully own even to herself, because it was so\nentirely, weakly feminine. Nevertheless, from woman\u2019s weakness has often\nsprung a hero\u2019s strength--and so it had proved in this case. She did\nnot, however, allow herself to dwell on the instinctive impulse which\nhad thrown her on the King\u2019s breast, ready to receive her own death-blow\nrather than that he should die; she preferred to elude that question,\nand to consider her action solely from the standpoint of those\nSocialistic theories with which she was indissolubly associated.\n\n\u201cHad I not frustrated the attempt, the crime would have been set down\nto us and our Brotherhood,\u201d she said to herself, \u201cSergius--or Paul\nZouche--or I myself--or even Pasquin--yes, even he!--might, and\ndoubtless would, have been accused of instigating it. As it is, I think\nI have saved the situation.\u201d She rose and walked slowly up and down\nthe room. \u201cI wonder who is behind the wretched boy concerned in\nthis business? He is too young to have determined on such a deed\nhimself,--unless he is mad;--he must be a tool in the hands of others.\u201d\n\nHere spying her long black cloak hanging across a chair, she took it\nup and threw it round her,--her face was reflected back upon her from\na mirror set in the wall, round which a cluster of ivory cupids\nclambered,--and she looked critically at her white drawn features, and\nthe disordered masses of her hair. Loosening these abundant locks,\nshe shook them down and gathered them into her one uncrippled hand,\npreparatory to twisting them into the usual knot at the back of her\nhead, the while she looked at the little sculptured _amorini_ set round\nthe mirror, with a compassionate smile.\n\n\u201cSuch a number of mimic Loves where there is no real love!\u201d she said\nhalf aloud,--when the opening of a door, and the swaying movement of a\ncurtain pushed aside, startled her; and still holding her rich hair up\nin her hand she turned quickly,--to find herself face to face with,--the\nKing.\n\nThere was an instant\u2019s dead silence. Dropping the silken gold weight\nof her tresses to fall as they would, regardless of conventional\nappearances, she stood erect, making all unconsciously to herself,\na picture of statuesque and beauteous tragedy. Her plain black\ngarments,--the long cloak enveloping her slight form, and the glorious\ntangle of her unbound hair rippling loosely about her pale face, in\nwhich her eyes shone like blue flowers, made luminous by the sunlight\nof the inspired soul behind them, all gave her an almost supernatural\nair,--and made her seem as wholly unlike any other woman as a strange\nleaf from an unexplored country is unlike the foliage common to one\u2019s\nnative land. The King looked steadfastly upon her; she, meeting his gaze\nwith equal steadfastness, felt her heart beating violently, though,\nas she well knew, it was not with fear. She had no thought of Court\netiquette,--nor had she any reason to consider it, his Majesty having\nhimself deliberately trespassed upon its rules by visiting her thus\nalone and unattended. She offered no reverence,--no salutation;--she\nsimply stood before him, quite silent, awaiting his pleasure,--though\nin her eyes there shone a dangerous brilliancy that was almost feverish,\nand nervous tremors shook her from head to foot. The strange dumb spell\nbetween them relaxed at last. With a kind of effort which expressed\nitself in the extra rigidity and pallor of his fine features, the King\nspoke:\n\n\u201cMadame, I have come to thank you! Your noble act of heroism this\nafternoon has saved my life. I do not say it is worth saving!--but the\nNation appears to think it is,--and in the name of the Nation, whose\nservant I am, I offer you my personal gratitude--and service!\u201d\n\nHe bowed low as he said these words gravely and courteously. Her eyes\nstill searched his face wistfully, with the eager plaintive expression\nof a child looking for some precious treasure it has lost. She strove\nto calm her throbbing pulses,--to quiet the hurrying blood in her\nveins,--to brace herself up to her usual impervious height of composure\nand self-control.\n\n\u201cI need no thanks!\u201d she answered briefly--\u201cI have only done my duty!\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, Madame, is it quite consistent with your duty to shield from death\none so hated by your disciples and followers?\u201d he asked, with a tinge of\nmelancholy in his accents--\u201cYou--as the famous Lotys--should have helped\nto kill, not to save!\u201d\n\nShe regarded him fearlessly.\n\n\u201cYou mistake!\u201d she said--\u201cAs King, you should learn to know your\nsubjects better! We are not murderers. We do not seek your life,--we\nseek to make you understand the need there is of honesty and justice. We\nlive our lives among the poor; and we see those poor crushed down into\nthe dust by the rich, without hope and without help,--and we\nendeavour to rouse them to a sense of this Wrong, so that they may, by\npersistence, obtain Right. We do not want the death of any man! Even\nto a traitor we give warning and time, ere we punish his treachery. The\nunhappy wretch who attempted your life to-day was not of our party, or\nour teaching, thank God!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure of that!\u201d he said very gently, his face brightening with a\nkind smile,--then, seeing her swerve, as though about to fall, he caught\nher on one arm--\u201cYou are faint! You must not stand too long. I fear you\nare suffering from the pain of that cruel wound inflicted on you for my\nsake!\u201d\n\n\u201cA little--\u201d she managed to say, with white lips--\u201cBut it is nothing--it\nwill soon pass----\u201d\n\nShe sank helplessly into the chair he placed for her, and mutely watched\nhim as he walked to the window and threw it open, admitting the sweet,\nfresh, sea-scented air, and a flood of crimson radiance from the setting\nsun.\n\n\u201cI am informed that you wish to quit the Palace at once,\u201d he said,\naverting his gaze from hers for a moment;--\u201cNeed I say how much I regret\nthis decision of yours? Both I and the Queen had hoped you would have\nremained with us, under the care of our own physician, till you were\nquite recovered. But I owe you too great a debt already to make any\nfurther claim upon you--and I will not command you to stay, if you\ndesire to go.\u201d\n\nShe lifted her head;--the faint colour was returning to her cheeks.\n\n\u201cI thank you!\u201d she said simply;--\u201cI do indeed desire to go. Every moment\nspent here is a moment wasted!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think so?\u201d--and, turning from the window where he stood, he\nconfronted her again;--\u201cMay I venture to suggest that you hardly do\njustice to me, or to the situation? You have placed me under very great\nobligations--surely you should endure my company long enough to tell me\nat least how I can in some measure show my personal recognition of your\nbrave and self-sacrificing action!\u201d\n\nShe looked at him in musing silence. A strange glow came into her\neyes,--a deeper crimson flushed her cheek.\n\n\u201cYou can do nothing for me!\u201d she said, after a long pause, \u201cYou are a\nKing--I, a poor commoner. I would not be indebted to you for all the\nworld! I am prouder of my \u2018common\u2019 estate than you are of your royalty!\nWhat are \u2018royal\u2019 rewards? Jewels, money, place, title! All valueless\nto me! If you would serve anyone, serve the People;--do something to\ndeserve their trust! If you would show _me_ any personal recognition, as\nyou say, for saving your life, make that life more noble!\u201d\n\nHe heard her without offence, holding himself mute and motionless. She\nrose from her seat, and approached him more closely.\n\n\u201cPerhaps, after all, it is well that I was,--unconsciously and against\nmy own volition,--brought here,\u201d she said; \u201cPerhaps it is God\u2019s will\nthat I should speak with you! For, as a rule none of your unknown\nsubjects can, or may speak with you!--you are so much hemmed in and\nringed round with slaves and parasites! In so far as this goes, you are\nto be pitied; though it rests with you to shake yourself free from the\ntoils of vulgar adulation. Your flatterers tell you nothing. They are\ncareful to keep you shut out of your own kingdom--to hide from you\nthings that are true,--things that you ought to know; they fool you with\nfalse assurances of national tranquillity and content,--they persuade\nyou to play, like an over-grown child, with the toys of luxury,--they\nlead you, a mere puppet, round and round in the clockwork routine of a\nfoolish and licentious society,--when you might be a Man!--up and doing\nman\u2019s work that should help you to regenerate and revivify the whole\ncountry! I speak boldly--yes!--because I do not fear you!--because I\nhave no favours to gain from you,--because to me,--Lotys,--you,--the\nKing--are nothing!\u201d\n\nHer voice, perfectly tranquil, even, and coldly sweet, had not a single\nvibration of uncertainty or hesitation in it--and her words seemed to\ncut through the stillness of the room with clean incisiveness like\nthe sweep of a sword-blade. Outside, the sea murmured and the leaves\nrustled,--the sun had sunk, leaving behind it a bright, pearly twilight\nsky, flecked with pink clouds like scattered rose-petals.\n\nHe looked straight at her,--his clear dark grey eyes were filled with\nthe glowing fire of strongly suppressed feeling. Some hasty ejaculation\nsprang to his lips, but he checked it, and pacing once or twice up and\ndown, suddenly wheeled round, and again confronted her.\n\n\u201cIf, as a king, I fall so far short of kingliness, and am nothing to\nyou,\u201d--he said deliberately; \u201cWhy did you shield me from the assassin\u2019s\ndagger a while ago? Why not have let me perish?\u201d\n\nShe shook back her gold hair, and regarded him almost defiantly.\n\n\u201cI did not save you because you are the King!\u201d she replied--\u201cBe assured\nof that!\u201d\n\nHe was vaguely astonished.\n\n\u201cMerely a humane sentiment then?\u201d he said--\u201cJust as you would have saved\na dog from drowning!\u201d\n\nA little smile crept reluctantly round the corners of her mouth.\n\n\u201cThere was another reason,\u201d she began in a low tone,--then\npaused--\u201cBut--only a woman\u2019s reason!\u201d\n\nSomething in her changing colour,--some delicate indefinable touch of\ntenderness and pathos, which softened her features and made them almost\nethereal, sent a curious thrill through his blood.\n\n\u201cA woman\u2019s reason!\u201d he echoed; \u201cMay I not hear it?\u201d\n\nAgain she hesitated,--then, as if despising herself for her own\nirresolution she spoke out bravely.\n\n\u201cYou may!\u201d--she said--\u201cThere is nothing to conceal--nothing of which I\nam ashamed! Besides, it is the true motive of the action which you are\npleased to call \u2018heroic.\u2019 I saved your life simply because--because you\nresemble in form and feature, in look and manner, the only man I love!\u201d\n\nA curious silence followed her words. The faint far whispering of the\nleaves on the trees outside seemed almost intrusively loud in such a\nstillness,--the placid murmur of the sea against the cliff below\nthe Palace became well-nigh suggestive of storm. Lotys was suddenly\nconscious of an odd strained sense of terror,--she had spoken as\nfreely and frankly as she would have spoken to any one of her own\nassociates,--and yet she felt that somehow she had been over-impulsive,\nand that in a thoughtless moment she had let slip some secret which\nplaced her, weak and helpless, in the King\u2019s power. The King himself\nstood immovable as a figure of bronze,--his eyes resting upon her with\na deep insistence of purpose, as though he sought to wrest some further\nconfession from her soul. The tension between them was painful,--almost\nintolerable,--and though it lasted but a minute, that minute seemed\nweighted with the potentialities of years. Forcing herself to break the\ndumb spell, Lotys went on hurriedly and half desperately:--\n\n\u201cYou may smile at this,\u201d she said--\u201cMen always jest with a woman\u2019s\nheart,--a woman\u2019s folly! But folly or no, I will not have you draw\nany false conclusions concerning me,--or flatter yourself that it was\nloyalty to you, or honour for your position that made me your living\nshield to-day. No!--for if you were not the exact counterpart of him who\nis dearer to me than all the world beside, I think I should have let you\ndie! I think so--I do not know! Because, after all, you are not like\nhim in mind or heart; it is only your outward bearing, your physical\nfeatures that resemble his! But, even so, I could not have looked idly\non, and seen his merest Resemblance slain! Now you understand! It is\nnot for you, as King, that I have turned aside a murderer\u2019s weapon,--but\nsolely because you have the face, the eyes, the smile of one who is\na thousand times greater and nobler than you,--who, though poor and\nuncrowned, is a true king in the grace and thought and goodness of his\nactions,--who, all unlike you, personally attends to the wants of the\npoor, instead of neglecting them,--and who recognises, and does his best\nto remedy, the many wrongs which afflict the people of this land!\u201d\n\nHer sweet voice thrilled with passion,--her cheeks\nglowed,--unconsciously she stretched out her uninjured hand with an\neloquent gesture of pride and conviction. The King\u2019s figure, till now\nrigid and motionless, stirred;--advancing a step, he took that hand\nbefore she could withhold it, and raised it to his lips.\n\n\u201cMadame, I am twice honoured!\u201d he said, in accents that shook ever so\nslightly--\u201cTo resemble a good man even outwardly is something,--to wear\nin any degree the lineaments of one whom a brave and true woman honours\nby her love is still more! You have made me very much your debtor\u201d--here\nhe gently relinquished the hand he had kissed--\u201cbut believe me, I shall\nendeavour most faithfully to meet the claim you have upon my gratitude!\u201d\n Here he paused, and drawing back, bowed courteously. \u201cThe way for your\ndeparture is clear,\u201d he continued;--\u201cI have ordered a carriage to be\nin waiting at one of the private entrances to the Palace. Professor von\nGlauben, my physician, who has just attended you, will escort you to it.\nYou will pass out quite unnoticed,--and be,--as you desire it--again at\nfull liberty. Let the memory of the King whose life you saved trouble\nyou no more,--except when you look upon his better counterpart!--as\nthen, perchance, you may think more kindly of him! For he has to\nsuffer!--not so much for his own faults, as for the faults of a system\nformulated by his ancestors.\u201d\n\nHer intense eyes glowed with a fire of enthusiasm as she lifted them to\nhis face.\n\n\u201cKingship would be a grand system,\u201d she said, \u201cif kings were true! And\nAutocracy would be the best and noblest form of government in the world,\nif autocrats could be found who were intellectual and honest at one and\nthe same time!\u201d\n\nHe looked at her observantly.\n\n\u201cYou think they are neither?\u201d\n\n\u201c_I_ think? \u2018I\u2019 am nothing,--my opinions count for nothing! But History\ngives evidence, and supplies proof of their incompetency. A great\nking,--good as well as great,--would be the salvation of this present\ntime of the world!\u201d\n\nStill he kept his eyes upon her.\n\n\u201cGo on!\u201d--he said--\u201cThere is something in your mind which you would fain\nexpress to me more openly. You have eloquent features, Madame!--and your\nlooks are the candid mirror of your thoughts. Speak, I beg of you!\u201d\n\nThe light of a daring inward hope flashed in her face and inspired her\nvery attitude, as she stood before him, entirely regardless of herself.\n\n\u201cThen,--since you give me leave,--I _will_ speak!\u201d she said; \u201cFor\nperhaps I shall never see you again--never have the chance to ask you,\nas a Man whom the mere accident of birth has made a king, to have more\nthought, more pity, more love for your subjects! Surely you should be\ntheir guardian--their father--their protector? Surely you should not\nleave them to become the prey of unscrupulous financiers or intriguing\nChurchmen? Some say you are yourself involved in the cruel schemes which\nare slowly but steadily robbing this country\u2019s people of their Trades,\nthe lawful means of their subsistence; and that you approve, in the\nmain, of the private contracts which place our chief manufactures and\nlines of traffic in the hands of foreign rivals. But I do not believe\nthis. We--and by we, I mean the Revolutionary party--try hard not to\nbelieve this! I admit to you, as faithfully as if I stood on my trial\nbefore you, that much of the work to which we, as a party have pledged\nourselves, consists in moving the destruction of the Monarchy, and the\nformation of a Republic. But why? Only because the Monarchy has proved\nitself indifferent to the needs of the people, and deaf to their\nprotestations against injustice! Thus we have conceived it likely that\na Republic might help to mend matters,--if it were in power for at least\nsome twenty or thirty years,--but at the same time we know well enough\nthat if a King ruled over us who was indeed a King,--who would refuse to\nbe the tool of party speculators, and who could not be moved this way or\nthat by the tyrants of finance, the people would have far more chance\nof equality and right under a Republic even! Only we cannot find that\nking!--no country can! You, for instance, are no hero! You will not\nthink for yourself, though you might; you only interest yourself in\naffairs that may redound to your personal and private credit; or\nin those which affect \u2018society,\u2019 the most dissolute portion of the\ncommunity,--and you have shown so little individuality in yourself or\nyour actions, that your unexpected refusal to grant Crown lands to\nthe Jesuits was scarcely believed in or accepted, otherwise than as a\ncaprice, till your own \u2018official\u2019 announcement. Even now we can scarcely\nbe brought to look upon it except as an impulse inspired by fear!\nHerein, we do you, no doubt, a grave injustice; I, for one, honestly\nbelieve that you have refused these lands to the Priest-Politicians,\nout of earnest consideration for the future peace and welfare of your\nsubjects.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, why believe even thus much of me?\u201d he interrupted with a grave\nsmile; \u201cMay you not be misled by that Resemblance I bear, to one who is,\nin your eyes, so much my superior?\u201d\n\nA faint expression of offence darkened her face, and her brows\ncontracted.\n\n\u201cYou are pleased to jest!\u201d she said coldly; \u201cAs I said before, it is\nman\u2019s only way of turning aside, or concluding all argument with a\nwoman! I am mistaken perhaps in the instinct which has led me to speak\nto you as openly as I have done,--and yet,--I know in my heart I can do\nyou no harm by telling you the truth, as others would never tell it\nto you! Many times within this last two months the people have sent in\npetitions to you against the heavy taxes with which your Government is\nafflicting them, and they can get no answer to their desperate appeals.\nIs it kingly--is it worthy of your post as Head of this realm, to turn a\ndeaf ear to the cries of those whose hard-earned money keeps you on the\nThrone, housed in luxury, guarded from every possible evil, and happily\nignorant of the pangs of want and hunger? How can you, if you have a\nheart, permit such an iniquitous act on the part of your Government as\nthe setting of a tax on bread?--the all in all of life to the very poor!\nHave you ever seen young children crying for bread? I have! Have you\never seen strong men reduced to the shame of stealing bread, to\nfeed their wives and infants? I have! I think of it as I stand here,\nsurrounded by the luxury which is your daily lot,--and knowing what I\nknow, I would strip these satin-draped walls, and sell everything of\nvalue around me if I possessed it, rather than know that one woman or\nchild starved within the city\u2019s precincts! Your Ministers tell you there\nis a deficiency in the Exchequer,--but you do not ask why, or how the\ndeficiency arose! You do not ask whether Ministers themselves have\nnot been trafficking and speculating with the country\u2019s money! For\nif deficiency there be, it has arisen out of the Government\u2019s\nmismanagement! The Government have had the people\u2019s money,--and have\nthrown it recklessly away. Therefore, they have no right to ask for\nmore, to supply what they themselves have wilfully wasted. No right, I\nsay!--no right to rob them of another coin! If I were a man, and a king\nlike you, I would voluntarily resign more than half my annual kingly\nincome to help that deficit in the National Exchequer till it had been\nreplaced;--I would live poor,--and be content to know that by my act I\nhad won far more than many millions--a deathless, and beloved name of\nhonour with my people!\u201d\n\nShe paused. He said not a word. Suddenly she became conscious that her\nhair was unbound and falling loosely about her; she had almost forgotten\nthis till now. A wave of colour swept over her face,--but she mastered\nher embarrassment, and gathering the long tresses together in her left\nhand, twisted them up slowly, and with an evident painful effort. The\nKing watched her, a little smile hovering about his mouth.\n\n\u201cIf I might help you!\u201d he said softly--\u201cbut--that is a task for my\nResemblance!\u201d\n\nShe appeared not to hear him. A sudden determination moved her, and she\nuttered her thought boldly and at all hazards.\n\n\u201cIf you do not, as the public report, approve of the financial schemes\nout of which your Ministers make their fortunes, to the utter ruin of\nthe people in general,\u201d she said slowly; \u201cDismiss Carl P\u00e9rousse from\noffice! So may you perchance avert a great national disaster!\u201d\n\nHe permitted himself to smile indulgently.\n\n\u201cMadame, you may ask much!--and however great your demands, I will do\nmy utmost to meet and comply with them;--but like all your charming sex,\nyou forget that a king can seldom or never interfere with a political\nsituation! It would be very unwise policy on my part to dismiss M.\nP\u00e9rousse, seeing that he is already nominated as the next Premier.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe next Premier!\u201d Lotys echoed the words with a passionate scorn; \u201cIf\nthat is so, I give you an honest warning! The people will revolt,--no\nforce can hold them back or keep them in check! And if you should\ncommand your soldiery to fire on the populace, there must be bloodshed\nand crime!--on your head be the result! Oh, are you not, can you not be\nsomething higher than even a king?--an honest man? Will you not open the\neyes of your mind to see the wickedness, falsehood and treachery of\nthis vile Minister, who ministers only to his own ends?--who feigns\nincorruptibility in order to more easily corrupt others?--who assumes\nthe defence of outlying states, merely to hide the depredations he is\nmaking on home power? Nay, if you will not, you are not worth a beggar\u2019s\nblessing!--and I shall wonder to myself why God made of you so exact a\ncopy of one whom I know to be a good man!\u201d\n\nHer breath came and went quickly,--her cheeks were flushed, and great\ntears stood in her eyes. But he seemed altogether unmoved.\n\n\u201cI\u2019 faith, I shall wonder too!\u201d he said very tranquilly; \u201cGood men are\nscarce!--and to be the copy of one is excellent, though it may in some\ncases be misleading! Madame, I have heard you with patience, and--if\nyou will permit me to say so--admiration! I honour your courage--your\nfrankness--and--still more--your absolute independence. You speak of\nwrongs to the People. If such wrongs indeed exist----\u201d\n\n\u201cIf!\u201d interrupted Lotys with a whole world of meaning in the expression.\n\n\u201cI say, if they indeed exist, I will, as far as I may,--endeavour to\nremedy them. I, personally, have no hesitation in declaring to you that\nI am not involved in the financial schemes to which you allude--though\nI know two or three of my fellow-sovereigns who are! But I do not care\nsufficiently for money to indulge in speculation. Nevertheless, let me\ntell you, speculation is good, and even necessary in matters affecting\nnational finance, and I am confident--\u201d here he smiled enigmatically,\n\u201cthat the country\u2019s honour is safe in the hands of M. P\u00e9rousse!\u201d\n\nAt this she lifted her head proudly and looked at him, with eyes that\nexpressed so magnificent a disdain, that had he been any other than the\nman he was, he might have quailed beneath the lightning flash of such\nutter contempt.\n\n\u201cYou are confident that the country\u2019s honour is safe!\u201d she repeated\nbitterly; \u201cI am confident that it is betrayed and shamed! And History\nwill set a curse against the King who helped in its downfall!\u201d\n\nHe regarded her with a vague, lingering gentleness.\n\n\u201cYou are harsh, Madame!\u201d he said softly; \u201cBut you could not offend me if\nyou tried! I quarrel with none of your sex! And you will, I hope, think\nbetter of me some day,--and not be sorry--as perhaps you are now--for\nhaving saved a life so worthless! Farewell!\u201d\n\nShe offered no response. The silken porti\u00e8re rustled and swayed,--the\ndoor opened and shut again quietly--he was gone. Left alone, Lotys\ndropped wearily on the sofa, and burying her head in the soft cushions,\ngave way to an outburst of tears and sobbed like a tired and exhausted\nchild. In this condition Professor von Glauben, entering presently,\nfound her. But his sympathy, if he felt any, was outwardly very chill\nand formal. Another dose of his \u2018cordial,\u2019--a careful examination and\nre-strapping of the wounded shoulder,--these summed up the whole of his\nconsolation; and his precise cold manner did much to restore her to her\nself-possession. She thanked him in a few words for his professional\nattention, without raising her eyes to his face, and quietly followed\nhim down a long narrow passage which terminated in a small private door\ngiving egress to the Royal pleasure-grounds,--and here a hired close\ncarriage was waiting. Putting her carefully into this vehicle, the\nProfessor then delivered himself of his last instructions.\n\n\u201cThe driver has no orders beyond the citadel, Madame,\u201d he explained.\n\u201cHis Majesty begged me to say that he has no desire to seem inquisitive\nas to your place of residence. You will therefore please inform the\ncoachman yourself as to where you wish to be driven. And take care of\nthat so-much-wounded shoulder!\u201d he added, relapsing into a kinder\nand less formal tone;--\u201cIt will pain you,--but there will be no\ninflammation, not now I have treated it!--and it will heal quickly, that\nI will guarantee--I, who have had first care of it!\u201d\n\nShe thanked him again in a low voice,--there was an uncomfortable lump\nin her throat, and tears still trembled on her lashes.\n\n\u201cRemember well,\u201d said the Professor cheerily; \u201chow very grateful we\nare to you! What we shall do for you some day, we do not yet know!\nA monument in the public square, or a bust in the Cathedral? Ha, ha!\nGoodbye! You have the blessing of the nation with you!\u201d\n\nShe shook her head deprecatingly,--she tried to smile, but she could\nnot trust herself to speak. The carriage rolled swiftly down the broad\navenue and soon disappeared, and the Professor, having watched the last\nflash of its wheels vanish between the arching trees, executed a slow\nand somewhat solemn _pas-seul_ on the doorstep where it had left him.\n\n\u201cAch so!\u201d he exclaimed, almost audibly; \u201cThe King\u2019s Comedy progresses!\nBut it had nearly taken the form of Tragedy to-day--and now Tragedy\nitself has melted into sentiment, and tears, and passion! And with this\nvery difficult kind of human mixture, the worst may happen!\u201d\n\nHe re-entered the Palace and returned with some haste to the apartments\nof the King, whither he had been bidden.\n\nBut on arriving there he was met by an attendant in the ante-room who\ninformed him that his Majesty had retired to his private library and\ndesired to be left alone.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\n\u201cI SAY--\u2018ROME\u2019!\u201d\n\n\nThe State prison was a gloomy fortress built on a wedge of rock that\njutted far out into the ocean. It stood full-fronted to the north, and\nhad opposed its massive walls and huge battlements to every sort of\nstorm for many centuries. It was a relic of mediaeval days, when torture\nno less than death, was the daily practice of the law, and when persons\nwere punished as cruelly for light offences as for the greatest crimes.\nIt was completely honeycombed with dungeons and subterranean passages,\nwhich led to the sea,--and in one of the darkest and deepest of these\nunderground cells, the wretched youth who had attempted the life of the\nKing, was placed under the charge of two armed warders, who marched up\nand down outside the heavily-barred door, keeping close watch and guard.\nNeither they nor anyone else had exchanged a word with the prisoner\nsince his arrest. He had given them no trouble. He had been carefully\nsearched, but nothing of an incriminating nature had been found upon\nhim,--nothing to point to any possible instigator of his dastard crime.\nHe had entered the dungeon allotted to him with almost a cheerful\nair,--he had muttered half-inaudible thanks for the bread and water\nwhich had been passed to him through the grating; and he had seated\nhimself upon the cold bench, hewn out of the stone wall, with a\nresignation that might have easily passed for pleasure. As the time\nwore on, however, and the reality of his position began to press more\nconsciously upon his senses, the warders heard him sigh deeply, and\nmove restlessly, and once he gave a cry like that of a wounded animal,\nexclaiming:--\n\n\u201cFor Thy sake, Lord Christ! For Thy sake I strove--for Thy sake, and in\nThy service! Thou wilt not leave me here to perish!\u201d\n\nHe had been brought to the prison immediately after his murderous\nattack, and the time had then been about four in the afternoon. It was\nnow night; and all over the city the joy-bells were clashing out music\nfrom the Cathedral towers, to express the popular thanksgiving for the\nmiraculous escape and safety of the King. The echo of the chimes which\nhad been ringing ever since sunset, was caught by the sea and thrown\nback again upon the air, so that it partially drowned the melancholy\nclang of the prison bell, which in its turn, tolled forth the dreary\npassing of the time for those to whom liberty had become the merest\nshadow of a dream. As it struck nine, a priest presented himself to the\nSuperintendent of the prison, bearing a \u2018permit\u2019 from General Bernhoff,\nHead of the Police, to visit and \u2018confess\u2019 the prisoner. He was led to\nthe cell and admitted at once. At the noise of a stranger\u2019s entrance,\nthe criminal raised himself from the sunken attitude into which he had\nfallen on his stone bench, and watched, by the light of the dim lamp set\nin the wall, the approach of his tall, gaunt, black-garmented visitor\nwith evident horror and fear. When,--with the removal of the shovel\nhat and thick muffler which had helped to disguise that visitor\u2019s\npersonality,--the features of Monsignor Del Fortis were disclosed, he\nsprang forward and threw himself on his knees.\n\n\u201cMercy!--Mercy!\u201d he moaned--\u201cHave pity on me, in the name of God!\u201d\n\nDel Fortis looked down upon him with contempt, as though he were some\nloathsome reptile writhing at his feet. \u201cSilence!\u201d he said, in a harsh\nwhisper--\u201cRemember, we are watched here! Get up!--why do you kneel to\n_me_? I have nothing to do with you, beyond such office as the Church\nenjoins!\u201d And a cold smile darkened, rather than lightened his features.\n\u201cI am sent to administer \u2018spiritual consolation\u2019 to you!\u201d\n\nSlowly the prisoner struggled up to a standing posture, and pressing\nboth hands to his head, he stared wildly before him.\n\n\u201c\u2018Spiritual consolation\u2019!\u201d he muttered--\u201c\u2018Spiritual\u2019?\u201d A faint dull\nvacuous smile flickered over his face, and he shuddered. \u201cI understand!\nYou come to prepare my soul for Heaven!\u201d\n\nDel Fortis gave him a sinister look.\n\n\u201cThat depends on yourself!\u201d he replied curtly--\u201cThe Church can speed you\neither way,--to Heaven, or--Hell!\u201d\n\nThe prisoner\u2019s hands clenched involuntarily with a gesture of despair.\n\n\u201cI know that!\u201d he said sullenly--\u201cThe Church can save or kill! What of\nit? I am now beyond even the power of the Church!\u201d\n\nDel Fortis seated himself on the stone bench.\n\n\u201cCome here!\u201d he said--\u201cSit down beside me!\u201d\n\nThe prisoner obeyed.\n\n\u201cLook at this!\u201d--and he drew an ebony and silver crucifix from his\nbreast--\u201cFix your eyes upon it, and try, my son,\u201d--here he raised his\nvoice a little--\u201ctry to conquer your thoughts of things temporal,\nand lift them to the things which are eternal! For things temporal do\nquickly vanish and disperse, but things eternal shall endure for ever!\nHumble your soul before God, and beseech Him with me, to mercifully\ncleanse the dark stain of sin upon your soul!\u201d Here he began mumbling a\nLatin prayer, and while engaged in this, he caught the prisoner\u2019s hand\nin a close grip. \u201cAct--act with me!\u201d he said firmly. \u201cFool!--Play a\npart, as I do! Bend your head close to mine--assume shame and sorrow\neven if you cannot feel it! And listen to me well! _You have failed_!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it!\u201d\n\nThe reply came thick and low.\n\n\u201cWhy did you make the attempt at all? Who persuaded you?\u201d\n\nThe wretched youth lifted his head, and showed a wild white face, in\nwhich the piteous eyes, starting from their sockets, looked blind with\nterror.\n\n\u201cWho persuaded me?\u201d he replied mechanically--\u201cNo one! No single\none,--but many!\u201d\n\nDel Fortis gripped him firmly by the wrist.\n\n\u201cYou lie!\u201d he snarled--\u201cHow dare you utter such a calumny! Who were you?\nWhat were you? A miserable starveling--picked up from the streets and\nsaved from penury,--housed and sheltered in our College,--taught and\ntrained and given paid employment by us,--what have _you_ to say of\n\u2018persuasion\u2019?--you, who owe your very life to us, and to our charity!\u201d\n\nRoused by this attack, the prisoner, wrenching his hand away from the\npriest\u2019s cruel grasp, sprang upright.\n\n\u201cWait--wait!\u201d he said breathlessly--\u201cYou do not understand! You forget!\nAll my life I have been under One great influence--all my life I have\nbeen taught to dream One great Dream! When I talk of \u2018persuasion,\u2019\nI only mean the persuasion of that force which has surrounded me as\nclosely as the air I breathe!--that spirit which is bound to enter into\nall who work for you, or with you! Oh no!--neither you nor any member\nof your Order ever seek openly to \u2018persuade\u2019 any man to any act, whether\ngood or evil--your Rule is much wiser than that!--much more subtle! You\nissue no actual commands--your power comes chiefly by suggestion! And\n_with_ you,--working _for_ you--I have thought day and night, night and\nday, of the glory of Rome!--the dominion of Rome!--the triumph of Rome!\nI have learned, under you, to wish for it, to pray for it, to desire it\nmore than my own life!--do you, can you blame me for that? You dare not\ncall it a sin;--for your Order represents it as a virtue that condones\nall sin!\u201d\n\nDel Fortis was silent, watching him with a kind of curious contempt.\n\n\u201cIt grew to be part of me, this Dream!\u201d went on the lad, his eyes\nnow shining with a feverish brilliancy--\u201cAnd I began to see wonderful\nvisions, and to hear voices calling me in the daytime,--voices that no\none else heard! Once in the College chapel I saw the Blessed Virgin\u2019s\npicture smile! I was copying documents for the Vatican then,--and I\nthought of the Holy Father,--how he was imprisoned in Rome, when\nhe should be Emperor of all the Emperors,--King of all the Kings! I\nremembered how it was that he had no temporal power,--though all the\npowers of the earth should be subservient to him!--and my heart beat\nalmost to bursting, and my brain seemed on fire!--but the Blessed\nVirgin\u2019s picture still smiled;--and I knelt down before it and swore\nthat I,--even I, would help to give the whole world back to Rome, even\nif I died for it!\u201d\n\nHe caught his breath with a kind of sob, and looked appealingly at Del\nFortis, who, fingering the crucifix he held, sat immovable.\n\n\u201cAnd then--and then\u201d he went on, \u201cI heard enough,--while at work in\nthe monastery with you and the brethren,--to strengthen and fire my\nresolution. I learned that all kings are, in these days, the enemies\nof the Church. I learned that they were all united in one resolve; and\nthat,--to deprive the Holy Father of temporal power! Then I set myself\nto study kings. Each, and all of those who sit on thrones to-day passed\nbefore my view;--all selfish, money-seeking, sensual men!--not one good,\ntrue soul among them! Demons they seemed to me,--bent on depriving God\u2019s\nEvangelist in Rome of his Sacred and Supreme Sovereignty! It made me\nmad!--and I would have killed all kings, could I have done so with\na single thought! Then came a day when you preached openly in the\nCathedral against this one King, who should by right have gone to his\naccount this very afternoon!--you told the people how he had refused\nlands to the Church,--and how by this wicked act he had stopped the\nprogress of religious education, and had put himself, as it were, in the\nway of Christ who said: \u2018Suffer little children to come unto Me!\u2019 And my\ndreams of the glory of Rome again took shape--I saw in my mind all the\nchildren,--the poor little children of the world, gathered to the\nknee of the Holy Father, and brought up to obey him and him only!--I\nremembered my oath before the Blessed Virgin\u2019s picture, and all my soul\ncried out: \u2018Death to the crowned Tyrant! Death!\u2019 For you said--and I\nbelieved it--that all who opposed the Holy Father\u2019s will, were opposed\nto the will of God!--and over and over again I said in my heart: \u2018Death\nto the tyrant! Death!\u2019 And the words went with me like the response of\na litany,--till--till--I saw him before me to-day--a pampered fool,\nsurrounded by women!--a blazoned liar!--and then--\u201d He paused, smiling\nfoolishly; and shaking his head with a slow movement to and fro, he\nadded--\u201cThe dagger should have struck home!--it was aimed surely--aimed\nstrongly!--but that woman came between--why did she come? They said\nshe was Lotys!--ha ha!--Lotys, the Revolutionary sybil!--Lotys, the\nSocialist!--but that could not be,--Lotys is as great an enemy of kings\nas I am!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd an enemy of the Church as well!\u201d said Del Fortis harshly--\u201cBetween\nthe Church and Socialism, all Thrones stand on a cracking earth,\ndevoured by fire! But make no mistake about it!--the woman was Lotys!\nSocialist and Revolutionary as she may be, she has saved the life of the\nKing. This is so far fortunate--for you! And it is much to be hoped that\nshe herself is not slain by your dagger thrust;--death is far too easy\nand light a punishment for her and her associates! We trust it may\nplease a merciful God to visit her with more lingering calamity!\u201d\n\nAs he said this, he piously kissed the crucifix he held, keeping his\nshallow dark eyes fixed on the prisoner with the expression of a cat\nwatching a mouse. The half-crazed youth, absorbed in the ideas of his\nown dementia, still smiled to himself vaguely, and nervously plucked at\nhis fingers, till Del Fortis, growing impatient and forgetting for the\nmoment that they stood in a prison cell, the interior of which might\npossibly be seen and watched from many points of observation unknown to\nthem, went up to him and shook him roughly by the arm.\n\n\u201cAttention!\u201d he said angrily--\u201cRouse yourself and hear me! You talk\nlike a fool or a madman,--yet you are neither--neither, you\nunderstand?--neither idiot-born nor suddenly crazed;--so, when on\nyour trial do not feign to be what you are not! Such ideas as you have\nexpressed, though they may have their foundation in a desire for good,\nare evil in their results--yet even out of evil good may come! The power\nof Rome--the glory of Rome--the dominion of Rome! Rome, supreme Mistress\nof the world! Would you help the Church to win this great victory? Then\nnow is your chance! God has given you--you, His poor instrument,--the\nmeans to effectually aid His conquest,--to Him be all the praise and\nthanksgiving! It rests with you to accept His message and perform His\nwork!\u201d\n\nThe high-flown, melodramatic intensity with which he pronounced these\nwords, had the desired effect on the stunned and bewildered, weak mind\nof the unfortunate lad so addressed. His eyes sparkled--his cheeks\nflushed,--and he looked eagerly up into the face of his priestly\nhypnotizer.\n\n\u201cYes--yes!\u201d he said quickly in a breathless whisper--\u201cBut how?--tell me\nhow! I will work--oh, I will work--for Rome, for God, for the Blessed\nVirgin!--I will do all that I can!--but how--how? Will the Holy Father\nsend an angel to take me out of this prison, so that I may be free to\nhelp God?\u201d\n\nDel Fortis surveyed him with a kind of grim derision, A slight noise\nlike the slipping-back or slipping-to of a grating, startled him, and he\nlooked about him on all sides, moved by a sudden nervous apprehension.\nBut the massive walls of the cell, oozing with damp and slime, had\napparently no aperture or outlet anywhere, not even a slit in the\nmasonry for the admission of daylight. Satisfied with his hasty\nexamination, he took his credulous victim by the arm, and led him back\nto the rough stone bench where they had first begun to converse.\n\n\u201cKneel down here before me!\u201d--he said--\u201cKneel, as if you were repeating\nall the sins of your life to me in your last confession! Kneel, I say!\u201d\n\nFeebly, and with trembling limbs, the lad obeyed.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d continued Del Fortis, holding up the crucifix before him--\u201cTry\nto follow my words and understand them! To-morrow, or the next day, you\nwill be taken before a judge and tried for your attempted crime. Do you\nrealise that?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do!\u201d The answer came hesitatingly, and with a faint moan.\n\n\u201cHave you thought what you intend to say when you are asked your reasons\nfor attacking the King? Do you mean to tell judge and jury the story of\nwhat you call your \u2018persuasion\u2019 to dream of the dominion of Rome?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes--yes!\u201d replied the lad, looking up with an eager light on his\nface--\u201cYes, I will tell them all,--just as I have told you! Then they\nwill know,--they will see that it was a good thought of mine--it would\nhave been a good sin! I will speak to them of the wicked wrongs done to\nyou and your Holy Order,--of the cruelty which the Christian Apostle in\nRome has to suffer at the hands of kings--and they will acknowledge me\nto be right and just;--they will know I am as a man inspired by God to\nwork for the Church, the bride of Christ, and to make her Queen of all\nthe world!\u201d\n\nHe stopped suddenly, intimidated by the cruel glare of the wolfish eyes\nabove him.\n\n\u201cYou will say nothing of all this!\u201d and Del Fortis shook the crucifix in\nhis face as though it were a threatening weapon; \u201cYou will say only what\n_I_ choose,--only what _I_ command! And if you do not swear to speak as\nI tell you, I will kill you!--here and now--with my own hands!\u201d\n\nUttering a half-smothered cry, the wretched youth recoiled in terror.\n\n\u201cYou will kill me? You--_you_?\u201d he gasped--\u201cNo--no!--you could not do\nthat! you could not,--you are a holy man! I--I am not afraid that you\nwill hurt me! I have done nothing to offend you,--I have always\nbeen obedient to you,--I have been your slave--your dog to fetch and\ncarry!--and you should remember,--yes!--you should remember that my\nmother was rich,--and that because she too felt the call of God, she\ngave all her money to the Church, and left me thrown upon the streets to\nstarve! But the Church rescued me--the Church did not forget! And I am\nready to serve the Church in all and every possible way,--I have done my\nbest, even now!\u201d\n\nHe spoke with all the passionate self-persuasion of a fanatic, and Del\nFortis judged it wisest to control his own fierce inward impatience and\ndeal with him more restrainedly.\n\n\u201cThat is true enough!\u201d he said in milder accents;--\u201cYou are ready to\nserve the Church,--I do not doubt it;--but you do not serve it in the\nright way. No earthly good is gained to us by the killing of kings!\nTheir conversion and obedience is what we seek. This king you would\nhave slain is a baptised son of the Church; but beyond attending mass\nregularly in his private chapel, which he does for the mere sake\nof appearances, he is an atheist, condemned to the fires of Hell.\nNevertheless, no advantage to us could possibly be obtained by his\ndeath. Much can be done for us by you--yes, _you_!--and much will depend\non the answers to the questions asked you at your trial. Give those\nanswers as _I_ shall bid you, and you will win a triumph for the cause\nof Rome!\u201d\n\nThe prisoner\u2019s eyes glittered feverishly,--full of the delirium of\nbigotry, he caught the lean, cold hand that held the crucifix, and\nkissed it fervently.\n\n\u201cCommand me!\u201d he muttered--\u201cCommand!--and in the name of the Blessed\nVirgin, I will obey!\u201d\n\n\u201cHear then, and attend closely to my words,\u201d went on Del Fortis,\nenunciating his sentences in a low distinct voice--\u201cWhen you are brought\nbefore the judge, you will be accused of an attempt to assassinate the\nKing. Make no denial of it,--admit it at once, and express contrition.\nYou will then be asked if any person or persons instigated you to commit\nthe crime. To this say \u2018yes\u2019!\u201d\n\n\u201cSay \u2018yes\u2019!\u201d repeated the lad--\u201cBut that will not be true!\u201d\n\n\u201cFool, does it matter!\u201d ejaculated Del Fortis, almost savagely--\u201cHave\nyou not sworn to speak as I command you? What is it to you whether it is\ntrue or false?\u201d\n\nA slight shiver passed through the prisoner\u2019s limbs--but he was silent.\n\n\u201cSay\u201d--went on his pitiless instructor--\u201cthat you were enticed and\npersuaded to commit the wicked deed by the teachings of the Socialist,\nSergius Thord, and his followers. Say that the woman Lotys knew of your\nintention,--and saved the life of the King at the last moment, through\nfear, lest her own seditious schemes should be discovered and herself\npunished. Say,--that because you were young and weak and impressionable,\nshe chose you out to attempt the assassination. Do you hear?\u201d\n\n\u201cI hear!\u201d The reply came thickly and almost inaudibly. \u201cBut must I tell\nthese lies? I have never spoken to Sergius Thord in my life!--nor to the\nwoman Lotys;--I know nothing of them or their followers, except by the\npublic talk;--why should I harm the innocent? Let me tell the truth, I\npray of you!--let me speak as my heart dictates!--let me plead for the\nHoly Father--for you--for your Order--for the Church!--\u201d\n\nHe broke off as Del Fortis caught him by both hands in an angry grip.\n\n\u201cDo not dare to speak one word of the Church!\u201d he said, \u201cOr of us,--or\nof our Order! Let not a single syllable escape your lips concerning your\nconnection with us and our Society!--or we shall find means to make you\nregret it! Beware of betraying yourself! When you are once before the\nCourt of Law, remember you know nothing of Us, our Work, or our Creed!\u201d\n\nUtterly bewildered and mystified, the unhappy youth rocked himself\nto and fro, clasping and unclasping his hands in a kind of nervous\nparoxysm.\n\n\u201cOh why, why will you bid me to do this?\u201d he moaned--\u201cYou know there\nare times when I cannot be answerable for myself! How can I tell what\nI shall do when I am brought face to face with my accusers?--when I see\nall the dreadful eyes of the people turned upon me? How can I deny all\nknowledge of those who brought me up, and nurtured and educated me? If\nthey ask me of my home, is it not with you?--under your sufferance and\ncharity? If they seek to know my means of subsistence, is it not through\nyou that I receive the copying-work for which I am paid? You would not\nhave me repudiate all this, would you? I should be worse than a dog in\nsheer ingratitude if I did not bear open testimony to all the Church has\ndone for me!\u201d\n\n\u201cBe, not worse than a dog, but faithful as a dog in obedience!\u201d\n responded Del Fortis impressively--\u201cAnd, for once, speak of the Church\nwith the indifference of an atheist,--or with such marked coldness as a\nwise man speaks of the woman he secretly adores! Hold the Church and\nUs too sacred for any mention in a Court of criminal law! But serve the\nChurch by involving the Socialist and Revolutionary party! Think of the\nmagnificent results which will spring from this act,--and nerve yourself\nto tell a lie in order to support a truth!\u201d\n\nRising unsteadily from his knees, the prisoner stood upright. By the\nflicker of the dim lamp, he looked deadly pale, and his limbs tottered\nas though shaken by an ague fit.\n\n\u201cWhat good will come of it?\u201d he queried dully--\u201cWhat good _can_ come of\nit?\u201d\n\n\u201cGreat and lasting good will come of it!\u201d--replied Del Fortis--\u201cAnd it\nwill come quickly too;--in this way, for by fastening the accusation\nof undue influence on Sergius Thord and his companions, you will obtain\nGovernment restriction, if not total suppression of the Socialist\nparty. This is what we need! The Socialists are growing too strong--too\npowerful in every country,--and we are on the brink of trouble through\ntheir accursed and atheistical demonstrations. There will soon be\nserious disturbances in the political arena--possibly an overthrow of\nthe Government, and a general election--and if Sergius Thord has the\nchance of advancing himself as a deputy, he will be elected above all\nothers by an overpowering majority of the lower classes. _You_ can\nprevent this!--you can prevent it by a single falsehood, which in\nthis case will be more pleasing to God than a thousand mischievous\nveracities! Will you do it? Yes or No?\u201d\n\nThe miserable lad looked helplessly around him, his weak frame trembling\nas with palsy, and his uncertain fingers plucking at each other with\nthat involuntary movement of the muscles which indicates a disordered\nbrain.\n\n\u201cWill you, or will you not?\u201d reiterated Del Fortis in a whisper that\nhissed through the close precincts of the cell like the warning of a\nsnake about to sting--\u201cAnswer me!\u201d\n\n\u201cSuppose I say I will not!\u201d--stammered the poor wretch, with trembling\nlips and appealing eyes--\u201cSuppose I say I will not falsely accuse the\ninnocent, even for the sake of the Church----?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Del Fortis slowly, rising and moving towards him;--\u201cYou had\nbest accept the only alternative--this!\u201d\n\nAnd he took from his breast pocket a small phial, full of clear,\ncolourless fluid, and showed it to him--\u201cTake it!--and so make a quick\nand quiet end! For, if you betray you connection with Us by so much as a\nlook,--a sign, or a syllable,--your mode of exit from this world may be\nslower, less decent, and more painful!\u201d\n\nThe miserable boy wrung his hands in agony, and such a cry of despair\nbroke from his lips as might have moved anyone less cruelly made\nof spiritual adamant than the determined servant of the cruellest\n\u2018religious\u2019 Order known. The dull harsh clang of the prison bell struck\nten. The \u2018priest\u2019 had been an hour at the work of \u2018confessing\u2019 his\npenitent,--and his patience was well-nigh exhausted.\n\n\u201cSwear you will attribute your intended assassination of the King,\nto the influence of the Socialists!