Delphi collected works o.., p.555
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli, page 555
part #22 of Delphi Series Series
Pequita ran up to him.
“Good-night, dear Paul!”
He stooped and kissed her gently.
“Good-night, little one! If ever you show your twinkling feet at the Opera, you will be the ‘fashion’ — and will you remember Paul then?”
“Always — always!” said Pequita tenderly; “Father and Lotys and I will always love you!”
Zouche gave a short laugh.
“Always love me! Me! Well! — what strange things children will say, not knowing in the least what they mean!”
He gave a vague salute to the entire company, and walked out of the tavern with drooping head. Others followed him, — every man in going, shook hands with Lotys and Sergius Thord, — the lamps were extinguished, and the landlord standing in the porch of his tavern watched them all file out, and bade them all a cordial farewell. Pequita’s home was with her father in the house where Sergius Thord dwelt, and Lotys kissing her tenderly good-night, left her to Thord’s care.
“And who will see you home, Lotys?” enquired Thord.
“May I for once have that honour?” asked Pasquin Leroy. His two companions stared in undisguised amazement, and there was a moment’s silence.
Then Lotys spoke.
“You may!” she said simply.
There was another silence while she put on her hat, and wrapped herself in her long dark cloak. Then Thord took Pequita by the hand.
“Good-night, Lotys!”
“Good-night, Sergius!”
Leroy turned to his two friends and spoke to them in a low tone.
“Go your ways!” he said peremptorily; “I will join you later!”
Vain were their alarmed looks of remonstrance; and in another moment all the party had separated, and only Max Graub and Axel Regor remained on the pavement outside the tavern, disconsolately watching two figures disappearing in the semi-shadowed moonlight — Pasquin Leroy and Lotys — walking closely side by side.
“Was there ever such a drama as this?” muttered Graub, “He may lose his life at any moment!”
“If he does,” responded Regor, “It will not be our fault. We do our best to guard him from the consequence of one folly, — and he straightway runs into another! There is no help for it; we have sworn to obey him, and we must keep our oath!”
They passed slowly along the street, too absorbed in their own uncomfortable reflections for the interchange of many words. By the rules of the Revolutionary Committee, they were not allowed ‘to follow or track any other member’ so they were careful to walk in a reverse direction to that taken by their late comrades. The great bell of the Cathedral boomed midnight as they climbed towards the citadel, and the pale moon peeping whitely through piled-up fleecy clouds, shed a silver glare upon the quiet sea. And down into the ‘slums,’ down, and ever deeper, into the sad and cheerless ‘Quarter of the Poor’ Pasquin Leroy walked as though he trod lightly on a path of flowers, — his heart beating high, and his soul fully awakened within him, thrilled, he knew not why, to the heart’s core by the soft low voice of Lotys, — and glad that in the glimpses of the moonlight her eyes were occasionally lifted to his face, with something of a child’s trust, if not of a woman’s tenderness.
CHAPTER XXI. — AN INVITATION TO COURT
The spring was now advancing into full summer, and some time had passed since the Socialist party had gathered under their leaders to the voice of Lotys. Troublous days appeared to be impending for the Senate, and rumours of War, — war sometimes apparently imminent, and again suddenly averted, — had from time to time worried the public through the Press. But what was even more disturbing to the country, was the proposed infliction of new, heavy and irritating taxes, which had begun to affect the popular mind to the verge of revolt. Twice since Lotys had spoken at the People’s Assembly Rooms had Sergius Thord addressed huge mass meetings, which apparently the police had no orders to disperse, and his power over the multitude was increasing by leaps and bounds. Whenever he spoke, wherever he worked, the indefatigable Pasquin Leroy was constantly at his side, and he, in his turn began to be recognized by the Revolutionary Committee as one of their most energetic members, — able, resolute, and above all, of an invaluably inscrutable and self-contained demeanour. His two comrades were not so effectual in their assistance, and appeared to act merely in obedience to his instructions. Their attitude, however, suited everyone concerned as well as, if not better than, if they had been overzealous. Owing to what Leroy had stated concerning the possibility of his arrest as a spy, his name was never mentioned in public by one single member of the Brotherhood; and to the outside Socialist following, he therefore appeared simply as one of the many who worked under Sergius Thord’s command. Meanwhile, there were not lacking many other subjects for popular concern and comment; all of which in their turn gave rise to anxious discussion and vague conjecture. A Cabinet Council had been held by the Premier, at which, without warning, the King had attended personally, but the results were not made known to the public. Yet the general impression was that his Majesty seemed to be perfectly indifferent to the feelings or the well-being of his subjects; in fact, as some of them said with dismal shakings of the head, “It was all a part of the system; kings were not allowed to do anything even for the benefit of their people.” And rising Socialism, ever growing stronger, and amassing in its ranks all the youthful and ambitious intellects of the time, agreed and swore that it was time for a Republic. Only by a complete change of Government could the cruelly-increasing taxation be put down; and if Government was to be changed, why not the dummy figure-head of Government as well?