\u201d he said with fierce\nimperativeness--\u201cOr with this--end all your difficulties to-night! It is\na gentle quietus!--and you ought to thank me for it! It is better than\nsolitary imprisonment for life! I will give you absolution for taking\nit--provided I see you swallow it before I go!--and I will declare to\nthe Church that I left you shrived of your sins, and clean! Half an\nhour after I leave you, you will sleep!--and wake--in Heaven! Make your\nchoice!\u201d\n\nThe last words had scarcely left his lips when the cell door was\nsuddenly thrown open, and a blaze of light poured in. Dazzled by the\nstrong and sudden glare, Del Fortis recoiled, and still holding the\nphial of poison in his hand, stumbled back against the half-fainting\nform of the poor crazed creature he had been terrorising, as a dozen\narmed men silently entered the dungeon and ranged themselves in order,\nsix on one side and six on the other, while, in their midst one\nman advanced, throwing back his dark military cloak as he came, and\ndisplaying a mass of jewelled orders and insignia on his brilliant\nuniform. Del Fortis uttered a fierce oath.\n\n\u201cThe King!\u201d he muttered, under his breath--\u201cThe King!\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, the King!\u201d and a glance of supreme scorn swept over him from head\nto foot, as the monarch\u2019s clear dark grey eyes flashed with the glitter\nof cold steel in the luminance of the torches which were carried by\nattendants behind him; \u201cMonsignor Del Fortis! You stand convicted of\nthe offence of unlawfully tampering with the conscience of a prisoner\nof State! We have heard your every word--and have obtained a bird\u2019s-eye\nview of your policy!--so that,--if necessary,--we will Ourselves bear\nwitness against you! For the present,--you will be detained in this\nfortress until our further pleasure!\u201d\n\nFor one moment Del Fortis appeared to be literally contorted in every\nmuscle by his excess of rage. His features grew livid,--his eyes became\nalmost blood-red, and his teeth met on his drawn-in under-lip in a smile\nof intense malignity. Baffled again!--and by this \u2018king,\u2019--the crowned\nDummy,--who had cast aside all former precedent, and instead of amusing\nhimself with card-playing and sensual intrigue, after the accepted\nfashion of most modern sovereigns, had presumed to interfere, not only\nwith the Church, but with the Government, and now, as it seemed, had\nacted as a spy on the very secrets of a so-called prison \u2018confession\u2019!\nThe utter impossibility of escaping from the net into which his own\nwords had betrayed him, stood plainly before his mind and half-choked\nhim with impotent fury,--till--all suddenly a thought crossed his\nbrain like a flash of fire, and with a strong effort, he recovered his\nself-possession. Crossing his arms meekly on his breast, he bowed with\na silent and profound affectation of humility, as one who is bent under\nthe Royal displeasure, yet resigned to the Royal command,--then with a\nrapid movement he lifted the poison-phial he had held concealed, to his\nlips. His action was at once perceived. Two or three of the armed guards\nthrew themselves upon him and, after a brief struggle, wrenched the\nflask from his hand, but not till he had succeeded in swallowing its\ncontents. Breathing quickly, yet smiling imperturbably, he stood upright\nand calm.\n\n\u201cGod\u2019s will and mine--not your Majesty\u2019s--be done!\u201d he said. \u201cIn half an\nhour--or less--Mother Church may add to her list of martyrs the name of\nAndrea Del Fortis!--who died rather than sacrifice the dignity of his\ncalling to the tyranny of a king!\u201d\n\nA slight convulsion passed over his features,--he staggered backward.\nThe King, horror-stricken, signed to the prison warders standing by, to\nsupport him. He muttered a word of thanks, as they caught him by both\narms.\n\n\u201cTake me where I can die quietly!\u201d he said to them, \u201cIt will soon be\nover! I shall give you little trouble!\u201d\n\nA cold, weak, trembling hand clasped his. It was the hand of the King\u2019s\nwretched assassin.\n\n\u201cLet me go with you!\u201d he cried--\u201cLet me die with you! You have been\ncruel to me!--but you could not have meant it!--you were once kind!\u201d\n\nDel Fortis thrust him aside.\n\n\u201cCurse you!\u201d he said thickly--\u201cYou are the cause--you--you are the\ncause of this damned mischief! You!--God!--to think of it!--you devil\u2019s\nspawn!--you cur!\u201d\n\nHis voice failed him, and he reeled heavily against the sturdy form of\none of the warders who held him--his lips were flecked with blood and\nfoam. Shocked and appalled, no less at his words, than at the fiendish\ncontortion of his features, the King drew near.\n\n\u201cCurse not a fellow-mortal, unhappy priest, in thine own passage towards\nthe final judgment!\u201d he said in grave accents--\u201cThe blessing of this\npoor misguided creature may help thee more than even a king\u2019s free\npardon!\u201d\n\nAnd he extended his hand;--but with all the force of his now struggling\nand convulsed body, Del Fortis beat it back, and raised himself by an\nalmost superhuman effort.\n\n\u201cPardon! Who talks of pardon!\u201d he cried, with a strong voice--\u201cI do not\nneed it--I do not seek it! I have worked for the Church--I die for the\nChurch! For every one that says \u2018The King!\u2019--I say, \u2018Rome\u2019!\u201d\n\nHe drew himself stiffly upright; his dark eyes glittered; his face,\nthough deadly pale, scarcely looked like the face of a dying man.\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018Rome\u2019!\u201d he repeated, in a harsh whisper;--\u201cOver all the\nworld!--over all the kingdoms of the world, and in defiance of all\nkings--\u2018Rome\u2019!\u201d\n\nHe fell back,--not dead,--but insensible, in the stupor which precedes\ndeath;--and was quickly borne out of the cell and carried to the prison\ninfirmary, there to receive medical aid, though that could only now\navail to soothe the approaching agonies of dissolution.\n\nThe King stood mute and motionless, lost in thought, a heavy darkness\nbrooding on his features. How strange the impulse that had led him to\nbe the mover and witness of this scene! By merest chance he had learned\nthat Del Fortis had applied for permission to \u2018confess\u2019 the would-be\ndestroyer of his life,--the life which Lotys had saved,--and acting--as\nhe had lately accustomed himself to do--on a sudden first idea or\ninstinct, he had summoned General Bernhoff to escort him to the prison,\nand make the way easy for him to watch and overhear the interview\nbetween priest and penitent,--himself unobserved. And from so slight\nan incident had sprung a tragedy,--which might have results as yet\nundreamed-of!\n\nAnd while he yet mused upon this, General Bernhoff ventured respectfully\nto approach him, and ask if it was now his pleasure to return to the\nPalace? He roused himself,--and with a heavy sigh looked round on\nthe damp and dismal cell in which he stood, and at the crouching,\nfear-stricken form of the semi-crazed and now violently weeping lad who\nhad attempted his life.\n\n\u201cTake that poor wretch away from here!\u201d he said in hushed tones--\u201cGive\nhim light, and warmth, and food! His evil desires spring from an unsound\nbrain;--I would have him dealt with mercifully! Guard him with all\nnecessary and firm restraint,--but do not brutalise his body more than\nRome has brutalised his soul!\u201d\n\nWith that he turned away,--and his armed guard and attendants followed\nhim.\n\nThat self-same midnight a requiem mass was sung in a certain chapel\nbefore a silent gathering of black-robed stern-featured men, who prayed\n\u201cFor the repose of the soul of our dear brother, Andrea Del Fortis,\nservant of God, and martyr to the cause of truth and justice,--who\ndeparted this life suddenly, in the performance of his sacred duties.\u201d\n In the newspapers next day, the death of this same martyr and shining\nlight of the Church was recorded with much paid-for regret and\npress-eulogy as \u2018due to heart-failure\u2019 and his body being claimed by\nthe Jesuit brotherhood, it was buried with great pomp and solemn\ncircumstance, several of the Catholic societies and congregations\nfollowing it to the grave. One week after the funeral,--for no other\nostensible cause whatever, save the offence of openly publishing his\nofficial refusal of a grant of Crown lands to the Jesuits,--the Holy\nFather, the Evangelist and Infallible Apostle enthroned in St. Peter\u2019s\nChair, launched against the King who had dared to deny his wish\nand oppose his will, the once terrible, but now futile ban of\nexcommunication; and the Royal son of the Church who had honestly\nconsidered the good of his people more than the advancement of\npriestcraft, stood outside the sacred pale,--barred by a so-called\n\u2018Christian\u2019 creed, from the mercy of God and the hope of Heaven.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\n\u201cONE WAY,--ONE WOMAN!\u201d\n\n\nFor several days after the foregoing events, the editors and proprietors\nof newspapers had more than enough \u2018copy\u2019 to keep them busy. The narrow\nescape of the King from assassination, followed by his excommunication\nfrom the Church, worked a curious effect on the minds of the populace,\nwho were somewhat bewildered and uncertain as to the possible\nundercurrent of political meaning flowing beneath the conjunction\nof these two events; and their feelings were intensified by the\nannouncement that the youth who had attempted the monarch\u2019s life,--being\nproved as suffering from hereditary brain disease,--had received a free\npardon, and was placed in a suitable home for the treatment of such\ncases, under careful restraint and medical supervision. The tide of\npopular opinion was now divided into two ways,--for, and against their\nSovereign-ruler. By far the larger half were against;--but the ban\npronounced upon him by the Pope had the effect of making even this\ndisaffected portion inclined to consider him more favourably,--seeing\nthat the Church\u2019s punishment had fallen upon him, apparently because\nhe had done his duty, as a king, by granting the earnest petitions of\nthousands of his subjects. David Jost, who had always made a point of\nflattering Royalty in all its forms, now let his pen go with a complete\npassion of toadyism, such as disgraced certain writers in Great Britain\nduring the reigns of the pernicious and vicious Georges,--and, seeing\nthe continued success of the rival journal which the King had personally\nfavoured, he trimmed his sails to the Court breeze, and dropped the\nChurch party as though it had burned his fingers. But he found various\nchannels on which he had previously relied for information, rigorously\nclosed to him. He had written many times to the Marquis de Lutera to ask\nif the report of his having sent in his resignation was correct,--but\nhe had received no answer. He had called over and over again on Carl\nP\u00e9rousse, hoping to obtain a few minutes\u2019 conversation with him, but had\nbeen denied an interview. Cogitating upon these changes,--which\nimported much,--and wishing over and over again that he had been born an\nEnglishman, so that by the insidious flattery of Royalty he might obtain\na peerage,--as a certain Jew associate of his concerned in the same\nbusiness in London, had recently succeeded in doing,--he decided that\nthe wisest course to follow was to continue to \u2018butter\u2019 the King;--hence\nhe laid it on with a thick brush, wherever the grease of hypocrisy could\nshow off best. But work as he would, the \u2018shares\u2019 in his journalistic\nconcerns were steadily going down,--none of his numerous magazines or\n\u2018half-penny rags,\u2019 paid so well as they had hitherto done; while the one\npaper which had lately been so prominently used by the King, continued\nto prosper, the public having now learned to accept with avidity and\neagerness the brilliant articles which bore the signature of Pasquin\nLeroy, as though they were somewhat of a new political gospel. The charm\nof mystery intensified this new writer\u2019s reputation. He was never seen\nin \u2018fashionable\u2019 society,--no \u2018fashionable\u2019 person appeared to know\nhim,--and the general impression was that he resided altogether out of\nthe country. Only the members of the Revolutionary Committee were aware\nthat he was one of them, and recognised his work as part of the carrying\nout of his sworn bond. He had grown to be almost the right hand of\nSergius Thord; wherever Thord sought supporters, he helped to obtain\nthem,--wherever the sick and needy, the desolate and distressed,\nrequired aid, he somehow managed to secure it,--and next to Thord,--and\nof course Lotys,--he was the idol of the Socialist centre. He never\nspoke in public,--he seldom appeared at mass meetings; but his influence\nwas always felt; and he made himself and his work almost a necessity\nto the Cause. The action of Lotys in saving the life of the King, had\ncreated considerable discussion among the Revolutionists, not unmixed\nwith anger. When she first appeared among them after the incident, with\nher arm in a sling, she was greeted with mingled cheers and groans, to\nneither of which she paid the slightest attention. She took her seat\nat the head of the Committee table as usual, with her customary\nindifference and grace, and appeared deaf to the conflicting murmurs\naround her,--till, as they grew louder and more complaining and\ninsistent, she raised her head and sent the lightning flash of her blue\neyes down the double line of men with a sweeping scorn that instantly\nsilenced them.\n\n\u201cWhat do you seek from me?\u201d she demanded;--\u201cWhy do you clamour like\nbabes for something you cannot get,--my obedience?\u201d\n\nThey looked shamefacedly at one another,--then at Sergius Thord and\nPasquin Leroy, who sat side by side at the lower end of the table. Max\nGraub and Axel Regor, Leroy\u2019s two comrades, were for once absent; but\nthey had sent suitable and satisfactory excuses. Thord\u2019s brows were\nheavy and lowering,--his eyes were wild and unrestful, and his attitude\nand expression were such as caused Leroy to watch him with a little more\nthan his usual close attention. Seeing that his companions expected him\nto answer Lotys before them all, he spoke with evident effort.\n\n\u201cYou make a difficult demand upon us, Lotys,\u201d he said slowly, \u201cif\nyou wish us to explain the stormy nature of our greeting to you this\nevening. You might surely have understood it without a question! For\nwe are compelled to blame you;--you who have never till now deserved\nblame,--for the folly of your action in exposing your own life to save\nthat of the King! The one is valuable to us--the other is nothing to\nus! Besides, you have trespassed against the Seventh Rule of our\nOrder--which solemnly pledges us to \u2018destroy the present monarchy\u2019!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Lotys, \u201cAnd is it part of the oath that the monarchy should\nbe destroyed by murder without warning? You know it is not! You know\nthat there is nothing more dastardly, more cowardly, more utterly\nloathsome and contemptible than to kill a man defenceless and unarmed!\nWe speak of a Monarchy, not a King;--not one single individual,--for if\nhe were killed, he has three sons to come after him. You have called me\nthe Soul of an Ideal--good! But I am not, and will not be the Soul of a\nMurder-Committee!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell spoken!\u201d said Johan Zegota, looking up from some papers which he,\nas secretary to the Society, had been docketing for the convenience of\nThord\u2019s perusal; \u201cBut do not forget, brave Lotys, that the very next\nmeeting we hold is the annual one, in which we draw lots for the \u2018happy\ndispatch\u2019 of traitors and false rulers; and that this year the name of\nthe King is among them!\u201d\n\nLotys grew a shade paler, but she replied at once and dauntlessly.\n\n\u201cI do not forget it! But if lots are cast and traitors doomed,--it is\npart of our procedure to give any such doomed man six months\u2019 steady and\nrepeated warning, that he may have time to repent of his mistakes and\nremedy them, so that haply he may still be spared;--and also that he\nmay take heed to arm himself, that he do not die defenceless. Had I not\nsaved the King, his death would have been set down to us, and our work!\nAny one of you might have been accused of influencing the crazy boy who\nattempted the deed,--and it is quite possible our meetings would have\nbeen suppressed, and all our work fatally hindered,--if not entirely\nstopped. Foolish children! You should thank me, not blame me!--but\nyou are blind children all, and cannot even see where you have been\nfaithfully served by your faithfullest friend!\u201d\n\nAt these words a new light appeared to break on the minds of all\npresent--a light that was reflected in their eager and animated faces.\nThe knotted line of Thord\u2019s brooding brows smoothed itself gradually\naway.\n\n\u201cWas that indeed your thought, Lotys,\u201d he asked gently, almost\ntenderly--\u201cWas it for our sakes and for us alone, that you saved the\nKing?\u201d\n\nAt that instant Pasquin Leroy turned his eyes, which till now had been\nintent on watching Thord, to the other end of the table where the fine,\ncompact woman\u2019s head, framed in its autumn-gold hair, was silhouetted\nagainst the dark background of the wall behind her like a cameo. His\ngaze met hers,--and a vague look of fear and pain flashed over her face,\nas a faint touch of colour reddened her cheeks.\n\n\u201cI am not accustomed to repeat my words, Sergius Thord!\u201d she answered\ncoldly; \u201cI have said my say!\u201d\n\nLooks were exchanged, and there was a silence.\n\n\u201cIf we doubt Lotys, we doubt the very spirit of ourselves!\u201d said Pasquin\nLeroy, his rich voice thrilling with unwonted emotion; \u201cSergius--and\ncomrades all! If you will hear me, and believe me,--you may take my word\nfor it, she has run the risk of death for Us!--and has saved Us from\nfalse accusation, and Government interference! To wrong Lotys by so much\nas a thought, is to wrong the truest woman God ever made!\u201d\n\nA wild shout answered him,--and moved by one impulse, the whole body of\nmen rose to their feet and drank \u201cto the health and honour of Lotys!\u201d\n with acclamation, many of them afterwards coming round to where she sat,\nand kneeling to kiss her hand and ask her pardon for their momentary\ndoubt of her, in the excitement and enthusiasm of their souls. But Lotys\nherself sat very silent,--almost as silent as Sergius Thord, who, though\nhe drank the toast, remained moody and abstracted.\n\nWhen the company dispersed that night, each man present was carefully\nreminded by the secretary, Johan Zegota, that unless the most serious\nillness or misfortune intervened, every one must attend the next\nmeeting, as it was the yearly \u201cDay of Fate.\u201d Pasquin Leroy was told\nthat his two friends, Max Graub and Axel Regor must be with him, and he\nwillingly made himself surety for their attendance.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said he, as he gave the promise, \u201cwhat is the Day of Fate?\u201d\n\nJohan Zegota pointed a thin finger delicately at his heart.\n\n\u201cThe Day of Fate,\u201d he said, \u201cis the day of punishment,--or Decision\nof Deaths. The names of several persons who have been found guilty of\ntreachery,--or who otherwise do injury to the people by the manner of\ntheir life and conduct, are written down on slips of paper, which are\nfolded up and put in one receptacle, together with two or three hundred\nblanks. They must be all men\u2019s names,--we never make war on women.\nAgainst some of these names,--a Red Cross is placed. Whosoever draws a\nname, and finds the red cross against it, is bound to kill, within six\nmonths after due warning, the man therein mentioned. If he fortunately\ndraws a blank then he is free for a year at least,--in spite of the\nfatal sign,--from the unpleasant duty of despatching a fellow mortal\nto the next world\u201d--and here Zegota smiled quite cheerfully; \u201cBut if he\ndraws a Name,--and at the same time sees the red cross against it, then\nhe is bound by his oath to us to--_do his duty_!\u201d\n\nLeroy nodded, and appeared in no wise dismayed at the ominous suggestion\nimplied.\n\n\u201cHow if our friend Zouche were to draw the fatal sign,\u201d he said; \u201cWould\nhe perform his allotted task, think you?\u201d\n\n\u201cMost thoroughly!\u201d replied Zegota, still smiling.\n\nAnd with that, they separated.\n\nMeanwhile, during the constant change and interchange of conflicting\nrumours, some of which appeared to have foundation in fact, and others\nwhich rapidly dispersed themselves as fiction, there could be no doubt\nwhatever of the growing unpopularity of the Government in power. Little\nby little, drop by drop, there oozed out the secrets of the \u201cP\u00e9rousse\nPolicy,\u201d which was merely another name for P\u00e9rousse Self-aggrandisement.\nLittle by little, certain facts were at first whispered, and then more\nloudly talked about, as to the nature of his financial speculations; and\nit was soon openly stated that in the formation of some of the larger\ncompanies, which were beginning to be run on the Gargantuan lines of the\n\u201cAmerican Trust\u201d idea, he had enormous shares,--though these \u201cTrusts\u201d\n had been frequently denounced as a means of enslaving the country,\nand ruining certain trade-interests which he was in office to protect.\nAccusations began to be guardedly thrown out against him in the Senate,\nwhich he parried off with the cool and audacious skill of an expert\nfencer, knowing that for the immediate moment at least, he had a\n\u201cmajority\u201d under his thumb. This majority was composed of persons who\nhad unfortunately become involved in his toils, and were, therefore,\nnaturally afraid of him;--yet it was evident, even to a superficial\nstudent of events, that if once the innuendoes against his probity as a\nstatesman could be veraciously proved, this sense of intimidation\namong his supporters would be removed, and like the props set against\na decaying house, their withdrawal would result in the ruin of the\nbuilding. It was pretty well known that the Marquis de Lutera had sent\nin his resignation, but it was not at all certain whether the King was\nof a mind to accept it.\n\nThings were in abeyance,--political and social matters whirled giddily\ntowards chaos and confusion; and the numerous hurried Cabinet Councils\nthat were convened, boded some perturbation among the governing heads of\nthe State. From each and all of these meetings Ministers came away more\ngloomy and despondent in manner,--some shook their heads sorrowfully and\nspoke of \u201cthe King\u2019s folly,\u201d--others with considerable indignation flung\nout sudden invectives against \u201cthe King\u2019s insolence!\u201d--and between the\ntwo appellations, it was not easy to measure exactly the nature of the\nconduct which had deserved them. For the King himself made no alteration\nwhatever in the outward character of his daily routine; he transacted\nbusiness in the morning, lunched, sometimes with his family, sometimes\nwith friends; drove in the afternoon, and showed himself punctiliously\nat different theatres once or twice in the evenings of the week. The\nonly change more observant persons began to notice in his conduct was,\nthat he had drawn the line of demarcation very strongly between those\npersons who by rank and worth, and nobility of life, merited his\nattention, and those who by mere Push and Pocket, sought to win his\nfavour by that servile flattery and obsequiousness which are the\ntrademarks of the plebeian and vulgarian. Quietly but firmly, he dropped\nthe acquaintance of Jew sharks, lying in wait among the dirty pools of\nspeculation;--with ease and absoluteness he \u2018let go\u2019 one by one, certain\nladies of particularly elastic virtue, who fondly dreamed that they\n\u2018managed\u2019 him; and among these, to her infinite rage and despair, went\nMadame Vantine, wife of Vantine the winegrower, a yellow-haired,\nsensual \u201c_femelle d\u2019homme_,\u201d whose extravagance in clothes, and reckless\nindecency in conversation, combined with the King\u2019s amused notice, and\nthe super-excellence of her husband\u2019s wines, had for a brief period made\nher \u2018the rage\u2019 among a certain set of exceedingly dissolute individuals.\n\nIn place of this kind of riff-raff of \u201c_nouveaux riches_,\u201d and\nplutocrats, he began by degrees to form around himself a totally\ndifferent _entourage_,--though he was careful to make his various\nchanges slowly, so that they should not be too freely noticed and\ncommented upon. Great nobles, whether possessed of vast wealth and\nestates, or altogether landless, were summoned to take their rightful\npositions at the Court, where Vantine the wine-grower, and Jost the Jew,\nno more obtained admittance;--men of science, letters and learning,\nwere sought out and honoured in various ways, their wives and daughters\nreceiving special marks of the Royal attention and favour; and round the\nicy and statuesque beauty of the Queen soon gathered a brilliant bevy\nof the real world of women, not the half-world of the \u2018_femme galante_\u2019\nwhich having long held sway over the Crown Prince while Heir-Apparent\nto the Throne, judged itself almost as a necessary, and even becoming,\nappendage to his larger responsibility and state as King. These\nexcellent changes, beneficial and elevating to the social atmosphere\ngenerally, could not of course be effected without considerable trouble\nand heart-burning, in the directions where certain persons had received\ntheir dismissal from such favour as they had previously held at Court.\nThe dismissed ones thirsted with a desire for vengeance, and took every\nopportunity to inflame the passions of their own particular set against\nthe King, some of them openly declaring their readiness to side with the\nRevolutionary party, and help it to power. But over the seething volcano\nof discontent, the tide of fashion moved as usual, to all outward\nappearances tranquil, and absorbed in trivialities of the latest\ndescription; and though many talked, few dreamed that the mind of the\ncountry, growing more compressed in thought, and inflammable in nature\nevery day, was rapidly becoming like a huge magazine of gunpowder\nor dynamite, which at a spark would explode into that periodically\nrecurring fire-of-cleansing called Revolution.\n\nWeighted with many thoughts, Sir Roger de Launay, whose taciturn and\neasy temperament disinclined him for argument and kept him aloof from\ndiscussion whenever he could avoid it, sat alone one evening in his own\nroom which adjoined the King\u2019s library, writing a few special letters\nfor his Majesty which were of too friendly a nature to be dealt with in\nthe curt official manner of the private secretary. Once or twice he\nhad risen and drawn aside the dividing curtain between himself and the\nKing\u2019s apartment to see if his Royal master had entered; but the room\nremained empty, though it was long past eleven at night. He looked\nevery now and again at a small clock which ticked with a quick intrusive\ncheerfulness on his desk,--then with a slight sigh resumed his work.\nLetter after letter was written and sealed, and he was getting to the\nend of his correspondence, when a tap at the door disturbed him, and his\nsister Teresa, the Queen\u2019s lady-in-waiting, entered.\n\n\u201cIs the King within?\u201d she asked softly, moving almost on tiptoe as she\ncame.\n\nSir Roger shook his head.\n\n\u201cHe has been absent for some time,\u201d he replied,--then after a\npause--\u201cBut what are you here for, Teresa? This is not your department!\u201d\n and he took her hand kindly, noticing with some concern that there were\ntears in her large dark eyes;--\u201cIs anything wrong?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing! That is,--nothing that I have any right to imagine--or to\nguess. But--\u201d and here she seemed a little confused--\u201cI am commanded\nby the Queen to summon you to her presence if,--if the King has not\nreturned!\u201d\n\nHe rose at once, looking perplexed. Teresa watched him anxiously, and\nthe expression of his face did not tend to reassure her.\n\n\u201cRoger,\u201d she began timidly--\u201cWould you not tell me,--might I not know\nsomething of this mystery? Might I not be trusted?\u201d\n\nHis languid eyes flashed with a sudden tenderness, as from his great and\nstately height he looked down upon her pretty shrinking figure.\n\n\u201cPoor little Teresa!\u201d he murmured playfully; \u201cWhat is the matter? What\nmystery are you talking about?\u201d\n\n\u201c_You_ know--you must know!\u201d answered Teresa, clasping her hands with\na gesture of entreaty; \u201cThere is something wrong, I am sure! Why is the\nKing so often absent--when all the household suppose him to be with\nthe Queen?--or in his private library there?\u201d and she pointed to the\ncurtained-off Royal sanctum beyond.\n\n\u201cWhy does the Queen herself give it out that he is with her, when he\nis not? Why does he enter the Queen\u2019s corridor sometimes quite late at\nnight by the private battlement-stair? Does it not seem very strange?\nAnd since he was so nearly assassinated, his absences have been more\nfrequent than ever!\u201d\n\nSir Roger pulled his long fair moustache meditatively between his\nfingers.\n\n\u201cWhen you were a little girl, Teresa, you must have been told the story\nof Blue-beard;\u201d he said; \u201cNow take my advice!--and do not try to open\nforbidden doors with your tiny golden key of curiosity!\u201d\n\nTeresa\u2019s cheeks flushed a pretty rose pink.\n\n\u201cI am not curious;\u201d she said, with an air of hauteur; \u201cAnd indeed I am\nfar too loyal to say anything to anyone but to you, of what seems so\nnew and strange. Besides--the Queen has forbidden me--only it is just\nbecause of the Queen--\u201d here she stopped hesitatingly.\n\n\u201cBecause of the Queen?\u201d echoed Sir Roger; \u201cWhy?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is unhappy!\u201d said Teresa.\n\nA smile,--somewhat bitter,--crossed De Launay\u2019s face.\n\n\u201cUnhappy!\u201d he repeated; \u201cShe! You mistake her, little girl! She does\nnot know what it is to be unhappy; nothing so weak and slight as\npoor humanity affects the shining iceberg of her soul! For it _is_ an\niceberg, Teresa! The sun shines on it all day, fierce and hot, and never\nmoves or melts one glittering particle!\u201d\n\nHe spoke with a concentrated passion of melancholy, and Teresa trembled\na little. She knew, as no one else did, the intense and despairing\nlove that had corroded her brother\u2019s life ever since the Queen had been\nbrought home to the kingdom in all her exquisite maiden beauty, as bride\nof the Heir-Apparent. Such love terrified her; she did not understand\nit. She knew it was hopeless,--she felt it was disloyal,--and yet--it\nwas love!--and her brother was one of the truest and noblest of\ngentlemen, devoted to the King\u2019s service, and incapable of a mean or a\ntreacherous act. The position was quite incomprehensible to her, for she\nwas not thoughtful enough to analyse it,--and she had no experience of\nthe tender passion herself, to aid her in sympathetically considering\nits many moods, sorrows, and inexplicable martyrdoms of mind-torture.\nShe contented herself now with repeating her former assertion.\n\n\u201cShe is unhappy,--I am sure she is! You may call her an iceberg, if you\nlike, Roger!--men have such odd names for the women they are unable to\nunderstand! But I have seen the iceberg shed tears very often lately!\u201d\n\nHe looked at her, surprised.\n\n\u201cYou have? Then we may expect the Pallas Athene to weep in marble? Well!\nWhat did you say, Teresa? That her Majesty commanded my presence, if the\nKing had not returned?\u201d\n\nTeresa nodded assent. She was a little worried--her brother\u2019s face\nlooked worn and pale, and he seemed moved beyond himself. She watched\nhim nervously as he pushed aside the dividing curtain, and looked into\nthe adjoining room. It was still vacant. The window stood open, and the\nline of the sea, glittering in the moon, shone far off like a string\nof jewels,--while the perfume of heliotrope and lilies came floating in\ndeliciously on the cool night-breeze. Satisfied that there was as yet no\nsign of his Royal master, he turned back again,--and stooping his tall\nhead, kissed the charming girl, whose anxious and timid looks betrayed\nher inward anxiety.\n\n\u201cI am ready, Teresa!\u201d he said cheerfully; \u201cLead the way!\u201d\n\nShe glided quickly on before him, along an inner passage leading to\nthe Queen\u2019s apartments. Arriving at one particular door, she opened\nit noiselessly, and with a warning finger laid on her lips, went in\nsoftly,--Sir Roger following. The light of rose-shaded waxen tapers\nwhich were reflected a dozen times in the silver-framed mirrors that\nrose up to the ceiling from banks of flowers below, shed a fairy-like\nradiance on the figure of the Queen, who, seated at a reading-table,\nwith one hand buried in the loosened waves of her hair, seemed absorbed\nin the close study of a book. A straight white robe of thick creamy\nsatin flowed round her perfect form,--it was slightly open at the\nthroat, and softened with a drifting snow of lace, in which one or two\ngreat jewels sparkled. As Sir Roger approached her with his usual formal\nsalute,--she turned swiftly round with an air of scarcely-concealed\nimpatience.\n\n\u201cWhere is the King?\u201d she demanded.\n\nStartled at the sudden peremptory manner of her question, Sir Roger\nhesitated,--for the moment taken quite aback.\n\n\u201cDid I not tell you,\u201d she went on, in the same imperious tone; \u201cthat I\nmade you responsible for his safety? Yet--though you were by his side\nat the time--you could not shield him from attempted assassination! That\nwas left,--to a woman!\u201d\n\nHer breast heaved--her eyes flashed glorious lightning,--she looked\naltogether transformed.\n\nHad a thunder-bolt fallen through the painted ceiling at Sir Roger\u2019s\nfeet, he could scarcely have been more astounded.\n\n\u201cMadam!\u201d he stammered,--and then as the light of her eyes swept over\nhim, with a concentration of scorn and passion such as he had never seen\nin them, he grew deadly pale.\n\n\u201cWho, and what is this woman?\u201d she went on; \u201cWhy was it given to _her_\nto save the King\u2019s life, while you stood by? Why was she brought to the\nPalace to be attended like some princess,--and then taken away secretly\nbefore I could see her? Lotys is her name--I know it by heart!\u201d\n\nLike twinkling stars, the jewels in her lace scintillated with the quick\npanting of her breath.\n\n\u201cThe King is absent,\u201d--she continued--\u201cas usual;--but why are you not\nwith him, also as usual? Answer me!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam,\u201d said De Launay, slowly; \u201cFor some few days past his Majesty has\nabsolutely forbidden me to attend him. To carry out _your_ commands I\nshould be forced to disobey _his_!\u201d\n\nShe looked at him in a suppressed passion of enquiry.\n\n\u201cThen--is he alone?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cMadam, I regret to say--he is quite alone!\u201d\n\nShe rose, and paced once up and down the room, a superb figure of\nmingled rage and pride, and humiliation, all comingled. Her eyes lighted\non Teresa, who had timorously withdrawn to a corner of the apartment\nwhere she stood apparently busied in arranging some blossoms that had\nfallen too far out of the crystal vase in which they were set.\n\n\u201cTeresa, you can leave us!\u201d she said suddenly; \u201cI will speak to Sir\nRoger alone.\u201d\n\nWith a nervous glance at her brother, who stood mute, his head slightly\nbent, himself immovable as a figure of stone, Teresa curtseyed and\nwithdrew.\n\nThe Queen stood haughtily erect,--her white robes trailing around\nher,--her exquisite face transfigured into a far grander beauty than had\never been seen upon it, by some pent-up emotion which to Sir Roger was\nwell-nigh inexplicable. His heart beat thickly; he could almost hear its\nheavy pulsations, and he kept his eyes lowered, lest she should read too\nclearly in them the adoration of a lifetime.\n\n\u201cSir Roger, speak plainly,\u201d she said, \u201cand speak the truth! Some little\ntime ago you said it was wrong for me to shut out from my sight, my\nheart, my soul, the ugly side of Nature. I have remedied that fault! I\nam looking at the ugly side of Nature now,--in myself! The rebellious\nside--the passionate, fierce, betrayed side! I trusted you with the\nsafety of the King!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam, he _is_ safe!\u201d said Sir Roger quietly;--\u201cI can guarantee upon my\nlife that he is with those who will defend him far more thoroughly than\nI could ever do! It is better to have a hundred protectors than one!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I know what you would imply!\u201d she answered, impatiently; \u201cI\nunderstand, thus far, from what he himself has told me. But--there is\nsomething else, something else! Something that portends far closer and\nmore intimate danger to him--\u201d\n\nShe paused, apparently uncertain how to go on, and moving back to her\nchair, sat down.\n\n\u201cIf you are the man I have imagined you to be,\u201d she continued, in\ndeliberate accents; \u201cYou perfectly know--you perfectly understand what I\nmean!\u201d\n\nSir Roger raised his head and looked her bravely in the eyes.\n\n\u201cYou would imply, Madam, that one, who like myself has been conscious of\na great passion for many years, should be able to recognise the signs of\nit in others! Your Majesty is right! Once you expressed to me a wonder\nas to what it was like \u2018to feel.\u2019 If that experience has come to you\nnow, I cannot but rejoice,--even while I grieve to think that you must\nendure pain at the discovery. Yet it is only from the pierced earth\nthat the flowers can bloom,--and it may be you will have more mercy for\nothers, when you yourself are wounded!\u201d\n\nShe was silent.\n\nHe drew a step nearer.\n\n\u201cYou wish me to speak plainly?\u201d he continued in a lower tone. \u201cYou give\nme leave to express the lurking thought which is in your own heart?\u201d\n\nShe gave a slight inclination of her head, and he went on.\n\n\u201cYou assume danger for the King,--but not danger from the knife of the\nassassin--or from the schemes of revolutionists! You judge him--as\nI do--to be in the grasp of the greatest Force which exists in the\nuniverse! The force against which there is, and can be no opposition!--a\nforce, which if it once binds even a king--makes of him a life-prisoner,\nand turns mere \u2018temporal power\u2019 to nothingness; upsetting thrones,\ndestroying kingdoms, and beating down the very Church itself in the way\nof its desires--and that force is--Love!\u201d\n\nShe started violently,--then controlled herself.\n\n\u201cYou waste your eloquence!\u201d she said coldly; \u201cWhat you speak of, I do\nnot understand. I do not believe in Love!\u201d\n\n\u201cOr jealousy?\u201d\n\nThe words sprang from his lips almost unconsciously, and like a\nmagnificent animal who has been suddenly stung, she sprang upright.\n\n\u201cHow dare you!\u201d she said in low, vibrating accents--\u201cHow dare you!\u201d\n\nSir Roger\u2019s breath came quick and fast,--but he was a strong man with a\nstrong will, and he maintained his attitude of quiet resolution.\n\n\u201cMadam!--My Queen!--forgive me!\u201d he said; \u201cBut as your humblest\nfriend--your faithful servant!--let me have my say with you now--and\nthen--if you will--condemn me to perpetual silence! You despise Love,\nyou say! Yes--because you have only seen its poor imitations! The King\u2019s\nlight gallantries,--his sins of body, which in many cases are not sins\nof mind, have disgusted you with its very name! The King has loved--or\ncan love--so you think,--many, or any, women! Ah! No--no! Pardon me,\ndearest Majesty! A man\u2019s desire may lead him through devious ways both\nvile and vicious,--but a man\u2019s _love_ leads only one way to one woman!\nBelieve it! For even so, I have loved one woman these many years!--and\neven so--I greatly fear--the King loves one woman now!\u201d\n\nRigid as a figure of marble, she looked at him. He met her eyes calmly.\n\n\u201cYour Majesty asked me for the truth;\u201d he said; \u201cI have spoken it!\u201d\n\nHer lips parted in a cold, strained little smile.\n\n\u201cAnd--you--think,\u201d she said slowly; \u201cthat I--I am what you call\n\u2018jealous\u2019 of this \u2018one woman\u2019? Had jealousy been in my nature, it would\nhave been provoked sufficiently often since my marriage!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam,\u201d responded Sir Roger humbly; \u201cIf I may dare to say so to your\nMajesty, it is not possible to a noble woman to be jealous of a man\u2019s\nmere humours of desire! But of Love--Love, the crown, the glory and\nsupremacy of life,--who, with a human heart and human blood, would not\nbe jealous? Who would not give kingdoms, thrones, ay, Heaven itself, if\nit were not in itself Heaven, for its rapturous oblivion of sorrow, and\nits full measure of joy!\u201d\n\nA dead silence fell between them, only disturbed by a small silver chime\nin the distance, striking midnight.\n\nThe Queen again seated herself, and drew her book towards her. Then\nraising her lovely unfathomable eyes, she looked at the tall stately\nfigure of the man before her with a slight touch of pity and pathos.\n\n\u201cPossibly you may be right,\u201d she said slowly, \u201cPossibly wrong! But I\ndo not doubt that you yourself personally \u2018feel\u2019 all that you\nexpress,--and--that you are faithful!\u201d\n\nHere she extended her hand. Sir Roger bowed low over it, and kissed its\ndelicate smoothness with careful coldness. As she withdrew it again, she\nsaid in a low dreamy, half questioning tone:\n\n\u201cThe woman\u2019s name is Lotys?\u201d\n\nSilently Sir Roger bent his head in assent.\n\n\u201cA man\u2019s love leads only one way--to one woman! And in this particular\ncase that woman is--Lotys!\u201d she said, with a little musing scorn, as of\nherself,--\u201cStrange!\u201d\n\nShe laid her hand on the bell which at a touch would summon back her\nlady-in-waiting. \u201cYou have served me well, Sir Roger, albeit somewhat\nroughly----\u201d\n\nHe gave a low exclamation of regret.\n\n\u201cRoughly, Madam?\u201d\n\nA smile, sudden and sweet, which transfigured her usually passionless\nfeatures into an almost angelic loveliness, lit up her mouth and eyes.\n\n\u201cYes--roughly! But no matter! I pardon you freely! Good-night!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-night to your Majesty!\u201d And as he stepped backward from her\npresence, she rang for Teresa, who at once entered.\n\n\u201cOur excommunication from the Church sits lightly upon us, Sir Roger,\ndoes it not?\u201d said the Queen then, almost playfully; \u201cYou must know that\nwe say our prayers as of old, and we still believe God hears us!\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely, Madam,\u201d he replied, \u201cGod must hear all prayers when they are\npure and honest!\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, I think so,\u201d she responded, laying one hand tenderly on Teresa\u2019s\nhair, as the girl caressingly knelt beside her. \u201cAnd--so, despite lack\nof priestcraft,--we shall continue to pray,--in these uncertain and\ndangerous times,--that all may be well for the country,--the people,\nand--the King! Good-night!\u201d\n\nAgain Sir Roger bowed, and this time altogether withdrew. He was strung\nup to a pitch of intense excitement; the brief interview had been a most\ntrying one for him,--though there was a warm glow at his heart, assuring\nhim that he had done well. His suspicion that the King had admired, and\nhad sought out Lotys since the day she saved him from assassination,\nhad a very strong foundation in fact;--much stronger indeed than was\nat present requisite to admit or to declare. But the whole matter was a\nsource of the greatest anxiety to De Launay, who, in his strong love\nfor his Royal master, found it often difficult to conceal his\napprehension,--and who was in a large measure relieved to feel that the\nQueen had guessed something of it, and shared in his sentiments. He now\nre-entered his room, and on doing so at once perceived that the King had\nreturned. But his Majesty was busy writing, and did not raise his head\nfrom his papers, even when Sir Roger noiselessly entered and laid some\nletters on the table. His complete abstraction in his work was a sign\nthat he did not wish to be disturbed or spoken to;--and Sir Roger,\ntaking the hint, retired again in silence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nTHE SONG OF FREEDOM\n\n\nRevolution! The flame-winged Fury that swoops down on a people like\na sudden visitation of God, with the movement of a storm, and the\ndevastation of a plague in one! Who shall say how, or where, the seed\nis sown that springs so swiftly to such thick harvest! Who can trace its\nbeginnings--and who can predict its end! Tragic and terrible as its work\nhas always seemed to the miserable and muddle-headed human units, whose\nfaults and follies, whose dissoluteness and neglect of the highest\ninterests of the people, are chiefly to blame for the birth of this\nMonster, it is nevertheless Divine Law, that, when any part of God\u2019s\nUniverse-House is deliberately made foul by the dwellers in it, then\nmust it be cleansed,--and Revolution is the burning of the rubbish,--the\nhuge bonfire in which old abuses blazon their destruction to an amazed\nand terror-stricken world. Yet there have been moments, or periods, in\nhistory, when the threatening conflagration could have been stayed and\nturned back from its course,--when the useless shedding of blood might\nhave been foregone--when the fierce passions of the people might have\nbeen soothed and pacified, and when Justice might have been nobly done\nand catastrophe averted, if there had been but one brave man,--one\nonly!--and that man a King! But in nearly all the convulsive throes of\nnations, kings have proved themselves the weakest, tamest, most cowardly\nand ineffectual of all the heads of the time--ready and willing enough\nto sacrifice the lives of thousands of brave and devoted men to their\nown cause, but never prepared to sacrifice themselves. Hence the cause\nof the triumph of Democracy over effete Autocracy. Kings may not be\nmore than men,--but, certes, they should never be less. They should not\npractise vices of which the very day-labourer whom they employ, would be\nashamed; nor should they flaunt their love of sensuality and intrigue in\nthe faces of their subjects as a \u2018Royal example\u2019 and distinctive \u2018lead\u2019\nto vulgar licentiousness. The loftier the position, the greater the\nresponsibility;--and a monarch who voluntarily lowers the social\nstandard in his realm has lost more adherents than could possibly be\nslain in his defence on the field of honour.\n\nThe King who plays his part as the hero of this narrative, was now fully\naware in his own mind and conscience of the thousands of opportunities\nhe had missed and wasted on his way to the Throne when Heir-Apparent.\nSince the day of his \u2018real coronation,\u2019 when as he had expressed it\nto his thoughts, he had \u2018crowned himself with his own resolve,\u2019 he had\nstudied men, manners, persons and events, to deep and serious purpose.\nHe had learned much, and discovered more. He had been, in a moral sense,\nconquered by his son, Prince Humphry, who had proved a match for him in\nhis determined and honourable marriage for love, and love only,--though\nborn heir to all the conventions and hypocrisies of a Throne. He,--in\nhis day,--had lacked the courage and truth that this boy had shown.\nAnd now, by certain means known best to himself, he had fathomed an\nintricate network of deception and infamy among the governing heads\nof the State. He had convinced himself in many ways of the unblushing\ndishonesty and fraudulent self-service of Carl P\u00e9rousse. And--yet--with\nall this information stored carefully up in his brain he, to all\nappearances, took no advantage of it, and did nothing remarkable,--save\nthe one act which had been so much talked about--the refusal of land\nin his possession to the Jesuits for a \u2018religious\u2019 (and political)\nsettlement. This independent course of procedure had resulted in his\nexcommunication from the Church. Of his \u2018veto\u2019 against an intended war,\nscarcely anything was known. Only the Government were aware of the part\nhe had taken in that matter,--the Government and--the Money-market! But\nthe time was now ripe for further movement; and in the deep and almost\npassionate interest he had recently learned to take in the affairs of\nthe actual People, he was in no humour for hesitation.\n\nHe had mapped out in his brain a certain plan of action, and he was\ndetermined to go through with it. The more so, as now a new and close\ninterest had incorporated itself with his life,--an emotion so deep\nand tender and overwhelming, that he scarcely dared to own it to\nhimself,--scarcely ventured to believe that he, deprived of true love\nso long, should now be truly loved for himself, at last! But on this he\nseldom allowed his mind to dwell,--except when quite alone,--in the deep\nsilences of night;--when he gave his soul up to the secret sweetness\nwhich had begun to purify and ennoble his innermost nature,--when he saw\nvisioned before him a face,--warm with the passion of a love so grand\nand unselfish that it drew near to a likeness of the Divine;--a love\nthat asked nothing, and gave everything, with the beneficent glory of\nthe sunlight bestowing splendour on the earth. His lonely moments,\nwhich were few, were all the time he devoted to this brooding luxury of\nmeditation, and though his heart beat like a boy\u2019s, and his eyes grew\ndim with tenderness, as in fancy he dreamed of joy that might be, and\nthat yet still more surely might never be his,--his determined mind,\nbraced and bent to action, never faltered for a second in the new\nconceptions he had formed of his duty to his people, who, as he now\nconsidered, had been too long and too cruelly deceived.\n\nHence, something like an earthquake shock sent its tremor through the\ncountry, when two things were suddenly announced without warning, as the\napparent results of the various Cabinet Councils held latterly so often,\nand in such haste. The first was, that not only had his Majesty accepted\nthe resignation of the Marquis de Lutera as Premier, but that he\nhad decided--provided the selection was entirely agreeable to the\nGovernment--to ask M. Carl P\u00e9rousse to form a Ministry in his place. The\nsecond piece of intelligence, and one that was received with much more\nfavour than the first, by all classes and conditions of persons, was\nthat the Government had issued a decree for the complete expulsion of\nthe Jesuits from the country. By a certain named date, and within a\nmonth, every Jesuit must have left the King\u2019s dominions, or else\nmust take the risk of a year\u2019s imprisonment followed by compulsory\nbanishment.\n\nMuch uproar and discussion did this mandate excite among the clerical\nparties of Europe,--much indignation did it breed within that Holy of\nHolies situate at the Vatican,--which, having launched forth the ban of\nexcommunication, had no further thunderbolts left to throw at the\nhead of the recreant and abandoned Royalty whose \u2018temporal power\u2019 so\ninsolently superseded the spiritual. But the country breathed freely;\nrelieved from a dangerous and mischievous incubus. The educational\nauthorities gave fervent thanks to Heaven for sparing them from long\ndreaded interference;--and when it was known that the excommunicated\nKing was the chief mover in this firm and liberating act, a silent wave\nof passionate gratitude and approval ran through the multitudes of\nthe people, who would almost have assembled under the Palace walls\nand offered a grand demonstration to their monarch, who had so boldly\ncarried the war into the enemy\u2019s country and won the victory, had they\nnot been held back and checked from their purpose by the counter-feeling\nof their disgust at his Majesty\u2019s apparently forthcoming choice of Carl\nP\u00e9rousse as Prime Minister.\n\nSwayed this way and that, the people were divided more absolutely than\nbefore into those two sections which always become very dangerous\nwhen strongly marked out as distinctly separated,--the Classes and\nthe Masses. The comfortable wedge of Trade, which,--calling itself the\nMiddle-class,--had up to the present kept things firm, now split asunder\nlikewise,--the wealthy plutocrats clinging willy-nilly to the Classes,\nto whom they did not legitimately belong; and the men of moderate income\nthrowing in their lot with the Masses, whose wrongs they sympathetically\nfelt somewhat resembled their own. For taxation had ground them down\nto that particularly fine powder, which when applied to the rocks of\nconvention and usage, proves to be of a somewhat blasting quality. They\nhad paid as much on their earnings and their goods as they could or\nwould pay;--more indeed than they had any reasonable right to pay,--and\nbeing sick of Government mismanagement, and also of what they still\nregarded as the King\u2019s indifference to their needs, they were prepared\nto make a dash for liberty. The expulsion of the Jesuits they naturally\nlooked upon as a suitable retaliation on Rome for the excommunication of\nthe Royal Family; but beyond the intense relief it gave to all, it could\nnot be considered as affecting or materially altering the political\nsituation. So, like the dividing waves of the Red Sea, which rolled up\non either side to permit the passage of Moses and his followers--the\nClasses and the Masses piled themselves up in opposite billowy sections\nto allow Sergius Thord and the Revolutionary party to pass triumphantly\nthrough their midst, adding thousands of adherents to their forces from\nboth sides;--while they were prepared to let the full weight of the\nbillows engulf the King, if, like Pharaoh and his chariots, he assumed\ntoo much, or proceeded too far.\n\nProfessor von Glauben, seated in his own sanctum, and engaged in the\ncontinuance of his \u201cPolitical History of Hunger,\u201d found many points in\nthe immediate situation which considerably interested him and moved him\nto philosophical meditation.\n\n\u201cFor,--take the feeling of the People as it now is,\u201d he said to himself;\n\u201cIt starts in Hunger! The taxes,--the uncomfortable visit of the\ntax-gatherer! The price of the loaf,--concerning which the baker, or the\nbaker-ess, politely tells the customer that it is costly, because of the\nGovernment tax on corn; then from the bread, it is marvellous how the\nlittle clue winds upward through the spider-webs of Trade. The butcher\u2019s\nmeat is dearer,--for says he--\u2018The tax on corn makes it necessary for me\nto increase the price of meat.\u2019 There is no logical reason given,--the\nfact simply _is_! So that Hunger commences the warfare,--Hunger of Soul,\nas well as Hunger of body. \u2018Why starve my thought?\u2019 says Soul. \u2018Why tax\nmy bread?\u2019 says Body. These tiresome questions continue to be asked,\nand never answered,--but answers are clamoured for, and the people\ncomplain--and then one fierce day the gods hear them grumble, and begin\nto grumble back! Ach! Then it is thunder with a vengeance! Now in my own\nso-beloved Fatherland, there has been this double grumbling for a\nlong time. And that the storm will burst, in spite of the\nso-excellently-advertising Kaiser is evident! Hoch!--or _Ach_? Which\nshould it be to salute the Kaiser! I know not at all,--but I admit it is\nclever of him to put up a special Hoarding-announcement for the private\nview of the Almighty God, each time he addresses his troops! And he will\ncome in for a chapter of my history--for he also is Hungry!--he would\nfain eat a little of the loaf of Britain!--yes!--he will fit into my\nwork very well for the instruction of the helpless unborn generations!\u201d\n\nHe wrote on for a while, and then laid down his pen. His eyes grew\ndreamy, and his rough features softened.\n\n\u201cWhat has become of the child, I wonder!\u201d he mused; \u201cWhere has she\ngone, the \u2018Glory-of-the-Sea\u2019! I would give all I have to look upon her\nbeautiful face again;--and Ronsard--he, poor soul--silent as a stone,\nweakening day after day in the grasp of relentless age,--would die\nhappy,--if I would let him! But I do not intend to give him that\nsatisfaction. He shall live! As I often tell him, my science is of no\navail if I cannot keep a man going, till at least a hundred and odd\nyears are past. Barring accidents, or self-slaughter, of course!\u201d Here\nhe became somewhat abstracted in his meditations. \u201cThe old fellow is\nbrave enough,--brave as a lion, and strong too for his years;--I have\nseen him handle a pair of oars and take down a sail as I could never do\nit,--and--he has accepted a strange and difficult situation heroically.\n\u2018You must not be involved in any trouble by a knowledge of our\nmovements.\u2019 So Prince Humphry said, when I saw him last,--though I did\nnot then understand the real drift of his meaning. And time goes on--and\ntime seems wearisome without any tidings of those we love!\u201d\n\nA tap at the door disturbed his mental soliloquy, and in answer to his\n\u2018Come in,\u2019 Sir Roger de Launay entered.\n\n\u201cSorry to interrupt work, Professor!\u201d he said briefly; \u201cThe King goes to\nthe Opera this evening, and desires you to be of the party.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood! I shall obey with more pleasure than I have obeyed some of his\nMajesty\u2019s recent instructions!\u201d And the Professor pushed aside his\nmanuscript to look through his spectacled eyes at the tall equerry\u2019s\nhandsome face and figure. \u201cYou have a healthy appearance, Roger! Your\ncomplexion speaks of an admirable digestion!\u201d\n\nDe Launay smiled.\n\n\u201cYou think so? Well! Your professional approval is worth having!\u201d He\npaused, then went on; \u201cThe party will be a pleasant one to-night. The\nKing is in high spirits.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d And Von Glauben\u2019s monosyllable spoke volumes.\n\n\u201cPerhaps he ought not to be?\u201d suggested Sir Roger with a slight touch of\nanxiety.\n\n\u201cI do not know--I cannot tell! This is the way of it, Roger--see!\u201d And\ntaking off his spectacles, he polished them with due solemnity. \u201cIf\nI were a King, and ruled over a country swarming with dissatisfied\nsubjects,--if I had a fox for a Premier,--and was in love with a woman\nwho could not possibly be my wife,--I should not be in high spirits!\u201d\n\n\u201cNor I!\u201d said De Launay curtly. \u201cBut the fox is not Premier yet. Do you\nthink he ever will be?\u201d\n\nVon Glauben shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\u201cHe is bound to be, I presume. What else remains to do? Upset\neverything? Government, deputies and all?\u201d\n\n\u201cJust that!\u201d responded Sir Roger. \u201cThe People will do it, if the King\ndoes not.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King will do anything he is asked to do--now--\u201d said the Professor\nsignificantly; \u201cIf the right person asks him!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget--she does not know--\u201d Here checking himself abruptly, Sir\nRoger walked to the window and looked out. It was a fair and peaceful\nafternoon,--the ocean heaved placidly, covered with innumerable\nwavelets, over which the seabirds flew and darted, their wings shining\nlike silver and diamonds as they dipped and circled up and down and\nround the edges of the rocky coast. Far off, a faint rim of amethyst\nunder a slowly sailing white cloud could be recognized as the first line\nof the shore of The Islands.\n\n\u201cDo you ever go and see the beautiful \u2018Gloria\u2019 girl now?\u201d asked Sir\nRoger suddenly. \u201cThe King has never mentioned her since the day we saw\nher. And you have never explained the mystery of your acquaintance with\nher,--nor whether it is true that Prince Humphry was specially attracted\nby her. I shrewdly suspect----\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat he has been sent off, out of harm\u2019s way!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right,\u201d said the Professor gravely; \u201cThat is exactly the\nposition! He has been sent off out of harm\u2019s way!\u201d\n\n\u201cI heard,\u201d went on De Launay, \u201cthat the girl--or some girl of remarkable\nbeauty had been seen here--actually here in the Palace--before the\nPrince left! And such an odd way he left, too--scuttling off in his\nown yacht without--so far as I have ever heard--any farewells, or\npreparation, or suitable companions to go with him. Still one hears such\nextraordinary stories----\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue!--one does!\u201d agreed the Professor; \u201cAnd after proper experience,\none hears without listening!\u201d\n\nDe Launay looked at him curiously.\n\n\u201cThe girl was certainly beautiful,\u201d he proceeded meditatively; \u201cAnd her\nadopted father,--R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard,--was not that his name?--was a quaint\nold fellow. A republican, too!--fiery as a new Danton! Well! The King\u2019s\ncuriosity is apparently satisfied on that score,--but\u201d--here he began to\nlaugh--\u201cI shall never forget your face, Von Glauben, when he caught you\non The Islands that day!--never! Like an overgrown boy, discovered with\nhis fingers in a jam-pot!\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you!\u201d said the Professor imperturbably; \u201cI can assure you that\nthe jam was excellent--and that I still remember its flavour!\u201d\n\nSir Roger laughed again, but with great good-humour,--then he became\nsuddenly serious.\n\n\u201cThe King goes out alone very often now?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cVery often,\u201d assented the Professor.\n\n\u201cAre we right in allowing him to do so?\u201d\n\n\u201cAllowing him! Who is to forbid him?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he safe, do you think?\u201d\n\n\u201cSafer, it would seem, my friend, than when laying a foundation-stone,\nwith ourselves and all his suite around him!\u201d responded the Professor.\n\u201cBesides, it is too late now to count the possible risks of the\nadventure he has entered upon. He knows the position, and estimates\nthe cost at its correct value. He has made himself the ruler of his own\ndestiny; we are only his servants. Personally, I have no fear,--save of\none fatality.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs what kills many strong men off in their middle-age,\u201d said Von\nGlauben; \u201cA disease for which there is no possible cure at that\nspecial time of life,--Love! The love of boys is like a taste for\ngreen gooseberries,--it soon passes, leaving a disordered stomach and\na general disrelish for acid fruit ever afterwards;--the love of\nthe man-about-town between the twenties and thirties is the love of\nself;--but the love of a Man, after the Self-and-Clothes Period has\npassed, is the love of the full-grown human creature clamouring for its\nmate,--its mate in Soul even more than in Body. There is no gainsaying\nit--no checking it--no pacifying it; it is a most disastrous business,\nprovocative of all manner of evils,--and to a king who has always been\naccustomed to have his own way, it means Victory or Death!\u201d\n\nSir Roger gazed at him perplexedly,--his tone was so solemn and full of\nearnest meaning.\n\n\u201cYou, for example,\u201d continued the Professor dictatorially, fixing his\nkeen piercing eyes full upon him; \u201cYou are a curious subject,--a very\ncurious subject! You live on a Dream; it is a good life--an\nexcellent life! It has the advantage, your Dream, of never becoming a\nreality,--therefore you will always love,--and while you always love,\nyou will always keep young. Your lot is an exceedingly enviable one,\nmy friend! You need not frown,--I am old enough--and let us hope wise\nenough--to guess your secret--to admire it from a purely philosophic\npoint of view--and to respect it!\u201d\n\nSir Roger held his peace.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d continued the Professor, \u201cHis Majesty is not the manner of man\nwho would consent to subsist, like you, on an idle phantasy. If he\nloves--he must possess; it is the regal way!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will never succeed in the direction _you_ mean!\u201d said Sir Roger\nemphatically.\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d agreed Von Glauben with a profound shake of his head; \u201cStrange\nas it may seem, his case is quite as hopeless as yours!\u201d\n\nThe door opened and closed abruptly,--and there followed silence. Von\nGlauben looked up to find himself alone. He smiled tolerantly.\n\n\u201cPoor Roger!\u201d he murmured; \u201cHe lives the life of a martyr by choice!\nSome men do--and like it! They need not do it;--there is not the least\nnecessity in the world for their deliberately sticking a knife into\ntheir hearts and walking about with it in a kind of idiot rapture. It\nmust hurt;--but they seem to enjoy it! Just as some women become nuns,\nand flagellate themselves,--and then when they are writhing from their\nown self-inflicted stripes, they dream they are the \u2018brides of Christ,\u2019\nentirely forgetting the extremely irreligious fact that to have so many\n\u2018brides\u2019 the good Christ Himself might possibly be troubled, and would\nsurely occupy an inconvenient position, even in Heaven! Each man,--each\nwoman,--makes for himself or herself a little groove or pet sorrow, in\nwhich to trot round and round and bemoan life; the secret of the whole\nbemoaning being that he or she cannot have precisely the thing he or she\nwants. That is all! Such a trifle! Church, State, Prayer and Power--it\ncan all be summed up in one line--\u2018I have not the thing I want--give it\nto me!\u2019\u201d\n\nHe resumed his writing, and did not interrupt it again till it was time\nto join the Royal party at the Opera.\n\nThat evening was one destined to be long remembered in the annals of the\nkingdom. The beautiful Opera-house, a marvel of art and architecture,\nwas brilliantly full; all the fairest women and most distinguished men\noccupying the boxes and stalls, while round and round, in a seemingly\nnever-ending galaxy of faces, and crowded in the tiers of balconies\nabove, a mixed audience had gathered, made up of various sections of the\npopulace which filled the space well up to the furthest galleries.\nThe attraction that had drawn so large an audience together was not\ncontained in the magnetic personality of either the King or Queen, for\nthose exalted individuals had only announced their intention of being\npresent just two hours before the curtain rose. Moreover, when their\nMajesties entered the Royal box, accompanied by their two younger\nsons, Rupert and Cyprian, and attended by their personal suite, their\nappearance created very little sensation. The fact that it was the\nfirst time the King had showed himself openly in public since his\nexcommunication from the Church, caused perhaps a couple of hundred\npersons to raise their eyes inquisitively towards him in a kind of\nhalf-morbid, half-languid curiosity, but in these days the sentiment\nof Self is so strong, that it is only a minority of more thoughtful\nindividuals that ever trouble themselves seriously to consider the\nannoyances or griefs which their fellow-mortals have to endure, often\nalone and undefended.\n\nThe interest of the public on this particular occasion was centred in\nthe new Opera, which had only been given three times before, and in\nwhich the little dancer, Pequita, played the part of a child-heroine.\nThe _libretto_ was the work of Paul Zouche, and the music by one of\nthe greatest violinists in the world, Louis Valdor. The plot was slight\nenough;--yet, described in exquisite verse, and scattered throughout\nwith the daintiest songs and dances, it merited a considerably higher\nplace in musical records than such works as Meyerbeer\u2019s \u201cDinorah,\u201d or\nVerdi\u2019s \u201cRigoletto.\u201d The thread on which the pearls of poesy and harmony\nwere strung, was the story of a wandering fiddler, who, accompanied by\nhis only child (the part played by Pequita), travels from city to\ncity earning a scant livelihood by his own playing and his daughter\u2019s\ndancing. Chance or fate leads them to throw in their fortunes with a\nband of enthusiastic adventurers, who, headed by a young hare-brained\npatriot, elected as their leader, have determined to storm the Vatican,\nand demand the person of the Pope, that they may convey him to\nAmerica, there to convene an assemblage of all true Christians (or\n\u2018New Christians\u2019), and found a new and more Christ-like Church. Their\nexpedition fails,--as naturally so wild a scheme would be bound to\ndo,--but though they cannot succeed in capturing the Pope, they secure\na large following of the Italian populace, who join with them in singing\n\u201cThe Song of Freedom,\u201d which, with Paul Zouche\u2019s words, and Valdor\u2019s\nmusic was the great _chef d\u2019oevre_ of the Opera, rousing the listeners\nto a pitch of something like frenzy. In this,--the last great\nscene,--Pequita, dancing the \u2018Dagger Dance,\u2019 is supposed to infect the\npeople with that fervour which moves them to sing \u201cThe Freedom Chorus,\u201d\n and the curtain comes down upon a brilliant stage, crowded with\nenthusiasts and patriots, ready to fight and die for the glory of their\ncountry. A love-interest is given to the piece by the passion of the\nwandering fiddler-hero for a girl whose wealth places her above his\nreach; and who in the end sacrifices all worldly advantage that she may\nshare his uncertain fortunes for love\u2019s sake only.\n\nSuch was the story,--which, wedded to wild and passionate music, had\ntaken the public by storm on its first representation, not only on\naccount of its own merit, but because it gave their new favourite,\nPequita, many opportunities for showing off her exquisite grace as a\ndancer. She, while preparing for the stage on this special night, had\nbeen told that her wish was about to be granted--that she would now, at\nlast, really dance before the King;--and her heart beat high, and\nthe rich colour reddened in her soft childish face, as she donned her\nscarlet skirts with more than her usual care, and knotted back her raven\ncurls with a great glowing damask rose, such as Spanish beauties\nfasten behind tiny shell-like ears to emphasise the perfection of their\ncontour. Her thoughts flew to her kindest friend, Pasquin Leroy;--she\nremembered the starry diamond in the ring he had wished to give her,\nand how he had said, \u2018Pequita, the first time you dance before the King,\nthis shall be yours!\u2019\n\nWhere was he now, she wondered? She would have given anything to know\nhis place of abode, just to send him word that the King was to be at the\nOpera that night, and ask him too, to come and see her in her triumph!\nBut she had no time to study ways and means for sending a message to\nhim, either through Sholto, her father, who always waited patiently\nfor her behind the scenes,--or through Paul Zouche, who, though as\n_librettist_ of the opera, and as a poet of new and rising fame, was\ntreated by everyone with the greatest deference, still made a special\npoint of appearing in the shabbiest clothes, and lounging near the\nside-wings like a sort of disgraced tramp all the time the performance\nwas in progress. Neither of them knew Leroy\u2019s address;--they only met\nhim or saw him, when he himself chose to come among them. Besides,--the\nsound of the National Hymn played by the orchestra, warned her that the\nKing had arrived; and that she must hold herself in readiness for her\npart and think of nothing else.\n\nThe blaze of light in the Opera-house seemed more dazzling than usual\nto the child, when her cue was called,--and as she sprang from the wings\nand bounded towards the footlights, amid the loud roar of applause which\nshe was now accustomed to receive nightly, she raised her eyes towards\nthe Royal box, half-frightened, half-expectant. Her heart sank as she\nsaw that the King had partially turned away from the stage, and was\nchatting carelessly with some person or persons behind him, and that\nonly a statuesque woman with a pale face, great eyes, and a crown\nof diamonds, regarded her steadily with a high-bred air of chill\nindifference, which was sufficient to turn the little warm beating heart\nof her into stone. A handsome youth stared down upon her smiling,--his\neyes sleepily amorous,--it was the elder of the King\u2019s two younger sons,\nPrince Rupert. She hated his expression, beautiful though his features\nwere,--and hated herself for having to dance before him. Poor little\nPequita! It was her first experience of the insult a girl-child can be\nmade to feel through the look of a budding young profligate. On and on\nshe danced, giddily whirling;--the thoughts in her brain circling as\nrapidly as her movements. Why would not the King look at her,--she\nthought? Why was he so indifferent, even when his subjects sought most\nto please him? At the end of the second act of the Opera a great fatigue\nand lassitude overcame her, and a look of black resentment clouded her\npretty face.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you?\u201d said Zouche, sauntering up to her as she stood behind\nthe wings; \u201cYou look like a small thunder-cloud!\u201d\n\nShe gave an unmistakable gesture in the direction of that quarter of the\ntheatre where the Royal box was situated.\n\n\u201cI hate him!\u201d she said, with a stamp of her little foot.\n\n\u201cThe King? So do I!\u201d And Zouche lit a cigarette and stuck it between\nhis lips by way of a stop-gap to a threatening violent expletive; \u201cAn\ninsolent, pampered, flattered fool! Yet you wanted to dance before\nhim; and now you\u2019ve done it! The fact will serve you as a kind of\nadvertisement! That is all!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not want to be advertised through _his_ favour!\u201d And Pequita\nclosed her tiny teeth on her scarlet under-lip in suppressed anger; \u201cBut\nI have not danced before him yet! I _will_!\u201d\n\nZouche looked at her sleepily. He was not drunk--though he had,--of\ncourse,--been drinking.\n\n\u201cYou have not danced before him? Then what have you been doing?\u201d\n\n\u201cWalking!\u201d answered Pequita, with a fierce little laugh, her colour\ncoming and going with all the quick wavering hue of irritated and\nirritable Spanish blood, \u201cI have, as they say \u2018walked across the stage.\u2019\nI shall dance presently!\u201d\n\nHe smiled, flicking a little ash off his cigarette.\n\n\u201cYou are a curious child!\u201d he said; \u201cBy and by you will want severely\nkeeping in order!\u201d\n\nPequita laughed again, and shook back her long curls defiantly.\n\n\u201cWho is that cold woman with a face like a mask and the crown of\ndiamonds, that sits beside the King?\u201d\n\nIt was Zouche\u2019s turn to laugh now, and he did so with a keen sense of\nenjoyment.\n\n\u201cUpon my word!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cA little experience of the world has\ngiven you what newspaper men call \u2018local colour.\u2019 The \u2018cold woman with\nthe face like a mask,\u2019 is the Queen!\u201d\n\nPequita made a little grimace of scorn.\n\n\u201cAnd who is the leering boy?\u201d\n\n\u201cPrince Rupert.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Crown Prince?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo. The Crown Prince is travelling abroad. He went away very\nmysteriously,--no one knows where he has gone, or when he will come\nback.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not surprised!\u201d said Pequita; \u201cWith such a father and mother, and\nsuch impudent-looking brothers, no wonder he wanted to get away!\u201d\n\nZouche had another fit of laughter. He had never seen the little girl in\nsuch a temper. He tried to assume gravity.\n\n\u201cPequita, you are naughty! The flatteries of the great world are\nspoiling you!\u201d\n\n\u201cBah!\u201d said Pequita, with a contemptuous wave of her small brown hands.\n\u201cThe flatteries of the great world! To what do they lead? To _that_!\u201d\n and she made another eloquent sign towards the Royal box;--\u201cI would\nrather dance for you and Lotys, and Sergius Thord, and Pasquin Leroy,\nthan all the Kings of the world together! What I do here is for my\nfather\u2019s sake--_you_ know that!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know!\u201d and Zouche smoked on, and shook his wild head\nsentimentally,--murmuring in a _sotto-voce_:\n\n  \u201cWhat I do _here_, is for the need of gold,--\n    What I do _there_, is for sweet love\u2019s sake only;\n  Love, ever timid _there_, doth _here_ grow bold,--\n    And wins such triumph as but leaves me lonely!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that yours?\u201d said Pequita with a sudden smile.\n\n\u201cMine, or Shakespeare\u2019s,\u201d answered Zouche indolently; \u201cDoes it matter\nwhich?\u201d\n\nPequita laughed, and her cue being just then called, again she bounded\non to the stage; but this time she played her part, as the stock phrase\ngoes, \u2018to the gallery,\u2019 and did not once turn her eyes towards the place\nwhere the King sat withdrawn into the shadow of his box, giving no sign\nof applause. She, however, had caught sight of Sergius Thord and some of\nher Revolutionary friends seated \u2018among the gods,\u2019 and that was enough\ninspiration for her. Something,--a quite indefinable something,--a touch\nof personal or spiritual magnetism, had been fired in her young soul;\nand gradually as the Opera went on, her fellow-players became infected\nby it. Some of them gave her odd, half-laughing glances now and\nthen,--being more or less amazed at the unusual vigour with which she\nsang, in her pure childish soprano, the few strophes of recitative and\nlight song attached to her part;--the very prima-donna herself caught\nfire,--and the distinguished tenor, who had travelled all the way from\nBuda Pesth in haste, so that he might \u2018create\u2019 the chief r\u00f4le in the\nwork of his friend Valdor, began to feel that there was something\nmore in operatic singing than the mere inflation of the chest, and the\ncareful production of perfectly-rounded notes. Valdor himself played the\nvarious violin solos which occurred frequently throughout the piece, and\nnever failed to evoke a storm of rapturous plaudits,--and many were\nthe half-indignant glances of the audience towards the Royal shrine of\ndraped satin, gilding, and electric light, wherein the King, like an\nidol, sat,--undemonstrative, and apparently more bored than satisfied.\nThere was a general feeling that he ought to have shown,--by his\npersonal applause in public,--a proper appreciation of the many gifted\nartists playing that evening, especially in the case of Louis Valdor,\nthe composer of the Opera itself. But he sat inert, only occasionally\nglancing at the stage, and anon carelessly turning away from it to\nconverse with the members of his suite.\n\nThe piece went on;--and more and more the passion of Pequita\u2019s pent-up\nlittle soul communicated itself to the other performers,--till they\nfound themselves almost unconsciously obeying her \u2018lead.\u2019 At last came\nthe grand final act,--where, in accordance with the progress of the\nstory, the bold band of \u2018New Christians\u2019 are fought back from the gates\nof the Vatican by the Papal Guard; and the Roman populace, roused to\nenthusiasm, gather round their defeated ranks to defend and to aid them\nwith sympathy and support in their combat,--breaking forth all together\nat last in the triumphant \u2018Song of Freedom.\u2019 Truly grand and majestic\nwas this same song,--pulsating with truth and passion,--breathing with\nthe very essence of liberty,--an echo of the heart and soul of strong\nnations who struggle, even unto death, for the lawful rights of humanity\ndenied to them by the tyrants in place and power. As the superb roll and\nswell of the glorious music poured through the crowded house, there was\nan almost unconscious movement among the audience,--the people in the\ngallery rose _en masse_, and at the close of the first verse, responded\nto it by a mighty cheer, which reverberated through and through the\nimmense building like thunder. The occupants of the stalls and boxes\nexchanged wondering and half-frightened looks,--then as the cheer\nsubsided, settled themselves again to listen, more or less spell-bound,\nas the second verse began. Just before this had merged into its\naccompanying splendid and soul-awakening chorus,--Pequita,--having\nobtained the consent of the manager to execute her \u2018Dagger Dance\u2019 in the\nmiddle of the song, instead of at the end,--suddenly sprang towards\nthe footlights in a pirouette of extravagant and exquisite\nvelocity--while,--checked by a sign from the conductor, the singers\nceased. Without music, in an absolute stillness as of death, the girl\nswung herself to and fro, like a bell-flower in the breeze,--anon she\nsprang and leaped like a scarlet flame--and again sank into a slow and\nvoluptuous motion, as of a fairy who dreamingly glides on tiptoe over\na field of flowers. Then, on a sudden, while the fascinated spectators\nwatched her breathlessly,--she seemed to wake from sleep,--and running\nforward wildly, began to toss and whirl her scarlet skirts, her black\ncurls streaming, her dark eyes flashing with mingled defiance and scorn,\nwhile drawing from her breast an unsheathed dagger, she flung it in the\nair, caught it dexterously by the hilt again, twisted and turned it in\nevery possible way,--now beckoning, now repelling, now defending,--and\nlastly threatening, with a passionate intensity of action that was\nwell-nigh irresistible.\n\nCaught by the marvellous subtlety of her performance, quite one half\nthe audience now rose instinctively, all eyes being fixed on the strange\nevolutions of this whirling, flying thing that seemed possessed by\nthe very devil of dancing! The King at last attracted, leaned slightly\nforward from his box with a tolerant smile,--the Queen\u2019s face was\nas usual, immovable,--the Princes Rupert and Cyprian stared,\nopen-mouthed--while over the whole brilliant scene that remarkable\nsilence brooded, like the sultry pause before the breaking of a storm.\nTriumphant, reckless, panting,--scarcely knowing what she did in her\nexcitement,--Pequita, suddenly running backward, with the lightness of\nthistle-down flying before the wind, snatched the flag of the country\nfrom a super standing by, and dancing forward again, waved it aloft,\ntill with a final abandonment of herself to the humour of the moment,\nshe sprang with a single bound towards the Royal box, and there--the\nyouthful incarnation of living, breathing passion, fury, patriotism, and\nexultation in one,--dropped on one knee, the flag waving behind her, the\ndagger pointed straight upward, full at the King!\n\nA great roar,--like that of hundreds of famished wild beasts,--answered\nthis gesture; mingled with acclamations,--and when \u2018The Song of Freedom\u2019\nagain burst out from the singers on the stage, the whole mass of\npeople joined in the chorus with a kind of melodious madness. Shouts of\n\u2018Pequita! Pequita!\u2019 rang out on all sides,--then \u2018Valdor! Valdor!\u2019--and\nthen,--all suddenly,--a stentorian voice cried \u2018Sergius Thord!\u2019 At\nthat word the house became a chaos. Men in the gallery, seized by some\nextraordinary impulse of doing they knew not what, and going they knew\nnot whither, leaped over each other\u2019s shoulders, and began to climb down\nby the pillars of the balconies to the stalls,--and a universal panic\nand rush ensued. Terrified women hurried from the stalls and boxes in\nspite of warning, and got mixed with the maddened crowd, a section of\nwhich, pouring out of the Opera-house came incontinently upon the King\u2019s\ncarriage in waiting,--and forthwith, without any reflection as to the\nwhy or the wherefore, smashed it to atoms! Then, singing again \u2018The Song\nof Freedom,\u2019--the people, pouring out from all the doors, formed into a\nhuge battalion, and started on a march of devastation and plunder.\n\nSergius Thord, grasping the situation from the first, rushed out of the\nOpera-house in all haste, anxious to avert a catastrophe, but he was too\nlate to stop the frenzied crowd,--nothing could, or would have stopped\nthem at that particular moment. The fire had been too long smouldering\nin their souls; and Pequita, like a little spark of fury, had set it in\na blaze. Through private ways and back streets, the King and Queen and\ntheir sons, escorted by the alarmed manager, escaped from the Opera\nunhurt,--and drove back unobserved to the Palace in a common fiacre--and\na vast multitude, waiting to see them come out by the usual doors, and\nfinding they did not come, vented their rage and disgust by tearing up\nand smashing everything within their reach. Then, remembering in good\ntime, despite their excitement, that the manager of the Opera had done\nnothing to deserve injury to himself or his property, they paused in\nthis work of destruction, and with the sudden caprice of children, gave\nout ringing cheers for him and for Pequita;--while their uncertainty as\nto what to do next was settled for them by Paul Zouche, who, mounting on\none of the pedestals which supported the columns of the entrance to\nthe Opera, where his wild head, glittering eyes and eager face looked\nscarcely human, cried out:\n\n\u201cDamnation to Carl P\u00e9rousse! Why do you idle here, my friends, when you\nmight be busy! If you want Freedom, seek it from him who is to be your\nnew Prime Minister!\u201d\n\nA prolonged yell of savage approval answered him,--and like an angry\ntide, the crowd swept on and on, gathering strength and force as it\nwent, and pouring through the streets with fierce clamour of shouting,\nand clash of hastily collected weapons,--on and on to the great square,\nin the centre of which stood the statue of the late King, and where the\nhouse of Carl P\u00e9rousse occupied the most prominent position. And the\nmoon, coming suddenly out of a cloud, stared whitely down upon the\nturbulent scene,--one too often witnessed in history, when, as Carlyle\nsays, \u2018a Nation of men is suddenly hurled beyond the limits. For Nature,\nas green as she looks, rests everywhere on dread foundations, and Pan,\nto whose music the Nymphs dance, has a cry in him that can drive all men\ndistracted!\u2019\n\nIn such distraction, and with such wild cry, the night of Pequita\u2019s\nlong-looked-for dance before the King swept stormily on towards day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\n\u201cFATE GIVES--THE KING!\u201d\n\n\nNews of this fresh and more violent disturbance among the people\nbrought the soldiery out in hot haste, who galloped down to the scene\nof excitement, only to find the mounted police before them, headed by\nGeneral Bernhoff, who careering to and fro, cool and composed, forbade,\n\u2018in the name of the King!\u2019 any attempt to drive the mob out of the\nsquare. Swaying uneasily round and round, the populace yelled and\ngroaned, and cheered and hissed; not knowing exactly whereunto they were\nso wildly moved, but evidently waiting for a fresh \u2018lead.\u2019 The house of\nCarl P\u00e9rousse, with its handsome exterior and stately marble portico,\noffered itself as a tempting target to the more excitable roughs, and a\nstone sent crashing through one of the windows would have certainly\nbeen the signal for a general onslaught had not a man\u2019s figure suddenly\nclimbed the pedestal which supported the statue of the late King in the\ncentre of the square, and lifted its living visible identity against the\nfrowning cold stone image of the dead. A cry went up from thousands\nof throats--\u2018Sergius Thord!\u2019--followed by an extraordinary clamour of\npassionate plaudits, as the excited people recognised the grand head\nand commanding aspect of their own particular Apostle of Liberty.\nHe,--stretching out his hands with a gesture of mingled authority and\nentreaty,--pacified the raging sea of contradictory and conflicting\nvoices as if by magic,--and the horrid clamour died down into a dull\nroar, which in its turn subsided into silence.\n\n\u201cFriends and brothers!\u201d he cried; \u201cBe calm! Be patient! What spirit\npossesses you to thus destroy the chances of your own peace! What is\nyour aim? Justice? Ay--justice!--but how can you gain this by being\nyourselves unjust? Will you remedy Wrong by injuring Right? Nay--this\nmust not be!--this cannot be, with _you_, whose passion for liberty is\nnoble,--whose love for truth is fixed and resolute,--and who seek no\nmore than is by human right your own! This sudden tempest, by which your\nsouls are tossed, is like an angry gust upon the sea, which wrecks great\nvessels and drowns brave men;--be something more than the semblance of\nthe capricious wind which destroys without having reason to know why it\nis bent on destruction! What are you here for? What would you do?\u201d\n\nA confused shouting answered him, in which cries of \u2018P\u00e9rousse!\u2019 and \u2018The\nKing!\u2019 were most prominent.\n\nSergius Thord looked round upon the seething mass below him, with a\nstrange sense of power and of triumph. He--even he--who could claim\nto be no more than a poor Thinker, speaker and writer,--had won these\nthousands to his command!--he had them here, willing to obey his\nlightest word,--ready to follow his signal wheresoever it might take\nthem! His eyes glowed,--and the light of a great and earnest inspiration\nillumined his strong features.\n\n\u201cYou call for Carl P\u00e9rousse!\u201d he said; \u201cYonder he dwells!--in the regal\nhouse he has built for himself out of the sweating work of the poor!\u201d\n A fierce yell from the populace and an attempt at a rush, was again\nstopped by the speaker\u2019s uplifted hand; \u201cWait, friends--wait! Think for\na moment of the result of action, before you act! Suppose you pulled\ndown that palace of fraud; suppose your strong hands righteously rent\nit asunder;--suppose you set fire to its walls,--suppose you dragged out\nthe robber from his cave and slew him here, before sunrise--what then?\nYou would make of him a martyr!--and the hypocritical liars of\nthe present policy, who are involved with him in his financial\nschemes,--would chant his praises in every newspaper, and laud his\nvirtues in every sermon! Nay, we should probably hear of a special\n\u2018Memorial Service\u2019 being held in our great Cathedral to sanctify the\ncorpse of the vilest stock-jobbing rascal that ever cheated the gallows!\nBe wiser than that, my friends! Do not soil your hands either with the\nbody of Carl P\u00e9rousse or his ill-gotten dwelling. What we want for him\nis Disgrace, not Death! Death is far too easy! An innocent child may\ndie; do not give to a false-hearted knave the simple exit common to the\nbrave and true! Disgrace!--disgrace! Shame, confusion, and the curse of\nthe country,--let these be your vengeance on the man who seeks to\nclutch the reins of government!--the man who would drive the people like\nwhipped horses to their ruin!\u201d\n\nAnother roar answered him, but this time it was mingled with murmurs of\ndissatisfaction. Thord caught these up, and at once responded to them.\n\n\u201cI hear you, O People! I hear the clamour of your hearts and souls,\nwhich is almost too strong to find expression in speech! You cannot\nwait, you would tell me! You would have P\u00e9rousse dragged out here,--you\nwould tear him to pieces among you, if you could, and carry the\nfragments of him to the King, to prove what a people can do with a\nvillain proposed to them as their Prime Minister!\u201d Loud and ferocious\nshouts answered these words, and he went on; \u201cI know--I understand!--and\nI sympathise! But even as I know you, you know me! Believe me now,\ntherefore, and hear my promise! I swear to you before you all\u201d--and here\nhe extended both arms with a solemn and impressive gesture--\u201cthat this\nmonth shall not be ended before the dishonesty of Carl P\u00e9rousse is\npublicly and flagrantly known at every street corner,--in every town and\nprovince of the land!--and before the most high God, I take my oath\nto you, the People,--that he shall never be the governing head of the\ncountry!\u201d\n\nA hurricane of applause answered him--a tempest of shouting that seemed\nto surge and sway through the air and down to the earth again like the\nbeating of a powerful wind.\n\n\u201cGive me your trust, O People!\u201d he cried, carried beyond himself with\nthe excitement and fervour of the scene--\u201cGive me yourselves!\u201d\n\nAnother roar replied to this adjuration. He stood triumphant;--the\npeople pressing up around him,--some weeping--some kneeling at his\nfeet--some climbing to kiss his hand. A few angry voices in the distance\ncried out--\u2018The King!\u2019--and he turned at once on the word.\n\n\u201cWho needs the King?\u201d he demanded; \u201cWho calls for him? What is he to\nus? What has he ever been? Look back on his career!--see him\nas Heir-Apparent to the Throne, wasting his time with dishonest\nassociates,--dealing with speculators and turf gamblers--involving\nhimself in debt--and pandering to vile women, who still hold him in\ntheir grasp, and who in their turn rule the country by their caprice,\nand drain the Royal coffers by their licentious extravagance! Now look\non him as the King,--a tool in the hands of financiers--a speculator\namong speculators--steeped to the very eyes in the love of money,\nand despising all men who do not bear the open blazon of wealth upon\nthem,--what has he done for the people? Nothing! What will he ever do\nfor the People? Nothing! Flattered by self-seekers--stuffed with eulogy\nby a paid Press--his name made a byword and a mockery by the very women\nwith whom he consorts, what should we do with him in Our work! Let him\nalone!--let him be! Let him eat and drink as suits his nature--and die\nof the poison his own vices breed in his blood!--we want naught of him,\nor his heirs! When the time ripens to its full fruition, we, the People,\ncan do without a Throne!\u201d\n\nAt this, thousands of hats and handkerchiefs were tossed in the\nair,--thousands of voices cheered to the very echo, and to relieve their\nfeelings still more completely the vast crowd once more took up \u2018The\nSong of Freedom\u2019 and began singing it in unison steadily and grandly,\nwith all that resistless force and passion which springs from\ndeep-seated emotion in the soul. And while they were singing, Thord,\nglancing rapidly about him, saw Johan Zegota close at hand, and to his\nstill greater satisfaction, Pasquin Leroy; and beckoning them both to\nhis side whispered his brief orders, which were at once comprehended.\nThe day was breaking; and in the purple east a line of crimson showed\nwhere the sun would presently rise. A few minutes\u2019 quick organisation\nworked by Leroy and Zegota, and some few other of their comrades\nsufficed to break up the mob into three sections, and in perfect order\nthey stood blocked for a moment, like the three wings of a great army.\nThen once more Thord addressed them:\n\n\u201cPeople, you have heard my vow! If before the end of the month Carl\nP\u00e9rousse is not ejected with contempt from office, I will ask my death\nat your hands! A meeting will be convened next week at the People\u2019s\nAssembly Rooms where we shall make arrangements to approach the King. If\nthe King refuses to receive us, we shall find means to make him do so!\nHe _shall_ hear us! He is our paid servant, and he is bound to serve us\nfaithfully,--or the Throne shall be a thing of the past, to be looked\nback upon with regret that we, a great and free people, ever tolerated\nits vice and tyranny!\u201d\n\nHere he waited to let the storm of plaudits subside,--and then\ncontinued: \u201cNow part, all of you friends!--go your ways,--and keep order\nfor yourselves with vigilance! The soldiery are here, but they dare not\nfire!--the police are here, but they dare not arrest! Give them no cause\neven to say that it would have been well to do either! Let the spiritual\nforce of your determined minds,--fixed on a noble and just purpose,\nover-rule mere temporal authority; let none have to blame you for murder\nor violence,--take no life,--shed no blood; but let your conquest of the\nGovernment,--your capture of the Throne,--be a glorious moral victory,\noutweighing any battle gained only by brute force and rapine!\u201d\n\nHe was answered by a strenuous cheer; and then the three great sections\nof the multitude began to move. Out of the square in perfect order they\nmarched,--still singing; one huge mass of people being headed by Pasquin\nLeroy, the other by Johan Zegota,--the third by Sergius Thord himself.\nThe soldiery, seeing there was no cause for interference, withdrew,--the\npolice dispersed, and once again an outbreak of popular disorder was\nchecked and for a time withheld.\n\nBut this second riot had startled the metropolis in good earnest.\nEveryone became fully alive to the danger and increasing force of the\ndisaffected community,--and the Government,--lately grown inert and\ndilatory in the transaction of business,--began seriously to consider\nways and means of pacifying general clamour and public dissatisfaction.\nNone of the members of the Cabinet were much surprised, therefore,\nwhen they each received a summons from the King to wait upon him at the\nPalace that day week,--\u2018to discuss affairs of national urgency,\u2019 and the\ngeneral impression appeared to be, that though Carl P\u00e9rousse dismissed\nthe \u2018street rowdyism,\u2019 as he called it, with contempt, and spoke of\n\u2018disloyal traitors opposed to the Government,\u2019 he was nevertheless\nriding for a fall; and that his chances of obtaining the Premiership\nwere scarcely so sure as they had hitherto seemed.\n\nMeanwhile, Pequita, whose childish rage against the King for not\nnoticing her dancing or applauding it, had been the trifling cause of\nthe sudden volcanic eruption of the public mind, became more than ever\nthe idol of the hour. The night after the riot, the Opera-house was\ncrowded to suffocation,--and the stage was covered with flowers. Among\nthe countless bouquets offered to the triumphant little dancer, came\none which was not thrown from the audience, but was brought to her by a\nmessenger; it was a great cluster of scarlet carnations, and attached\nto it was a tiny velvet case, containing the ring promised to her by\nPasquin Leroy, when, as he had said, she \u2018should dance before the\nKing.\u2019 A small card accompanied it on which was written \u2018Pequita, from\nPasquin!\u2019 Turning to Lotys, who, in the event of further turbulence, had\naccompanied her to the Opera that night to take care of her, and who\nsat grave, pale, and thoughtful, in one of the dressing-rooms near the\nstage, the child eagerly showed her the jewel, exclaiming:\n\n\u201cSee! He has kept his promise!\u201d\n\nAnd Lotys,--sighing even while she smiled,--answered:\n\n\u201cYes, dear! He would not be the brave man he is, if he ever broke his\nword!\u201d\n\nWhereat Pequita slipped the ring on her friend\u2019s finger, kissing her and\nwhispering:\n\n\u201cTake care of it for me! Wear it for me! For tonight, at least!\u201d\n\nLotys assented,--though with a little reluctance,--and it was only while\nPequita was away from her, performing her part on the stage, that this\nstrange lonely woman bent her face down on the hand adorned with\nthe star-like gem and kissed it,--tears standing in her eyes as she\nmurmured:\n\n\u201cMy love--my love! If you only knew!\u201d\n\nAnd then the hot colour surged into her cheeks for sheer shame of\nherself that she should love!--she--no longer in her youth,--and utterly\nunconscious that there was, or could be any beauty in her deep lustrous\neyes, white skin, and dull gold hair. What had she to do with the\nthoughts of passion?--she whose life was devoted to the sick and\nneedy,--and who had no right to think of anything else but how she\nshould aid them best, so long as that life should last! She knew well\nenough that love of a great, jealous, and almost savage kind, was hers\nif she chose to claim it--the love of Sergius Thord, who worshipped her\nboth as a woman and an Intellect; but she could not contemplate him as\nher lover, having grown up to consider him more as a sort of paternal\nguardian and friend. In fact, she had thoroughly resigned herself to\nthink of nothing but work for the remainder of her days, and to entirely\nforego the love and tenderness which most women, even the poorest,\nhave the natural right to win; and now slowly,--almost unconsciously\nto herself,--Love had stolen into her soul and taken possession of\nit;--secret love for the man, who brave almost to recklessness, had\njoined his fortunes in with Sergius Thord and his companions, and had\nassisted the work of pushing matters so far forward, that the wrongs\ndone to the poor, and the numerous injustices of the law, which for\nyears had been accumulating, and had become part and parcel of the\ngoverning system of the country, now stood a fair chance of being\nremedied. She, with her quick woman\u2019s instinct, had perceived that\nwhere Sergius Thord, in his dreamy idealism, halted and was uncertain of\nresults, Pasquin Leroy stepped into the breach and won the victory. And,\nlike all courageous women, she admired a courageous man. Not that Thord\nlacked courage,--he had plenty of the physical brute force known as\nsuch,--but he had also a peculiar and uncomfortable quality of rousing\ndesires, both in himself and others which he had not the means of\ngratifying.\n\nThus Lotys foresaw that, unless by some miraculous chance he obtained\nboth place and power, and a share in the ruling of things, there was\nevery possibility of a split in the Revolutionary Committee,--one half\nbeing inclined to indulge in the criminal and wholly wasteful spirit\nof Anarchy,--the other disposed to throw in its lot with the Liberal or\nRadical side of politics. And she began to regard Pasquin Leroy, with\nhis even temperament, cool imperturbability, intellectual daring, and\nliterary ability, as the link which kept them all together, and gave\npractical force to the often brooding and fantastic day-dreams of Thord,\nwho, though he made plans night and day for the greater freedom\nand relief of the People from unjust coercion, had not succeeded in\nobtaining as yet sufficient power to carry them into execution.\n\nIt was evident, however, to the whole country that the times were in a\nferment,--that the Government was growing more unpopular, and that Carl\nP\u00e9rousse, the chief hinge on which Governmental force turned, was under\na cloud of the gravest suspicion. Meetings, more or less stormy\nin character, were held everywhere by every shade of party in\npolitics,--and strong protests against his being nominated as Premier\nwere daily sent to the King. But to the surprise of many, and the\nannoyance of most, his Majesty gave no sign. The newspapers burst into\nrampant argument,--every little editor issued his Jovian \u2018opinion\u2019 on\nthe grave issues at stake;--David Jost kept his Hebraic colours flying\nfor the King,--judging that to flatter Royalty was always a safe course\nfor most Jews;--while in the rival journal, brilliant essays, leaders\nand satires on the political situation, combined with point-blank\naccusations against the Secretary of State, (which that distinguished\npersonage always failed to notice,) flew from the pen of the mysterious\nwriter, Pasquin Leroy, and occupied constant public attention.\nUnlike the realm of Britain,--where the \u2018golden youth\u2019 enfeeble their\nintellects by the perusal of such poor and slangy journalism that\nthey have lost both the art and wit to comprehend brilliant political\nwriting,--the inhabitants of this particular corner of the sunny south\nwere always ready to worship genius wherever even the smallest glimmer\nof it appeared,--and the admiration Leroy\u2019s writings excited was\nfast becoming universal, though for the most part these writings were\nextremely inflammable in nature, and rated both King and Court soundly.\nBut with the usual indifference of Royalty to \u2018genius\u2019 generally, the\nKing, when asked if he had taken note of certain articles dealing very\nfreely with both him and his social conduct, declared he had never heard\nof them, or of their writer!\n\n\u201cI never,\u201d he said with an odd smile, \u201cpay any attention to clever\nliterature! I should be establishing a precedent which would be\ninconvenient and disagreeable to my fellow sovereigns!\u201d\n\nThe time went on; the King met his Ministers on the day he had summoned\nthem in private council,--and on the other hand Sergius Thord convened\na mighty mass-meeting for the purpose of carrying a resolution formed to\naddress his Majesty on the impending question of the Premiership. From\nthe King\u2019s council, the heads of Government came away in haste, despair\nand confusion; from the mass-meeting whole regiments marched through the\nstreets in triumphant and satisfied order.\n\nAfter these events there came a night, when the sweet progress of calm\nweather was broken up by cloud and storm,--and when heavy thunder boomed\nover the city at long dull intervals, like the grinding and pounding of\nartillery, without any rain to cool the heated ether, which was now and\nagain torn asunder by flashes of lightning. There was evidently a raging\ntempest far out at sea, though the land only received suggestions of\nthis by the occasional rearing up of huge dark green billows which broke\nagainst the tall cliffs, plumed with mimosa and myrtle, that guarded the\ncoast. Heavy scents of flowers were in the air--heavy heat weighed down\nthe atmosphere,--and there was a languor in the slow footsteps of the\nmen, who, singly, or in groups, arrived at the door of Sergius Thord\u2019s\nhouse to fulfil the dread compact binding upon them all in regard to the\n\u2018Day of Fate.\u2019 Pasquin Leroy and his two companions were among the\nfirst to arrive, and to make their way up the dark steep stairs to the\nCommittee room, where, when they entered, they found the usual aspect of\nthings strangely altered. The table no longer occupied its position in\nthe middle of the floor; it was set on a raised platform entirely draped\nwith black. Large candelabra, holding six lights each, occupied either\nend,--and in the centre one solitary red lamp was placed, shedding its\nflare over a large bronze vessel shaped like a funeral urn. The rest\nof the room was in darkness,--and with the gathering groups of men, who\nmoved silently and spoke in whispers, it presented a solemn and eerie\nspectacle.\n\n\u201cAh! You have now arrived,\u201d said Max Graub, in a cautious sotto voce to\nLeroy, \u201cat the end of your adventures! Behold the number Thirteen! Six\nlights at one end, six lights at the other,--that is twelve; and in the\ncentre the Thirteenth--the red Eye looking into the sepulchral urn! It\nis all up with us!\u201d\n\nLeroy said nothing,--but the face of the man called Axel Regor grew\nsuddenly very pale. He drew Leroy a little aside.\n\n\u201cThis is no laughing matter!\u201d he said very earnestly; \u201cLet me stand near\nyou--let me keep close at your side all the evening!\u201d\n\nLeroy smiled and pressed his hand.\n\n\u201cMy dear fellow!\u201d he said; \u201cHave no fear! Or if you have fear, do not\nshow it! You stand in precisely the same danger as myself, or as any of\nus; you may draw the fatal Signal!--but if you do, I promise you I will\nvolunteer myself in your place.\u201d\n\n\u201c_You_!\u201d said Regor with a volume of meaning in the utterance; \u201cYou\nwould stand in my place?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, of course!\u201d replied Leroy cheerily; \u201cLife is not such a wonderful\nbusiness, that death for a friend\u2019s sake is not better!\u201d\n\nRegor looked at him, and a speechless devotion filled and softened his\neyes. Certain words spoken to him by a woman he loved echoed through his\nbrain, and he murmured:\n\n\u201cNay, by the God above us, if death is in question, _I_ will die rather\nthan let _you_ die!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will depend on my humour!\u201d said Leroy, still smiling; \u201cYou will\nrequire my permission to enter into combat with the last enemy before he\noffers challenge!\u201d\n\nMax Graub here approached them with a warning finger laid on his lips.\n\n\u201cHush--sh--sh!\u201d he said; \u201cThink as much as you like,--but talk as little\nas you can! I assure you this is a most uncomfortable business!--and\nhere comes the axis of the revolving wheel!\u201d\n\nThey made way,--as did all the men grouped together in the room,--for\nthe entrance of Sergius Thord and Lotys. These two came in together; and\nwith a silent salute which included the whole Committee, ascended the\nraised platform. Lotys was deadly pale; and the white dress she wore,\nwith its scarlet sash, accentuated that paleness. She appeared for once\nto move under the dominance of some greater will than her own,--she\nmoved slowly, and her head was bent,--and even to Pasquin Leroy as she\npassed him, her faint smile of recognition was both sad and cold.\nOnce on the platform, she seated herself at the lower end of the\nfunereally-draped table; and leaning her head on one hand, seemed lost\nin thought. Thord took his place at the opposite end,--whereupon Johan\nZegota moving stealthily to the door, closed it, locked it, and put the\nkey in his pocket. Then he in turn mounted the platform, and began in a\nclear but low voice to call the roll of the members of the Committee.\n\nEach man answered to his name in the same guarded tone; all without\na single exception were present;--and Zegota, having completed the\ncatalogue, turned to Thord for further instructions. The rest of the\ncompany then seated themselves,--finding their chairs with some little\ndifficulty in the semi-darkness. When the noise of their shuffling feet\nhad ceased, Thord rose and advanced to the front of the platform.\n\n\u201cFriends,\u201d he said slowly; \u201cYou are here to-night to determine by\nthe hand of Chance, or Destiny, which of certain traitors among many\nthousands, shall meet with the punishment his treachery deserves. In\nthe list of those who are to-night marked down for death is Carl\nP\u00e9rousse;--happy the man that draws _that_ name and is able to serve as\nthe liberator to his country! Another, is the Jew, David Jost,--because\nit has been chiefly at his persuasion that the heads of the Government\nhave been tempted to gamble for their own personal motives with the\nsecrets of State policy. Another, is the Marquis de Lutera;--who though\nhe has, possibly through fear, resigned office, is to blame for having\nmade his own private fortune,--as well as the fortunes of all the\nmembers of his family,--out of the injuries and taxations inflicted on\nthe People. To his suggestion we owe the cruel price of bread,--the tax\non corn, a necessity of life;--on his policy rests the responsibility\nof opening our Trades to such an over-excess of Foreign Competition and\nSupply that our native work and our native interests are paralysed by\nthe strain. To him,--as well as to Carl P\u00e9rousse, we owe the ridiculous\nurbanities of such extreme foreign diplomacies as expose our secret\nforces of war to our rivals;--from him emanates the courteous and almost\nservile attention with which we foolishly exhibit our naval and military\ndefences to our enemies. We assume that a Minister who graciously\npermits a foreign arsenal to copy our guns--a foreign dockyard to copy\nand to emulate our ships,--is a traitor to the prosperity and continued\npower of the country. Two of the great leaders in Trade are named on the\nDeath-list;--one because, in spite of many warnings, he employs foreign\nworkmen only; the other, because he \u2018sweats\u2019 native labour. The removal\nof all these persons will be a boon to the country--the clearing of a\nplague of rats from the national House and Exchequer! Lastly, the\nKing is named;--because,--though he has rescued the system of National\nEducation from Jesuit interference and threatening priestly dominance,\nhe has turned a deaf ear to other equally pressing petitions of his\nPeople,--and also because he does nothing to either influence or guide\nsociety to its best and highest ends. Under his rule, learning is set at\nnaught--Art, Science and Literature, the three saving graces which\nmake for the peace, prosperity and fraternity of nations,--are rendered\nvalueless, because no example is set which would give them their\nrightful prominence,--and wine, cards and women are substituted,--the\nthree evil fates between which the honour of the Throne is brought into\ncontempt. We should know and remember that Lotys, when she lately\nsaved the life of the King, did,--as she herself can tell you,--plead\npersonally with him to save the people from the despotic government of\nCarl P\u00e9rousse and his pernicious \u2018majority\u2019;--but though she rescued the\nmonarch at the risk of her own much more valuable existence--and equally\nat the risk of being misunderstood and condemned by this very Society to\nwhich her heart and soul are pledged,--he refused to even consider her\nentreaty. Therefore, we may be satisfied that he has been warned;--but\nit would seem that the warning is of no avail;--and whosoever to-night\ndraws the name of the King must be swift and sure in his business!\u201d\n\nThere was a deep pause. Suddenly Max Graub rose, his bulky form and\ngreat height giving him an almost Titanesque appearance in the gloom of\nthe chamber. Raising one hand as a signal, he asked permission to speak,\nwhich was instantly accorded.\n\n\u201cTo my chief, Sergius Thord, and my comrades,\u201d he said with a slight\nmilitary salutation; \u201cI wish to explain what perhaps they have already\ndiscovered,--that I am a poor and uncouth German,--not altogether\nconversant with your language,--and considerably bewildered by your\nsocial ethics;--so that if I do not entirely understand things as I\nshould, you will perhaps pardon my ignorance, which includes other\ndrawbacks of my disposition. But when death is in question, I am always\nmuch interested,--having spent all my days in trying to find out\nways and means of combating man\u2019s chief enemy on his own ground.\nBecause,--though I fully admit the usefulness of death as a cleanser and\nsolvent; and as a means of clearing off hopelessly-useless persons, I\nam not at all sure that it is an advisable way to get rid of the healthy\nand the promising. I speak as a physician merely,--with an eye to what\nis called the \u2018stock\u2019 of the human race; and what I now want to know is\nthis: On what scientific, ethical, or religious grounds, do you wish\nto get rid of the King? Science, ethics, and religion being only in the\npresent day so many forms of carefully ministering to one\u2019s Self,\nand one\u2019s own particular humour, you will understand that I mean,--as\nconcerns the \u2018happy dispatch\u2019 of this same King,--what good will it do\nto you?\u201d\n\nThere was a silence. No one vouchsafed any explanation. After a\nconsiderable pause, Thord replied.\n\n\u201cIt will do us no good. But it will show the country that we exist to\nrevenge injustice!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut--is the King unjust?\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you ask it?\u201d replied Thord with a certain grave patience. \u201cDuring\nyour association with us, have you not learned?--and do you not know?\u201d\n\n\u201cSit down, Graub!\u201d interrupted Pasquin Leroy suddenly; \u201cI know the\nKing\u2019s ways well enough,--and I can swear upon my honour that he\ndeserves the worst that can be done to him!\u201d\n\nA murmur of sullen approval ran through the room, and somewhat lowering\nglances were cast at the audacious Graub, who had, by his few words,\ncreated the very undesirable impression that he wished, in some remote\nway, to interfere with the Committee solemnities in progress, and to\ndefend the King from attack. He sat down again looking more or less\ncrushed and baffled,--and Thord went on.\n\n\u201cWe have little time to spend together to-night, and none to waste. Let\neach man come forward now, and take his chance,--remembering,--lest his\ncourage fail him,--that whatever work is given him to do, this Committee\nare sworn to stand by him as their associate and comrade!--to defend\nhim,--even at the risk of their own lives!--and to share completely in\nthe consequences of whatever act he may be called upon to perform in the\nfaithful following of his duty! Friends, repeat with me all together,\nthe Vow of Fealty!\u201d\n\nAt once every man rose,--and all lifting their right hands on high\nrepeated in steady tones the following formula after their Chief,--\n\n\u201cWe swear in the name of God, and by the eternal glory of Freedom! That\nwhosoever among us this night shall draw the Red Cross Signal which\ndestines him to take from life, a life proved unworthy,--shall be to us\na sacred person, and an object of defence and continued protection! We\nguarantee to shield him at all times and under all circumstances;--we\npromise to fight for him against the utmost combined power of the\nlaw;--we are prepared to maintain an inviolate silence concerning\nhis movements, his actions and their ultimate result,--even to the\nsufferance of imprisonment, punishment and death for his sake! And may\nthe curse of the Almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth be upon us and our\nchildren, and our children\u2019s children, if we break this vow. Amen!\u201d\n\nThe stern and impressive intensity with which these words were spoken\nsent a slight tremor along even such steel-like nerves as those of\nPasquin Leroy, though he repeated the formula after Sergius Thord\nwith the attentive care of a child saying a lesson. At its conclusion,\nhowever, a sudden thought flashed through his brain which brought a\nwonderful smile to his lips, and a rare light in his eyes, and touching\nthe arm of Axel Regor, he whispered.\n\n\u201cCould anything be more protective to me,--_as you know me_,--than this\nVow of Fealty? By my faith, a right loyal vow!\u201d\n\nThe man he so questioned looked at him doubtfully. He did not\nunderstand. He himself had repeated the vow mechanically and without\nthought, being occupied in serious and uncomfortable meditation as to\nwhat possible dangerous lengths the evening\u2019s business might be carried.\nAnd, accustomed as he now was to the varying and brilliant moods of one\nwhom he had proved to be of most varying and brilliant intelligence,\nhis brain was not quick enough to follow the lightning-like speed of the\nchain of ideas,--all moving in a perfectly organised plan,--conceived\nby this daring, scheming and original brain, which had been so lately\nroused to its own powers and set in thinking, working order. He\ntherefore merely expressed his mind\u2019s bewilderment by a warning glance\nmingled with alarm, which caused Leroy to smile again,--but the scene\nwhich was being enacted, now demanded their closest attention, and they\nhad no further opportunity of exchanging so much as a word.\n\nThe Vow of Fealty being duly sworn, Sergius Thord stood aside, and made\nway for Lotys, who, rising from her seat, lifted the funeral urn from\nthe table and held it out towards the men. She made a strange and weird\npicture standing thus,--her white arms gleaming like sculptured ivory\nagainst the dark bronze of the metal vase,--her gold hair touched with a\nblood-like hue from the reflection of the red lamp behind her,--and her\nface,--infinitely mournful and resigned,--wearing the expression of one\nwho, forced to behold evil, has no active part in it. As she took up her\nposition in the front of the platform, Thord again spoke.\n\n\u201cLet each man now advance and draw his fate! Whosoever receives a blank\nis exempt for another year;--whosoever draws the name of a victim must\nbe prepared to do his duty!\u201d\n\nThis order was at once obeyed. Each man rose separately and approaching\nLotys, saluted her first, and then drew a folded paper from the vessel\nshe held. But they moved forward reluctantly,--and most of their faces\nwere very pale. When Pasquin Leroy\u2019s turn came to draw, he raised his\neyes to the woman\u2019s countenance above him and marvelled at its cold\nfixity. She seemed scarcely to be herself,--and it was plainly evident\nthat the part she was forced to play in the evening\u2019s drama was a most\nreluctant one.\n\nAt last all the lots were taken, and Johan Zegota lit up the gas-burners\nin the centre of the room. A sigh of relief came from the lips of many\nof the men who, on opening their papers found a blank instead of a name.\nBut Leroy, unfolding his, sat in dumb amazement,--feeling, and not for\nthe first time either, that surely God, or some special Providence, is\nalways on the side of a strong man\u2019s just aim, fulfilling it to entire\naccomplishment. For to him was assigned the Red Cross, marked with the\nname of \u2018The King!\u2019 The words of Sergius Thord, uttered that very night,\nrushed back on his mind;--\u201cWhosoever draws the name of the King must be\nswift and sure in his business!\u201d\n\nHis heart beat high; he occupied at that moment a position no man in all\nthe world had ever occupied before;--he was the centre of a drama such\nas had never before been enacted,--he had the greatest move to play\non the chess-board of life that could possibly be desired;--and the\ngreatest chance to prove himself the Man he was, that had ever\nbeen given to one of his quality. His brain whirled,--his pulses\nthrobbed,--his eyes rested on Lotys with a passionate longing; something\nof the god-like as well as the heroic warmed his soul,--for Danger and\nDeath stood as intimately close to him as Safety and Victory! What a\nstrange, what a marvellous card he held in the game of life!--and yet\none false move might mean ruin and annihilation! As in a dream he saw\nthe members of the Committee go up, one by one, to Sergius Thord, who,\nas each laid their open papers before him, declared their contents.\nWhen Paul Zouche\u2019s paper was declared he was found to have drawn Carl\nP\u00e9rousse, whereat he smiled grimly; and retired to his seat, walking\nrather unsteadily. Max Graub had drawn a blank,--so had Axel Regor,--so\nhad Louis Valdor and many others.\n\nAt last it came to Leroy\u2019s turn, and as he walked up to the platform and\nascended it, there was a look on his face which attracted the instant\nattention of all present. His eyes were singularly bright,--his lithe\nhandsome figure seemed taller and more erect,--he bore himself with\na proud, even grand air,--and Lotys, moved at last from her chill and\nmelancholy apathy, gazed at him as he approached, with eyes in which a\nprofound sadness was mingled with the dark tenderness of many passionate\nthoughts and dreams. He laid down his paper before Thord, who, taking it\nup read aloud:\n\n\u201cOur friend and comrade, Pasquin Leroy, has received the Red Cross\nSignal.\u201d\n\nThen pausing before uttering his next words he raised his voice a\nlittle, so that he might be heard by everyone in the room, and added\nslowly:\n\n\u201cTo Pasquin Leroy, Fate gives--the King!\u201d\n\nA low murmur of deep applause ran through the room. Max Graub and Axel\nRegor sprang up with a kind of smothered cry, but Leroy stood immovable.\nInstead of returning to his seat as the others had done, he remained\nstanding on the platform in front of the Committee table, between Lotys\nand Sergius Thord. A strange smile rested on his lips,--his attitude was\ninexplicable. Surveying all the men\u2019s faces which were grouped before\nhim in a kind of chiaro-oscuro, he studied them for a moment, and then\nturned his head towards Thord.\n\n\u201cSergius,--so far, I have served you well! Destiny has now chosen me out\nfor even a greater service! May I speak a few words?\u201d\n\nThord assented,--but a sudden sense of inquietude stirred in him as he\nsaw that Lotys had half risen, that her lips quivered, and that great\ntears stood in her eyes.\n\n\u201cShe grieves!\u201d he thought, sullenly, in his strange and confused way of\nbalancing justice and injustice--\u201cShe grieves that the worthless life of\nthe King she saved, is now to be taken by a righteous hand!\u201d\n\nMeanwhile Leroy faced the assembly.\n\n\u201cComrades!\u201d he said; \u201cThis is the first time I have assisted in the\nwork of your Day of Fate,--the first time I have recognised how\nentirely Providence moves _with_ you and _for_ you in the ruling of your\ndestinies! And because it is the first time, our Chief permits me to\naddress you with the same fraternal liberty which was allowed to me on\nthe night I became enrolled among you, as one of you! Since then, I have\ndone my best to serve you--\u201d here he was interrupted by applause--\u201cand\nso far as it has been humanly possible, I have endeavoured to carry out\nyour views and desires because,--though many of them spring from\npure idealism, and are, I fear, impossible of realisation in this\nworld,--they contain the seed of much useful and necessary reform in\nmany institutions of this country. I have--as I promised you--shaken the\nstronghold of Carl P\u00e9rousse;\u201d--again the applause broke out, none\nthe less earnest because it was restrained. \u201cI have destroyed the\npress-power and prestige of that knavish Jew-speculator in false news,\nDavid Jost; and wherever the wishes of this Society could be fulfilled,\nI have honestly sought to fulfil them. On this night, of all nights in\nthe year, I should like to feel, and to know, that you acknowledge me as\nyour true comrade and faithful friend!\u201d\n\nAt this, the whole of the company gave vent to an outburst of cheering.\n\n\u201cDo you doubt our love, that you ask of it?--or our gratitude that you\nseek to have it expressed?\u201d said Thord, leaning forward to clasp his\nhand;--\u201cSurely you know you have given new life and impetus to our\nwork!--and that you have gained fresh triumph for our Cause!\u201d\n\nLeroy smiled,--but though returning his grasp cordially, he said nothing\nto him in person by way of reply, evidently preferring rather to address\nthe whole community than one, even though that one was his acknowledged\nChief.\n\n\u201cI thank you all!\u201d he said in response to the acclamations around him.\n\u201cI thank you for so heartily acknowledging me as your fellow-worker!\nI thank you for giving me your confidence and employing my services!\nTonight--the most important night of my destiny--Fate has determined\nthat I shall perform the greatest task of all you have ever allotted to\nme; and that with swiftness and sureness in the business I shall kill\nthe King! He is my marked victim! I am his chosen assassin!\u201d Here\ninterrupting himself with a bright smile, he said: \u201cWill someone\nrestrain my two friends, Max Graub and Axel Regor from springing out of\ntheir seats? They are both extremely envious of the task which has been\nallotted to me!--both are disappointed that it did not fall to them\nto perform,--but I am not in the humour for arguing so nice a point of\nhonour with them just now!\u201d\n\nA laugh went round the company, and the two delinquents thus called to\norder, and who had really been seeking in quite a wild and aimless way,\nto scramble out of their seats and make for the platform, resumed their\nplaces with heads bent low, lest those around them should see the deadly\npallor of their countenances. Leroy resumed.\n\n\u201cI rejoice, friends and comrades, that I have been elected to the high\ntask of removing from the Throne one who has long been unworthy\nof it!--one who has wasted his opportunities both in youth and\nmiddle-age,--and who, by his own fault in a great measure, has lost much\nof the love and confidence of his people! I am glad and proud to be\nthe one chosen to put an end to the career of a monarch whose vices and\nfollies--which might have suited a gambler and profligate--are entirely\nunbecoming to the Sovereign Ruler of a great Realm! I shall have no\nfear in carrying out my appointed duty to the letter! I here declare my\nacceptance of whatever punishment may be visited on one who removes from\nlife a King who brings kingliness into contempt! And,--as our Chief,\nSergius Thord, suggested to-night,--I shall be swift and sure in the\nbusiness!--there shall be no delay!\u201d\n\nHere, as he spoke he drew a pistol from his pocket and turned the muzzle\ntowards himself,--at which unexpected action there was a hasty movement\nof surprise, terror and confusion among the company.\n\n\u201cGentlemen all! Friends! Brothers!--as you have been,--and are to\nme,--by the binding of our compact in the name of Lotys! It is the\ndetermination of destiny,--as it is your desire,--that I should kill\nthe King! You have resolved upon it. You are sure that his death will\nbenefit the country. You have decided not to take into consideration any\nof his possible good qualities, or to pity any of the probable sorrows\nand difficulties besetting him in the uneasy position he is compelled\nto occupy. You are quite certain among yourselves, that somehow or other\nhis removal will bring about that ideal condition of society which many\nphilosophers have written of, and which many reformers have desired,\nbut which has till now, proved itself incapable of being realised. The\nKing\u2019s death, you think, will better all existing conditions, and you\nwish me to fulfil not only the call of destiny, but your own desire. Be\nit so! I am ready to obey! I will kill the King at once!--here and now!\nI _am_ the King!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nTHE COMRADE OF HIS FOES\n\n\nThis bold declaration, boldly spoken, had the startling effect of a\nsudden and sharp flash of lightning in dense darkness. Amazement and\nutter stupefaction held every man for the moment paralysed. Had a\nvolcano suddenly opened beneath their feet and belched forth its floods\nof fire and lava, it could not have rendered them more helplessly\nstricken and speechless.\n\n\u201cI _am_ the King!\u201d\n\nThe words appeared to blaze on the air before them,--like the\nhandwriting on the wall at Belshazzar\u2019s feast. The King! He,--their\nfriend, their advocate, he--Pasquin Leroy,--the most obedient, the most\ndaring and energetic of all the workers in their Cause--he--even he--was\nthe King! Was it,--could it be possible! Their eyes--all riveted in\nfearful fascination upon him as he stood before them wholly at their\nmercy, but cool, dauntless, and smilingly ready to die,--had the wild\nuncomprehending stare of delirium;--the silence in the room was intense,\nbreathless and terrible. Suddenly, like a lion roused, Sergius Thord,\nwith a half-savage movement, sprang forward and seized him roughly by\nthe arm.\n\n\u201cYou,--you are the King?\u201d he said; \u201cYou,--Pasquin Leroy?\u201d and struggling\nfor breath, his words almost choked him. \u201c_You_! Enemy in the guise of\nfriend! You have fooled us! You have deceived us--you--!\u201d\n\n\u201cTake care, Sergius!\u201d said the monarch smiling, as he gently disengaged\nhimself from the fierce hand that clutched him; \u201cThis pistol is\nloaded,--not to shoot you with!--but myself!--at your command! It would\nbe unfortunate if it went off and killed the wrong man by accident!\u201d\n\nHis indomitable courage was irresistible; and Thord, relaxing his\ngrasp, fell back in something like awe. And then the spell of horror and\namazement that had struck the rest of the assemblage dumb, broke all\nat once into a sort of wild-beast clamour. Every man \u2018rushed\u2019 for the\nplatform--and Max Graub and Axel Regor, taking swift and conscious\npossession of their true personalities as Professor von Glauben and\nSir Roger de Launay, fought silently and determinedly to keep back the\ncrowding hands that threatened instant violence to the person of their\nRoyal master.\n\nA complete hubbub and confusion reigned;--cries of \u201cTraitor!\u201d and \u201cSpy!\u201d\n were hurled from one voice to another; but before a single member of the\nCommittee could reach the spot where stood the undaunted Sovereign whom\nthey had so lately idolised as their friend and helper, and whom they\nwere now ready to tear to pieces, Lotys flung herself in front of him,\nwhile at the same moment she snatched the pistol he held from his hand,\nand fired it harmlessly into the air. The loud report--the flash of\nfire,--startled all the men, who gaped upon her, thunderstruck.\n\n\u201cThrough me!\u201d she cried, her blue eyes flashing glorious menace;\n\u201cThrough me your shots! Through me your daggers! On me your destroying\nhands! Through my body alone shall you reach this King! Stand back all\nof you! What would you do? King or commoner, he is your comrade and\nassociate! Sovereign or servant, he is the bravest man among you! Touch\nhim who dare! Remember your Vow of Fealty!\u201d\n\nTransfigured into an almost sublime beauty by the fervour of her\nemotion, she looked the supreme incarnation of inspired womanhood, and\nthe infuriated men fell back, dismayed and completely overwhelmed by the\nstrong conviction of her words, and the amazing situation in which they\nfound themselves.\n\nIt was true!--he, the King,--whom they had accepted and known as Pasquin\nLeroy,--was verily their own comrade! He had proved himself a thousand\ntimes their friend and helper!--they had sworn to defend him at the\ncost of their own lives, if need be,--to shelter and protect him in all\ncircumstances, and to accept all the consequences of whatever danger he\nmight run in the performance of his duty. His duty now,--according to\nthe fatal drawing of lots,--was that he should kill the King; and he had\ndeclared himself ready to fulfil the task by killing himself! But--as he\nwas their comrade--they were bound in honour to guard his life!\n\nThese bewildering and maddening thoughts coursed like fire through the\nbrain of Sergius Thord,--the while his eyes, grown suddenly dark and\nbloodshot, rested wonderingly on the tall upright figure of the monarch,\nstanding quietly face to face with the blood-thirsty Revolutionary\nCommittee, entirely unmoved by their fierce and lowering looks, and on\nLotys, white, beautiful and breathless, kneeling at his feet! A crushing\nsense of impotence and failure rushed over his soul like a storm\nwave,--his brain grew thick with the hurrying confusion, and a great\ncry, like that of a wounded animal, broke from his lips.\n\n\u201cMy God! My God! All my life\u2019s work lost--in a single moment!\u201d\n\nThe King heard. Gently, and with careful courtesy, raising Lotys from\nthe position in which she had thrown herself to guard him from attack\nfor the second time, he pressed her hands tenderly in his own.\n\n\u201cTrust me!\u201d he whispered; \u201cHave no fear! Not a man among them will touch\nme now!\u201d\n\nWith a slight gesture he signed her back to the chair she had previously\noccupied. She sank into it, trembling from head to foot, but her eyes\nfeverishly brilliant and watchful, were widely open and alert, ready to\nnote the least movement or look that indicated further danger. Then the\nKing addressed himself to Thord.\n\n\u201cSergius, I am entirely in your hands! I wait your word of command!\nYou are armed,--all my companions here are armed also! But Lotys has\ndeprived me of the only weapon I possessed,--though there are plenty\nmore in the room to be had on loan. What say you? Shall I kill the King?\nOr will you?\u201d\n\nThord was silent. A strong shudder shook his frame. The King laid a firm\nhand on his shoulder.\n\n\u201cFriend!\u201d he said in a low voice; \u201cBelieve me, I am your friend more\nthan ever!--you never had, and never will have a truer one than I! All\nyour life\u2019s work lost, you say? Nay, not so! It is gained! You conquered\nthe People before I knew you,--and now you have conquered the People\u2019s\nKing!\u201d\n\nSlowly Thord raised his great, dark, passionate eyes, clouded black with\nthoughts which could find no adequate expression. The look in them\nwent straight to the monarch\u2019s heart. Baffled ambition,--the hunger of\ngreatness,--the desire to do something that should raise his soul\nabove such common ruck of human emmets as make of the earth the merest\nant-hill whereon to eat and breed and die;--all this pent-up emotion\nswam luminously in the fierce bright orbs, which like mirrors, reflected\nthe picture of the troubled mind within. The suppressed power of the\nman, who, apart from his confused notions of \u2018liberty, equality, and\nfraternity\u2019 could resort to the sternest and most self-endangering\nmeasures for destroying what he considered the abuses of the law, had\nmoved the King, while disguised as Pasquin Leroy, to the profoundest\nadmiration for his bold character;--but perhaps he was never more moved\nthan at this supreme moment, when, hopelessly entangled in a net of most\nunexpected weaving, the redoubtable Socialist had to confess himself\nvanquished by the simple friendship and service of the very monarchy he\nsought to destroy.\n\n\u201cSergius,\u201d said the King again,--\u201cTrust me! Trust me as your Sovereign,\nwith the same trust that you gave to me as your comrade, Pasquin! For I\nam still your comrade, remember! Nothing can undo the oath that binds\nme to you and to the People! I have not become one of you to betray you;\nbut to serve you! Our present position is certainly a strange one!--for\nby the tenets you hold, we should be sworn opponents, instead of, as we\nare, sworn friends! Political agitators would have set us one against\nthe other for their own selfish ends; as matters stand, we are united in\nthe People\u2019s Cause; and I may perhaps do you more good living than\ndead! Give me a chance to serve you even better than I have done as yet!\nStill,--if you judge my death would be an advantage to the country,--you\nhave but to say the word! I have sworn,--and I am ready to carry out the\nfull accomplishment of my vow! Do you understand? You are, by the rules\nof this Committee my Chief!--there are no kings here; and I am good\nsoldier enough to obey orders! It is for you to speak!--straightly,\nplainly, and at once,--to the Committee,--and to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cBefore God, you are brave!\u201d muttered Thord, gazing at him in reluctant\nadmiration. \u201cSo brave, that it is almost impossible to believe that you\ncan be a King!\u201d\n\nHe smiled.\n\n\u201cSpeak! Speak, my friend!\u201d he urged; \u201cOur comrades are watching our\nconference like famished tigers! Give them food!\u201d\n\nThus adjured, Thord advanced, and confronted the murmuring,\ngesticulating crowd of men, some of whom were wrathfully expostulating\nwith Johan Zegota, because he declined to unlock the door of the room\nand let them out, till he had received his Chief\u2019s commands to do so.\nOthers were grouped round Paul Zouche, who had sat apparently stricken\nimmovable in his chair ever since the King had declared his identity;\nand others showed themselves somewhat inclined to \u2018hustle\u2019 Sir Roger\nde Launay and Professor von Glauben, who guarded the approach to the\nplatform like sentinels,--though they were discreet enough to show no\nweapons of defence.\n\n\u201cComrades!\u201d\n\nThe rich, deep voice of their leader thrilled through the room, and\nbrought them all to silence and attention.\n\n\u201cComrades!\u201d said Thord slowly,--his accents vibrating with the deepest\nemotion. \u201cI desire and command you all to be satisfied that no wrong has\nbeen done to you! I ask you all to understand, fully and surely, that no\nwrong is intended to you! The man whom we have loved,--the man who has\nserved us faithfully as Pasquin Leroy,--is still the same man, though\nthe King! Rank cannot alter his proved friendship and service,--nor\nkingship break his bond! He is one of us,--signed and sealed in the\nblood of Lotys;--and as one of us he must, and will remain! Have I\nspoken truly?\u201d he added, turning to the King, \u201cor is there more that I\nshould say?\u201d\n\nBefore any reply could be given a hubbub of voices cried:--\n\n\u201cExplain! Confess! Bind him to his oath!\u201d\n\nWhereat the King, stepping forward a pace or two, confronted his\nwould-be doubters and detractors with a dauntless composure.\n\n\u201cExplain? Confess? Friends, I will do both! but for binding me to my\noath, there is no need,--for it is too strong a compact of faith and\nfriendship ever to be broken! Would you have me remind _you_ of your Vow\nof Fealty pronounced so solemnly this evening? Did you not swear that\n\u2018Whosoever among us this night shall draw the Red Cross Signal which\ndestines him to take from life a life proved unworthy, shall be to us\na sacred person, and an object of defence and continued protection\u2019?\nAs Pasquin Leroy, this vow applied to me,--as King, I ask no better or\nstronger pledge of loyalty!\u201d\n\nAll eyes were fixed upon him as he spoke. For some moments there was a\ndead silence.\n\nThis silence was presently broken by a murmur of conflicting wonder,\nimpatience and uncertainty,--deepening as it ran,--and then,--as the\nfull situation became more and more apparent, coupled with the smiling\nand heroic calm of the monarch who had thus placed himself voluntarily\nin the hands of his sworn enemies, all their struggling passions were\nsuddenly merged in one great wave of natural and human admiration for a\nbrave man and a burst of impetuous cheering broke impulsively from every\nlip. Once started, the infection caught on like a fever,--and again and\nyet again the excited Revolutionists cheered \u2018for the King!\u2019--till they\nmade the room echo.\n\nThe tumult was extraordinary. Lotys sat silent, with clasped hands, her\neyes dilated with feverish watchfulness and excitement,--the tempest of\nemotion in her own poor tortured soul, being of such a character which\nno words, no tears, no exclamations could possibly relieve. The memory\nof her interview with the King in his own Palace flashed across her\nlike a scene limned in fire. She had no power to think--she was simply\nstunned and overwhelmed,--and held only one idea in her mind, and that\nwas to save him at all costs, even at the sacrifice of her own\nlife. Thord, carried away from his very self by the force of such a\n\u2018Revolution\u2019 as he had never planned or anticipated, stood more in the\nattitude of one who was trying to think, rather than of one who was\nthinking.\n\n\u201cFor the King!\u201d cried Johan Zegota, suddenly giving vent to the feelings\nhe had long kept in check,--feelings which had made him a greater\nadmirer of the so-called \u201cPasquin Leroy\u201d than of Thord himself;--\u201cFor\nour sworn comrade, the King!\u201d\n\nAgain the cheers broke out, to be redoubled in intensity when Louis\nValdor added his voice to the rest and exclaimed:\n\n\u201cFor the first real King I have ever known!\u201d\n\nThen the excitement rose to its zenith,--and amidst the tempest of\napplause, the King himself stood quiet, watching the turbulence with\nthe thoughtful eyes of a student who seeks to unravel some difficult\nproblem. Raising his hand gently, he, by this gesture created immediate\nsilence,--and so, in this hush remained for an instant, leaning\nslightly against the Committee Table, draped as it was in its funereal\nblack,--the lights at either end of it, and the red lamp in its centre\nflinging an unearthly radiance on his fine composed features. Long, long\nafterwards, his faithful servants, Sir Roger de Launay and Heinrich\nvon Glauben retained a mental picture of him in that attitude,--the\ndauntless smile upon his lips,--the dreamful look in his eyes,--resting,\nas it seemed against a prepared funeral-bier, with the watch-lights\nburning for burial,--and the face of Lotys, pale as a marble mask, yet\nwearing an expression of mingled triumph and agony, shining near him\nlike a star amid the gloom, while the tall form of Sergius Thord in the\nbackground loomed large,--a shadow of impending evil.\n\nAfter a pause, he spoke.\n\n\u201cComrades! I thank you for the expressed renewal of your trust in me. In\nmy heart and soul, as a man, I am one of you and with you;--even though\nfate has made me a king! You demand an explanation--a confession. You\nshall have both! When I enrolled myself as a member of your Committee,\nI did so in all honesty and honour,--wishing to discover the object of\nyour Cause, and prepared to aid it if I found it worthy. When I\nsealed my compact with you in the blood of Lotys, the Angel of our\nCovenant,\u201d--here the cheering again broke out,--and Lotys, turning\naside, endeavoured to restrain the tears that threatened to fall;--then,\nas silence was restored, he resumed;--\u201cWhen as I say, I did this,--you\nwill remember that on being asked of my origin and country, I answered\nthat I was a slave. I spoke truly! There is no greater slave in all\nthe length and breadth of the world than a king! Bound by the chains\nof convention and custom, he is coerced more violently than any\nprisoner,--his lightest word is misunderstood--his smallest action\nis misconstrued,--his very looks are made the subject of comment--and\nwhether he walks or stands,--sits to give wearisome audience, or lies\ndown to forget his sorrows in sleep, he should assuredly be an object of\nthe deepest pity and consideration, instead of being as he often is, a\ntarget for the arrows of slander,--a pivot round which to move the wheel\nof social evil and misrule! The name of Freedom sounds sweet in your\nears, my friends!--how sweet it is--how dear it is, we all know! You are\nready to fight for it--to die for it! Then remember, all of you, that it\nis a glory utterly unknown to a king! Were he to take sword in hand and\ndo battle for it unto the death, he could never obtain it;--he might\nwin it for his country, but never for himself! Nothing so glorious as\nLiberty!--you cry! True!--but kings are prisoners from the moment\nthey ascend thrones! And you never set them free, save in the way you\nsuggested this evening;\u201d and he smiled, \u201cwhich way is still open to\nyou--and--to me! But while you take time to consider whether I shall or\nshall not fulfil the duty which the drawing of lots on this Day of\nFate has assigned to me,--whether you, on your parts, will or will not\nmaintain the Vow of Fealty which we all have sworn together,--I will\nfreely declare to you the motives which led me to depart from the\nconventional rule and formality of a merely \u2018Royal\u2019 existence, and to\nbecome as a Man among men,--for once at least in the history of modern\nsovereigns!\u201d\n\nHe paused,--every eye was fixed upon him; and the stillness was so\nintense that the lightest breath might be heard.\n\n\u201cI came to the Throne three years ago,\u201d he resumed, \u201cand I accepted its\nresponsibilities with reluctance. As Heir-Apparent, you all know, or\nthink you know, my career; for some of you have very freely expressed\nyour convictions concerning it! It was discreditable,--according to the\nopinions formed and expressed by this Committee. No doubt it was!\nLet any man among you occupy my place;--and be surrounded by the same\ntemptations,--and then comport himself wisely--if he can! Such an one\nwould need to be either god or hero; and I profess to be neither. But I\ndo not wish to palliate or deny the errors of the past. The present is\nmy concern,--the present time, and the present People. Great changes\nare fermenting in the world; and of these changes, especially of those\ndirectly affecting our own country, I became actively conscious, shortly\nafter I ascended the Throne. I heard of disaffections,--disloyalties;\nI gathered that the Ministry were suspected of personal\nself-aggrandisement. I learned that a disastrous policy was on foot\nrespecting National Education--in which priestcraft would be given every\nadvantage, and Jesuitry obtain undue influence over the minds of the\nrising generation. I heard,--I studied,--and finding that I could get no\ntrue answer on any point at issue from anyone of my supposed \u2018reliable\u2019\nministers, I resolved to discover things for myself. I found out\nthat the disaffected portion of the metropolis was chiefly under the\ninfluence of Sergius Thord--and accordingly I placed myself in his way,\nand became enrolled among you as \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019; his sworn associate.\nI am his sworn associate still! I am proud that he should call me\nfriend;--and even as we have worked already for the People, so we will\nwork still--together!\u201d\n\nNo restraint could have availed to check the wild plaudits that broke\nout afresh at these words. Still thoughtfully and with grave kindness\ncontemplating all the eager and excited faces upturned to him, the King\nwent on.\n\n\u201cYou know nearly all the rest. As Pasquin Leroy, I discovered all\nthe shameful speculations with the public money, carried on by Carl\nP\u00e9rousse,--and found that so far, at any rate, your accusations against\nhim were founded in fact. At the first threatening suspicion of possible\ncondemnation the Marquis de Lutera resigned,--thus evidencing his guilty\nparticipation in the intended plunder. A false statement printed\nby David Jost, stating that I,--the King,--had revoked my decision\nconcerning the refusal of land to the Jesuits, caused me to announce\nthe truth of my own action myself, in the rival newspaper. Of my\nexcommunication from the Church it is unnecessary to speak; a man is\nnot injured in God\u2019s sight by that merely earthly ban. Among other\nthings\u201d--and he smiled,--\u201cI found myself curiously possessed of a\ntaste for literature!--and proved, that whereas some few monarchs of\nmy acquaintance cannot be quite sure of their spelling, I could, at a\npinch, make myself fairly well understood by the general public, as\na skilled writer of polemics against myself!--as well as against the\nSecretary of State. This, so far as I personally am concerned, has been\nthe humorous side of my little drama of disguise!--for sometimes I have\nhad serious thoughts of appearing as a rival to our friend, Paul Zouche,\nin the lists of literary Fame!\u201d\n\nA murmur of wondering laughter ran round the room,--and all heads were\nturned to one corner, as the King, with the kindly smile still lighting\nup his eyes and lips, called:\n\n\u201cZouche, are you there? Do you hear me?\u201d\n\nZouche did hear. He had been sitting in a state of semi-stupor all the\nevening,--his chaotic mind utterly confused and bewildered by the events\nwhich had taken place;--but now, on being called, his usual audacious\nand irrepressible spirit came to his aid, and he answered:\n\n\u201cO King, I hear! O King, your Majesty would make the deaf to hear,\nand the dumb to speak! And if there is anything to be done to me for\nabominating you, O King, who had the impudence to offer me a hundred\ngold pieces a year for my poems, I, O King, will submit to the utmost\nterrors of the law!\u201d\n\nA burst of laughter long and loud, relieved the pent-up feelings of the\ncompany. The King laughed as heartily as the rest, and over the brooding\nfeatures of Thord himself came the shadow of a smile.\n\n\u201cWe will settle our accounts together later on, Zouche!\u201d said the\nmonarch gaily; \u201cMeanwhile, I beg you to continue your harmless\nabomination of me at your leisure!\u201d\n\nAnother laugh went round, and then the King resuming his speech\ncontinued:\n\n\u201cI have played two parts at once,--Revolutionist and King! But both\nparts are after all but two sides of the same nature. When I first came\namong you, I bade you all look at me well,--I asked you to note the\nresemblance I bore to the ruling Sovereign. I called myself \u2018the living\ncopy of the man I most despise.\u2019 That was quite true! For there is no\none I despise more utterly than myself,--when I think what I might have\ndone with my million opportunities, and how much time I have wasted! You\nall scrutinised me closely;--and I did not flinch! You all accepted my\nservice,--and I have served you well! I have noted every one of your\ndesires. Where possible, I have sought to fulfil them. Every accusation\nyou have brought against the Ministry has been sifted to the bottom,\nand proved down to the hilt. My publicly-proclaimed decision to nominate\nCarl P\u00e9rousse as Premier was merely thrown out as a test to try the\ntemper and quality of the nation. That test has answered its purpose\nwell! But there is no need for fear,--Carl P\u00e9rousse will never be\nnominated to anything but disgrace! All his schemes are in my hand,--I\nhold complete documentary proofs of his dishonesty and guilt; and the\nvery day which you have chosen as that on which to appeal to the King\nagainst the choice of him as Prime Minister, will see him denounced by\nmyself in person to the Government.\u201d\n\nA storm of applause greeted this welcome announcement. For a moment all\nthe men went mad with excitement, shouting, stamping and singing,--while\nagain and yet again the cry: \u2018For the King!\u2019 echoed round and round in\ntempestuous cheering.\n\nSergius Thord gazed blankly at the Scene with a strange sense of being\nthe dreaming witness of some marvellous drama enacted altogether away\nfrom the earth. He could hot yet bring himself to realise that by such a\nsimple method as the independent working of one individual intelligence,\nall his own followers had been swept round to loyalty and love for\na monarch, whom previously, though without knowing him, they had\nhated--and sworn to destroy! Yet, in very truth, all the hatreds and\nenvys,--all the slanders and cruelties of the members of the human race\ntowards each other, spring from ignorance; and when disaffected persons\nhate a king, they do so mostly because they do not know him, and\nbecause they can form no true opinion of his qualities or the various\ndifficulties of his position. If the Anarchist, bent on the destruction\nof some person in authority, only had the culture and knowledge\nto recognise how much that person already suffers, by being in all\nprobability forced to fulfil duties for which he has no heart or mind,\nhe would stay his murderous hand, and pity rather than condemn. For the\nremoval of one ruler only means the installation of another,--and the\nwild and often gifted souls of reformers, stumbling through darkness\nafter some great Ideal which resolves itself into a shadow and delusion\nthe nearer one approaches to it, need to be tenderly dealt with from the\nstandpoint of plainest simplicity and truth,--so that they may feel\nthe sympathetic touch of human love and care emanating from those very\nquarters which they seek to assail. This had been the self-imposed\nmission of the King who had played the part of \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019;--and\nthus, fearing nothing, doubting nothing, and relying simply on his own\nstrength, discretion, and determination, he had gained a moral victory\nover the passions of his secret foes such as he had never himself\nanticipated. When silence was again restored, he proceeded:\n\n\u201cThe various suggestions made in my presence during the time I have\nbeen a member of this Committee, will all be carried out. The present\nGovernment will naturally oppose every measure,--but I,--backed by\nsuch supporters as I have now won,--will elect a new Government--a new\nMinistry. When I began this bloodless campaign of my own, the present\nMinistry were on the edge of war. Determined to provoke hostilities\nwith a peaceful Power, they were ready even with arms and ammunition,\nmanufactured by a \u2018Company,\u2019 of which P\u00e9rousse was the director and\nchief shareholder! Contracts for army supplies were being secretly\ntendered; and one was already secretly accepted and arranged for,--in\nwhich Carl P\u00e9rousse and the Marquis de Lutera were to derive enormous\ninterest;--the head of the concern being David Jost. This plan was\nconcocted with devilish ingenuity,--for, if the war had actually broken\nout, the supplies of our army would have been of the worst possible\nkind, in order to give the best possible profit to the contractors; and\nJost, with his newspaper influence, would have satisfied the public mind\nby printing constant reiterations of the completeness and excellence of\nthe supplies, and the entire contentment and jubilation of the men! But\nI awoke to my responsibilities in time to checkmate this move. I\nforbade the provocation intended;--I stopped the war. In this matter\nat least--much loss of life, much heavy expenditure, and much\nill-will among other nations has been happily spared to us. For the\nrest,--everything you have been working for shall be granted,--if you\nyourselves will help me to realise your own plans! I want you in your\nthousands!--ay, in your tens of thousands! I want you all on my side!\nWith you,--the representatives of the otherwise unvoiced People,--I will\nenforce all the measures which you have discussed before me, showing\ngood and adequate reason why they should be carried. The taxes you\ncomplain of shall be instantly removed;--and for the more speedy\nreplenishment of the National Exchequer, I gladly resign one half my\nrevenues from all sources whatsoever for the space of five years; or\nlonger, if considered desirable. But I want your aid! Will you all stand\nby me?\u201d\n\nA mighty shout answered him.\n\n\u201cTo the death!\u201d\n\nHe turned to Thord.\n\n\u201cSergius,\u201d he said, \u201cmy task is finished--my confession made! The next\nOrder of this meeting must come from you!\u201d\n\nThord looked at him amazedly.\n\n\u201cFrom me? Are you not the King?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly so long as the People desire it!\u201d replied the monarch gently; \u201cAnd\nare you not the representative of the People?\u201d\n\nThord\u2019s chest heaved. Burning tears stood in his eyes. The strangeness\nof the situation--the deliberate coolness and resolve with which this\nsovereign ruler of a powerful kingdom laid his life trustingly in his\nhands, was too much for his nerve.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he said huskily; \u201cLotys!\u201d\n\nShe rose at once and came to him, moving ghostlike in her white\ndraperies, her eyes shining--her lips tremulous.\n\n\u201cLotys,\u201d he said, \u201cThe King is in our hands! You saved his life\nonce--will you save it again?\u201d\n\nShe raised her bent head, and the old courageous light flashed in her\nface, transfiguring its every feature.\n\n\u201cIt is not for me to save!\u201d she replied in clear firm tones; \u201cIt is for\nyou--and for all of us,--to defend!\u201d\n\nA ringing cheer answered her. Sergius Thord slowly advanced, and as he\ndid so, the King, seeing his movement frankly held out his hand. For\na moment the Socialist Chief hesitated--then suddenly yielding to his\noverpowering impulse, caught that hand and raised his dark eyes full to\nthe monarch\u2019s face.\n\n\u201cYou have conquered me!\u201d he said, \u201cBut only by your qualities as\na man--not by your authority as a king! You have won my honour--my\nrespect--my gratitude--my friendship--and with these, so long as you\nare faithful to our Cause, take my allegiance! More I cannot say--more I\nwill not promise!\u201d\n\n\u201cI need no more!\u201d responded the King cheerily, enclosing his hand in a\nwarm clasp. \u201cWe are friends and fellow-workers, Sergius!--we can never\nbe rivals!\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, his glance fell on Lotys. She shrank from the swift passion\nof his gaze,--and her eyelids drooped half-swooningly over the bright\nstar-windows of her own too ardent soul. Abruptly turning from both her\nand Thord, the King again addressed the company:\n\n\u201cOne word more, my friends! It is arranged that you, with all your\nthousands of the People are to convene together in one great multitude,\nand march to the Palace to demand justice from the King. There is now\nno need to do this,--for the King himself is one of you!--the King\nonly lives and reigns that justice in all respects may be done! I will\ntherefore ask you to change your plan;--and instead of marching to\nthe Palace, march with me to the House of Government. You would have\ndemanded justice from the King; the King himself will go with you to\ndemand justice for the People!\u201d\n\nA wild shout answered him; and he knew as he looked on the faces of his\nhearers that he had them all in his power as the servants of his will.\n\n\u201cAnd now, gentlemen,\u201d he proceeded; \u201cI should perhaps make some excuses\nfor my two friends, known to you as Max Graub and Axel Regor. I told you\nI would be responsible for their conduct, and, so far as they have been\npermitted to go, they have behaved well! I must, however, in justice\nto them, assure you that whereas I became a member of your Committee\ngladly, they followed my example reluctantly, and only out of fidelity\nand obedience to me. They have lived in the shadow of the Throne,--and\nhave learned to pity,--and I think,--to love its occupant! Because they\nknow,--as you have never known,--the heavy burden which a king puts on\nwith his crown! They have, however, in their way, served you under my\norders, and under my orders will continue to serve you still. Max\nGraub, or, to give him his right name, Heinrich von Glauben, has a high\nreputation in this country for his learning, apart from his position as\nHousehold Physician to our Court;--Axel Regor is my very good friend Sir\nRoger de Launay, who is amiable enough to support the monotony of his\nduty as one of my equerries in waiting. Now you know us as we are! But\nafter all, nothing is changed, save our names and the titles we bear; we\nare the same men, the same friends, the same comrades!--and so I trust\nwe shall remain!\u201d\n\nThe cheering broke out again, and Sir Roger de Launay, who was quite as\noverwhelmed with astonishment at the courage and coolness of his Royal\nmaster as any Revolutionist present, joined in it with a will, as did\nVon Glauben.\n\n\u201cOne favour I have to ask of you,\u201d proceeded the King, \u201cand it is this:\nIf you exempt me to-night from killing the King;\u201d and he smiled,--\u201cyou\nmust also exempt all the members of the Revolutionary Committee from\nany similar task allotted to them by having drawn the fatal Signal! Our\nfriend, Zouche, for instance, has drawn the name of Carl P\u00e9rousse. Now I\nwant Zouche for better work than that of killing a rascal!\u201d\n\nLoud cheers answered him, and Zouche rising from his place advanced a\nlittle.\n\n\u201cMajesty!\u201d he cried, \u201cYou are right! I hand your Majesty\u2019s intended\nPremier over to you with the greatest, pleasure in the world! Apart from\nthe fact of your being the King, I am compelled to admit that you have\ncommon sense!\u201d\n\nLaughter and cheers resounded through the room again, and the King\nquietly turning round, extinguished the red lamp on the table. The\nthirteenth light was quenched; the Day of Fate was ended. As the ominous\ncrimson flare sank out, a sudden silence prevailed, and the King fixed\nhis eyes on Lotys.\n\n\u201cFrom you, Madame, must come my final exoneration! If you still condemn\nme as a King, I shall be indeed unfortunate! If you still think well\nof me as a man, I shall be proud! I have to thank you, not only for my\nlife, but for having helped me to make that life valuable! As Pasquin\nLeroy, I have sought to serve you,--as King, I seek to serve you still!\u201d\n\nThe silence continued. Every man present watched the visible emotion\nwhich swept every vestige of colour from the face of Lotys, and made her\neyes so feverishly bright. Every man gazed at her as she rose from her\nchair and came forward a little to the front of the platform. It was\nwith a strong effort that she raised her eyes to those of the King, and\nin that one glance between them, the lightning flash of a resistless\nlove tore the veil of secrecy from their souls. But she spoke out\nbravely.\n\n\u201cI thank your Majesty!\u201d she said; \u201cI thank you for all you have done for\nus as our comrade and associate,--for all you will yet do for us as our\ncomrade and associate still! It is better to be a brave man than a weak\nKing--but it is best to be a strong man and a strong king both\ntogether! You have disproved the thoughts I had of you as King! You have\nratified--\u201d here she paused, while the colour suddenly sprang to her\ncheeks, and her breath came pantingly and quick,--\u201cand strengthened the\nthoughts I had of you as our Pasquin!\u201d Her eyes softened with tears,\nthough she smiled. \u201cWe have believed in you; we believe in you still!\nAll is as it was,--save in the one thing new,--that where we were banded\ntogether against the King, we are now united for, and with the King!\u201d\n\nThese words were all that were needed to reawaken and confirm the\nenthusiasm of the Revolutionists, whose \u2018revolutionary\u2019 measures were\nnow accepted and sworn to by the Crowned Head of the Realm. Thereupon,\nthey gave themselves up to the wildest cheering.\n\n\u201cComrades!\u201d cried Paul Zouche, in the midst of the uproar; \u201cThere is one\npoint you seem to have missed! The King,--God bless him!--doesn\u2019t see\nit,--Thord, glowering like an owl in his ivy-bush of hair, doesn\u2019t see\nit! It is only left to me to perceive the chief result of this evening\u2019s\ndisclosures!\u201d\n\nAll the men laughed.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, Zouche?\u201d demanded Louis Valdor.\n\n\u201cAy! What is it?\u201d echoed Zegota.\n\n\u201cSpeak, Zouche!\u201d said the King; \u201cWhatever strange conclusion your poetic\nbrain discovers, doubt not but that we shall accept it,--from!\u201d\n\n\u201cAccept it? I should think so!\u201d cried Zouche; \u201cYou are bound to accept\nit whether you like it or not; there is no other way out of it!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what is it?\u201d repeated Zegota impatiently; \u201cDeclare it!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is this;\u201d said Zouche, \u201cSimply this,--that, with the King as our\ncomrade and associate, the Revolutionary Committee is no use! It is\nfinished! There can be no longer a Revolutionary Committee!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true!\u201d said the King; \u201cIt may henceforth be known as a new\nParliament!\u201d\n\nCheer after cheer echoed through the crowded room, and while the noise\nwas at its height a knocking was heard outside and Sholto, the hunchback\nfather of Pequita, demanded admittance. Zegota unlocked the door, and in\na few minutes the situation was explained to the astonished landlord of\nthe Revolutionary Committee quarters. Overwhelmed at the news, and full\nof gratitude for the kindness shown to his child, which he now knew had\nemanated from the King in person, he would have knelt to kiss the Royal\nhand, had not the monarch prevented him.\n\n\u201cNo, my good Sholto!\u201d he said gently; \u201cEnough of such humility wearies\nme in the monotonous routine of Court life; and were it not for custom\nand prejudice, I would suffer no self-respecting man to abase himself\nbefore me, simply because my profession is that of King! Tell Pequita\nthat I would not look at her, or applaud her dancing the other night,\nbecause I wished her to hate the King and to love Pasquin!--but now you\nmust ask her for me, to love them both!\u201d\n\nSholto bowed low, profoundly overcome. Was this the King against whom\nthey had all been in league?--this simple, unaffected man, who seemed\nso much at home and at one with them all? Amazed and bewildered, he, by\ngeneral invitation, mixed with the rest of the men, for each of whom\nthe King had a kind and appreciative word, or a fresh pledge of his good\nfaith and intention towards them and the reforms they sought to effect.\nVon Glauben was surrounded by a group of those among whom he had made\nhimself popular; and a hundred eager questions were asked of both him\nand De Launay, who were ready enough to eulogise the daring of their\nRoyal master, and the determination with which he had resolved on making\nhis secret foes his open friends.\n\n\u201cAfter all,\u201d said Zegota deprecatingly, \u201cit is not so much the King whom\nwe were against, as the Government.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! You forget, no doubt,\u201d said Von Glauben, \u201cthat the King--any\nKing--is usually a Dummy in the hands of Government, unless, as in\nthe present instance, he chooses to become a living Personality for\nhimself!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King has created an autocracy!\u201d said Louis Valdor; \u201cand it will\nlast for his lifetime. But after----!\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter him,--if his eldest son, Prince Humphry, comes to the\nThrone,--the autocracy will be continued;\u201d said Von Glauben decisively;\n\u201cFor he is a young man who is singularly fond of having his own way!\u201d\n\nThe conversation now became general; and the big, bare, common room\nassumed in a few minutes almost the aspect of a Royal lev\u00e9e. This was\ncurious enough,--and furnished food for meditation to Professor von\nGlauben, who was considerably excited by the dramatic d\u00e9nouement of the\nDay of Fate,--a climax for which neither he nor Sir Roger had been\nin the least prepared. He said something of it to Sir Roger who was\nwatching Lotys.\n\n\u201cYou look at the woman,\u201d he said; \u201cI look at the man! Do you think this\ndrama is finished?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot yet!\u201d answered De Launay curtly; \u201cNor is the danger over!\u201d\n\nThe hum of talk continued; and the good feeling of friendship and unity\nof the assemblage was intensified with every cordial handshake. When the\ntime came to break up, someone suggested that a carriage should be sent\nfor to convey the King and his two companions to the Palace. Whereat the\nmonarch laughed aloud and right joyously.\n\n\u201cBy my faith!\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cYou, my friends, would actually pamper me\nalready, by offering me a luxury which you yourselves do not propose\nto enjoy! Ah, my friends, here comes in the mischief of the monarchical\nsystem! What of your \u2018Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity\u2019? Do I ask to\nhave anything different to yourselves? Can I not walk, even as you do?\nHave I not walked to, and from these meetings often? And even so, I\npurpose to walk now! If you are true Revolutionists--as I am--do not\nreverse your own theories! You complain,--and justly,--that a king is\nover-flattered; do not then flatter him yourselves by insisting on such\nconvenience for him as he does not even demand at your hands!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou take us too literally, Sir,\u201d said Louis Valdor; \u201cEven\nRevolutionists owe respect to their chief!\u201d\n\n\u201cSergius Thord is your Chief, my friend!\u201d replied the monarch; \u201cAnd,\nfrom a Revolutionary point of view, mine! But you have never thought of\nsending _him_ anywhere in a carriage! Ah!--what children we are! What\nslaves of convention! \u2018Liberty, Equality and Fraternity\u2019 have been\nthe ideals of ages;--yet despite them, we are always ready to follow a\nLeader,--and form ourselves into one body under a Head!\u201d\n\n\u201cProvided the Head has brains in it!\u201d said Zouche. \u201cBut otherwise--\u201d\n\n\u201cYou cut it off!\u201d laughed the monarch--\u201cand quite right too!\u201d\n\nThey now began to separate. The hunchback Sholto explained that it was\nlong after midnight, and that he had already put out all the lights in\nthe basement.\n\nWhereupon the King, turning to Sergius Thord said: \u201cFarewell for the\nmoment, Sergius! Come to me at the Palace with the whole plan of the\nmeeting you are now organising; I shall hold myself ready to fall in\nwith your plans! Gather your thousands, and--leave the rest to me!\u201d\n\nThord clasped his extended hand,--and was moved by a curious instinct\nto bend down low over it after the fashion of a courtier, but restrained\nhimself almost by force. The men began to move; one after the other bade\ngood-night to the King--then to Thord, and last to Lotys, who, drawing\non her cloak, prepared to leave also.\n\n\u201cI will see you safely down the stairs,\u201d said the King smilingly, to\nher. \u201cIt is not the first time I have done so! How now, Zouche?\u201d\n\nPaul Zouche stood before him, his eyes full of a strange mingled pathos\nand scorn.\n\n\u201cI have to thank your Majesty,\u201d he said slowly, \u201cfor something I do not\nin the least value,--Fame! It has come too late! Had it been my portion\nthree years ago, the woman I loved would have been proud of me, and I\nshould have been happy! She is dead now--and nothing matters!\u201d\n\nThe King was silent. There was something both solemn and pitiful about\nthis wreck of manhood which was still kept alive by the fire of genius.\n\n\u201cWith one word you might have saved me--and her!\u201d he went on. \u201cWhen you\ncame to the Throne,--and all the wretched versifiers in the kingdom were\nscribbling twaddle in the way of \u2018Coronation odes\u2019 and medleys, I wrote\n\u2018The Song of Freedom\u2019 for your glory! All the people of the land know\nthat song now!--but you might have known it then! For now it is too\nlate!--too late to call her back;--too late to give me peace!\u201d\n\nHe paused;--then--without another word--turned, and went out.\n\n\u201cPoor Zouche!\u201d said the King gently; \u201cI accept his reproach and\nunderstand it! He is right! The recognition of his genius is one of the\nthousand chances I have missed! But, as God lives, I will miss no more!\u201d\n\nA great quietude fell on the house as the Revolutionary Committee\ndispersed. The last to leave was the King, his two friends, and Lotys.\nLotys declined all escort somewhat imperatively, refusing to allow\nSergius Thord to see her to her own home.\n\n\u201cI must be alone!\u201d she said; \u201cDo you not understand! I want to\nthink--I want to realise our change of position. I cannot talk to you,\nSergius,--no--not till to-morrow--you must let me be!\u201d\n\nHe drew back, chilled and hurt by her tone, but forbore to press his\ncompany on her. With another farewell to the King, he stood at the top\nof the long dark winding stair watching the group descend,--first Von\nGlauben, next De Launay,--thirdly, the King,--and lastly, Lotys.\n\n\u201cGood-night!\u201d he called, as her white robes vanished in the gloom.\n\n\u201cGood-night!\u201d she answered tremulously, as she disappeared.\n\nAnd he, returning to the empty room, stared vacantly at the table draped\nwith black, and the funeral urn set upon it,--stared at the empty\nchairs and bare walls, and listened as it were, to the midnight\nsilence,--realising that he as Chief of the Revolutionary Committee,\nwas no longer a chief but a servant!--and that the power he sought--that\npower which he had endeavoured to attain in order that he might make\nof Lotys, as he had said, \u2018a queen among women!\u2019 was only to be won\nthrough,--the King! The King knew all his secret plans and his\naims,--he held the clue to the whole network of his Revolutionary\norganisation,--and the only chance he now had of ever arriving at\nthe highest goal of his ambition was in the King\u2019s hands! Thus was\nhe,--Socialist and Revolutionist,--made subject to the Throne; the very\nrules he had drawn up for himself and his Committee making it impossible\nthat he could be otherwise than loyal, to a monarch who was at the same\ntime his comrade!\n\nMeanwhile, in the thick darkness of the hall below, while Von Glauben\nand De Launay were groping their way to the door which was cautiously\nheld open by Sholto, Lotys, moving with hesitating steps down the\nstairs, felt rather than saw a head turned back upon her,--a flash of\neyes in the darkness, and heard her name breathed softly:\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d\n\nShe grew dizzy and uncertain of her footing; she could not answer.\nSuddenly a strong arm caught her,--she was drawn into a close, fierce,\njealous clasp; warm lips caressed her hair, her brow, her eyes; and a\nvoice whispered in her ear:\n\n\u201cYou love me, Lotys! You love me! Hush!--do not deny it--you cannot deny\nit!--you know it, as I know it!--you have told me you love me! You love\nme, my Love! You love me!\u201d\n\nAnother moment--and the King passed quietly out of the door with a bland\n\u2018Good-night\u2019 to Sholto, and joining his two companions, raised his hat\nto Lotys with a courteous salutation.\n\n\u201cGood-night, Madame!\u201d\n\nShe stood in the doorway, shuddering violently from head to\nfoot,--watching his tall figure disappear in the shadows of the street.\nThen stretching out her hands blindly, she gave a faint cry, and\nmurmuring something inarticulate to the alarmed Sholto, fell senseless\nat his feet.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nKING AND SOCIALIST\n\n\nTo many persons of the servile or flunkey habit, the idea that a king\nshould ever comport himself as an ordinary,--or extraordinary,--man,\nseems more or less preposterous; while to conceive him as endowed with\ndash, spirit, and a love of adventure is judged almost as absurd and\nimpossible. The only potentate that ever appears, in legendary lore, to\nhave indulged himself to his heart\u2019s content in the sport of adopting a\ndisguise and going about unrecognised among his subjects, is the witty\nand delightful hero of the \u2018Arabian Nights\u2019 Entertainment,\u2019 Caliph\nHaroun Alraschid, who, as Tennyson describes him, had\n\n  \u201cDeep eyes, laughter-stirred\n  With merriment of kingly pride;\n  Sole star of all that place and time,\n  I saw him in his golden prime.\n  The good Haroun Alraschid!\u201d\n\nWe accept Haroun; and acknowledge him to have been wise in the purport\nof his wanderings through the streets of the city,--gaining new\nexperience with every hour, and studying the needs and complaints of his\npeople for himself;--but if we should be told of a modern monarch doing\nlikewise in our own day, we should mount on the stiff hobby-horse of our\nridiculous conventionality, and accuse him of having brought the\ndignity of the Throne into contempt. Yet nothing perhaps can be more\ncontemptible than a monarch who is too surrounded by flunkeyism to be a\nMan,--and, on the other hand, nothing could be more beneficial than the\nfeeling that perhaps a monarch may be so much of a man after all that no\none can be quite certain as to his whereabouts. It would be well if some\nrowdy \u2018clubs\u2019 could be restrained by the idea that the Sovereign of the\nRealm might step in unexpectedly,--or if the \u2018slums\u2019 could scarcely be\nable to tell when he might not be among their inmates, disguised as one\nof them, studying and knowing more in a day than his ministers would\ntell him in several years. It is generally admitted that no man is fit\nfor a profession till he has thoroughly mastered its possibilities,--yet\nit is not too much to declare that in the profession of Sovereignty the\nfew who practise it, have mastered it to so little purpose, that they\nare almost entirely blind to the singular advantages which they might\nobtain, not only for themselves, but for the entire world, if they chose\nto put forth their own individuality, and, instead of wasting their time\non the scheming and self-seeking sections of Society, elected to try\ntheir powers on the working and trade communities of the nation. But\nthroughout all history, the various careers of kings and emperors\ncontain instructive lessons of Lost Opportunity. Allowing for the\ndifferences of climate and temperament, it may be taken for granted\nthat no people of any country are constitutionally able to rise above\na certain height of enthusiasm; and that when the high-water mark is\nreached, their enthusiasm cools, and a reaction invariably sets in. For\nthis cause a monarch should never rely too much on the plaudits of the\nmob in a time of conquest, or public festival of jubilation. He should\nlook upon such acclamation as the mere rising of a wave, which must in\ndue time sink again,--and if he would know his people thoroughly,\nhe should study that same shouting mob, not when it is affected by\nhysteria, but during its everyday level condition of stubborn and\npatient toil. So will he perhaps be able to lay his finger on the sore\nplaces of life, and to find out where the seed of mischief is planted,\nbefore it begins to grow. But he must give an individual interest to\nsuch work; no information must be obtained or given through this person\nor that person,--for the old maxim that \u2018if you want anything done, do\nit yourself\u2019 applies to kings as well as to all other classes of men.\n\nThat the old adage had been amply practised by one king at least, was\nsoon known throughout the capital of the country over which the monarch\nhere written of held dominion. Somehow, and by some means or other, the\nstory oozed out bit by bit and in guarded whispers, that the King\nhad \u2018trapped\u2019 Carl P\u00e9rousse, as well as several other defaulting\nministers,--and that, strange and incredible as it appeared, he himself\nwas the very \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019 whose political polemics had created such\na stir. Once started, the rumour flew;--some disbelieved it;--others\nlistened, with ears stretched wide, greedy for more detail,--but\npresently the scattered threads of gossip became woven into a\nconsecutive web of certainty so far as one point, at least, was\nconcerned,--and this was, that the King would personally address his\nParliament during the ensuing week on matters of national safety and\nimportance. Such an announcement was altogether unprecedented, and\nexcited the whole country\u2019s attention. Plenty of discussion there was,\nas to whether the King had any right to so address the members of the\nGovernment,--and some oracular journals were of the opinion that he\nwas acting in an \u2018unconstitutional manner.\u2019 On the other hand, it\nwas discovered and proved that there was no actual law forbidding the\nSovereign to speak when any question of urgency appeared to call for his\nexpressed opinion.\n\nWhile this affair was being contested and argued, a considerable\nsensation was created by the news that the Marquis de Lutera had\nsuddenly left the country,--ostensibly for his health, which, everyone\nwas assured, had completely broken down. People shook their heads\nominously, and wondered when the King would give M. P\u00e9rousse the task of\nforming a new Ministry,--while they watched with deepening interest the\nprogress of the various Government debates, which were carried on in the\nusual way, following the lines laid down by the absent Premier, Marquis\nde Lutera. Carl P\u00e9rousse, confronted by a thousand difficulties,\nmaintained his usual equable and audacious attitude, scouting with\nscorn the rumour that the Socialist writer, \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019 was merely\na disguise adopted by the King himself,--and he was as cool and\nimperturbable as ever when one morning David Jost succeeded in finding\nhim at home, and obtaining an audience.\n\n\u201cIt was the King!\u201d burst out Jost, as soon as he found himself alone\nwith his ally; \u201cIt was the King himself who wore Lutera\u2019s signet, and\ncame to me disguised so well that his own father would not have known\nhim! The King himself, I say! And I told him everything!\u201d\n\n\u201cMore fool you!\u201d returned P\u00e9rousse quietly; \u201cHowever, fools generally\nhave to pay the price of their folly!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd knaves!\u201d said Jost furiously; \u201cBut there is a power which cannot be\ncontrolled, even by kings or statesmen--and that is--the pen!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd do you think you can use the pen?\u201d queried P\u00e9rousse indolently;\n\u201cExcellent Shylock, you know you cannot! You can pay others to use it\nfor you! That is all!\u201d\n\n\u201cI can make short work of _you_ at any rate!\u201d said Jost, his little\neyes sparkling with rage; \u201cFor I see plainly enough now that even if our\nplans had succeeded, you would have left me in the lurch!\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course!\u201d smiled P\u00e9rousse; \u201cAre you so simple in the world\u2019s ways as\nnot to be able to realise that such Jew pressmen as you are only made\nfor the use of politicians? We drop you, when we have done with you! Go\nto London, Jost! Start a paper there! It is the very place for you! Get\na Cardinal to back you up, with funds to be used for the \u2018conversion\u2019 of\nEngland! Or give a hundred thousand pounds to a hospital! You can become\nnaturalised as an Englishman if you like; any country does for a Jew!\nAnd you will be a power of the realm in no time! They manage these sort\nof things capitally there!\u201d\n\n\u201cBy God!\u201d said Jost; \u201cI could kill you!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat for?\u201d demanded P\u00e9rousse; \u201cBecause you think I am going to be\nproved a political fraud? Wait and see! If the King denounces me, I am\nprepared to denounce the King!\u201d\n\nJost stared, then laughed aloud.\n\n\u201cDenounce the King! You are bold! But you make up your sum with the\nwrong numerals this time! The King holds the complete list of your\nspeculations in his hand,--he has got them through the agency of the\nRevolutionary Committee, to which your stockbroker\u2019s confidential clerk\nbelongs! You fool! All your schemes--all your \u2018companies\u2019 are known to\nhim root and branch--and you say you will \u2018denounce\u2019 him! If you do, it\nwill be a real comedy!--the case of a thief denouncing the officer who\nhas caught him red-handed in the act of thieving!\u201d\n\nWith this parting shot, he made a violent exit. P\u00e9rousse left alone,\ndismissed him, with all other harassments from his mind; for being\nentirely without a conscience, he had very little care as to the results\nof the King\u2019s reported intentions. He was preparing a brilliant speech,\nwhich he intended to deliver if occasion demanded; and on his own\ncoolness, mendacity and pluck, he staked his future.\n\n\u201cIf I fail,\u201d he said to himself; \u201cI will go to the United States, and\nend by becoming President! There are many such plans open to a man of\nresources!\u201d\n\nDuring the ensuing few days there were some extra gaieties at the\nPalace,--and the King and Queen were seen daily in public. Everywhere,\nthey were greeted with frantic outbursts of cheering, and the recent\nriotous outbreaks seemed altogether forgotten. The Opera was crowded\nnightly, and undeterred by the fear of any fresh manifestations of\npopular discontent, their Majesties were again present. This time\nthe King was the first to lead off the applause that hailed Pequita\u2019s\ndancing. And how her little feet flew!--how her eyes sparkled with\nrapture--how the dark curls tossed, and the cherry lips smiled! To\nher the King remained Pasquin!--a kind of monarch in a fairy tale,\nwho scattered benefits at a touch, and sunshine with a glance, and who\ndeserved all the love and loyalty of every subject in the kingdom! But\nshe had never had any idea of \u2018Revolution,\u2019 poor child!--save such a\nrevolving of chance and circumstance as should enable her father to\nlive in comfort, without anxiety for his latter days. And perhaps at\nthe bottom of all political or religious fanaticism we should find an\nequally simple root of cause for the effect.\n\nThe day at last came when Sergius Thord held his mighty \u2018mass meeting,\u2019\nconvened in the Cathedral square,--all ready for marching orders. No\ninterference was offered either from soldiery or police; and the people\ncame pouring up from every quarter of the city in their thousands and\ntens of thousands. By noon, the tall lace-like spire of the Cathedral\ntowered above a vast sea of human heads, which from a distance looked\nlike swarming bees; and as the bells struck the hour, Thord, mounting\nthe steps of a monument erected to certain heroes who had long ago\nfallen in battle, was greeted with a roar of acclamation like the\nthunder of heaven\u2019s own artillery. But even while the multitude still\nshouted and cheered, the sight of another figure, which quietly ascended\nto the same position, caused a sudden hush,--a gradually deepening\nsilence of amazement and awe,--and then finally swift recognition.\n\n\u201cThe King!\u201d cried a voice.\n\n\u201cPasquin Leroy!\u201d shouted another, who was answered by yells and shrieks\nof derision.\n\n\u201cThe King!\u201d was again the cry. And as the vast crowd circled round and\nround, its million eyes wonderingly upturned, Sergius Thord suddenly\nlifted his cap and waved it:\n\n\u201cAy! The King!\u201d His voice rang over the heads of the people with a rich\nthrill of command. \u201cThe King, who here declares himself the friend of\nour Cause! The King, who is with us to-day of his own will, at his own\nrequest, by his own choice!--without escort,--unarmed--defenceless! The\nKing! The King who has resolved to go with us, and demand justice for\nhis overtaxed and suffering subjects! The King, who is one with us!--who\nseeks no greater kingliness than that of being loved and trusted by his\nPeople!\u201d\n\nThe surprise of this announcement was so truly overpowering, that for\nthe moment the mighty mass of men stood inert; then,--as the situation\nflashed upon them, such a thunder of cheering broke out as seemed to\nmake the very earth rock and the houses in the square tremble. The King\nhimself, standing by Thord, grew pale as he heard it, and his eyes were\nsuffused with something like tears.\n\n\u201cBy Heaven!\u201d he murmured; \u201cThe love of this people is worth having!\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you ever doubt it?\u201d queried Thord slowly, eyeing him with a touch\nof wonder not unmixed with jealousy; \u201cThere is only one power which\nkeeps a king on his throne--the confidence of the nation! You had nearly\nlost that! For though there is nothing so easy to win, there is nothing\nso easy to lose!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue!\u201d said the monarch, his eyes still resting tenderly on the excited\nmultitude below him. \u201cI have deserved little at the people\u2019s hands--but\nperhaps--when I am gone--\u201d he paused abruptly, then with a smile\nadded--\u201cGive us our marching orders, Sergius!\u201d\n\nThord obeyed,--and very soon, under his command, the huge multitude\narranged itself in blocks, or regiments, perfectly organised in\ndifferent companies, and entirely prepared to keep order. Dividing into\nequal lines they made way quickly and with enthusiasm as they perceived\nthe King\u2019s charger, which, richly caparisoned, had been brought for his\nMajesty at Thord\u2019s own earnest request.\n\nWhen all was ready, the King sprang into the saddle, and gathering the\nreins in one hand, sat for a moment bare-headed, the people\nsurging round him with repeated outbursts of applause. Without\na weapon,--without a single man of his own household to bear him\ncompany,--without any armed escort,--he remained there enthroned;--the\ncentre,--not of \u2018society,\u2019--but of the People, who gathered round him as\ntheir visible Head, with as much shouting and enthusiasm and worship,\nas if he had, in his own person, made the conquest, single-handed, of a\nhundred nations! Never, in his most gorgeous apparel,--never, even when\nrobed and crowned in state, had he looked so noble; never had he seemed\nso worthy of the highest honour, reverence and admiration, as now! At\na signal from Thord, who led the way on foot, the thousands of the\ncity began to march to the House of Government, all gathering round one\nprincipal figure, that of their King. A group of workmen constituted\nthemselves his body-guard, protecting his proudly-stepping charger from\nso much as a stone that might startle it or check its progress, and\nthus--liberated from the protection of flunkeys and flatterers,--the\nmonarch, surrounded by his true subjects advanced together as one Body,\nto challenge and overthrow a fraudulent Ministry, whose measures had\nbeen drawn up and passed, not for the good of the country, but for the\nfinancial advantage and protection of themselves.\n\nNever was such a wondrous sight seen, as that almost interminable\nprocession through the broad thoroughfares of the city, headed by a\nSocialist, and centred by a King! No Royal ceremonial, overburdened with\nsnobbish conventionalities and hypocritical parade, ever presented so\nsplendid and imposing a sight as that concentrated mass of the actual\npeople,--the working muscle and sinew of the land\u2019s common weal,\nmarching in steady and triumphant order,--surging like the billows of\nthe sea around that brave ship, their Sovereign, cheering him to the\necho, and waving around him the flags of the country, while he,\nstill bare-headed, rode dauntless in their midst looking every inch a\nking!--more kingly indeed than he had ever seemed, and more established\nin the affections of his subjects than any living monarch of the time.\nSo was he brought with ceaseless acclamation to the Government House,\nwhere, as all knew, he purposed denouncing Carl P\u00e9rousse;--and thus did\nhe assert in his own person that a king, supported by a nation, is more\npowerful than any government built up by mere party agency!\n\nAnd even so, at his best and bravest, two women looked upon him and\nloved him! One, from the outskirts of the great crowd where, shrouded\nclose in her veil, she waited tremblingly near the Government buildings,\nand saw him alight from his charger, and enter there, amid the wild\nshoutings of the populace,--the other, from a high window in the Royal\nPalace, where she leaned watching the crowd,--the sunlight catching the\ndiamonds at her breast and sparkling in her proud cold eyes. And over\nthe whole city rang the continuous and exultant cry:\n\n\u201cThe King! The King!\u201d\n\nAnd perhaps only one soul, prophetic in instinct, foresaw any terror in\nthe triumph!--only one voice, low and tremulous and weighted with tears\nand prayers, murmured:\n\n\u201cAh, dear God! Would he were not a King!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nA VOTE FOR LOVE\n\n\nNext day it was known through the length and breadth of the city that\nthe King, so long judged as a political Dummy, had proved himself a\nliving, acting authority. Every journal in city and province led off\nits news under the one chief heading,--\u2018The King\u2019s Speech.\u2019 The King\nhad spoken;--and with no uncertain voice. Cool, brilliant in wording,\nconcise in statement,--cuttingly correct in facts, convincing in\nargument, his unexpected denouncement of Carl P\u00e9rousse, and the P\u00e9rousse\n\u2018majority,\u2019 swept the Government off their feet by its daring\ncourage, and still more daring veracity. Documentary evidence of the\ndishonourable speculations with the public money which had been so\nfreely indulged in by the Secretary of State, aided and abetted by\nthe Premier, was handed by the King in person to the authorities whose\nbusiness it was to examine such proofs,--the dishonourable measures used\nto retain the \u2018majority\u2019 were fully exposed, and the whole House stood\nthunderstruck and mentally paralysed, under the straight accusation\nand merciless condemnation launched at their own lax tolerance of such\niniquitous practices, by their reigning monarch. With perfect dignity\nand impressive calm, the King quietly demanded whether M. Carl P\u00e9rousse\nwould be pleased to explain his actions? Whether he had anything to\nsay in response to the charges brought against him? To this last query,\nafter a dead silence, during which every eye was fixed on the defaulting\nMinister, who, in the course of the Royal speech had seen every bulwark\nof his own intended defence torn away from him, P\u00e9rousse, with an ashy\nwhite countenance answered:\n\n\u201cNothing!\u201d\n\nAnd the silence around him continued; a silence more expressive than any\noutspoken word of scorn.\n\nBut more surprises were in store for the Ministry, which found itself\nthus suddenly overthrown. The King announced the marriage of his son,\nthe Crown Prince, to \u2018a daughter of the People\u2019! Boldly, and with\nan ardent passion of truth lighting up every feature of his handsome\ncountenance, he stated this overwhelming piece of news in a perfectly\nmatter-of-fact way, adding, that in consequence of the step taken,--a\nstep which he did not himself in any way regret,--the Crown Prince asked\nto be allowed to resign the Throne in favour of his brother Rupert.\n\n\u201cUnless,\u201d continued his Majesty, \u201cthe Nation should be proved ready to\naccept the wife he has chosen. It is needless to add that my son has\nmarried without my consent, and this is the reason of his present\nabsence from the country. If the Nation accepts his wife, he will return\nto the Nation; if not, I am bound to say, knowing his mind, that there\nis nothing to be done, but to declare Prince Rupert Heir to the Throne.\nThis, however, I personally desire may be left to the consideration and\nvote of the people!\u201d\n\nAnd when the House rose on that astonishing afternoon, they knew\nthey were no longer a House,--they knew the Government was entirely\noverthrown, and that there would be a new Ministry and a General\nElection. They had to realise also, that their \u2018Bills\u2019 for imposing\nfresh taxes on the people were mere waste paper,--and they heard\nlikewise with redoubled amazement that the King had decided to resign\nhalf his revenues for the space of five years, to assist the deficit in\nthe National Exchequer.\n\nAt the conclusion of the whole unprecedented scene, they saw the King\nreceived, as it were, into the arms of a frenzied crowd, numbering many\ntens of thousands, which spread round all the Government buildings, and\npoured itself in thick streams through every street and thoroughfare,\nand they had to accept the fact that their \u2018majority\u2019 was reduced to\na minority so infinitesimal, amid the greater wave of popular resolve,\nthat it was not worth counting.\n\nCarl P\u00e9rousse, leaving the House by a private door of egress, shamed,\ndisgraced and crestfallen as he was, dared not trust the very sight of\nhimself to such an overwhelming multitude, and managed by lucky chance\nto escape unobserved. He was assisted in this manoeuvre by General\nBernhoff. The Chief of the Police perceived him slinking cautiously\nalong the side-wall of an alley where the crowd had not penetrated, and\nhelped him into a passing cab that he might be driven rapidly and safely\nto his home.\n\n\u201cYou will no doubt excuse me\u201d--said the General with a slight\nsmile--\u201cfor not having acted more rigorously in the matter of the\nsuspected \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019! I am afraid I should never have summed up\nsufficient impudence to ask the King to sign a warrant against himself!\u201d\n\nP\u00e9rousse muttered an inarticulate oath by way of reply. He realised\nfully that the game for him was lost. His speech of defence, so\ncarefully prepared had been useless, for he could not have uttered it in\nthe face of the damnatory evidence against him pronounced by the King,\nand verified by his own public actions. Yet his audacity had not, in the\nmain, deserted him. He knew that, owing to his proved defalcations\nand fraudulent use of the public money, his own property would be\nconfiscated to the Crown,--but he had always kept himself well prepared\nfor emergencies, and had invested in foreign securities under various\nassumed names. Turning his attention to America, he felt pretty sure he\ncould do something there,--but so far as his own country was concerned,\nhe submitted to the inevitable, feeling that his day was done.\n\n\u201cThe Jew is always triumphant!\u201d he said, as he opened Jost\u2019s newspaper\nnext morning, and read a full account of the proceedings in the House,\ndescribed with all the \u2018colour\u2019 and gush of Jost\u2019s most melodramatic\nreporter. \u201cThere is no doubt a \u2018leader\u2019 on my \u2018unhappy position\u2019 as a\nfallen, but once trusted Minister!\u201d\n\nHe was right; there was! A gravely-reproachful, sternly-commiserating\n\u2018leader,\u2019 wherein the apparently impeccable and highly conscientious\nwriter \u2018deplored\u2019 the laxity of those who supported M. Carl P\u00e9rousse in\nhis \u2018regrettable\u2019 scheme of self-aggrandisement.\n\n\u201cThe rascal!\u201d ejaculated P\u00e9rousse, as he read. \u201cIf I ever get a fresh\nstart in the United States or South Africa, I\u2019ll put him on a gridiron,\nand roast him to slow music!\u201d\n\nMeanwhile the whole country went mad over the King. No man was ever so\nidolised; no man was ever made the centre of more hero-worship. In all\nthe excitement of a General Election, the wave of loyalty rose to its\nextremest height, and no candidate that was not ready to follow the\nlines of reform laid down by the monarch, had a ghost of a chance of\nbeing returned as a deputy. With the abolition of the tax on bread, the\npopular jubilation increased; bonfires were lit on every hill,--rockets\nflared up star-like from every rocky point upon the coast, and the\nNation gave itself entirely up to joy.\n\nAll the long dormant sentiment of the multitude was roused to a\nfever-heat by the story of Prince Humphry\u2019s marriage, and he too, next\nto his father, became a veritable hero of romance in the eyes of the\npeople, for whom Love, and all pertaining to love-matters form the most\ninteresting part of life. Following his announcement in the House, the\nKing issued a \u2018manifesto,\u2019 setting forth the facts of his son\u2019s union\nwith \u2018One Gloria Ronsard, of The Islands,\u2019 and requesting the vote of\nthe people for, or against, the Prince as Heir-Apparent to the Throne.\n\nThe result of this bold and candid reliance on the Nation was one which\ncould never have been foreseen by so-called \u2018diplomatic\u2019 statesmen, who\nare accustomed to juggle with simple facts, and who strive to cover up\nand conceal the too distinct plainness of truth. An electric thrill\nof chivalrous enthusiasm pulsated through the entire country; and the\nunanimous vote of the people was returned to the King in entire favour\nof the Crown Prince and his chosen bride. Perhaps no one was more\nastonished at this than the King himself. He had been prepared for\nconsiderable friction; he had been quite sure of opposition on the part\nof \u2018Society,\u2019 but, Society, moved for once from its usual selfishness by\nthe boldness and daring of a heroic king, had ranked itself entirely on\nhis side, and was ready and even anxious to accept in Prince Humphry a\nnew kind of \u2018Cophetua,\u2019 even if he had chosen to wed a beggar-maid! And\nit so chanced that there were many persons who had seen Gloria,--and\namong these was Sergius Thord, He had not only seen her, but known\nher;--he had studied her character and qualities,--and was aware that\nshe possessed one of the most pure and beautiful of womanly souls;--and\nthough taken by surprise at the discovery that the young \u2018sailor\u2019 she\nhad wedded was no other than the Crown Prince, yet, after the experience\nhe had personally gone through with one \u2018Pasquin Leroy,\u2019 he could\nscarcely feel that any news, even of the most wonderful kind, was\nso wonderful after all! So that, as soon as he learned the truth, he\nbrought all his enormous \u2018following\u2019 into unanimity as regarded the\nPrince\u2019s romantic love-story; and ere long there was not one in the\nmetropolis at least, who did not consider the marriage a good thing, and\nlikely to weld even more closely together the harmonious relationship\nbetween people and Throne.\n\nAnd so it chanced, that even while the General Election was still going\non all over the country, an incessant popular clamour was made for the\ninstant return of the Prince to his native land. The papers teemed with\nsuggestions as to the \u2018welcoming home\u2019 of the young hero of romance and\nhis bride, and Professor von Glauben, mentally giddy with the whirl of\nevents, was nevertheless triumphantly elated.\n\n\u201cNow that you know everything,\u201d he said to Sir Roger de Launay, \u201cI hope\nyou are satisfied! My \u2018jam-pot\u2019 that you spoke of, has turned out to be\na special Sweetmeat for the whole nation!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am very much surprised, I confess!\u201d said Sir Roger slowly; \u201cI should\nhardly have thought such a love-story possible in these modern days.\nAnd I should certainly never have given the nation credit for so much\nsentiment!\u201d\n\n\u201cA nation is always sentimental!\u201d declared the Professor; \u201cWhat does\na Government exist for? Merely to keep national sentiment in order.\nMinisters know well enough, that despite the various \u2018Bills\u2019 brought in\nfor material advantage and improvement, they have always to deal with\nthe imaginative aspiration of the populace, rather than their conception\nof logic. For truly, the masses have no logic at all; they will not stop\nto count the cost of an Army, but they will shout themselves hoarse at\nthe sight of the Flag! The Flag is the Sentiment; the Army is the\nFact. The King has secured all the votes of the nation on a question of\nSentiment only,--but there is this pleasant scientific \u2018fact underlying\nthe sentiment,--Gloria is fit to be the mother of kings! And that is\nwhat I will not say of any royally-born woman I know!\u201d\n\nSir Roger was silent.\n\n\u201cConsider our present Queen as a mother only!\u201d he went on; \u201cBeautiful\nand impassive as a snow-peak with the snow shining upon it! What of her\nsons? The Crown Prince is the best of them,--but he has only been saved\nfrom inherited mischief by his love for Gloria. The other two boys,\nRupert and Cyprian, will probably be selfish libertines!\u201d\n\nSir Roger opened his eyes in astonishment.\n\n\u201cWhy do you say that?\u201d he asked; \u201cThey are harmless lads enough! Cricket\nand football are enough to make them happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the present, no doubt!\u201d agreed Von Glauben; \u201cBut it sometimes\nhappens that the young human animal who expends all his brains on\nkicking a football, is quite likely to expend another sort of force when\nhe grows up, in morally kicking other things! At least, that is how I\nregard it. The over-cultivation of physical strength leads to mental\ncallousness and brutality. These are scientific points which require\ndiscussion,--not with you,--but with a scientist. Nothing should be\noverdone. Too much enervation and lack of athleticism leads to moral\ndeterioration certainly,--but so does too much \u2018sport\u2019 as they call it.\nThere is a happy medium to be obtained on both sides, but human beings\ngenerally miss it. Prince Humphry, born of a beautiful, introspective,\nselfish--yes, I repeat it!--selfish mother, would, if he had married a\nhard-natured, cold and conventional wife, probably have been the most\nindifferent, casual, and careless sovereign that ever reigned; but,\nunited as he is to a trusting, warm-hearted, loving, womanly woman like\nGloria, he will probably make himself the idol of the Nation.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot more so than his father is!\u201d said Sir Roger, with a smile.\n\n\u201cAch so! That would be difficult, I grant you!\u201d agreed the Professor;\n\u201cAs I told you, Roger, at the beginning of this drama in which we have\nboth played our little parts; no harm ever came undeservedly to a brave\nman with a good conscience!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue! And no harm has come to the King--as yet!\u201d said Sir Roger\nthoughtfully. \u201cBut I sometimes fear one man----!\u201d\n\n\u201cSergius Thord?\u201d suggested Von Glauben; \u201cTo speak honestly, so do I! But\nI watch him--I watch him closely! He loves Lotys, as a tiger loves its\nmate,--and if he should ever suspect----!\u201d\n\n\u201cHush!\u201d said Roger quickly; \u201cDo not speak of it! I assure you I am\nalways on guard!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood! So am I! But Thord is too busy just now climbing the hill to look\neither backward or aside. When he reaches the summit, it is possible he\nmay see the whole landscape at a glance!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will reach the summit very soon!\u201d said De Launay; \u201cHis election as\ndeputy for the city, is certain. From the moment he announced himself as\ncandidate, there has been no opposition.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will be returned by an overwhelming majority,\u201d said the Professor;\n\u201cAnd he will gain all the power he has been working for. Also, with the\npower, he will obtain all the difficulty, responsibility, disappointment\nand bitterness. Power is a dangerous possession, unless it is\naccompanied by a cool head; and in that our friend Sergius Thord is\nlacking. He is a creature of impulse--and a savage creature too!--a\nhalf-educated genius,--than which nothing in the shape of humanity is\nmore desperately difficult to manage!\u201d\n\n\u201cLotys can manage him!\u201d said Sir Roger.\n\n\u201cThat depends!\u201d And the Professor rubbed his nose irritably. \u201cWomen are\nexcellent diplomatists up to a certain point, but their limit is reached\nwhen they fall in love! Passion and enthusiasm transform them into quite\nas absurd fools as--men!\u201d\n\nSir Roger smiled, and changed the subject.\n\nBut in a few days, what had been foreshadowed in their conversation came\ntrue. One of the chief results of the General Election was the triumphal\nreturn of Sergius Thord as Deputy for the Metropolis by an enormous\nmajority; and in the evening of the day on which the polling was\ndeclared, great crowds assembled beneath the windows of his\nhouse,--that house so long known as the quarters of the Revolutionary\nCommittee,--roaring themselves hoarse with acclamation. He was,\nof course, called out before them to speak,--and he yielded to the\nclamorous demand, as perforce he was bound to do, but strangely enough,\nwith extreme reluctance.\n\nA certain vague weariness depressed his spirits; his undisputed election\nas one of the most important Government-representatives of the people,\nlacked the savour of the triumph he had expected;--and like all those\nwho have worked for years to win a coveted post and succeed at last\nin winning it, he was filled with the fatal satiety of accomplishment.\nPower,--temporal power,--was after all not so great as it had seemed!\nHe had climbed--he had striven; but all the joy was contained in the\nclimbing and the striving. Now that he had gained his point there seemed\nnothing left to prick afresh his flagging ambition. Nevertheless, he\nsucceeded in addressing his enthusiastic followers and worshippers with\nsomething of his old fervour and fire,--sufficiently well, at any rate,\nto satisfy them, and send them off with renewed shouts of exultation,\nexpressive of their continued reliance on his courage and ability. But,\nwhen left alone at last, his heart suddenly failed him.\n\n\u201cWhat is the use of it!\u201d he thought wearily; \u201cTrue, I now represent the\ncity,--I lead its opinions--I am its mouth-piece for the State,--and\nthe wrongs and injuries done to the million are mine to bring before the\nGovernment; and my business it will be to force remedial measures\nfor the same. But what then? There will be, there must be, constant\ndiscussion, argument, contradiction,--for there are always conflicting\nopinions in every aspect of human affairs,--and it will be my work to\nput down all contradiction,--all opposition,--and to carry the People\u2019s\nCause with a firm hand. Yet--after all, if I succeed, it will be the\nKing\u2019s doing,--not mine! To him I partly owe my present power; the power\nI had before, was _all_ my own!\u201d\n\nSullen and silent he brooded on the changes in his fortunes with no very\nsatisfied mind. While he could not, as a brave man, refuse his respect\nand homage to the monarch who had quietly made himself complete master\nof the \u2018Revolutionary\u2019 organisation, and who had succeeded in turning\nthousands of disaffected persons into ardent Loyalists, he was\nnevertheless troubled by a lurking suspicion that Lotys had secretly\nknown and favoured the King\u2019s scheme. Vaguely ashamed in his own mind\nof the idea, he yet found himself giving way to it now and again, as he\nremembered how she had defended his life,--not once but twice,--and how\nshe had often frankly declared her admiration for the unselfishness,\nheroism, and tireless energy of the so-called \u2018Pasquin Leroy.\u2019 After\nmuch perplexed meditation, he came at last to one resolve.\n\n\u201cShe must be my wife!\u201d he said, his eyes gleaming with a sudden fire\nof passion and determination combined; \u201cIf,--as she says,--she does not\nlove me, she must learn to love me! Then, all will be well! With her,\nit is possible I may reach still greater heights; without her, I can do\nnothing!\u201d\n\nMeantime, while the results of the Election to what was now called \u2018The\nRoyal Government,\u2019 were being daily recorded in all parts of the\nworld, and the King himself, from a selection of the ablest and most\nhonourably-proved men of the time, was forming a new Ministry, the news\nof these radical changes in the kingdom\u2019s affairs, spreading rapidly\neverywhere by cable, as news always spreads nowadays, reached a certain\nfar corner in one of the most beautiful provinces of India,--a corner\nscarcely known to the conventional traveller,--where, in a wondrous\npalace, lent to them by one of the most civilised and kindly of Oriental\npotentates,--a palace surrounded by gardens that might have been a true\ncopy of the fabled Eden, Prince Humphry and the fair \u2018Gloria\u2019 of his\nlife, were passing a happy, \u2018hidden-away\u2019 time of perfect repose.\n\nThe evening on which they learned that their own nation demanded their\nreturn was \u2018like the night of Al-Kadir, better than a thousand months.\u2019\nAll day long the heat had been intense,--and they had remained indoors\nenjoying the coolness of marble courts and corridors, and plashing\nfountains,--but with the sunset a soft breeze had sprung up, and Gloria,\npassing into the shadiest corner of the gardens, had laid herself down\nin a silken hammock swung between two broad sycamore trees, and there,\ngently swaying to and fro, she watched her husband reading the various\nEuropean journals that had arrived for his host by that day\u2019s mail.\nBeautiful always, she had grown lovelier than ever in these halcyon days\nof rest, when \u2018Love took up the harp of Life and smote on all the chords\nwith might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass\u2019d in music\nout of sight.\u2019 To her native grace she now united a distinctive dignity\nwhich added to her always gracious and queenly charm, and never had she\nlooked more exquisite than now, when rocking gently in the suspended\nnetwork of woven turquoise silk fringed with silver, she rested her head\nagainst cushions of the same delicate hue, and turned her expressive\neyes enquiringly towards her husband,--wondering what kept him so\nsilent, and what was the cause of the little line of anxiety which\nfurrowed his brow. Clad in a loose diaphanous robe of white, with a\nsimple band of silver clasping it round her supple form, her rich hair\ncaught carelessly back with a knot of scarlet passion-flowers, she\nlooked a creature too fair for earth, a being all divine; and the Prince\npresently turning his glances towards her, evidently thought so, from\nthe adoring tenderness with which he bent over her and kissed the\nripe, red, smiling lips which pouted so deliciously to take the offered\ncaress.\n\n\u201cThey want us back, my Gloria!\u201d he said; \u201cThe Nation asks for me--and\nfor _you_!\u201d\n\nShe raised herself a little on one arm.\n\n\u201cDo they know all?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes! The King, my father, has announced everything concerning our\nmarriage, not only to the Government, but by special \u2018manifesto\u2019 to the\nPeople. I did not think he would be so brave!\u201d\n\n\u201cOr so true!\u201d said Gloria, her eyes darkening and deepening with the\nintensity of her thought. \u201cLet me read this strange news, Humphry!\u201d\n\nHe gave her the papers,--and a few tears sparkled on her lashes like\ndiamonds and fell, as with a beating heart she read of the complete\ntriumph of the King over the Socialist and Revolutionary party,--of\nhis march with the multitude to the Government House,--of his bold\ndenunciation of Carl P\u00e9rousse, ending in the utter overthrow of a\nfraudulent Ministry,--and of his determination to renounce for five\nyears, one half his royal revenues in order to personally assist the\ndeficit in the National Exchequer.\n\n\u201cHe is, in very truth a King!\u201d she said, looking up with flushed cheeks\nand sparkling eyes,--\u201cSurely the noblest in the world!\u201d\n\nPrince Humphry\u2019s face expressed wonderment as well as admiration.\n\n\u201cI have been utterly mistaken in him,\u201d--he confessed,--\u201cOr else,\nsomething has greatly changed his ideas. I should never have deemed him\ncapable of running so much risk of his position, or of showing so much\nheroism, candour and self-sacrifice. All my life I have been accustomed\nto see him more or less indifferent to everything but his own pleasure,\nand more or less careless of the griefs of others; but now it seems\nas if he had kept himself back on purpose, only to declare his true\ncharacter more openly and boldly in the end!\u201d\n\nGloria read on, with eagerness and interest, till she came to the\nKing\u2019s \u2018manifesto\u2019 regarding his son\u2019s marriage with \u2018a daughter of the\nPeople.\u2019 She pointed to this expression with the tapering, rosy point of\nher delicate little finger.\n\n\u201cThat is me!\u201d she said; \u201cI _am_ a daughter of the People! I am proud of\nthe name!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are my wife!\u201d said the Prince; \u201cAnd you are Crown Princess of the\nrealm!\u201d\n\nShe looked meditative.\n\n\u201cI am not sure I like that title so well!\u201d she said surveying him archly\nunder the shadow of her long lashes; \u201cIndeed--if _you_ were not Crown\nPrince,--I should not like it at all!\u201d\n\nPrince Humphry smiled, and tenderly touched the scarlet passion-flowers\nin her hair.\n\n\u201cBut as I am Crown Prince, you will try to put up with it, my Gloria!\u201d\n and he kissed her again. \u201cWe must return home, Sweetheart!--and as\nspeedily as possible,--though I am sorry our restful honey-time is\nover!\u201d\n\nGloria looked wistfully around her,--over the long smooth undulating\nlawns, the thickets of myrtle and orange, the lovely deep groves of\ntrees, and away to the peaks of the distant dark blue hills, over which\na great golden moon was slowly rising.\n\n\u201cI am sorry too!\u201d she said; \u201cI could live always like this, in peace\nwith you, far, far away from all the world! Hark!\u201d\n\nShe held up her hand to invite attention, as the delicious warble of a\nnightingale, or \u2018bul-bul\u2019 broke the heated silence into liquid melody.\nHer lover-husband took that little uplifted hand, and drawing it in his\nown, kissed it fondly,--and so for a moment they were very quiet, while\nthe little brown bird of music poured from its palpitating throat a\ncadence of heart-moving song. Gradually, the golden splendour of the\nIndian moonlight widened through the trees, enveloping them in its clear\nluminous radiance; and the two beautiful human creatures, gazing into\neach other\u2019s eyes with all the unspeakable rapture of a perfect love,\ntouched that wondrous height of pure mutual passion which makes things\ntemporal seem very far off, and things eternal very near.\n\n\u201cIf life could always be like this,\u201d murmured Gloria; \u201cWe should surely\nunderstand God better! We should feel that He truly loved us, and wished\nus to love each other! Ah, if only all the world were as happy as I am!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will help to make a great part of it so, my beloved!\u201d said the\nPrince; \u201cYou will bring with you into our kingdom, comfort for the\nsorrowful, aid to the poor, sympathy for the lonely, thought for all!\nYou will forget nothing that calls for your remembrance, my Sweet! And\none nation at least, will know what it is to have a true woman\u2019s love to\nlight up the darkness of a Throne!\u201d\n\nThat night a cable message was sent by the Prince to his father, stating\nhis intention to return home immediately. The Oriental potentate who\nhad generously placed his palace at the Royal lovers\u2019 disposal, and\nhad religiously preserved the secret of their identity and whereabouts,\nbeing himself much fascinated and interested by the romance of their\nstory, now commanded festivals and illuminations for their entertainment\nbefore their departure, and within a fortnight of the despatch of his\nmessage, the Prince\u2019s yacht had left the mystic shores of the East, and\nstarted on its homeward journey.\n\nThe news that the Crown Prince was returning with his bride, set all\nthe country in a flutter of excitement, and the General Election being\nconcluded, and the meeting of the new Government being deferred until\nafter the Heir-Apparent\u2019s return, the people of every city and town and\nprovince set themselves busily to work to prepare suitable festivities\nfor the homecoming of the Royal pair. At The Islands especially the\nspirit of enthusiasm was complete--all sorts of ideas for f\u00eates and\nsports, and bonfires and illuminations, exercised the minds of the\nsimple fisher-folk, who were wild with joy at the singular destiny\nthat had befallen their \u2018waif of the sea\u2019 as they were wont to call the\nbeautiful girl who had grown up among them,--and the aged R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard\nwas made the centre of their interest and attention,--even of their\nadulation. But Ronsard had grown very listless of late. His age began\nto tell heavily upon him, and the news that Gloria was returning in all\ntriumph as Crown Princess, moved him but little.\n\n\u201cShe would have been happier as a simple sailor\u2019s wife!\u201d he averred,\nwhen Professor von Glauben, who visited him constantly, sought to rouse\nhim from the apathy into which he appeared to have sunk. \u201cThe greater\nthe position, the heavier the burden!--the more outwardly brilliant the\nappearance of life, the deeper its secret bitterness!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Gloria has Love with her, my friend!\u201d urged the Professor; \u201cAnd\nLove makes the bitterest things sweet!\u201d\n\nRonsard\u2019s aged eyes sparkled faintly.\n\n\u201cAy, Love!\u201d he echoed; \u201cA dream--a delusion--and a snare! Unless it be\na love strong enough to drag one down to death!--and then it is the\nstrongest power in the world! It is a terror and a martyrdom,--and in\nnothing shall its desire be thwarted! If It calls--even kings obey!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nBETWEEN TWO PASSIONS\n\n\nSlowly, and with hesitating steps, Sergius Thord mounted the long flight\nof stairs leading to the quiet attic which Lotys called \u2018home.\u2019 Here she\nlived; here she had chosen to live ever since Thord had made her, as he\nsaid, the \u2018Soul of the Revolutionary Ideal.\u2019 Here, since the King had\nconquered the Revolutionary Ideal altogether, and had made it a Loyalist\ncentre, did she dwell still, though she had now some thoughts of\nyielding to the child Pequita\u2019s earnest pleading, and taking up her\nabode with her and her father, in a pretty little house in the suburbs\nwhich, since Pequita\u2019s success as _premi\u00e8re danseuse_ at the Opera,\nSholto had been able to afford, and to look upon as something like\na comfortable dwelling-place. For with the election of Thord to the\ndignity of a Deputy, had, of course, come the necessity of resigning his\nold quarters where his \u2018Revolutionary\u2019 meetings had been held,--and he\nnow resided in a more \u2018respectable\u2019 quarter of the city, in such sober,\nyet distinctive fashion as became one who was a friend of the King\u2019s,\nand who was likely to be a Minister some day, when he had further proved\nhis political mettle. So that Sholto had no longer any need to try and\neke out a scanty subsistence by letting rooms to revolutionists and\n\u2018suspects\u2019 generally,--and Thord himself had helped him to make a change\nfor the better, as had also the King.\n\nBut Lotys had not as yet moved. She had lived so long among the\ndesperately poor, who were accustomed to go to her for sympathy and aid,\nthat she could not contemplate leaving so many sick and suffering and\nsorrowful ones alone to fight their bitter battle. So had she said, at\nleast, to Thord, when he had endeavoured to persuade her to establish\nherself in greater comfort, and in a part of the city which had a\n\u2018better-class\u2019 reputation. She had listened to his suggestions with a\nsomewhat melancholy smile.\n\n\u201cOnce,--and not so very long ago,--for you there was no such thing as\nthe \u2018better-class,\u2019 Sergius!\u201d she said; \u201cYou were wont to declare that\nrich and poor alike were all one family in the sight of God!\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not altered my opinion,\u201d said Thord, a slight flush colouring\nhis cheek; \u201cBut--you are a woman--and as a woman should have every care\nand tenderness.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo should my still poorer sisters,\u201d she replied; \u201cAnd it is for those\nwho have least comfort, that comfort should be provided. I am perfectly\nwell and happy where I am!\u201d\n\nRemembering her fixed ideas on this point, there was an uneasy sense of\ntrouble in Thord\u2019s mind as he ventured again on what he feared would be\na fruitless errand.\n\n\u201cIf I could command her!\u201d he thought, chafing inwardly at his own\nimpotence to persuade or lead this woman, whose character and will were\nso much more self-contained and strong than his own. \u201cIf I could only\nexercise some authority over her! But I cannot. What small debt of\ngratitude she owed me as a child, has long been cleared by her constant\nwork and the assistance she has given to me,--and unless she will\nconsent to be my wife, I know I shall lose her altogether. For she will\nnever submit to live on money that she has not earned.\u201d\n\nArrived at the summit of the staircase he had been climbing, he knocked\nat the first door which faced him on the uppermost landing.\n\n\u201cCome in!\u201d said the low, sweet voice that had thrilled and comforted so\nmany human souls; and entering as he was bidden, he saw Lotys seated in\na low chair near the window, rocking a tiny infant, so waxen-like and\nmeagre, that it looked more like a corpse than a living child.\n\n\u201cThe mother died last night,\u201d she said gently, in response to his look\nof interrogation; \u201cShe had been struggling against want and sickness for\na long time. God was merciful in taking her at last! The father has to\ngo out all day in search of work,--often a vain search; so I do what I\ncan for this poor little one!\u201d\n\nAnd she bent over the forlorn waif of humanity, kissing its pale small\nface, and pressing it soothingly to her warm, full breast. She looked\nquite beautiful in that Madonna-like attitude of protection and\nlove,--her gold hair drooping against the slim whiteness of her\nthroat,--her deep blue eyes full of that tenderness for the defenceless\nand weak, which is the loveliest of all womanly expressions.\n\nSergius Thord drew a chair opposite to her, and sat down.\n\n\u201cYou are always doing good, Lotys!\u201d he said, with a slight tremor in his\nvoice; \u201cThere is no day in your life without its record of help to the\nhelpless!\u201d\n\nShe shook her head deprecatingly, and went on caressing and soothing the\ntiny babe in silence.\n\nAfter a pause, he spoke again.\n\n\u201cI have come to you, Lotys, to ask you many things!\u201d\n\nShe looked up with a little smile.\n\n\u201cDo you need advice, Sergius? Nay, surely not!--you have passed beyond\nit--you are a great man!\u201d\n\nHe moved impatiently.\n\n\u201cGreat? What do you mean? I am Deputy for the city, it is true--but that\nis not the height of my ambition; it is only a step towards it.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo what do you aspire?\u201d she queried. \u201cA place in the Ministry? You will\nget that if you wait long enough! And then--will you be satisfied?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo--I shall never be satisfied--never till--\u201d\n\nHe broke off and shifted his position. His fierce eyes rested tenderly\nupon her as she sat holding the motherless infant caressingly in her\narms.\n\n\u201cYou have heard the latest news?\u201d he asked presently, \u201cThat Carl\nP\u00e9rousse has left the country?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I have not heard that,\u201d said Lotys; \u201cBut why was he allowed to go\nwithout being punished for his dishonesty?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo punish him, would have involved the punishment of many more\nassociated with him,\u201d replied Thord; \u201cHis estates are confiscated;--the\nopportunity was given him to escape, in order to avoid further\nMinisterial scandals,--and he has taken the chance afforded him!\u201d\n\nShe was silent.\n\n\u201cJost too has gone,\u201d pursued Thord; \u201cHe has sold his paper to his chief\nrival. So that now both journals are amalgamated under one head, and\nwork for the same cause--our cause, and the King\u2019s.\u201d\n\nLotys looked up with a slight smile.\n\n\u201cIt is the same old system then?\u201d she said. \u201cFor whereas before there\nwas one newspaper subsidised by a fraudulent Ministry, there are now\ntwo, subsidised by the Royal Government;--with which the Socialist party\nis united!\u201d\n\nHe frowned.\n\n\u201cYou mistake! We shall subsidise no newspaper whatever. We shall not\npursue any such mistaken policy.\u201d\n\n\u201cBelieve me, you will be compelled to do so, Sergius!\u201d she declared,\nstill smiling; \u201cOr some other force will step in! Do you not see that\npolitics always revolve in the same monotonous round? You have called\nme the Soul of an Ideal,--but even when I worked my hardest with you, I\nknew it was an Ideal that could never be realised! But the practice\nof your theories led me among the poor, where I felt I could be\nuseful,--and for this reason I conjoined what brains I had, what\nstrength I had, with yours. Yet, no matter how men talk of \u2018Revolution,\u2019\nany and every form of government is bound to run on the old eternal\nlines, whether it be Imperial, Socialistic or Republican. Men are always\nthe same children--never satisfied,--ever clamouring for change,--tired\nof one toy and crying for another,--so on and on,--till the end! I would\nrather save a life\u201d--and she glanced pityingly down upon the sleeping\ninfant she held-\u201cthan upset a throne!\u201d\n\n\u201cI quite believe that;\u201d said Sergius slowly; \u201cYou are a woman, most\nwomanly! If you could only learn to love----\u201d\n\nHe paused, startled at the sudden rush of colour that spread over her\ncheeks and brow; but it was a wave of crimson that soon died away,\nleaving her very pale.\n\n\u201cLove is not for me, Sergius!\u201d she said; \u201cI am no longer young. Besides,\nthe days of romance never existed for me at all, and now it is too late.\nI have grown too much into the habit of looking upon men as poor little\nemmets, clambering up and down the same tiny hill of earth,--their\npassions, their ambitions, their emotions, their fightings and\nconquests, their panoply and pride, do not interest me, though they move\nme to pity; I seem to stand alone, looking beyond, straight through the\nglorious world of Nature, up to the infinite spaces above, searching for\nGod!\u201d\n\n\u201cYet you care for that waif?\u201d said Thord with a gesture towards the\nchild she held.\n\n\u201cBecause it is helpless,\u201d she answered; \u201conly that! If it ever lives\nto grow up and be a man, it will forget that a woman ever held it, or\ncherished it so! No wild beast of the forest--no treacherous serpent\nof the jungle, is more cruel in its inherited nature, than man when\nhe deals with woman;--as lover, he betrays her,--as wife, he neglects\nher,--as mother, he forgets her!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have a bad opinion of my sex!\u201d said Thord, half angrily; \u201cWould you\nsay thus much of the King?\u201d\n\nShe started, then controlled herself.\n\n\u201cThe King is brave,--but beyond exceptional courage, I do not think he\ndiffers from other men.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you seen him lately?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\nThe answer came coldly, and with evident resentment at the query. Thord\nhesitated a minute or two, looking at her yearningly; then he suddenly\nlaid his hand on her arm.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he said in a half-whisper; \u201cIf you would only love me! If you\nwould be my wife!\u201d\n\nShe raised her dark-blue pensive eyes.\n\n\u201cMy poor Sergius! With all your triumphs, do you still hanker for a\nwayside weed? Alas!--the weed has tough roots that cannot be pulled up\nto please you! I would make you happy if I could, dear friend!--but in\nthe way you ask, I cannot!\u201d\n\nHis heart beat thickly.\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy? Ask why the rain will not melt marble into snow! I love you,\nSergius--but not with such love as you demand. And I would not be your\nwife for all the world!\u201d\n\nHe restrained himself with difficulty.\n\n\u201cAgain--why?\u201d\n\nShe gave a slight movement of impatience.\n\n\u201cIn the first place, because we should not agree. In the second place,\nbecause I abhor the very idea of marriage. I see, day by day, what\nmarriage means, even among the poor--the wreck of illusions--the death\nof ideals--the despairing monotony of a mere struggle to live--\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not be poor now;\u201d said Thord; \u201cAll my work would be to make\nyou happy, Lotys! I would surround you with every grace and luxury--with\nlove, with worship, with tenderness! With your intelligence and\nfascination you would be honoured,--famous!\u201d\n\nHe broke off, interrupted by her gesture of annoyance.\n\n\u201cLet me hear no more of this, Sergius!\u201d she said. \u201cYou were very good to\nme when I was a castaway child, and I do not forget it. But you must not\nurge a claim upon me to which I cannot respond. I have given some of\nthe best years of my life to assist your work, to win you your\nfollowers,--and to advance what I have always recognised as an exalted,\nthough impossible creed--but now, for the rest of the time left to me, I\nmust have my own way!\u201d\n\nHe sprang up suddenly and confronted her.\n\n\u201cMy God!\u201d he cried. \u201cIs it possible you do not understand! All my\nwork--all my plans--all my scheming and plotting has been for you--to\nmake you happy! To give you high place and power! Without you, what do I\ncare for the world? What do I care whether men are rich or poor--whether\nthey starve or die! It is you I want to serve--you! It is for your sake\nI have desired to win honour and position. Have pity on me, Lotys! Have\npity! I have seen you grow up to womanhood--I have loved every inch of\nyour stature--every hair of the gold on your head--every glance of your\neyes--every bright flash of your intelligent spirit! Oh, I have loved\nyou, and love you, Lotys, as no man ever loved woman! Everything I have\nattempted--everything I have done, has been that you might think\nme worthier of love. For the Country and the People I care\nnothing--nothing! I only care for you!\u201d\n\nShe rose, holding the sleeping child to her like a shield. Her features\nseemed to have grown rigid with an inflexible coldness.\n\n\u201cSo then,\u201d she said, \u201cYou are no better than the men you have blamed!\nYou confess yourself as false to the People as the Minister you have\ndisplaced! You have served their Cause,--not because you love them, but\nsimply because you love Me!--and you would force me to become your wife,\nnot because you love Me, so much as you love Yourself! Self alone is at\nthe core of your social creed! Why, you are not a whit higher than the\nvulgarest millionaire that ever stole a people\u2019s Trade to further his\nown ends!\u201d\n\n\u201cLotys! Lotys!\u201d he cried, stung to the quick; \u201cYou judge me wrongly--by\nHeaven, you do!\u201d\n\n\u201cI judge you only by your own words;\u201d she answered steadily; \u201cThey\ncondemn you more than I do. I thought you were sincere in your love for\nthe People! I thought your work was all for them,--not for me! I\njudged that you sought to gain authority in order to remedy their many\nwrongs;--but if, after all, you have been fighting your way to power\nmerely to make yourself, as you thought, more acceptable to me as a\nhusband, you have deceived me in the honesty of your intentions as\ngrossly as you have deceived the King!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King!\u201d he cried; \u201cThe King!\u201d\n\nShe flashed a proud and passionate glance upon him--and then--he\nsuddenly found himself alone. She had left the room; and though he knew\nthere was only one wall, one door between them, he dared not follow.\n\nGlancing around him at the simple furniture of the chamber he stood\nin, which, though only an attic, was bright and fresh and sweet, with\nbunches of wildflowers set here and there in simple and cheap crystal\nvases, he sighed heavily. The poor and \u2018obscure\u2019 life was perhaps, after\nall, the highest, holiest and best! All at once his eyes lighted on one\nlarge cluster of flowers that were neither wild nor common, a knot of\nrare roses and magnificent orchids, tied together with a golden ribbon.\nHe looked at them jealously, and his soul was assailed by sudden\nresentment and suspicion. His face changed, his teeth closed hard on his\nunder lip, and he clenched his hand unconsciously.\n\n\u201cIf it is so--if it should be so!\u201d he muttered; \u201cThere may be yet\nanother and more complete Day of Fate!\u201d\n\nHe left the room then, descending the stairs more rapidly than he had\nclimbed them, and as he went out of the house and up the street, he\nstumbled against Paul Zouche.\n\n\u201cWhither away, brave Deputy?\u201d cried this irresponsible being; \u201cWhither\naway? To rescue the poor and the afflicted?--or to stop the King from\npoaching on your own preserves?\u201d\n\nWith a force of which he was himself unconscious, he gripped Zouche by\nthe arm.\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d he whispered thickly;--\u201cSpeak! What do you know?\u201d\n\nZouche laughed stupidly.\n\n\u201cWhat do I know?\u201d he echoed; \u201cWhy, what should I know, blockhead, save\nwhat all who have eyes to see, know as well as I do! Sergius, your grasp\nis none of the lightest; let me go!\u201d Then as the other\u2019s hand fell from\nhis arm, he continued. \u201cIt is you who are the blind man leading the\nblind! You--who like all thick-skulled reformers, can never perceive\nwhat goes on under your own nose! But what does it matter? What does\nanything matter? I told you long ago she would never love you; I knew\nlong ago that she loved his Majesty, \u2018Pasquin Leroy!\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cCurse you!\u201d said Thord suddenly, in such low infuriated accents that\nthe oath sounded more like a wild beast\u2019s snarl. \u201cWhy did you not tell\nme? Why did you not warn me?\u201d\n\nZouche shrugged his shoulders, and began to sidle aimlessly along the\nroadway.\n\n\u201cYou would not have believed me!\u201d he said; \u201cNobody believes anything\nthat is unpleasant to themselves! If you had not some suspicion in your\nown mind, you would not believe me now! I am foolish--you are wise! I am\na poet--you are a reformer! I am drunk--you are sober! And with it all,\nLotys is the only one who keeps her head clear. Lotys was always the\ncreature of common-sense among us; she understood you--she understood\nme--and better than either of us--she understood the King!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no!\u201d whispered Thord, more to himself than his companion; \u201cShe\ncould not--she could not have known!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow you look as Nature meant you to look!\u201d exclaimed Zouche, staring\nwildly at him; \u201cSavage as a bear;--pitiless as a snake! God! What men\ncan become when they are baulked of their desires! But it is no use, my\nSergius!--you have gained power in one direction, but you have lost\nit in another! You cannot have your cake, and eat it!\u201d Here he reeled\nagainst the wall,--then straightening himself with a curious effort at\ndignity, he continued: \u201cLeave her alone, Sergius! Leave Lotys in peace!\nShe is a good soul! Let her love where she will and how she will,--she\nhas the right to choose her lover,--the right!--by Heaven!--it is a\nright denied to no woman! And if she has chosen the King, she is only\none of many who have done the same!\u201d\n\nWith a smothered sound between a curse and a groan, Thord suddenly\nwheeled round away from him and left him. Vaguely surprised, yet too\nstupefied to realise that his rambling words might have worked serious\nmischief, Zouche gazed blinkingly on his retreating figure.\n\n\u201cThe same old story!\u201d he muttered, with a foolish laugh; \u201cAlways a woman\nin it! He has won leadership and power,--he has secured the friendship\nof a King,--but if the King is his rival in matters of love--ah!--that\nis a worse danger for the Throne than the spread of Socialism!\u201d\n\nHe rambled off unthinkingly, and gave the only part of him which\nremained still active, his poetic instinct, up to the composition of\na delicate love-song, which he wrote between two taverns and several\ndrinks.\n\nLate in the afternoon--just after sundown--a small close brougham drove\nup to the corner of the street where stood the tenement house,--divided\ninto several separate flats,--in which the attic where Lotys dwelt was\none of the most solitary and removed portions. The King alighted from\nthe carriage unobserved, and ascended the stairs on which Sergius\nThord\u2019s steps had echoed but a few hours gone by. Knocking at the door\nas Sergius had done, he was in the same way bidden to enter, but as he\ndid so, Lotys, who was seated within, quite alone, started up with a\nfaint cry of terror.\n\n\u201cYou here!\u201d she exclaimed in trembling accents; \u201cOh, why, why have you\ncome! Sir, I beg of you to leave this place!--at once, before there is\nany chance of your being seen; your Majesty should surely know----!\u201d\n\n\u201cMajesty me no majesties, Lotys!\u201d said the King, lightly; \u201cI have been\nforbidden this little shrine too long! Why should I not come to see\nyou? Are you not known as an angel of comfort to the sorrowful and the\nlonely?--and will you not impart such consolation to me, as I may, in my\nmany griefs deserve? Nay, Lotys, Lotys! No tears!--no tears, dearest of\nwomen! To see you weep is the only thing that could possibly unman me,\nand make even \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019 lose his nerve!\u201d\n\nHe approached her, and sought to take her hand, but she turned away from\nhim, and he saw her bosom heave with a passion of repressed weeping.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he then said, with exceeding gentleness; \u201cWhat is this? Why are\nyou unhappy? I have written to you every day since that night when your\nlips clung to mine for one glad moment,--I have poured out my soul to\nyou with more or less eloquence, and surely with passion!--every day I\nhave prayed you to receive me, and yet you have vouchsafed no reply\nto one who is by your own confession \u2018the only man you love\u2019! Ah,\nLotys!--you will not now deny that sweet betrayal of your heart! Do\nyou know that was the happiest day of my life?--the day on which I was\nthreatened by Death, and saved by Love!\u201d\n\nHis mellow voice thrilled with its underlying tenderness;--he caught her\nhand and kissed it; but she was silent.\n\nWith all the yearning passion which had been pent up in him for many\nmonths, he studied the pure outlines of her brow and throat--the falling\nsunlight glow of her hair--the deep azure glory of the pitying eyes,\nhalf veiled beneath their golden lashes, and just now sparkling with\ntears.\n\n\u201cAll my life,\u201d he said softly, still holding her hand; \u201cI have longed\nfor love! All my life I have lacked it! Can you imagine, then, what it\nwas to me, Lotys, when I heard you say you loved my Resemblance,--the\npoor Pasquin Leroy!--and even so I knew you loved me? When you praised\nme as Pasquin, and cursed me as King, how my heart burned with desire to\nclasp you in my arms, and tell you all the truth of my disguise! But\nto hear you speak as you did of me, so unconsciously, so tenderly, so\nbravely, was the sweetest gladness I have ever known! I felt myself a\nking at last, in very deed and truth!--and it was for the love of you,\nand because of your love for me, that I determined to do all I could for\nmy son Humphry, and the woman of his choice! For, finding myself loved,\nI swore that he should not be deprived of love. I have done what I could\nto ensure his happiness; but after all, it is your doing, and the result\nof your influence! You are the sole centre of my good deeds, Lotys!--you\nhave been my star of destiny from the very first day I saw you!--from\nthe moment when I signed my bond with you in your own pure blood, I\nloved you! And I know that you loved me!\u201d\n\nShe turned her eyes slowly upon him,--what eyes!--tearless now, and\nglittering with the burning fever of the sad and suffering soul behind\nthem.\n\n\u201cYou forget!\u201d she said in hushed, trembling accents; \u201cYou are the King!\u201d\n\nHe lifted her hand to his lips again, and pressed its cool small palm\nagainst his brows.\n\n\u201cWhat then, my dearest? Must the King, because he is King, go through\nlife unloved?\u201d\n\n\u201cUnless the King is loved with honour,\u201d said Lotys in the same hushed\nvoice; \u201cHe must go unloved!\u201d\n\nHe dropped her hand and looked at her. She was very pale--her breath\ncame and went quickly, but her eyes were fixed upon him steadily,--and\nthough her whole heart cried out for his sympathy and tenderness, she\ndid not flinch.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he said; \u201cAre you so cold, so frozen in an ice-wall of\nconventionality that you cannot warm to passion--not even to that\npassion which every pulse of you is ready to return? What do you want of\nme? Lover\u2019s oaths? Vows of constancy? Oh, beloved woman as you are,\ndo you not understand that you have entered into my very heart of\nhearts--that you hold my whole life in your possession? You--not I--are\nthe ruling power of this country! What you say, that I will do! What you\ncommand, that will I obey! While you live, I will live--when you die, I\nwill die! Through you I have learned the value of sovereignty,--the good\nthat can be done to a country by honest work in kingship,--through you\nI have won back my disaffected subjects to loyalty;--it is all you--only\nyou! And if you blamed me once as a worthless king, you shall never have\ncause to so blame me again! But you must help me,--you must help me with\nyour love!\u201d\n\nShe strove to control the beating of her heart, as she looked upon\nhim and listened to his pleading. She resolutely shut her soul to the\npersuasive music of his voice, the light of his eyes, the tenderness of\nhis smile.\n\n\u201cWhat of the Queen?\u201d she said.\n\nHe started back, as though he had been stung.\n\n\u201cThe Queen!\u201d he repeated, mechanically--\u201cThe Queen!\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, the Queen!\u201d said Lotys. \u201cShe is your wife--the mother of your sons!\nShe has never loved you, you would say,--you have never loved her. But\nyou are her husband! Would you make me your mistress?\u201d\n\nHer voice was calm. She put the plain question point-blank, without a\nnote of hesitation. His face paled suddenly.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he said, and stretched out his hands towards her; \u201cLotys, I\nlove you!\u201d\n\nA change passed over her,--rapid and transfiguring as a sudden\nradiance from heaven. With an impulsive gesture, beautiful in its wild\nabandonment, she cast herself at his feet.\n\n\u201cAnd I love you!\u201d she said. \u201cI love you with every breath of my body,\nevery pulse of my heart! I love you with the entire passion of my life!\nI love you with all the love pent up in my poor starved soul since\nchildhood until now!--I love you more than woman ever loved either lover\nor husband! I love you, my lord and King!--but even as I love you, I\nhonour you! No selfish thought of mine shall ever tarnish the smallest\njewel in your Crown! Oh, my beloved! My Royal soul of courage! What do\nyou take me for? Should I be worthy of your thought if I dragged you\ndown? Should I be Lotys,--if, like some light woman who can be bought\nfor a few jewels,--I gave myself to you in that fever of desire which\nmen mistake for love? Ah, no!--ten thousand times no! I love you! Look\nat me,--can you not see how my soul cries out for you? How my lips\nhunger for your kisses--how I long, ah, God! for all the tenderness\nwhich I know is in your heart for me,--I, so lonely, weary, and robbed\nof all the dearest joys of life!--but I will not shame you by my love,\nmy best and dearest! I will not set you one degree lower in the thoughts\nof the People, who now idolise you and know you as the brave, true man\nyou are! My love for you would be poor indeed, if I could not sacrifice\nmyself altogether for your sake,--you, who are my King!\u201d\n\nHe heard her,--his whole soul was shaken by the passion of her words.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he said,--and again--\u201cLotys!\u201d\n\nHe drew her up from her kneeling attitude, and gathering her close in\nhis arms, kissed her tenderly, reverently--as a man might kiss the lips\nof the dead.\n\n\u201cMust it be so, Lotys?\u201d he whispered; \u201cMust we dwell always apart?\u201d\n\nHer eyes, beautiful with a passion of the highest and holiest love,\nlooked full into his.\n\n\u201cAlways apart, yet always together, my beloved!\u201d she answered; \u201cTogether\nin thought, in soul, in aspiration!--in the hope and confidence that\nGod sees us, and knows that we seek to live purely in His sight! Oh,\nmy King, you would not have it otherwise! You would not have our love\ndefiled! How common and easy it would be for me to give myself to\nyou!--as other women are only too ready to give themselves,--to take\nyour tenderness, your care, your admiration,--to demand your constant\nattendance on my lightest humour!--to bring you shame by my persistent\ncompanionship!--to cause an open slander, and allow the finger of scorn\nto be pointed at you!--to see your honour made a mockery of, by base,\npersons who would judge you as one, who, notwithstanding his brave\nespousal of the People\u2019s Cause, was yet a slave to the caprice of a\nwoman! Think something more of me than this! Do not put me on the level\nof such women as once brought your name into contempt! They did not love\nyou!--they loved themselves! But I--I love you! Oh, my dearest lord, if\nself were concerned at all in this great love of my heart, I would not\nsuffer your arms to rest about me now!--I would not let your lips touch\nmine!--but it is for the last time, beloved!--the last time! And so I\nput my hands here on your heart--I kiss your lips--I say with all my\nsoul in the prayer--God bless you!--God keep you!--God save you, my\nKing! Though I shall live apart from you all my days, my spirit is one\nwith yours! God will know that truth when we meet--on the other side of\nDeath!\u201d\n\nHer tears fell fast, and he bent over her, torn by a tempest of\nconflicting emotions, and kissing the soft hair that lay loosely ruffled\nagainst his breast.\n\n\u201cThen it shall be so, Lotys!\u201d he murmured, at last. \u201cYour wish is my\nlaw!--it shall be as you command! I will fulfil such duties as I must\nin this world,--and the knowledge of your love for me,--your trust in\nme,--shall keep me high in the People\u2019s honour! Old follies shall be\nswept away--old sins atoned for;--and when we meet, as you say, on the\nother side of Death, God will perchance give us all that we have longed\nfor in this world--all that we have lost!\u201d\n\nHis voice shook,--he could not further rely on his self-control.\n\n\u201cI will not tempt you, Lotys!\u201d he whispered--\u201cI dare not tempt myself!\nGod bless you!\u201d\n\nHe put her gently from him, and stood for a moment irresolute. All the\nhope he had indulged in of a sweeter joy than any he had ever known, was\nlost,--and yet--he knew he had no right to press upon her a love which,\nto her, could only mean dishonour.\n\n\u201cGood-bye, Lotys!\u201d he said, huskily; \u201cMy one love in this world and the\nnext! Good-bye!\u201d\n\nShe gazed at him with her whole soul in her eyes,--then suddenly, and\nwith the tenderest grace in the world, dropped on her knees and kissed\nhis hand.\n\n\u201cGod save your Majesty!\u201d she said, with a poor little effort at smiling\nthrough her tears; \u201cFor many and many a long and happy year, when Lotys\nis no more!\u201d\n\nWith a half cry he snatched her up in his arms and pressed her to his\nheart, showering kisses on her lips, her eyes, her hair, her little\nhands!--then, with a movement as abrupt as it was passion-stricken, put\nher quickly from him and left her.\n\nShe listened with straining ears to the quick firm echo of his footsteps\ndeparting from her, and echoing down the stairs. She caught the ring of\nhis tread on the pavement outside. She heard the grinding roll of the\nwheels of his carriage as he was rapidly driven away. He had gone! As\nshe realised this, her courage suddenly failed her, and sinking down\nbeside the chair in which he had for a moment sat, she laid her head\nupon it, and wept long and bitterly. Her conscience told her that she\nhad done well, but her heart--the starving woman\u2019s heart,--was all\nunsatisfied, and clamoured for its dearest right--love! And she had of\nher own will, her own choice, put love aside,--the most precious, the\nmost desired love in the world!--she had sent it away out of her life\nfor ever! True, she could call it back, if she chose with a word--but\nshe knew that for the sake of a king, and a country\u2019s honour, she would\nnot so call it back! She might have said with one of the most human of\npoets:\n\n  \u201cWill someone say, then why not ill for good?\n  Why took ye not\nyour pastime? To that man  My word shall answer, since I knew the Right\n  And did it.\u201d [Footnote: Tennyson ]\n\nA shadowy form moving uncertainly to and fro near the corner of the\nstreet, appeared to spring forward and to falter back again, as the\nKing, hurriedly departing, glanced up and down the street once or twice\nas though in doubt or questioning, and then walked to his brougham.\nThe soft hues of a twilight sky, in which the stars were beginning to\nappear, fell on his face and showed it ashy pale; but he was absorbed in\nhis own sad and bitter thoughts,--lost in his own inward contemplation\nof the love which consumed him,--and he saw nothing of that hidden\nwatcher in the semi-gloom, gazing at him with such fierce eyes of hate\nas might have intimidated even the bravest man. He entered his carriage\nand was rapidly driven away, and the shadow,--no other than Sergius\nThord,--stumbling forward,--his brain on fire, and a loaded pistol in\nhis hand,--had hardly realised his presence before he was gone.\n\n\u201cWhy did I not kill him?\u201d he muttered, amazed at his own hesitation; \u201cHe\nstood here, close to me! It would have been so easy!\u201d\n\nHe remained another moment or two gazing around him at the streets,\nat the roofs, at the sky, as though in a wondering dream,--then all\nat once, it seemed as if every cell in his brain had suddenly become\nsuperhumanly active. His eyes flashed fury,--and turning swiftly into\nthe house which the King had just left, he ran madly up the stairs as\nthough impelled by a whirlwind, and burst without bidding, straight into\nthe room where Lotys still knelt, weeping. At the noise of his entrance\nshe started up, the tears wet on her face.\n\n\u201cSergius!\u201d she cried.\n\nHe looked at her, breathing heavily.\n\n\u201cYes,--Sergius!\u201d he said, his voice sounding thick and husky, and\nunlike itself. \u201cI am Sergius! Or I was Sergius, before you made of me a\nnameless devil! And you--you are Lotys!--you are weeping for the lover\nwho has just parted from you! You are Lotys--the mistress of the King!\u201d\n\nShe made him no answer. Drawing herself up to her full height, she\nflashed upon him a look of utter scorn, and maintained a contemptuous\nsilence.\n\n\u201cMistress of the King!\u201d he repeated, speaking in hard gasps;\n\u201cYou,--Lotys,--have come to this! You,--the spotless Angel of our Cause!\nYou!--why,--I sicken at the sight of you! Oh, you fulfil thoroughly\nthe mission of your sex!--which is to dupe and betray men! You were the\ntraitor all along! You knew the real identity of \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019! He\nwas your lover from the first,--and to him you handed the secrets of\nthe Committee, and played Us into his hands! It was well done--cleverly\ndone!--woman\u2019s work in all its best cunning!--but treachery does not\nalways pay!\u201d\n\nAmazed and indignant, she boldly confronted him.\n\n\u201cYou must be mad, Sergius! What do you mean? What sudden accusations are\nthese? You know they are false--why do you utter them?\u201d\n\nHe sprang towards her, and seized her roughly by the arm.\n\n\u201cHow do I know they are false?\u201d he said. \u201cProve to me they are false!\nWho saved the King\u2019s life? You! And why? Because you knew he was\n\u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019! How was it he gained such swift ascendancy over all our\nCommittee, and led the work and swayed the men,--and made of me his tool\nand servant? Through you again! And why? Because you knew he was the\nKing! Why have you scorned me--turned from me--thrust me from your\nside--denied my love,--though I have loved and cared for you from\nchildhood! Why, I say? Because you love the King!\u201d\n\nShe stood perfectly still,--unmoved by his frantic manner--by the glare\nof his bloodshot eyes, and his irrepressible agony of rage and jealousy.\nQuietly she glanced him up and down.\n\n\u201cYou are right!\u201d she said tranquilly; \u201cI do love the King!\u201d\n\nA horrible oath broke from his lips, and for a moment his face grew\ncrimson with the rising blood that threatened to choke the channels of\nhis brain. An anxious pity softened her face.\n\n\u201cSergius!\u201d she said gently, \u201cYou are not yourself--you rave--you do not\nknow what you say! What has maddened you? What have I done? You know\nmy life is free--I have a right to do with it as I will, and even as\nmy life is free, so is my love! I cannot love where I am bidden--I must\nlove where Love itself calls!\u201d\n\nHe stood still, staring at her. He seemed to have lost the power of\nspeech.\n\n\u201cYou have insulted me almost beyond pardon!\u201d she went on. \u201cYour\naccusations are all lies! I love the King,--but I am not the King\u2019s\nmistress! I would no more be his mistress than I would be your wife!\u201d\n\nSlowly, slowly, his hand got at something in his pocket and clutched\nit almost unconsciously. Slowly, slowly, he raised that hand, still\nclutching that something,--and his lips parted in a breathless way,\nshowing the wolfish glimmer of white teeth within.\n\n\u201cYou--love--the King!\u201d he said in deliberate accents. \u201cAnd you dare--you\ndare to tell me so?\u201d\n\nShe raised her golden head with a beautiful defiance and courage.\n\n\u201cI love the King!\u201d she said--\u201cAnd I dare to tell you so!\u201d\n\nWith a lightning quickness of movement the hand that had been groping\nafter an unseen evil now came out into the light, with a sudden sharp\ncrash, and flame of fire!\n\nA faint cry tore the air.\n\n\u201cAh--Sergius!--Sergius! Oh--God!\u201d\n\nAnd Lotys staggered back--stunned, deafened--sick, dizzy----\n\n\u201cDeath, death!\u201d she thought, wildly; \u201cThis is death!\u201d\n\nAnd, with a last desperate rallying of her sinking force, as every\nmemory of her life swept over her brain in that supreme moment, she\nsprang at her murderer and wrenched the weapon from his hand, clutching\nit hard and fast in her own.\n\n\u201cSay--say I did it--myself--!\u201d she gasped, in short quick sobs of\npain; \u201cTell the King--I did it myself--myself! Sergius--save your own\nlife!--I--forgive!\u201d\n\nShe reeled, and with a choking cry fell back heavily--dead! Her hair\ncame unbound with her fall, and shook itself round her in a gold wave,\nas though to hide the horror of the oozing blood that trickled from her\nlips and breast.\n\nWith a horrid sense of unreality Thord stared upon the evil he had\ndone. He gazed stupidly around him. He listened for someone to come and\nexplain to him what had happened. But up in that remote attic, there was\nno one to hear either a pistol-shot or a cry. There was only one thing\nto be understood and learnt by heart,--that Lotys, once living, was now\ndead! Dead! How came she dead? That was what he could not determine.\nThe heat of his wild fury had passed,--leaving him cold and passive as a\nstone.\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d\n\nHe whispered the name. Horrible! How she looked,--with all that\nblood!--all that golden hair!\n\n\u2018Tell the King I did it myself!\u2019 Yes--the King would have to be\ntold--something! Stooping, he tried to detach the pistol from the\nlifeless hand, but the fingers, though still warm were tightened on the\nweapon, and he dared not unclasp them. He was afraid! He stood up again,\nand looked around him. His glance fell on the knot of regal flowers\nhe had noticed in the morning,--the great roses,--the voluptuous\norchids--tied with their golden ribbon. He took them hastily and flung\nthem down beside her,--then watched a little trickling stream of blood\nrunning, running towards one of the whitest and purest of the roses.\nIt reached it, stained it,--and presently drowned it in a little pool.\nHorrified, he covered his eyes, and staggered backward against the door.\nThe evening was growing dark,--through the small high window he could\nsee the stars beginning to shine as usual. As usual,--though Lotys was\ndead! That seemed strange! Putting one hand behind him, he cautiously\nopened the door, still keeping his guarded gaze on that huddled heap of\nclothes, and blood, and glittering hair which had been Lotys.\n\n\u201cI must get home,\u201d he muttered. \u201cI have business to attend to--as Deputy\nto the city, there is much to do--much to do for the People! The People!\nMy God! And Lotys dead!\u201d\n\nA kind of hysteric laughter threatened him. He pressed his mouth hard\nwith his hand to choke back this strange, struggling passion.\n\n\u201cLotys! Lotys is dead! There she lies! Someone, I know not who, killed\nher! No,--no! She has killed herself,--she said so! There she lies, poor\nLotys! She will never speak to the People--never comfort them,--never\nteach them any more--never hold little motherless infants in her\narms and console them,--never smile on the sorrowful, or cheer the\nsick--never! \u2018I love the King!\u2019 she said,--and she died for saying\nit! One should not love kings! \u2018Tell the King I did it myself!\u2019 Yes,\nLotys!--lie still--be at peace--the King shall know--soon enough!\u201d\n\nStill muttering uneasily to himself, he went out, always moving\nbackwards--and with a last look at that fallen breathless form of\nmurdered woman, shut the door stealthily behind him.\n\nThen, stumbling giddily down the stairs, he wandered, blind and half\ncrazed, into the darkening night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nSAILING TO THE INFINITE\n\n\nGreat calamities always come suddenly. With the swiftness of lightning\nthey descend upon the world, often in the very midst of fancied peace\nand security,--and the farcical, grinning, sneering apes of humanity,\nfor whom even the idea of a God has but furnished food for lewd jesting,\nare scattered into terror-stricken hordes, who are forced to realise for\nthe first time in their lives, that whether they believe in Omnipotence\nor no, an evident Law of Justice exists, which may not be outraged with\nimpunity. Sometimes this Law works strangely,--one might almost say\nobliquely. It sweeps away persons whom we have judged as useful to the\ncommunity, and allows those to remain whom we consider unnecessary. But\n\u2018we,\u2019--all important \u2018we,\u2019--are not allowed to long assert or maintain\nour petty opinions against this unknown undetermined Force which makes\nhavoc of all our best and most carefully conceived arrangements. For\nexample, we are not given any practical reason why Christ,--the Divine\nMan,--was taken from the world in His youthful manhood, instead of being\npermitted to live to a great age for the further benefit, teaching, and\nsanctification of His disciples and followers. Pure, sinless, noble, and\ntruly of God, He was tortured and crucified as though He were the worst\nof criminals. And apart from the Church\u2019s explanation of this great\nMystery, we may take it as a lesson that misfortune is like everything\nelse, two-sided;--it falls equally upon the ungodly and the godly,--with\nmerely this difference--that when it falls on the ungodly it is, as we\nare reluctantly forced to admit, \u2018the act of God\u2019--but when it falls on\nthe godly, it is generally the proved and evident work of Man.\n\nIn this last way, and for no fault at all of her own, had cruel death\nbefallen Lotys. Such as her career had been, it was unmarked by so much\nas a shadow of selfishness or wickedness. From the first day of her\nlife, sorrow had elected her for its own. She had never known father or\nmother;--cast out as an infant in the street, and picked up by Sergius\nThord, she had secured no other protector for her infancy and youth,\nthan the brooding, introspective man, who was destined in the end to be\nher murderer. As a child, she had been passionately grateful to him; she\nhad learned all she could from the books he gave her to study, and\nwith a quick brain, and a keen sense of observation, she had become a\nproficient in literature, so much so indeed, that more than one half the\nRevolutionary treatises and other propaganda which he had sent out to\ndifferent quarters of the globe, were from her pen. Her one idea had\nbeen to please and to serve him,--to show her gratitude for his care of\nher, and to prove herself useful to him in all his aims. As she grew up,\nhowever, she quickly discerned that his affection for her was deepening\ninto the passion of a lover; whereupon she had at once withdrawn\nfrom his personal charge, and had made up her mind to live alone and\nindependently. She desired, so she told him, to subsist on her own\nearnings,--and he who could do nothing successfully without her, was\nonly too glad to give her the rightful share of such financial\nresults as accrued from the various workings of the Revolutionary\nCommittee,--results which were sometimes considerable, though never\nopulent. And so she had worked on, finding her best happiness in\nsuccouring the poor, and nursing the sick. Her girlhood had passed\nwithout either joy or love,--her womanhood had been bare of all the\nhappiness that should have graced it. The people had learned to love\nher, it is true,--but this more or less distantly felt affection was far\nfrom being the intimate and near love for which she had so often longed.\nWhen at last this love had come to her,--when in \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019 she\nthought she had found the true companion of her life and heart,--when\nhe had constantly accompanied her by his own choice, on her errands of\nmercy among the poor; and had aided the sick and the distressed by his\nown sympathy and tenderness, she had almost allowed herself to dream of\npossible happiness. This dream had been encouraged more than ever, after\nshe had saved the King from assassination. \u2018Pasquin Leroy\u2019 had then\nbecome her closest comrade,--always at hand, and ever ready to fulfil\nher slightest behest;--while from his ardent and eloquent glances,--the\noccasional lingering pressure of his hand, and the hastily murmured\nwords of tenderness which she could not misunderstand, she knew that he\nloved her. But when he had disclosed his real identity to be that of\nthe King himself, all her fair hopes had vanished!--and her spirit had\nshrunk and fallen under the blow. Worse than all,--when she learned that\nthis great and exalted Personage, despite his throned dignity, did still\ncontinue to entertain a passion for herself, the knowledge was almost\ncrushing in its effect upon her mind. Pure in soul and body, she would\nhave chosen death any time rather than dishonour; and in the recent\ndevelopments of events she had sometimes grown to consider death as\ngood, and even desirable. Now death had come to her through the very\nhand that had first aided her to live! And so had she fulfilled the\ncommon lot of women, which is, taken in the aggregate, to be wronged\nand slain (morally, when not physically) by the very men they have most\nunselfishly sought to serve!\n\nThe heavy night passed away, and all through its slow hours the murdered\ncreature lay weltering in her blood, and shrouded in her hair,--looked\nat by the pitiless stars and the cold moon, as they shed their beams in\nturn through the high attic window. Morning broke; and the sun shot its\nfirst rays down upon the dead,--upon the fixed white countenance, and\non the little hand grown icy cold, but clenched with iron grip upon the\npistol which had been so bravely snatched in that last moment of life\nwith the unselfish thought of averting suspicion from the true murderer.\nWith the full break of day, the mistress of the house going to arouse\nher lodgers, came up the stairs with a bright face, cheerfully\nsinging, for her usual morning chat with Lotys was one of her principal\npleasures. Knocking at the door, and receiving no answer, she turned the\nhandle and pushed it open,--then, with a piercing scream of horror, she\nrushed away, calling wildly for help, and sending frantic cries down the\nstreet.\n\n\u201cLotys! Lotys! Lotys is dead!\u201d\n\nThe news flew. The houses poured out their poverty-stricken occupants\nfrom garret to basement; and presently the street was blocked with a\nstupefied, grief-stricken crowd. A doctor who had been hastily summoned,\nlifted the poor corpse of her whose life had been all love and pity, and\nlaid it upon the simple truckle-bed, where the living Lotys had slept,\ncontented with poverty for many years; and after close and careful\nexamination pronounced it to be a case of suicide. The word created\nconsternation among all the people.\n\n\u201cSuicide!\u201d they murmured uneasily; \u201cWhy should she kill herself? We all\nloved her!\u201d\n\nAy! They all loved her!--and only now when she was gone did they realise\nhow great that love had been, or how much her thought and tenderness for\nthem all, had been interwoven with their lives! They had never stopped\nto think of the weariness and emptiness of her own life, or of the\nlonging she herself might have had for the love and care she so freely\ngave to others. By and by, as the terrible news was borne in upon them\nmore convincingly, some began to weep and wail, others to kneel and\npray, others to recall little kindnesses, thoughtful deeds, unselfish\ntendernesses, and patient endurances of the dead woman who, friendless\nherself, had been their truest friend.\n\n\u201cWho will tell Sergius Thord?\u201d asked a man in the crowd; \u201cWho will break\nthe news to him?\u201d\n\nThere was an awe-stricken silence. No one volunteered such heart-rending\nservice.\n\n\u201cWho will tell the King?\u201d suddenly exclaimed a harsh voice, that of Paul\nZouche, who in his habit of hardly ever going to bed, had seen the crowd\ngather, and had quickly joined it. \u201cLotys saved his life! He should be\ntold!\u201d\n\nHis face, always remarkable in its thin, eager, intellectual aspect,\nlooked ghastly, and his eyes no longer feverish in their brilliancy,\nwere humanised by the dew of tears.\n\n\u201cThe King!\u201d\n\nThe weeping people looked at one another. The King had now become a part\nof their life and interest,--he was one with them, not apart from them\nas once he had been; therefore he must have known how Lotys had loved\nthem. Yes,--someone should surely tell the King!\n\n\u201cThe King must be informed of this,\u201d went on Zouche; \u201cIf there is no one\nelse to take the news to him,--I will!\u201d\n\nAnd before any answer could be given, or any suggestion made, he was\ngone.\n\nMeanwhile, no person volunteered to fetch Sergius Thord. Every man\nwho knew him, dreaded the task of telling him that Lotys was dead,\nself-slain. Some poor, but tender-hearted women sorrowfully prepared the\ncorpse for burial, removing the bloodstained clothes with gentle hands,\nsmoothing out and parting on either side the glorious waves of hair,\nwhile with the greatest care and difficulty they succeeded by slow\ndegrees in removing the pistol so tightly clenched in the dead hand.\nWhile engaged in this sad duty, they found a sealed paper marked \u2018My\nLast Wish,\u2019 and this they put aside till Thord should come. Then they\nrobed her in white, and laid white flowers upon her breast; and so came\nin turns by groups of tens and twenties to kneel beside her and kiss\nher hands and say prayers, and weep for the loss of one who had never\nuttered a harsh word to any poor or sorrowful person, but whose mission\nhad been peace and healing, love and resignation, and submission to her\nown hard fate until the end!\n\nMeantime Zouche, who had never been near any Royal precincts before,\nwalked boldly to the Palace. All irresolution had left him;--his step\nwas firm, his manner self-contained, and only his eyes betrayed the deep\nand bitter sorrow of his soul. He was allowed to pass the sentinel at\nthe outer gates, but at the inner portico of the Palace he was denied\nadmittance. He maintained his composure, however, and handed in his\nwritten name.\n\n\u201cIf I cannot see the King, I must see Sir Roger de Launay!\u201d he said.\n\nAt this the men in authority glanced at one another, and began to\nunbend;--if this shabby, untidy being knew Sir Roger de Launay, he was\nperhaps someone of importance. After a brief consultation together, they\nasked him to wait while a messenger was despatched to Sir Roger.\n\nZouche, with a curious air of passive toleration sat quietly on the\nchair they offered, and waited several minutes glancing meanwhile at the\ndisplay of splendour and luxury about him with an indifference bordering\non contempt.\n\n\u201cAll this magnificence,\u201d he mused; \u201call this wealth cannot purchase\nback a life, or bring comfort to a stricken heart! Nor can it vie with\na poet\u2019s rhyme, which, often unvalued, and always unpaid for, sometimes\noutlasts a thousand thrones!\u201d\n\nHere, seeing the tall figure of Sir Roger de Launay coming between him\nand the light, he rose and advanced a step or two.\n\n\u201cWhy, Zouche,\u201d said Sir Roger kindly, greeting him with a smile; \u201cYou\nare up betimes! They tell me you want to see the King. Is it not\na somewhat early call? His Majesty has only just left his\nsleeping-apartment, and is busy writing urgent letters. Will you entrust\nme with your message?\u201d\n\nPaul Zouche looked at him fixedly.\n\n\u201cMy message is from Lotys!\u201d he said deliberately; \u201cAnd it must be\ndelivered to the King in person!\u201d\n\nVaguely alarmed, Sir Roger recoiled a step.\n\n\u201cYou bring ill news?\u201d he whispered.\n\n\u201cI do not know whether it will prove ill or well;\u201d answered Zouche\nwearily; \u201cBut such news as I have, must be told to his Majesty alone.\u201d\n\nSir Roger paused a moment, hesitating; then he said:\n\n\u201cIf that is so--if that must be so,--then come with me!\u201d\n\nHe led the way, and Zouche followed. Entering the King\u2019s private library\nwhere the King himself sat at his writing-desk, Sir Roger announced the\nunexpected visitor, adding in a low tone that he came \u2018from Lotys!\u2019\n\nThe King started up, and threw down his pen.\n\n\u201cFrom Lotys!\u201d he echoed, while through his mind there flew a sudden\nsweet hope that after all the star was willing to fall!--the flower was\nready to be gathered!--and that the woman who had sent him away from her\nthe day before, had a heart too full of love to remain obdurate to the\npleadings of her kingly lover!--\u201cPaul Zouche, with a message from Lotys?\nLet him come in!\u201d\n\nWhereupon Zouche, bidden to enter, did so, and stood in the Royal\npresence unabashed, but quite silent. An ominous presentiment crept\ncoldly through the monarch\u2019s warm veins, as he saw the dreary pain\nexpressed on the features of the man, who had so persistently scorned\nhim and his offered bounty,--and with a slight, but imperative sign,\nhe dismissed Sir Roger de Launay, who retired reluctantly, full of\nforebodings.\n\n\u201cNow Zouche,\u201d he said gently; \u201cWhat do you seek of me? What is your\nmessage?\u201d\n\nZouche looked full at him.\n\n\u201cAs King,\u201d he answered, \u201cI seek nothing from you! As comrade\u201d--and his\naccents faltered--\u201cI would fain break bad news to you gently--I would\nspare you as much as possible--and give you time to face the blow,--for\nI know you loved her! Lotys----\u201d\n\nThe monarch\u2019s heart almost stood still. What was this hesitating\ntone--these great tears in Zouche\u2019s eyes?\n\n\u201cLotys!\u201d he repeated slowly, and in a faint whisper; \u201cYes, yes--go on!\nGo on, comrade! Lotys?\u201d\n\n\u201cLotys is dead!\u201d\n\nAn awful stillness followed the words. Stiff and rigid the King sat, as\nthough stricken by sudden paralysis, giving no sign. Minute after minute\nslipped away,--and he uttered not a word, nor did he raise his eyes from\nthe fixed study of the carpet at his feet.\n\n\u201cLotys is dead!\u201d went on Zouche, speaking in a slow monotonous way.\n\u201cThis morning, the first thing--they found her. She had killed\nherself. The pistol was in her hand. And they are laying her out with\nflowers,--like a bride, or a queen,--and you can go and see her at\nrest so,--for the last time,--if you will! This is my message! It is a\nmessage from the dead!\u201d\n\nStill the King spoke not a word; nor did he lift his eyes from his\nbrooding observation of the ground.\n\n\u201cTo be a great King, as you are,\u201d said Zouche; \u201cAnd yet to be unable to\nkeep alive a love when you have won it, is a hard thing! She must have\nkilled herself for your sake!\u201d\n\nNo answer was vouchsafed to him. He began to feel a strange pity for\nthat solemn, upright figure, sitting there inflexibly silent,--and he\napproached it a little nearer.\n\n\u201cComrade!\u201d he said softly; \u201cI have hated you as a King! Yes, I have\nalways hated you!--even when I found you had played the part of \u2018Pasquin\nLeroy,\u2019 and had worked for our Cause, and had helped to make what is now\ncalled my \u2018fame\u2019! I hated you,--because through it all, and whatever you\ndid for me, or for others, it seemed to me you had never known hunger\nand cold and want!--never known what it was to have love snatched away\nfrom you! I watched the growth of your passion for Lotys--I knew she\nloved you!--and had you indeed been the poor writer and thinker you\nassumed to be, all might have been well for you both! But when you\ndeclared yourself to be King, what could there be for such a woman but\ndeath? She would never have chosen dishonour! She has taken the straight\nway out of trouble, but--but she has left _you_ alone! And I am sorry\nfor you! I know what it is--to be left alone! You have a palace here,\nadorned with all the luxuries that wealth can buy, and yet you are alone\nin it! I too have a palace,--a palace of thought, furnished with ideals\nand dreams which no wealth can buy; and I am alone in it too! I killed\nthe woman who loved me best; and you have done the same, in your way!\nIt is the usual trick of men,--to kill the women who love them best, and\nthen to be sorry for ever afterwards!\u201d\n\nHe drew still nearer--then very slowly, very hesitatingly, dropped on\none knee, and ventured to kiss the monarch\u2019s passive hand.\n\n\u201cMy comrade! My King! I am sorry for you now!\u201d\n\nFor answer, his own hand was suddenly caught in a fierce convulsive\ngrip, and the King rose stiffly erect. His features were grey and drawn,\nhis lips were bloodless, his eyes glittering, as with fever. Stricken to\nthe heart as he was, he yet forced himself to find voice and utterance.\n\n\u201cSpeak again, Zouche! Speak those horrible, horrible words again! Make\nme feel them to be true! Lotys is dead!\u201d\n\nZouche, with something like fear for the visible, yet strongly\nsuppressed anguish of the man before him, sighed drearily as he\nrepeated----\n\n\u201cLotys is dead! It is God\u2019s way--to kill all beautiful things, just as\nwe have learned to love them! She,--Lotys,--used to talk of Justice and\nOrder,--poor soul!--she never found either! Yet she believed in God!\u201d\n\nThe King\u2019s stern face never relaxed in its frozen rigidity of woe. Only\nhis lips moved mutteringly.\n\n\u201cDead! Lotys! My God!--my God! To rise to such a height of hope and\ngood--and then--to fall so low! Lotys gone from me!--and with her goes\nall!\u201d\n\nThen a sudden delirious hurry seemed to take possession of him.\n\n\u201cGo now, Zouche!\u201d he said impatiently--\u201cGo back to the place where she\nlies--and tell her I am coming! I must--I will see her again! And I will\nsee you again, Zouche!--you too!\u201d He forced a pale smile--\u201cYes, poor\npoet! I will see you and speak with you of this--you shall write for\nher a dirge!--a threnody of passion and regret that shall make the whole\nworld weep! Poor Zouche!--you have had a hard life--well may you wonder\nwhy God made us men! And Lotys is dead!\u201d\n\nHe rang the bell on his desk violently. Sir Roger de Launay at once\nreturned,--but started back at the sight of his Royal master\u2019s altered\ncountenance.\n\n\u201cHave the kindness, De Launay\u201d--said the King hurriedly, not heeding\nhis dismayed looks--\u201cto place a carriage at the disposal of our friend\nZouche! He has much business to do;--sad news to bear to all the\nquarters of the city--he will tell you of it,--as he has just told\nme! Lotys,--you know her!--Lotys, who saved my life at the risk of her\nown,--Lotys is dead!\u201d\n\nSir Roger recoiled with an ejaculation of horror and pity.\n\n\u201cIt is sudden--and--and strange!\u201d continued the King, still speaking in\nthe same rapid manner, and beginning to push aside the various letters\nand documents on his table--\u201cIt is a kind of darkness fallen without\nwarning!--but--such tragedies always do happen thus--unpreparedly! Lotys\nwas a grand creature,--a noble and self-sacrificing woman--the poor will\nmiss her--yes--the poor will miss her greatly!----\u201d\n\nHe broke off, and with a speechless gesture of agonised entreaty,\nintimated that he must be left alone. De Launay hustled Zouche out of\nthe apartment in a kind of impotent fury.\n\n\u201cWhy have you brought the King such news?\u201d he demanded--\u201cIt will kill\nhim!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has killed _her_!\u201d returned Zouche, grimly--\u201cIf he had never crossed\nher path, she would have been alive now! Why should not a King suffer\nlike other men? He does the same foolish things,--he has his private\nloves and hatreds in the same foolish manner,--why should he escape\npunishment for his follies? It is only in suffering that he grows\nhuman,--stripped by grief and pain of his outward pomp and temporal\npower, he even becomes lovable! God save us from this bauble of \u2018power\u2019!\nIt is what Sergius Thord has worked for all his life!--it is what this\nKing claims over his subjects--and yet--both monarch and reformer would\ngive it all for the life of one woman back again! Look you, the King has\nhad a dozen or more mistresses, and Heaven knows how many bastards--but\nhe has only loved once! And it is well that he should learn what real\nlove means,--Sorrow always, and Death often!\u201d\n\nThat afternoon the whole city knew of the tragic end of Lotys. Nothing\nelse was thought of, nothing else talked of. Thousands gathered to look\nup at the house where her body lay, stiffening in the cold grasp of\ndeath, and a strong body of police were summoned to guard all the\napproaches to the premises, in order to prevent a threatening \u2018crush\u2019\nand disaster among the increasing crowd, every member of which sought\nto look for the last time on the face of her who had unselfishly served\nthem and loved them in their hours of bitterest need. The sight of\nSergius Thord passing through their midst, with bent head, and ashy,\ndistraught countenance, had not pacified the clamorous grief of the\npeople, nor had it elicited such an outburst of sympathy for him as\none might have thought would have been forthcoming. An idea had gotten\nabroad that since his election as Deputy for the city, he had either\nneglected or set aside the woman who had assisted him to gain his\nposition. It was a wrong idea, of course,--but the trifling fact of\nhis having taken up his abode in a more \u2018aristocratic\u2019 part of the\nmetropolis, while Lotys had still remained in the \u2018quarter of the poor,\u2019\nwas sufficient to give it ground in the minds of the ignorant, who are\nalways more or less suspicious of even their best friends. Had they\nmade a more ominous guess,--had they imagined that Sergius Thord was the\nactual murderer of the woman they had idolised, there would have been no\nremembrance whatever of the work he had done to aid them in the various\nreforms now being made for their benefit;--they would have torn him\nto pieces without a moment\u2019s mercy. The rough justice of the mob is a\nterrible thing! It knows nothing of legal phraseology or courtesy--it\nmerely sees an evil deed done, and straightway proceeds to punish the\nevil-doer, regardless of consequences. Happily for the sake of peace and\norder, however, no thought of the truth, no suspicion of the real cause\nof the tragedy occurred to any one person among the sorrow-stricken\nmultitude. A faint, half-sobbing cheer went up for the King, as his\nprivate brougham was recognised, making its way slowly through the press\nof people,--and it was with a kind of silent awe, that they watched his\ntall figure alight and pass into the house where lay the dead. Sergius\nThord had already entered there,--the King and his new Deputy would\nmeet! And with uneasy movements, rambling up and down, talking of Lotys,\nof her gentleness, patience and never-wearying sympathy for all the\nsuffering and the lonely, the crowds collected, dispersed, and collected\nagain,--every soul among them heavily weighted and depressed by the\ngrief and the mystery of death, which though occurring every day, still\nseems the strangest of fates to every mortal born into the world.\n\nMeantime, the King with slow reluctant tread, ascended into the room of\ndeath. Sergius Thord stood there,--but his brooding face and bulky form\nmight have been but a mote of dust in a sunbeam for the little heed\nthe stricken monarch took of him. His whole sight, his whole soul were\nconcentrated on the white recumbent statue with the autumn-gold hair,\nwhich was couched in front of him, strewn with flowers. That was\nLotys--or rather, that had been Lotys! It was now a very beautiful,\nstill, smiling Thing,--its eyes were shut, but the eyelashes lay\ndelicately on the pallid cheeks like little fringes of dark gold,\ntenderly slumbrous. Those eyelashes matched the hair--the soft, silken\nhair--so fine--so lustrous, so warm and bright!--the hair was surely\nyet living! With a shuddering sigh, the King bent over the piteous\nsight,--and stooping lower and lower still, touched with trembling lips\nthe small, crossed hands.\n\nAs he did this, his arm was caught roughly, and Thord thrust him aside.\n\n\u201cDo not touch her!\u201d he muttered hoarsely--\u201cLet her rest in peace!\u201d\n\nSlowly the King raised his face. It was ashen grey and stricken old.\nThe dark, clear, grey eyes were sunken and dim,--the light of hope,\nambition, love and endeavour, was quenched in them for ever.\n\n\u201cWas she unhappy, that she killed herself?\u201d he asked, in a hushed voice.\n\nThord drew back, shuddering. Those sad, lustreless eyes of his Sovereign\nseemed to pierce his soul! He--the murderer of Lotys--could not face\nthem! A vague whirl of thoughts tormented his brain,--he had heard it\nsaid that a murdered person\u2019s corpse would bleed in the presence of the\nmurderer,--would the dead body of Lotys bleed now, he wondered dully, if\nhe waited long enough? If so--the King would know! He started guiltily,\nas once more the sad, questioning voice broke on his ears.\n\n\u201cWas she unhappy, think you? You knew her better than I!\u201d\n\nHuskily, and with dry lips, Thord forced an answer.\n\n\u201cNay, it is possible your Majesty knew her best!\u201d\n\nAgain the sunken melancholy eyes searched his face.\n\n\u201cShe was endowed with genius,--rich in every good gift of womanhood! I\nwould have given my life for hers--my kingdom to spare her a\nmoment\u2019s sorrow!\u201d went on the King; \u201cBut she would have nothing from\nme--nothing!\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing,--not even love!\u201d said Thord recklessly.\n\n\u201cThat she had, whether she would or no!\u201d--replied the King,\nslowly,--\u201cThat she will have, till time itself shall end!\u201d\n\nThord was silent. A passion of mingled fury and remorse consumed\nhim,--his heart was beating rapidly,--there were great pulsations in his\nbrain like heavy hammer-strokes,--he was afraid of himself, lest on\na savage impulse he should leap like a beast of prey on this grave\ncomposed figure,--this King,--who was his acknowledged ruler,--and\nkill him, even as he had killed Lotys! And then,--he thought of the\nPeople!--the People by whose great force and strong justice he had sworn\nto abide!--the People who had worshipped and applauded him,--the People\nwho, if they ever knew the truth of him and his crime, would snatch him\nup and tear his body to atoms, as surely as he stood branded with Murder\nin God\u2019s sight this day! With a powerful effort he rallied his forces,\nand drawing from his breast the small folded paper which had been found\non the body of Lotys, and which was inscribed with the words \u2018My Last\nWish,\u2019 he held it out to the King.\n\n\u201cThen your Majesty will perhaps grant her the burial she here demands?\u201d\n he said--\u201cIt is a strange request!--but not difficult to gratify!\u201d\n\nTaking the paper, the monarch touched it tenderly with his lips before\nopening it. In all the blind stupefaction of his own grief, he was\nstruck by the fact that there was something strained and unnatural about\nThord\u2019s appearance,--something wild and forced even in his expression\nof sorrow. He studied his face closely, but to no purpose;--there was no\nclue to the mystery packed within the harsh lines of those dark, fierce\nfeatures,--he seemed no more and no less than the same brooding, leonine\ncreature that had mercilessly planned the deaths of men in his own\nRevolutionary Committee. There was no touch of softness in his eyes,--no\ntears, even at the sight of Lotys smiling coldly in her flower-strewn\nshroud. And now, unfolding her last message, the King beheld it thus\nexpressed:\n\n\u201cTo THOSE WHO SHALL FIND ME DEAD\n\n\u201cI pray you of your gentle love and charity, not to bury my body in\nthe earth, but in the sea. For I most earnestly desire no mark, or\nremembrance of the place where my sorrows, with my mortal remains, shall\nbe rendered back to nature; and kinder than the worms in the mould are\nthe wild waves of the ocean which I have ever loved! And there,--at\nleast to my own thoughts,--if any spiritual part of me remains to watch\nmy will performed,--shall I be best pleased and most grateful to be\ngiven my last rest. LOTYS.\u201d\n\nThis document had been written and signed some years back, and had,\ntherefore, nothing to do with any idea of immediate departure from\nthe world, or premeditated suicide. And once again the King looked\nsearchingly at Thord, as he returned him the paper.\n\n\u201cHer will shall be performed!\u201d he said--\u201cAnd in a manner befitting her\nmemory,--befitting the love borne to her by a People--and--a King!\u201d\n\nHe paused,--then went on softly.\n\n\u201cTo you Sergius, my friend and comrade!--to you will be entrusted the\ntask of committing this sweet casket of a sweeter soul to the mercy\nof the waves!--you, the guardian of her childhood, the defender of her\nwomanhood, the protector of her life----\u201d\n\n\u201cO God! No more--no more!\u201d cried Thord, suddenly falling on his knees by\nthe couch of the dead--\u201cNo more--in mercy! I will do all--all! But leave\nme with her now!--leave me alone with her, this last little while!\u201d\n\nAnd breaking into great sobs, he buried his head among the death-flowers\nin an utter abandonment of despair.\n\nSilently the King watched him for a little space. Then he turned his\neyes towards the pale form of the woman he had loved, and who had taught\nhim the noblest and most selfless part of love, sleeping her last sleep,\nwith a fixed sweet smile upon her face.\n\n\u201cWe shall meet again, my Lotys!\u201d he whispered--\u201cOn the other side of\nDeath!\u201d\n\nAnd so,--with the quiet air of one who knows a quick way out of\ndifficulty, he departed.\n\nSome five days later, a strange and solemn spectacle was witnessed by\nthousands of spectators from all the shores and quays of the sea-girt\ncity. A ship set sail for the Land of the Infinite!--a silent passenger\nwent forth on a voyage to the borders of the Unknown! Coffined in\nstate,--with a purple velvet pall trailing its rich folds over the\ncasket which enshrined her perished mortality,--and with flowers of\nevery imaginable rareness, or wildness, scattered about it,--the body of\nLotys was, with no religious or formal ceremony, placed on the deck of a\nsailing-brig, and sent out to the waves for burial. So Sergius Thord had\nwilled it; so Sergius Thord had planned it. He had purchased the vessel\nfor this one purpose, and with his own hands he had strewn the deck with\nblossoms, till it looked like a floating garden of fairyland. Garlands\nof roses trailed from the mast,--wreaths from every former member of the\nnow extinct \u2018Revolutionary Committee\u2019 were heaped in profusion about\nthe coffin which lay in the centre of the deck,--the sails were white\nas snow, and one of them bore, the name \u2018Lotys\u2019 upon it, in letters of\ngold. It was arranged that the brig should be towed from the harbour,\nand out to sea for about a couple of miles,--and when there, should be\ncut free and set loose to the wind and tide to meet its fate of certain\nwreckage in the tossing billows beyond. In strange contrast to this\nfloating funeral were the brilliant flags and gay streamers which were\nalready being put up along the streets and quays, as the first signs of\nthe city\u2019s welcome to the Crown Prince and his bride, who were expected\nto arrive home somewhere within the next ten days. Eager crowds watched\nthe unique ceremony, unknown save in old Viking days, of sending forth\na dead voyager to sail the pitiless seas; and countless numbers of small\nboats attended the funeral vessel in a long flotilla,--escorting it out\nto that verge where the ocean opened widely to the wider horizon, and\nspread its high road of silver waves invitingly out to the approaching\nsilent adventurer. Comments ran freely from lip to lip,--Sergius\nThord had been seen, pale as death, laying flowers on the deck to the\nlast,--the King,--yes!--the King himself had sent a wreath, as a\ntoken of remembrance, to the obsequies of the woman who had saved his\nlife,--the purple velvet pall, with its glittering fringes of gold,\nhad been the gift of the city of which Thord was the lately-elected\nDeputy,--Louis Valdor had sent that garland of violets,--the great\nwreath of roses which lay at the head of the coffin, was the offering of\nthe famous little dancer, Pequita, who, it was said, now lay sick of\na fever brought on by grief and fretting for the loss of her best\nfriend,--and rich and poor alike had vied with one another in assisting\nthe weird beauty of this exceptional and strange burial, in which no\nsexton was employed but the wild wind, which would in due time scoop\na hollow in the sea, and whirl down into fathomless deeps all that\nremained of a loving woman, with the offerings of a People\u2019s love around\nher!\n\nFrom the Palace windows the Queen watched the weird pageant, with\nstraining eyes, and a sense of relief at her heart. This unknown rival\nof hers,--this Lotys--was dead! Her body would soon be drifting out on\nthe wild waste of waters, to be caught by the first storm and sunk in\nthe depths of eternal silence. She was glad!--almost she could have sung\nfor joy! The colour mantled on her fair cheeks,--she looked younger\nand more beautiful than ever. She had learned her long-neglected\nlesson,--the lesson of, \u2018how to love.\u2019 And to herself she humbly\nconfessed the truth--that she loved no other than her husband! The King\nhad now become the centre of her heart, as he had become the centre of\nhis People\u2019s trust. And she watched the vessel bearing the corpse\nof Lotys, gliding, gliding over the waves--she tracked the circling\nconcourse of boats that went with it--and waited, with quickened breath\nand eager eyes, till she saw a sudden pause in the procession--when,\nriding lightly on a shining wave, the funeral-ship seemed to stop for an\ninstant--and then, with a bird-like dip forward, scurried out with full,\nbulging sails to the open sea! The crowding spectators began to break up\nand disperse--the flotilla of attendant boats turned back to shore--the\ndead woman who had held such magnetic influence over the King, was\ngone!--gone for ever into the watery caverns of endless death!\n\nIt was with a light heart that the Queen at last rose from her watch\nat the window, and prepared to array herself for the return of her\nsovereign lord. Her eyes sparkled, her lips smiled; she looked the very\nincarnation of love and tenderness. The snow-peak had melted at last,\nand underneath the ice, love\u2019s late violets had begun to bloom! She\nglanced once more out at the sea, where the vanishing death-ship now\nseemed but a speck on the far horizon, and saw a bank of solemn purple\nclouds darkening the golden sunset line,--clouds that rose up thickly\nand swiftly, like magic mountains conjured into sudden existence by\nsome witch in a fairy tale. A gust of wind shook the lattice--and moaned\nfaintly through the chinks of the door.\n\n\u201cThere will be a storm to-night!\u201d she said musingly, her eyes following\nthe dispersing crowds, as they poured along the terrace from the shore,\nor climbed up from the quays to the higher streets of the town:--\u201cThere\nwill be a storm!--and the woman who was called Lotys, will know nothing\nof it! The vessel she sails in will be crushed like a shell in the teeth\nof the blast, and her body will sink like a stone in the angry sea! So\nwill she sleep--so does her brief power over the King come to an end!\u201d\n\nTurning, she smiled at her lady-in-waiting, Teresa de Launay, who\nhad also watched the sea funeral of Lotys with wondering and often\ntear-filled eyes.\n\n\u201cHow the people must have loved her!\u201d the girl murmured softly; \u201cNo poor\nperson or child came to these strange obsequies without flowers!--many\nwept--and some swear there is no happiness at all for them now, without\nLotys! She must have been a sweet, unselfish woman!\u201d\n\nThe Queen was silent.\n\n\u201cSince she saved the life of our lord the King, I have often thought\nof her!\u201d went on Teresa--\u201cI have even hoped to see her! Dearest Madam,\nwould you not have been glad to thank her once before she died?\u201d\n\nThe Queen\u2019s face hardened.\n\n\u201cShe only did her duty!\u201d was the cold answer--\u201cEvery subject in the\nrealm would be proud to have the chance of being the King\u2019s defender!\u201d\n\nAt that moment the door opened, and Sir Roger de Launay entered,--then\ndrew back in some surprise and hesitation.\n\n\u201cI crave your pardon, Madam!\u201d he said, bowing low--\u201cI thought the King\nwas here!\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly the King should be here by now,\u201d--replied the Queen gently--\u201cBut\nhe is doubtless detained among the people, who wait upon his footsteps,\nas though he were a demi-god!\u201d She smiled happily. \u201cHe went out to see\nyonder strange funeral pageant--and left no word of the hour of his\nreturn.\u201d\n\nSir Roger looked perplexed. The Queen noticed his expression of anxiety.\n\n\u201cStay but a moment, Sir Roger,\u201d she added--\u201cNow I remember, he bade me\nat sunset, go to my own room and fetch a packet I would find from him\nthere,--he may be waiting for me now!\u201d\n\nShe retired, the radiant smile still upon her face, and Sir Roger looked\nat his sister with concern for her tearful eyes.\n\n\u201cWeeping, Teresa?\u201d he said--\u201cWhat is the trouble?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing!\u201d she answered quickly--\u201cOnly a presentiment of evil! That\nfuneral-ship has made me sad!\u201d\n\nSir Roger said nothing for the moment. He was too preoccupied with his\nown forebodings to give much heed to hers. He walked to the window.\n\n\u201cThere will be a storm to-night!\u201d he said. \u201cLook at those great clouds!\nThey are big with thunder and with rain!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d murmured Teresa--\u201cThere will be a storm--Madam!\u201d\n\nShe turned with a cry to feel the Queen\u2019s grip on her shoulder--to\nsee the Queen, white as marble, with blazing eyes, possessed by a very\nfrenzy of grief and terror. A tragic picture of despairing Majesty, she\nconfronted the startled De Launay with an open paper in her hand.\n\n\u201cWhere is the King?\u201d she demanded, in accents that quivered with fear\nand passion. \u201cFrom you, Sir Roger de Launay, must come the answer! To\nyou, his friend and servant, I trusted his safety! And of you I ask\nagain--Where is the King?\u201d\n\nStupefied and stunned, Sir Roger stared helplessly at this enraged\nsplendour of womanhood, this embodied wrath of royalty.\n\n\u201cMadam!\u201d he stammered,--\u201cI know nothing--save that the King has been\nsorely stricken by a great sorrow--\u201d\n\nShe looked at him with flashing eyes.\n\n\u201cSorrow for what?--for whom?\u201d\n\nDe Launay gazed at her amazedly;--why did she ask of what she knew so\nwell?\n\n\u201cMadam, to answer that is not within my province!\u201d\n\nShe was silent, breathing quickly. Great tears gathered on her lashes,\nbut did not fall.\n\n\u201cWhen saw you his Majesty last?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut three hours since, Madam! He bade me leave him alone, saying he\nwould walk a while in the further grounds away from the sight of the\nsea. He had no mind, he said, to look upon the passing away of Lotys!\u201d\n\nA strange grey pallor crept over the Queen\u2019s face. She stood proudly\nerect, yet tottered as though about to fall. Teresa de Launay ran to her\nin terror.\n\n\u201cDearest Madam!\u201d cried the trembling girl--\u201cBe comforted! Be patient!\nThe King will come!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will never come!\u201d said the Queen in a low choked voice;--\u201cNever\nagain--never, never again! I feel--I know--that I have lost him for\never! He has gone--but where?--O God!--where!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam!\u201d said Sir Roger, shaken to the soul by the sight of her\nsuppressed agony--\u201cThat paper in your hand--\u201d\n\n\u201cThis paper,\u201d she said, with a convulsive effort at calmness, \u201cmakes\nme Regent till the return of my son, the Crown Prince--and--at the\nsame time--bids me farewell! Farewell!--and why farewell? Oh, faithless\nservant!\u201d and she advanced a step, fixing her burning eyes on the\nstricken De Launay--\u201cI thought you loved me!\u201d\n\nHis face flushed--his lips quivered.\n\n\u201cAs God lives, Madam, I yield to no one in my love and service of you!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen find the King!\u201d and she stretched out her arm with a gesture of\nauthority--\u201cBring back to me my husband!--the one man of the world!--the\none man I have learned to love! Follow the King!--whether on land or\nsea, whether alive or dead,--in heaven or hell, follow him! Your place\nis not with me--but by your master\u2019s side! If you know not whither he\nhas fled, make it your business to learn!--and never let me see your\nface again till _his_ face shines beside yours, like sunshine against\ndarkness!--till his eyes, his smile make gladness where your presence\nwithout him is a mocking misery! Out of my sight! And nevermore return\nagain, save in your duty and attendance on the King!\u201d\n\n\u201cMadam,--Madam!\u201d exclaimed Teresa--\u201cWould you condemn my brother to a\nlasting banishment? What if the King were dead?\u201d\n\n\u201cDead!\u201d The word left the Queen\u2019s lips in a sharp sob of pain--\u201cThe King\ncannot die!--he is too strong--too bold and brave! He has met death ere\nnow and conquered it! Dead? No--that is not possible--that could not\nbe!\u201d\n\nShe turned again upon Sir Roger, standing mute and pale, a very statue\nof despair.\n\n\u201cI give you a high mission!\u201d she said--\u201cFulfil it!\u201d\n\nHe started from his unhappy reverie.\n\n\u201cBe sure that I will do so!\u201d he said--\u201cI will--as your Majesty bids\nme--follow the King! And--till the King returns with me--I also say\nfarewell!\u201d\n\nCatching his sister in his arms, he kissed her with a murmured\nblessing--and profoundly saluting the woman for whose love\u2019s sake his\nvery life was now demanded, he left the room.\n\n\u201cRoger, Roger!\u201d cried Teresa in an anguish, as the sound of his\nfootsteps died away--\u201cCome back! Come back!\u201d\n\nAnd falling on her knees by the Queen\u2019s side, she burst into wild\nweeping.\n\n\u201cIf the King has gone for ever, my brother is gone too,\u201d she\nsobbed--\u201cOh, dearest Majesty, have you no heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone!\u201d said the Queen with a strained smile, while the slow, hot tears\nbegan to fall from her aching eyes--\u201cNone! What heart I had is gone! It\nfollows the King!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nABDICATION\n\n\nA great storm was gathering. The heavy purple clouds which had arisen\nin the west at sunset, when all that was mortal of Lotys had been sent\nforth to a lonely burial in the sea, had gradually spread over the whole\nsky, darkening in hue as they moved, and rolling together in huge opaque\nmasses, which presently began to close in and become denser as the\nnight advanced. By and by a wild wind awoke, as it were, from the very\ncavities of ocean, and the waves began to hiss warnings all along the\ncoast, and to rise higher and higher over each other\u2019s shoulders as the\ngale steadily increased. R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard, sitting in his cottage,\nfeeble and somewhat ailing, heard the beginnings of the tempest with\nlong-accustomed ears. He was depressed in spirit, yet not altogether\nsolitary, for he had with him a kindly companion in Professor von\nGlauben. The Professor had been one of the many who had attended the\nstrange funeral-pageant of the afternoon, not only out of interest in,\nand regret for, the fate of the woman whose unique character he had\nadmired, and whose difficult position he had pitied; but also because he\nhad suffered from an unpleasant presentiment to which he could give no\nname. If he could have described his forebodings at all, he would have\nsaid they were more or less connected with the King,--but how or why, he\nwould not have been able to explain, save that since the death of Lotys,\nhis Sovereign master had no longer looked the same man. Stricken as with\na blight, and grown suddenly old, his manner and appearance were as of\none devoured by a secret despair,--a corroding disease,--of which the\nend could only be disastrous. Overcome by the pain and distress of being\nthe constant witness of a sorrow which he felt to the heart, yet could\nnot relieve, the Professor, on returning from the scene of Lotys\u2019s\nimpressive funeral, had put ashore on The Islands, instead of going back\nto the mainland. He had sought permission from the King to remain with\nRonsard for the night,--and the permission had been readily, almost\neagerly granted. The King, indeed, had seemed glad to be relieved of the\ntoo anxious solicitude of his physician, who, he knew, was well aware\nof the concealed agony of mind which tortured and well-nigh maddened\nhim,--and the Professor, keenly observant, was equally conscious that,\nunder the immediate circumstances, his attendance might seem more of an\nintrusion than a duty.\n\n\u201cDe Launay was not far wrong when he prophesied danger for the King as\nthe result of his beginning to think for himself;\u201d he mused--\u201cYet it has\ncome--this danger--in a different way to that in which we expected\nit! It is a bold move for the ruler of a country to make personal\nexamination into the needs of his people,--but it is seldom that, while\nengaged in such a task, the ruler himself becomes ruled, by a stronger\nforce than even his own temporal power!\u201d\n\nAnd now, sitting with old R\u00e9n\u00e9 Ronsard, by a fire which had been kindled\non this somewhat chilly night for his better comfort, he was, despite\nthe impression of sadness and disaster which hung upon his mind as\ndarkly as the clouds were hanging in heaven, doing his best to rouse\nboth himself and his companion to greater cheerfulness. The wind,\nshaking the lattice, and now and then screaming dismally under the door,\ndid not inspire him to gaiety, but his thoughts were principally for\nRonsard, who was inclined to yield to an overpowering despondency.\n\n\u201cThis will never do, Ronsard!\u201d he said after a pause, during which\nhe had noticed a tear or two steal slowly down the old man\u2019s furrowed\ncheek; \u201cWhat sort of a welcome will such a face as yours be to our\nCrown Princess Gloria? She will soon be here; think of it! And what a\ntriumphant entry she will make, acclaimed by the whole nation!\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not be wanted in her life!\u201d said Ronsard, slowly. \u201cAfter all,\nI am nothing to her, and have no claim upon her. I found her, as a poor\nman may by chance find a rare jewel,--that the jewel is afterwards found\nworthy to be set in a king\u2019s crown, is not the business of that same\npoor man. He who merely hews a diamond out of the mine, is not the maker\nof the diamond!\u201d\n\n\u201cGloria loves you!\u201d said the Professor; \u201cAnd she will love you always!\u201d\n\nRonsard smiled faintly.\n\n\u201cMy friend, I understand, and I accept the law of change!\u201d he said. \u201cTo\nme, as to all, it must come! The old must die, and the young succeed\nthem. As for me, I shall be glad to go--the sooner the better, I truly\nthink, for then none will taunt my Gloria with the simple manner of her\nbringing up;--none will remember aught, save her exceeding beauty, or\nblame her that the sun and sea were her only known parents. And if we\ncredit legend, hers is not the first birth of loveliness from the bosom\nof the waves!\u201d\n\nHere the wind, tearing round the rafters, rattled and roared for a space\nlike a demon threatening the whole construction of the house, and then\nwent galloping away with a shriek among the pines down to the shore.\n\n\u201cA wild night!\u201d said the Professor, with a slight shiver. \u201cAlas! poor\nLotys!--poor \u2018Soul of an Ideal\u2019 as Sergius Thord called her,--her frail\nmortal tenement will soon be drawn down to the depths in such a storm as\nthis!\u201d\n\n\u201cI never saw her!\u201d said Ronsard musingly; \u201cThord I have seen often.\nLotys was to me a name merely,--but I knew it was a name to conjure\nwith--a name beloved of the People. Gloria longed to see her,--she had\nheard of her often.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe was a psychological phenomenon,\u201d said the Professor slowly; \u201cAnd\nI admit that her composition baffled me. No one have I ever seen at all\nlike her. She was beautiful without any of the accepted essentials of\nbeauty--and it is precisely such a woman as that who possesses the most\ndangerous fascination over men--not over boys--but over men. She had\na loving, passionate, feminine heart, with a masculine brain,--the two\ntogether are bound to constitute what is called Genius. The only thing I\ncannot understand is the unexpected weakness she displayed in committing\nsuicide. That I should never have thought of her. On the contrary, I\nshould have imagined, knowing as much of her as I did, that the greater\nthe sorrow, the greater the fight she would have made against it.\u201d\n\nA silence fell between them, filled by the thundering noise of the wind.\n\n\u201cWhere is Thord?\u201d asked Ronsard presently.\n\n\u201cI do not know. The last I saw of him was on board the vessel that bore\nher coffin;--he was laying flowers on the deck. He was not, I think, in\nany of the smaller boats that accompanied it; he must have returned with\nthe crowd on shore. He has his duties as Deputy for the city now, we\nmust remember!\u201d\n\nRonsard\u2019s eyes flashed with a glimmer of satire in the firelight.\n\n\u201cIf it had not been for Lotys, he would not be a Deputy, or anything\nelse,--save perchance a Communist or an Anarchist!\u201d he said; \u201che used to\nbe one of the fiercest malcontents in all the country when I first came\nhere. Many and many is the time I have heard him threaten to kill the\nKing!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said the Professor meaningly, the while he bent his eyes on the\nflickering fire.\n\nAgain a silence fell. The wind roared and screamed around the building,\nand in the pauses of the gale, the minutes seemed weighted with a\nstrange dread. Every tick of the clock sounded heavy and long, even to\nthe equable-minded Professor. The storm outside was growing louder\nand even louder, and his thoughts, despite himself, turned to the\nocean-wildernesses over which Prince Humphry\u2019s home-returning vessel\nmust be now on its way--while that other solitary barque, unhelmed and\nunmanned, whose sail bore the name of \u2018Lotys\u2019 was also voyaging, but in\na darker direction, down to death and oblivion, carrying with it, as he\nfeared, all the love and heart of a King! Suddenly a loud knocking at\nthe door startled them; and as Ronsard rose from his chair, amazed at\nthe noise and Von Glauben did the same with more alacrity, a man with\nwind blown hair and excited gestures burst into the little room.\n\n\u201cRonsard!\u201d he cried; \u201cThe King--the King!\u201d\n\nHe paused, gasping for breath. Ronsard looked at him wonderingly. His\nclothes were saturated with sea-water,--his face was pale--and his eyes\nexpressed some fear that his tongue seemed incapable of uttering. He was\none of the coral-fishers of the coast, and Ronsard knew him well.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you, man?\u201d he asked; \u201cWhat say you of the King?\u201d\n\nHolding the door of the cottage open with some difficulty, the\ncoral-fisher pointed to the sky overhead. It was flecked with great\nmasses of white cloud, through which the moon appeared to roll rapidly\nlike a ball of yellow fire. The wind howled furiously, and the pines\nin the near distance could be seen bending to and fro like reeds in\nits breath, while the roar of the sea beyond the rocks was fierce and\ndeafening.\n\n\u201cIt is all storm!\u201d cried the man, excitedly; \u201cThe billows are running\nmountains high!--there is no chance for him!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo chance for whom?\u201d demanded Von Glauben, impatiently; \u201cWhat would you\ntell us? Speak plainly!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was the King!\u201d said the coral-fisher again, trying to express\nhimself more collectedly--\u201cI saw his face lit up by the after-glow of\nthe sky--white--white as the foam on the wave! Listen! When the body of\nthe woman Lotys was borne away on that vessel, a man came to me out\nof the thickest of the crowd (I was on one of the furthest quays)--and\noffered me a purse of gold to take him out to sea--and to steer him in\nsuch a way that we should meet the funeral barque just as she was cut\nadrift and sent forth to be wrecked in the ocean. I did not know him\nthen. He kept his face hidden,--he spoke low, and he was evidently in\ntrouble. I thought he was a lover of the dead woman, and sought perhaps\nto comfort himself by looking at her coffin for the last time. So I\nconsented to do what he asked. I had my sailing skiff, and we went\nat once. The wind was strong; we sailed swiftly--and at the appointed\nplace--\u201d He paused to take breath. Ronsard seized him by the arm.\n\n\u201cQuick! Go on--what next?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt the appointed place when the vessel stopped,--when her ropes were\ncut and she afterwards sprang out to sea, I, by his orders, ran my skiff\nclose beside her as she came,--and before I knew how it happened, my\npassenger sprang aboard her--Ay!--with a spring as light and sure as the\nflight of a bird! \u2018Farewell!\u2019 he said, and flung me the promised gold;\n\u2018May all be prosperous with you and yours!\u2019 And then the wind swooped\ndown and bore the ship a mile or more ere I could follow it; but the\nstrong light in the west fell full upon the man\u2019s face--and I saw--I\nknew it was the King!\u201d\n\n\u201cGott in Himmel! May you for ever be confounded and mistaken!\u201d exclaimed\nVon Glauben,--\u201cI left the King in his own grounds but an hour before I\nmyself started to witness this accursed sea-funeral!\u201d\n\n\u201cI say it was the King!\u201d repeated the man emphatically. \u201cI would swear\nit was the King! And the vessel going out to meet the storm tonight,\nholds the living, as well as the dead!\u201d\n\nWith a sudden movement, as active as it was decided, old Ronsard went to\na corner in the room and drew out a thick coil of rope with an iron hook\nat the end, and slinging it round his waist with the alert quickness of\nyouth, made for the open door.\n\n\u201cWhere is your skiff?\u201d he demanded.\n\n\u201cAshore down yonder;\u201d answered the coral-fisher; \u201cBut you--what are you\ngoing to do? You cannot sail her in such a night as this!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will adventure!\u201d said Ronsard. \u201cIf, as you say, it was the King, I\nwill save him if he can be saved! Once a King\u2019s life was nothing to me;\nnow it is something! The tide veers round these Islands, and the vessel\non which they have placed the body of Lotys, can scarcely drift away\nfrom the circle till morning, unless the waves are too strong for it--\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are too strong!\u201d cried the coral-fisher; \u201cRonsard, believe me!\nThere is no rain to soften or abate the wind--and the sea grows greater\nwith every breath of the rising gale!\u201d\n\n\u201cI care nothing!\u201d replied Ronsard; \u201cLet be! If you are afraid, I will go\nalone!\u201d\n\nAt these words, the Professor suddenly awoke to the situation.\n\n\u201cWhat would you attempt, Ronsard?\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cYou can do nothing!\nYou are weak and ailing!--there is no force in you to combat with the\nelements on such a night as this--\u201d\n\n\u201cThere _is_ force!\u201d said Ronsard; \u201cThe force of my thirst for atonement!\nLet me be, for God\u2019s sake! Let me do something useful in my life!--let\nme try to save the King! If I die, so much the better.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I will go with you!\u201d said Von Glauben, desperately.\n\nRonsard shook his head.\n\n\u201cYou? No, my friend! You will not! You will remain to welcome Gloria--to\ntell her that I loved her to the last!--that I did my best!\u201d\n\nHe seemed to have grown young in an instant,--his eyes flashed with\nalertness and vigour, and instead of an old decaying man, full of cares\nand despondencies, he seemed like a bold adventurer, before whom a new\nland of promise opens. Von Glauben looked at him, and in a moment made\nup his mind. He turned to the coral-fisher.\n\n\u201cWhat think you truly of the night, my friend? Is it for life or death\nwe go?\u201d\n\n\u201cDeath! Certain death!\u201d answered the man; \u201cIt is madness to set sail in\nsuch a storm as this!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are married, no doubt? And little ones eat your earnings? Ach so!\nThen you shall not be asked to go with us. Ronsard, I am ready! I can\npull an oar and manage a sail, and I am not afraid of death by drowning!\nFor Gloria\u2019s sake, let me go with you!\u201d\n\n\u201cFor Gloria\u2019s sake, stay here!\u201d cried Ronsard; and with an abrupt\nmovement he escaped Von Glauben\u2019s hold, and ran with all the speed of a\nboy out of the cottage into the garden beyond.\n\nVon Glauben rushed after him, but found himself in the thicket of pines,\ntrapped and hemmed in by the darkness of their stems and branches.\nThe wind was so fierce and strong, that he could scarcely keep his\nfeet,--every now and again the moon flew out of a great cloud-pinnacle\nand glared on the scene, but not with sufficient clearness to show him\nhis way. Yet he knew the place well--often had he and Gloria trodden\nthat path down to the sea, and yet to-night it seemed all unfamiliar.\nHow the sea roared! Like a thousand lions clamouring for prey! Against\nthe rocks the rising billows hissed and screamed, rattling backward\namong stones and shells with the grinding noise of artillery wagons\nbeing hastily dragged off a lost field of battle.\n\n\u201cRonsard!\u201d he called as loudly as he could, and again \u201cRonsard!\u201d but his\nvoice, big and stentorian though it was, made but the feeblest wail in\nthe loud shriek of the wind. Yet he stumbled on and on, and by slow and\ndifficult degrees found his way down to the foot of the high rocks which\nformed a pinnacled wall between him and the sea,--the rocks he had so\noften climbed with Gloria, and of which she had sung in such matchless\ntones of triumph and tenderness.\n\n    Here, by the sea.\n    My King crown\u2019d me!\n  Wild ocean sang for my Coronation,\n  With the jubilant voice of a mighty nation!\n\nThe memory of this song came back to his ears in a ringing echo, amid\nthe howling of the boisterous wind, which now blew harder and harder,\nscattering masses of blown froth from the waves in his face, with flying\nsand and light shells, and torn-up weed. Scarcely able to stand against\nit, he paused to get his breath, realising that it would be worse than\nuseless to climb the rocks in the teeth of such a gale, or try to reach\nthe old accustomed winding way down to the shore. He endeavoured to\ncollect his scattered wits;--if the ceaseless onslaught of the storm\nwould only have allowed him to think coherently, he fancied he might\nhave found another and easier path to lead him in the direction whither\nRonsard, in his mad, but heroic impulse, had gone. But the gale was so\nterrific, and the booming of the great waves on the other side of the\nrocky barrier so awful, that it seemed as if the water must be rolling\nin like a solid wall, bent on breaking down the coast, and grinding it\nto powder. His heart ached heavily;--tears rose to his eyes.\n\n\u201cWhat a grain of dust I am in this world of storm!\u201d he ejaculated; \u201cHere\nI stand,--a strong man, utterly useless! Powerless to save the life I\nwould die to serve! But maybe the story is not true!--the man can easily\nhave been mistaken! Surely the King would not give up all for the sake\nof one woman\u2019s love!\u201d\n\nBut though he said this to himself, he knew that such things have been;\nindeed, that they are common enough throughout all history. He had not\nstudied humanity to so little purpose as not to be aware that there are\ncertain phases of the passion of love which make havoc of a man\u2019s\nwisest and best intentions; and that even as Marc Antony lost all for\nCleopatra\u2019s smile, and Harry the Eighth upset a Church for a woman\u2019s\nwhim, so in modern days the same old story repeats itself; and no matter\nhow great and famous the position of a king or an emperor, he may yet\ncourt and obtain his own ruin and disaster, ay, lose his very Throne for\nlove;--deeming it well lost!\n\nRestless, miserable and troubled by the confusion of his thoughts,\nwhich seemed to run wild with the wild wind and the thundering sea, the\nunhappy Professor retraced his steps to the cottage, hoping against\nhope that Ronsard, physically unable to cope with the storm, would have\nreturned, baffled in his reckless attempt to put forth a boat to sea.\nBut the little home was silent and deserted. There was the old man\u2019s\nempty chair;--the clock against the wall ticked the minutes away with\na comfortable persistence which was aggravating to the nerves; the\nfire was still bright. Before entering, Von Glauben looked up and down\neverywhere outside, but there was no sign of any living creature.\n\nNothing remained for him to do but to resign himself passively\nto whatsoever calamity the Omnipotent Forces above him chose to\ninflict,--and utterly weary, baffled and helpless, he sank into\nRonsard\u2019s vacant chair, unconscious that tears were rolling down his\nface from the excess of his anxiety and exhaustion. The shrieking of the\nwind, the occasional glare of the moonlight through the rattling lattice\nwindows, and the apparent rocking of the very rafters above him thrilled\nhim into new and ever recurring sensations of fear--yet he was no\ncoward, and had often prided himself on having \u2018nerves of steel and\nsinews of iron.\u2019 Presently, he began to see quaint faces and figures in\nthe glowing embers of the fire; old scraps of song and legend haunted\nhim; fragments of Heine, mixed up with long-winded philosophical\nphrases of Schopenhauer, began to make absurd contradictions and glaring\ncontrasts in his mind, while he listened to the awful noises of the\nstorm; and the steady ticking of the clock on the wall worried him to\nsuch an almost childish degree, that had he not thought how often he had\nseen Gloria winding up that clock and setting it to the right hour,\nhe could almost have torn it down and broken it to pieces. By and by,\nhowever, tired Nature had her way, and utterly heavy and worn out in\nmind and body, and weary of the disturbed and incoherent thoughts in his\nbrain, he lay back and closed his eyes. He would rest a little while, he\nsaid to himself, and \u2018wait.\u2019 And so he gradually fell asleep, and in his\nsleep wrote, so he imagined, a whole eloquent chapter of his \u2018Political\nHistory of Hunger\u2019 in which he described Sergius Thord as a despot, who,\nafter proving false to the cause of the People, and grinding them down\nby unlimited taxation such as no Government had ever before inflicted,\nseized the rightful king of the country, and sent him away to be drowned\nin company with a woman of the People, whose body was fastened to his by\nropes and iron chains, in the fashion of \u2018Les Noyades\u2019 of Nantes. And he\nthought that the King rejoiced in his doom, and said strange words like\nthose of the poet who sang of a similar story:\n\n  \u201cFor never a man like me\n  Shall die like me till the whole world dies,\n  I shall drown with her, laughing for love, and she\n  Mix with me, touching me, lips and eyes!\u201d\n\nMeanwhile, Ronsard, true to the instinct within him, had fulfilled his\nintention and had put out to sea. The fisherman who had brought the\ntidings which had moved him to this desperate act, was too much of\na hero in himself to let the old man venture forth alone,--and\nso, following him down to the shore, had, despite all commands and\nentreaties to the contrary, insisted on going with him. The sailing\nskiff he owned was a strong boat, stoutly built,--and at first it seemed\nas if their efforts to ride the mountainous billows would be crowned\nwith success. Old Rene had a true genius for the management of a sail;\nhis watchfulness never flagged:--his strenuous exertions would have\ndone credit to a man less than half his age. With delicate precision\nhe guided the ropes, as a jockey might have guided the reins of a\nracehorse, and the vessel rose and fell lightly over the great waves,\nwith such ease and rapidity, that the man who accompanied him and took\nthe helm, an experienced sailor himself, began to feel confident that\nafter all the voyage might not be altogether futile.\n\n\u201cThe sea may be calmer further out from land!\u201d he shouted to Rene, who\nnodded a quiet aquiescence, while he kept his eyes earnestly fixed on\nthe horizon, which the occasional brightness of the moon showed up like\na line of fretted silver. Everywhere he scanned the waves for a glimpse\nof the fatal vessel bearing Death--and perhaps Life--on board; but over\nthe whole expanse of the undulating hills and valleys of wild water,\nthere was no speck of a boat to be seen save their own. They swept on\nand on, the wind aiding them with savage violence--when suddenly the man\nat the helm shouted excitedly:\n\n\u201cRonsard! See yonder! There she sails!\u201d\n\nWith an exclamation of joy, Ronsard sprang up, and looking, saw within\nwhat seemed an apparently short distance, the drifting funeral-barque\nhe sought. So far she seemed intact; her sails were bellying out full\nto the wind, and she was rising and plunging bravely over the\ngreat breakers, which rolled on in interminable array, one over the\nother,--with rugged foam-crests that sprang like fountains to the sky.\nA five or ten minutes\u2019 run with the wind would surely bring them\nalongside,--and Ronsard turned with an eager will to his work once more.\nOver the heads of the monstrous waves, rising with their hills, sinking\nin their valleys, he guided the few yielding planks that were between\nhim and destruction, trimming the straining sail to the ferocious wind,\nand ever keeping his eyes fixed on the vessel which was the object of\nhis search,--the sole aim and end of his reckless voyage, and which\nseemed now to recede, and then to almost disappear, the more earnestly\nhe strove to reach it.\n\n\u201cTo save the King!\u201d he muttered--\u201cTo save--not to kill! For Gloria\u2019s\nsake!--to save the King!\u201d\n\nA capricious gust from the beating wings of the storm swooped down upon\nhim sideways, as he twisted the ropes and tugged at them in a herculean\neffort to balance the plunging boat and keep her upright,--and in the\nloud serpent-like hiss of the waves around him, he did not hear his\ncompanion\u2019s wild warning cry--a cry of despair and farewell in one! A\ntoppling dark-green mass of water, moving on shoreward, lifted itself\nquite suddenly, as it were, to its full height, as though to stare at\nthe puny human creatures who thus had dared to oppose the fury of the\nelements, and then, leaping forward like a devouring monster, broke\nover their frail skiff, sweeping the sail off like a strip of ribbon,\nsnapping the mast and rolling over and over them with a thousand heads\nof foam that, spouting upwards, again fell into dark cavernous deeps,\ncovering and dragging down everything on the surface with a tumult and\nroar! It passed on thundering,--but left a blank behind it. Skiff and\nmen had vanished,--and not a trace of the wreck floated on the angry\nwaves!\n\nFor one blinding second, Ronsard, buffeting the wild waves, saw the face\nof Gloria,--that best-beloved fair face,--angelic, pitying, loving to\nthe last,--shine on him like a star in the darkness!--the next he was\nwhelmed into the silence of the million dead worlds beneath the sea!\nSo at last he paid his life\u2019s full debt. So, at last his atonement\nwas fulfilled. If it was true,--as he had in an unguarded moment\nconfessed,--that he had once killed a King, then the resistless Law\nof Compensation had worked its way with him,--inasmuch as he had been\nforced to render up what he cherished most,--the love of Gloria,--to the\nson of a King, and had ended his days in an effort to save the life of\na King! For the rest, whatever the real nature of his long-hidden\nsecret,--whatever the extent of the torture he had suffered in his\nconscience, his earthly punishment was over; and the story of his past\ncrime would never be known to the living world of men. One sinner,--one\nsufferer among many millions, he was but a floating straw on the vast\nwhirlpools of Time,--and whether he prayed for pardon and obtained it,\nwhether he had worked out his own salvation or had lost it, may not be\nknown of him, or of any of us, till God makes up the sum of life,\nin which perchance none of even the smallest numerals shall be found\nmissing!\n\nWilder grew the night, and more tempestuous the sea, while the sky\nbecame a mountainous landscape of black and white clouds fitfully\nillumined by the moon, which appeared to run over their fleecy pinnacles\nand sable plains like some scared white creature pursued by invisible\nfoes: The vessel on which the corpse of Lotys lay, palled in purple, and\ndecked with flowers, flew over the waves, to all seeming with the same\nhunted rapidity as the moon rushed through the heavens,--and so far,\nthough her masts bent reed-like in the wind, and her sails strained\nat their cordage, she had come to no harm. Tossed about as she was,\nrudderless and solitary, there was something almost miraculous in the\nway she had weathered a storm in which many a well-guided ship must\ninevitably have gone down. The purple pall with its heavy fringe of\ngold, that shrouded the coffin she carried, was drenched through and\nthrough by the sea, and the flowers on the deck were beaten and drowned\nin the salt spray that dashed over them.\n\nBut amid all the ruined blossoms of earth, by the side of the dead, and\nfull-fronted to the tempest, stood one living man, for whom life had no\ncharm, and death no terror--the King! What had been reported of him was\ntrue--he had resigned his Throne and left his kingdom for the sake of\nadventuring forth on this great voyage of Discovery,--this swift and\nstormy sail with Lotys to the Land of the Unknown! Whether it was a\nmadness, or a sick dream that fevered his blood, he knew not--but once\nthe woman he loved was dead, every hope, every ambition in him died\ntoo--and he felt himself to be a mere corpse of clay, unwillingly\ndragged about by a passionate soul that longed, and strove, and fought\nin its shell for larger freedom. All his life, so to speak, save for\nthe last few months, he had been a prisoner;--he had never, as he had\nhimself declared, known the sweetness of liberty;--but for the sake of\nLotys,--had she lived,--he would have been content to still wear the\nchains of monarchy, and would have endeavoured to accomplish such\ngood as he might, and make such reforms as could possibly benefit his\ncountry. But, after all, it is only a \u2018possibility \u2018that any reforms\nwill avail to satisfy any people long; and he was philosopher and\nstudent enough to know that whatsoever good one may endeavour to do\nfor the wider happiness and satisfaction of the multitude, they are as\nlikely as not to turn and cry out--\u201cThy good is our evil! Thy love to us\nis but thine own serving!\u201d--and so turn and rend their best benefactors.\nWith the loss of Lotys, he lost the one mainspring of faith and\nenthusiasm which would have helped him to match himself against his\ndestiny and do battle with it. A great weariness seized upon him,--a\nlonging for some wider scope of action than such futile work as that of\ngoverning, or attempting to govern, a handful of units whose\nmomentary Order was bound, in a certain period of time to lapse into\nDisorder--then into Order again, and so on till the end of all.\n\nHence his resolve to sail the seas with Lotys to that \u2018other side of\nDeath\u2019 of which she had spoken,--that \u2018other side\u2019 which an inward\ninstinct told him was not Death, but Life! He could not of himself\nanalyse the emotions which moved him. He could not take the measure\nof his grief; it was too wide and too painful. He might have said with\nHeine: \u201cGo, prepare me a bier of strong wood, longer than the bridge\nat Mayence, and bring twelve giants stronger than the vigorous St.\nChristopher of Cologne Cathedral on the Rhine;--they will carry the\ncoffin and fling it in the sea,--so large a coffin needs a large grave!\nWould you know why the bier must be so long and large? With myself, I\nlay there at the same time all my love and my sorrow!\u201d\n\nSovereignty,--a throne,--a kingdom,--even an Empire--seemed poor without\nlove to grace them. Had he never known the pure ideal passion, he\nwould still have missed it;--but having known it--having felt its power\nenvironing him day and night with a holy and spiritual tenderness, he\ncould not but follow it when it was withdrawn--follow it, ay, even into\nthe realms of blackest night! Like the \u2018Pilgrim of Love,\u2019 delineated\nby one of the greatest painters in the world, he recked nothing of the\ndarkness closing in,--of the pain and bewilderment of the road, which\ncould only lead to interminable, inexplicable mystery;--he felt the hand\nof the great Angel upon him--the Angel of Love whom alone he cared to\nserve,--and if Love\u2019s way led to Death, why then Death would be surely\nas sweet as Love! A great and almost divine calm had taken possession of\nhim from the moment he had fulfilled his intention of boarding the ship\nwhich carried away from him all that was mortal of the woman he had\nsecretly idolised. The wild turbulence of Nature around him had only\nintensified his perfect content. He had pleased himself by taking care\nof the sleeping Lotys--such tender care! He had tried to shield her\ncoffin from the onslaughts of the fierce waves; he had protected many of\nthe funeral flowers from destruction, and had lifted the gold fringe\nof the purple pall many and many a time out of the drenching spray cast\nover it. There was a strange delight in doing this. Lotys knew! That was\nhis chief reflection. And \u2018on the other side of Death,\u2019 as she had said,\nthey would meet--and to that \u2018other side\u2019 they were sailing together\nwith all the speed Heaven\u2019s own forces could give to their journey. Oh,\nthat \u2018other side\u2019! What brightness, what peace, what glory, what mutual\ncomprehension, what deep and perfect and undisturbed love would be found\nthere! He smiled as he watched the swollen and angry sea,--the rising\nbillows shouldering each other and bearing each other down;--how much\ngrander, how much more spiritual and near to God, he thought, was this\nconflict of the elements, than the petty wars of men!--their desires of\nconquest, their greed of gold, their thirst for temporal power!\n\n\u201cMy Lotys!\u201d he said aloud; \u201cYou knew the world! You knew the littleness\nof worldly ambition! You knew that there is only one thing worth living\nand dying for, and that is Love! Your heart was all love, my Lotys!\nDeprived of love for yourself, you gave all you had to those who needed\nit, and when you found my love for you might do me harm in the People\u2019s\nhonour, you sacrificed your life! Alas, my Lotys! If you could but have\nrealised that through you, and the love of you, I a King, who had long\nmissed my vocation, could alone be truly worthy of sovereignty!\u201d\n\nHe laid his hand on her coffin with a tender touch, as though to soothe\nits quiet occupant.\n\n\u201cMy beloved!\u201d he said, \u201cWe shall meet very soon!--very soon now! \u2018on the\nother side of death\u2019--and God will understand,--and be pitiful!\u201d\n\nThe storm now seemed to be at its height. The monstrous waves, as they\narose to combat the frail vessel in her swift career, made a bellowing\nclamour, and once or twice the ship reeled and staggered, as though\nabout to lurch forward and go under. But the King felt no fear,--no\nhorror of his approaching fate. He watched the wild scene with interest,\neven with appreciation,--as an artist or painter might watch the changes\nin a landscape which he purposes immortalising. His past life appeared\nto him like a picture in a magic crystal,--blurred and uncertain,--a\nmist of shapes without decided meaning or colour. He thought of the\nbeautiful cold Queen, his wife,--and wondered whether she would weep for\nhis loss.\n\n\u201cNot she!\u201d--and he almost smiled at the idea--\u201cPerhaps there will be a\nballad written about it--and she will listen, unchanged, unmoved--as she\nlistened that night when her minstrels sang:\n\n  \u2018We shall drift along till we both grow old\n  Looking back on the days that have passed us by,\n  When \u201cwhat might have been,\u201d can no longer be,\n  When I lost you and you lost me!\u2019\n\nThat was a quaint song--and a true one! She will not weep!\u201d\n\nThen he went over in memory the various scenes of his life--brilliant,\nuseless, and without results--when he was Heir-Apparent;--he thought of\nhis two young sons, Rupert and Cyprian, who were as indifferent to him\nas young foals to their sire,--and anon, his mind turned more tenderly\nto his eldest-born, Prince Humphry, and the fair girl he had so boldly\nwedded,--the happy twain, who, returning homeward, would find the Throne\nready for their occupancy, and a whole nation waiting to welcome them.\n\n\u201cGod bless them both!\u201d he said aloud, lifting his calm eyes to the\nwild heavens--\u201cThey have the one shield and buckler against all\nmisfortune--Love! And I thank God that I have not the sin upon my\nconscience of having broken that shield away from them; or of having\nforced their young lives asunder! Wiser than I, they took their own way\nand kept it!--may they so keep it always!\u201d\n\nThen a thought of \u2018the People\u2019 came to him--the People who had latterly\ntaken to idolising him, and making of him a hero greater than any\nmonarch whose deeds have ever been glorified since history began.\n\n\u201cThey will forget!\u201d he said--\u201cNowadays Nations have short memories!\nBattles and conquests, defeats and victories pass over the national\nmind as rapidly and changefully as the clouds are flying over the\nsky to-night!--the People remember neither their disgraces nor their\ntriumphs in the life of individual Self which absorbs each little unit.\nTheir idolatry of one monarch quickly changes to their idolatry of\nanother! I shall perhaps be regretted for six months as my father\nwas--and then--consigned with my ancestors to oblivion! Nothing so\nbeautiful or so gladdening to the heart of a Monarch as the love of his\nPeople!--but--at the same time--nothing so changeable or uncertain as\nsuch love!--nothing so purely temporal! And nothing so desperately sad,\nso irremediably tragic as the death of kings!\u201d\n\nRapidly he reviewed the situation--the new Ministry, the new Government\nmembers were elected--and business would begin again immediately after\nthe Crown Prince\u2019s return. All the reforms he had been prepared to carry\nout, would be effected,--and then would come the new King\u2019s Coronation.\nWhat a dazzling picture of resplendent beauty would be seen in Gloria,\nrobed and crowned! His heart beat rapidly at the mere contemplation\nof it. For himself he had no thought--save to realise that the strange\nmanner of his disappearance from his kingdom would probably only awaken\na sense of resentment in \u2018society,\u2019 and a vague superstition among the\nmasses, who would for a long time cling to the belief that he was not\ndead, but that like King Arthur he had only gone to the \u2018island valley\nof Avillion\u2019 to \u201cheal him of his grievous wound,\u201d--from which deep vale\nof rest he would return, rejoicing in his strength again. Sergius Thord\nwould know the truth--for to Sergius Thord he had written the truth.\nAnd the letter would reach him this very night--this night of his last\nearthly voyage.\n\n\u201cWhen his great sorrow has abated,\u201d he said, \u201che too will forget! He has\nall his work to do--all his career to make--and he will make it well\nand nobly! Even for his sake, and for his future, it is well that I am\ngone--for if he ever came to know,--if he were to guess even remotely,\nthrough Zouche\u2019s ravings, or some other means, the reason why Lotys\nkilled herself, he would hate me,--and with justice! He loves the\nPeople--he will serve their Cause better than I!\u201d\n\nThe moon stared whitely out of a cloud just then,--and to his amazement\nand awe, he suddenly perceived the black shadow of a man lifting itself\nslowly, slowly from the hold of the ship, like a massive bulk, or ghost\nin the gloom. Unable to imagine what this might be, or how any other\nhuman creature save himself would venture to sail with the dead on a\nvoyage whose end could be but destruction, he advanced a step towards\nthat looming shape, and started back with a cry, as he recognised the\nvery man he had been thinking of--Sergius Thord!\n\n\u201cSergius!\u201d he cried aghast.\n\n\u201cKing!\u201d and Thord looked scarcely human in the pale fleeting moonbeams,\nas he too stared in half-maddened wonder at the face and form of a\ncompanion on this dread journey such as he had never expected to see.\n\u201cWhat do you here in the midst of the sea and the storm? You should be\nat home!--playing the fool in your Palace!--giving audiences on your\nthrone!--you--you have no right to die with Lotys, whom I loved!\u201d\n\n\u201cWith Lotys whom you loved!\u201d echoed the King; \u201cYou loved her--true! But\nI loved her more!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou lie!\u201d said Thord, furiously; \u201cNo man--no King,--no Emperor of all\nthe world, could ever have loved Lotys as I loved her! These great waves\nwaiting to devour us--dead and living together--are not more insatiate\nin their passion for us than I in my passion for Lotys! I loved\nher!--and when she scorned me--when she rejected me,--when she openly\nconfessed that she loved you--the King--what remained for her but death!\nDeath, rather than dishonour at your Royal hands, Sir!\u201d And he laughed\nfiercely--a laugh with the ring of madness in it. \u201cI rescued her as a\nchild from starvation and misery--and so I may say I gave her her life.\nWhat I gave, I took again--I had the right to take it! I would not see\nher shamed by you--dishonoured by you--branded by you!--I did the only\nthing left to me to save her from you--I killed her!\u201d\n\nWith a loud cry the King, no longer so much king as man, with every\npassion roused, sprang at him.\n\n\u201cYou killed her? Oh, treacherous devil! They said she killed herself!\u201d\n\n\u201cHands off!\u201d cried Thord, suddenly pointing a pistol at him; \u201cI will\nshoot you as readily as I shot her if you touch me! She killed herself\nyou think? Oh, yes--in a strange way! Her last words were: \u2018Say I did\nit myself! Tell the King I did it myself!\u2019 A lie! All women are fond\nof lying. But her lie was to protect Me! Her last thought was for my\ndefence,--not yours! Her last wish was to save Me, not you!--King though\nyou are--lover though you craved to be! I say I murdered her! This is\nmy Day of Fate,--the day on which it seems that Heaven itself has drawn\nlots with me to kill a King! Why did I ever relax my hate of you? It\nwas inborn in me--a part of me,--my very life, the utmost portion of my\nwork! I called you friend;--I curse myself that I ever did so!--for from\nthe first you were my enemy--my rival in the love of Lotys! What did I\ncare for the People? What did you? We were both at one in the love\nof the same woman! And now I am here to die with her alone! Alone, I\nsay--do you hear me? I will be alone with her to the last--you shall\nnot share with us in our sea burial! I will die beside her,--all, all\nalone!--and drift out with her to the darkness of the grave, to meet my\nfate with her--always with her,--whether her spirit lead me to Hell or\nto Heaven!\u201d\n\nHis insensate frenzy was so desperate, so terrible, that by its very\nforce the strange mental composure of the King became intensified.\nQuietly folding his arms, he took his stand by the coffin of the dead in\nsilence. The dashing spray that leaped at the masts of the vessel,--the\nwind that scooped up the billows into higher and higher pinnacles of\nemerald green, might have been soundless and powerless, for all he\nseemed to hear or to heed.\n\n\u201cWhy are you with us?\u201d cried Thord again--\u201cHow came you on this ship,\nwhere I thought I had hidden myself alone with her, voyaging to\nDeath? Could you not have left her to me?--you who have a throne and\nkingdom--I, to whom she was all my life!\u201d\n\n\u201cI came--as you have come\u201d--answered the King--\u201cto die with her--or\nrather not to die, but to find Life with her! She loved me!\u201d\n\nWith a savage curse, Thord raised the pistol he held. The King looked\nhim full in the eyes.\n\n\u201cTake good aim, Sergius!\u201d he said tranquilly--\u201cFor here between us lies\nLotys--the silent witness of your deed! Go hence, if you must, with two\nmurders on your soul! There is no escape from death for either you or\nme, take it how we may;--and I care not at all how I meet it, whether at\nyour hands or in the waves of the sea! Give me the same death you\ngave to Lotys! I ask no better end! For so at least shall we meet more\nquickly!\u201d\n\nHalf choked with his fury, Thord looked at him with fixed and glassy\neyes. He was jealous of death!--jealous that death should of itself\nseem to reunite Lotys and the man she had loved more closely together!\nStanding erect by the purple pall that covered the one woman of\nthe world to them both, the King looked \u2018every inch a king,\u2019--the\nincarnation of pride, love, resolve and courage. With a sudden\nwild-beast cry, Thord sprang at him and caught his arm with one hand,\nthe pistol grasped in the other.\n\n\u201cToo near!\u201d he gasped; \u201cYou shall not stand too near her!--you shall not\ndie so close to her!--you shall not have the barest chance of resting\nwhere she sleeps!\u201d\n\nHe fell back, as the King\u2019s calm eyes regarded him steadfastly,\nimperiously, almost commandingly, without a trace of fear. He trembled.\n\n\u201cDo not look so!\u201d he muttered; \u201cI cannot kill you!--not if you look\nso!--\u201d\n\nRaising the pistol, he took apparent aim. The King stood unmoved, only\nmurmuring softly to himself: \u2018On the other side of Death, my Lotys!--On\nthe other side!\u2019\n\nThere was a loud report, a crash in his ears--then--as he staggered\nback, stunned by the shock, he saw that he was untouched, unhurt. Thord\nhad turned the pistol against his own breast, and reeling backward, with\na last supreme effort, dragged his sinking body to the vessel\u2019s edge.\n\n\u201cGod save your Majesty!\u201d he cried wildly; \u201cTell Lotys I did it myself!\nGod knows that is true!\u201d\n\nThe wild waves, clambering up over the deck rushed at him, and an\nenormous foam-crested billow, higher and stronger than all the rest,\nbeat at the mast of the vessel and snapped it in twain. It came down,\ndragging the sail with it in a tangle of cordage, and with that sail the\nname of \u2018Lotys\u2019 inscribed upon it was whirled furiously out to sea. The\nbody of the vessel, now netted in a mass of ropes and rigging, began\nto roll helplessly in the trough of the waves, and the corpse of Thord,\nsinking under it as it plunged, was swept away like a leaf in the\nstorm! Gone, his wild heart and wilder brain!--gone his restless\nambition,--gone his unsatisfied love--his fierce passions, his\nglimmerings of a noble nature which if trained and guided, might have\nworked to noblest ends. Like many would-be leaders of men, he could not\nlead himself--like many who seek to control law, and revolutionise the\nworld, he had been unable to master his own desperate soul. He was not\nthe first,--he will not be the last,--who for purely personal ends has\nsought to \u2018serve the People\u2019! The disinterested, the impersonal and\nunselfish Leader has yet to come,--and if he ever does come, it is more\nthan probable that those for whom he gives his life, will be the first\nto crucify his soul, and cry \u2018Thou hast a devil!\u2019\n\nDeath was now sole commander of the ocean that night! And the King of\na mere little earth-country, realised to the full that he stood\nirrevocably face to face with the last great Enemy of Empires. Yet never\nhad he looked more truly imperial,--never more superbly the incarnation\nof life! A mighty exultation began to stir within him--a consciousness\nthat he, despite all the terrors of the grave, would still come forth\nthe conqueror! The waves, leaping at him, were friends, not foes,--the\nmoon shedding ghostly glamours on the watery wilderness, smiled as\nthough she knew that he would soon be a partaker in the secrets of all\nNature, and solve the mystery of existence,--there was a singing in his\nears as of voices triumphant, which swelled with the passion of a mighty\nanthem,--and with the quietest mind and calmest brain he found himself\nmusing on life and death as if he were already a witness apart, of their\nstrange phenomena. Thord\u2019s appearance on the same ship in which he and\nLotys were passengers, seemed to him quite simple and natural,--Thord\u2019s\ndeath moved him to a certain grave compassion,--but the whole swift\ncircumstance had been so dreamlike, that he had no time to think of it,\nor regret it,--and the only active consciousness his mind held was that\nhe and Lotys were journeying to \u2018the other side\u2019;--that \u2018other side\u2019\nwhich he now felt so near and sure, that he could almost declare he\nsaw the living presence of the woman he loved arisen from the dead and\nstanding near him!\n\nThe ocean widened out interminably, and he saw, looking ahead, a great\nheap of gigantic billows, leaping, sparkling, tossing, climbing over\neach other in the fitful light of the moon, like huge sea-monsters\nwaiting to devour and engulf him. He smiled as he felt the yielding\ncraft on which he stood swirl towards those breakers, and begin to part\nasunder,--so would he have smiled on a battlefield facing his foes,\nand fronted with fiery cannon! The glory of Empire,--the splendour of\nSovereignty,--the pride and panoply of Temporal Power! How infinitely\ntrivial seemed all these compared with the mighty force of a resistless\nlove! How slight the boasted \u2018supremacy\u2019 of man with his laws and\ncreeds, matched against the wrath of the conflicting sea,--the sure and\nswift approach of inexorable Death! Under the depths of the ocean\nwhich this ruler of a kingdom traversed for the last time, lay a lost\nContinent,--fallen dynasties--forgotten civilisations, wonderful and\nendless--kings and queens and heroes once famous--and now as blotted out\nof memory as though they had never been!\n\n  \u201cIf thou could\u2019st see a thousand fathoms down,\n  Thou would\u2019st behold \u2018mid rock and shingle brown--\n  The shapeless wreck of temple, tower and town,--\n  The bones of Empires sleeping their last sleep,\n  Their names as dead as if they never bore\n    Crown or dominion!\u201d\n\nWith keen and watchful eyes he measured the swiftly lessening distance\nbetween him and the glittering, tumbling whirlpool of waves--he felt the\nweight of the wind bearing against the drifting vessel--the end was\nvery near! Standing by the dead Lotys, he prayed silently--prayed\nstrangely,--in words borrowed from no Church formula, but as they came,\nstraight from his heart--prayed that God might not be a Dream--that Love\nmight not be a Snare--and Death might not be an End! So do we all pray\nwhen the last dread moment of dissolution comes--when no priest\u2019s\ncan comfort us--and when the greatest King in the world is but a poor\nordinary human soul, ignorant and forlorn, shuddering on the verge of\neternal Judgment!\n\nA mountainous billow broke over the deck, half stunning him with the\nshock of its cold onslaught, and sweeping the coffin of Lotys almost\nover the edge of the vessel. He threw himself beside that dreary casket,\nfastening his own body with strong rope knotted many times, to its\nheavy leaden mass, resolved to sink with it painlessly, and without\na struggle. So,--in perfect passiveness,--he awaited his end.\nSuddenly,--as if a bell had chimed in the distance, or a voice had sung\nsome old familiar song in his ears,--he saw, clearly visioned in all the\nflying spray of the tempest a face!--not the face of Lotys--but a soft,\nchildish, piteous little countenance, framed in curling tendrils of\nhair, with trusting sweet eyes, raised to his own in holiest, simplest\nconfidence! So pure, so fair a face!--so pathetically loving!--where\nhad he seen it before? All at once he remembered,--and sprang up with a\nsharp cry of pain. Why, why had this frail ghost of the past flown out\nof the darkness of sea and storm to confront him now? The ghost of his\nfirst young love!--the clinging, fond, credulous creature who had gone\nto her death uncomplainingly for his sake--with only the one little cry\nof farewell--\u2018My love! Forgive me!\u2019 Why should he think of her?--why\nshould he see her before him at this supreme moment when Death stared\nhim in the face, and his spirit hovered on the edge of Infinity?\n\u201cVengeance is mine!--I will repay, saith the Lord!\u201d His first love!--so\nlightly won--so cruelly betrayed! Tears rushed to his eyes,--he thought\nof the wrong done to a perfectly pure and blameless life--a wrong he had\nforgotten in all these years--till now!\n\n\u201cOh God!\u201d he cried aloud--\u201cForgive me! Forgive my weakness, my\nselfishness, my many wasted years! Let not her face forever come between\nthy redeeming Angel, Lotys, and my soul!\u201d\n\nThe tumultuous breakers rushing now with a great swoop at the vessel,\nsnatched and tore at him. He nerved himself to look again,--once again,\nand for the last time, across the great wilderness of warring waters!\nThe moon now shone brightly,--the clouds were parting on either side of\nher, rolling up in huge masses, white and glistening as Alpine peaks\nof snow--the wind had not lessened, and the fury of the sea was still\nunabated. But the fair childish face had vanished,--and only the clear\nsalt spray dashed in his eyes and blinded them,--only the salt waves\nclambered round him, drawing him towards them in a cold embrace!\n\n\u201c\u2018On the other side,\u2019 my Lotys!\u201d he said--\u201cGod be merciful to us\nboth!--\u2018on the other side\u2019!\u201d\n\nFor one moment the breaking vessel paused shudderingly on the edge of\nthe seething whirlpool of waves, which, meeting in a centre of tidal\ncommotion, leaped at her, and began steadily to suck her down. For one\nmoment the moonbeams fell purely on the calm upturned face of the\nKing, who like others allied to him in kingship throughout history,\nhad esteemed mere sovereignty valueless at the cost of Love! For\nkings,--though surrounded with flatterers and sycophants who seek to\nmake them imagine themselves somewhat more than human,--are but men,\nwith all men\u2019s vain sins and passions, mad weaknesses and wild dreams;\nand when they love, they love as foolishly as commoners,--and when they\ndie, as die they must, there is no difference in the actual way of death\nthan is known to a pauper. More gold and purple on the one side,--more\nstraw and sackcloth on the other,--but the solemnity and equality of\nDeath itself, is the same in both. And as this dying King well knew, the\nPeople care little who governs them, provided bread is cheap, and labour\nwell paid. He is greatest who gives them most,--and he is the most\napplauded who allows them the most liberty of action! The personality,\nthe complex nature, the character, the temptations, the mind-sufferings\nof a King, as man merely, are less than nothing to the multitude who\nrun to follow and to cheer him. If he were once to complain, he would\nbe condemned;--and if he asked from his crowding flatterers the bread of\nsympathy, they would give him but a stone!\n\nThe moon smiled--the stars flashed fitfully through the clouds,--and all\nthrough the length and breadth of ocean there seemed to come the sound\nof a great psalmody, rising and filling the air. It surged on the King\u2019s\nears, as with hands clasped on the drenched lilies strewn over the\nsleeping Lotys, he welcomed the coming Unveiling of the Beyond! And\nthen--the waters rose up, and caught living and dead together, and\ndragged them down with a triumphal rush and roar,--down, down to\nthat grand Unconsciousness,--that sublime Pause in the chain of\nexistence,--that longer Sleep, from which we shall wake refreshed and\nstrong again,--ready to learn Where we have failed, Why we have\nloved, and How we have lost. But of things temporal there shall be no\nduration,--neither Sovereignty nor Supremacy, nor Power; only Love,\nwhich makes weak the strongest, and governs the proudest;--and of things\neternal we know naught save that Love, always Love, is still the centre\nof the Universe, and that even to redeem the sins of the world, God\nHimself could find no surer way than through Love, born of Woman into\nLife.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDays passed,--and angry Ocean gradually smoothed out its frowning\nfurrows, spreading a surface darkly-blue and peaceful, under a cloudless\narch of sky. And one night,--when the moon, like a golden cup in heaven,\nemptied her sparkling wine of radiance over the gently heaving waves,\na fair ship speeding swiftly with all the force of steam and sail, with\nflags fluttering from every mast, and sounds of music echoing from\nher lighted saloons, came flying over the billows like a glorious\nwhite-winged bird soaring to its home on an errand of joy. On her deck\nstood Gloria,--happily ignorant of all calamity,--watching with dreamy,\nthoughtful eyes the lessening lengths of sea between her and the land\nshe loved. The Crown Prince, her husband,--now King, though he knew it\nnot,--stood beside her;--his handsome face brightened by a smile which\nexpressed his heart\u2019s elation, his soul\u2019s deep peace and inward content.\nNaught knew these wedded lovers of the strange reception awaiting them;\nof the half-mourning, half-rejoicing people,--of national flags suddenly\nveiled in crape,--of black funeral-streamers set distractedly amidst\ngay bridal garlands;--of a widowed Queen, broken-hearted and despairing,\nweeping vainly for the love she had so long misprized, and had learned\ntoo late to value,--of a Crown resigned,--of the lost Majesty and hero\nof a nation\u2019s idolatry;--of the death of Ronsard, and the inexplicable\ndisappearance of the famous Socialist leader, Sergius Thord,--and of all\nthe strange and tragic history of vanished lives, even to that of Sir\nRoger de Launay whom no man ever saw again,--which it fell to their\nfaithful friend, Heinrich von Glauben to relate, with passionate grief\nand many tears. They knew nothing. They only saw home and the future\nbefore them, shining in bright hues of hope and promise; for Love was\nwith them,--and through Love alone--love for the nation, love for the\npeople, love for each other,--they purposed, God willing, to faithfully\nfulfil whatever destiny might be theirs, whether fortunate or\ndisastrous! Thus minded, they could see no evil in the world,--no\nmischief,--no ominous crossings of Fate,--they had all earth and all\nheaven in each other! And the gay ship bearing them onward, danced over\nthe smiling, singing, siren waves, as if she too had a human heart to\nfeel and rejoice!--and in her swift course swept lightly over the very\nspot, now tranquil and radiant, where but a short while since, the body\nof Lotys had gone down, companioned by the King. Gloria leaning over the\ndeck-rail looked dreamily into the sparkling water.\n\n\u201cThe storm we met has left no trace!\u201d she said; \u201cIt was but a passing\nhurricane!\u201d\n\nHer husband came to her side, and they stood together in silence. Sweet\nharmonies floating upwards from the saloon below, where a company of\nmusicians and singers were stationed to charm the evenings of the Royal\npair with \u2018sounds more dulcet than Heaven\u2019s own dulcimers\u2019 held them\nattentive. The tender tones of an undetermined melody rose and fell on\nthe quiet air,--they listened, drawing closer and closer to each other,\ntill it seemed as if but one heart beat between them,--as if but one\nSoul aspired,--Archangel-like,--from their two lives to Heaven! And\nGloria, with a sigh of perfect happiness, murmured softly,--\n\n\u201cHow beautiful the night! How calm the sea!\u201d\n\nSo sped they onward,--with Love to steer them; with Love to bring them\nsafely through the brief cloud of sorrow and wonder hanging over the\nkingdom to which they wended,--with Love to guide their lives through\nall difficulty and danger, and to give them all the good that Love alone\ncan give! For whether the days be dark or bright,--whether tempest fills\nthe air, or sunshine illumines the sky,--whether we are followed with\nfair blessing from friends, or pursued with the hate, envy and slander\nof injurious foes,--whether we drown by choice in tempestuous waters of\npassion, or float securely to the shores of peace,--whether our ships\nare bound for Death or for Life, we are safe in the hands of Love! And\nin the midst of what the world deems storm and wreckage, we can gaze\ninto the deeper depths of God\u2019s meaning with trustful eyes, and sail on\nour voyage fearlessly,--on, even to the Grave and beyond it!--for with\nLove at the helm, how beautiful is the Night!--how calm the Sea!\n\nTHE END","title":"Temporal Power: A Study in Supremacy","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":197012}