Thus Rumour talked, sometimes in whispers — sometimes in shouts; — but through it all the life of the Court and fashion went on in the same way, — the King continued to receive with apparent favour the most successful and most moneyed men from all parts of the world; the Queen drove or walked, or rode; — and the only prospective change in the social routine was the report that the Crown Prince was about to leave the country for a tour round the world, and that he would start on his journey in his own yacht about the end of the month. The newspapers made a great fuss in print over this projected tour; but the actual people were wholly indifferent to it. They had seen very little of the Crown Prince, — certainly not enough to give him their affection; and whether he left the kingdom or stayed in it concerned them not at all. He had done nothing marked or decisive in his life to show either talent, originality of character, or resolution; and the many ‘puffs’ in the press concerning him, were scarcely read at all by the public, or if they were, they were not credited. The expression of an ordinary working-man with regard to his position was entirely typical of the general popular sentiment;— “If he would only do something to prove he had a will of his own, and a mind, he would perhaps be able to set the Throne more firmly on its legs than it is at present.”
How thoroughly the young man had proved that he indeed possessed ‘a will of his own,’ was not yet disclosed to the outside critics of his life and conduct. Only the King and Queen, and Professor von Glauben knew it; — for even Sir Roger de Launay had not been entrusted with the story of his secret marriage. The Queen had received the news with her usual characteristic immobility. A faint cold smile had parted her lips as she listened to the story of her son’s romance, — and her reply to the King’s brief explanation was almost as brief: —
“Nearly all the aristocracy marry music-hall women!” she said; “One should therefore be grateful that a Crown Prince does not go lower in his matrimonial choice than an innocent little peasant!”
“The marriage is useless, of course,” said the King; “It has satisfied Humphry’s exalted notions of honour; but it can never be acknowledged or admitted.”
“Of course not!” she agreed languidly; “It certainly clears up the mystery of The Islands, which you were so anxious to visit; — and I suppose the next thing you will do is to marry him again to some daughter of a Royal house?”
“Most assuredly!”
“As you were married to me?” she said, raising her eyes to his face with that strange deep look which spoke eloquently of some mystery hidden in her soul.
His cheeks burned with an involuntary flush. He bowed.
“Precisely! As I married you!” he replied.
“The experiment was hardly successful!” she said with her little cold smile. “I fear you have often regretted it!”
He looked at her, studying her beauty intently, — and the remembrance of another face, far less fair of feature, but warm and impassioned by the lovely light of sympathy and tenderness, came between his eyes and hers, like a heavenly vision.
“Had you loved me,” he said slowly, “I might never have known what it was to need love!”
A slight tremor ran through her veins. There was a strange tone in his voice, — a soft cadence to which she was unaccustomed, — something that suggested a new emotion in his life, and a deeper experience.
“I never loved anyone in my life!” she answered calmly— “And now the days are past for loving. Humphry, however, has made up for my lack of the tender passion!”
She turned away indifferently, and appeared to dismiss the matter altogether from her mind. The first time she saw her son, however, after hearing of his marriage, she looked at him curiously.
“And so your wife is very lovely, Humphry!” she said with a slightly derisive smile.
He was not startled by the suddenness of her observation nor put out by it.
“She is the loveliest woman I have ever seen, — not excepting yourself,” he replied.
“It is a very foolish affair!” she continued composedly; “But fortunately in our line of life such things are easily arranged; — and your future will not be spoiled by it. I am glad you are going abroad, as you will very soon forget!”
The Prince regarded her steadfastly with something of grave wonderment as well as compassion, — but he made no reply, and with the briefest excuse left her presence as soon as possible, in order to avoid further conversation on the subject. She, herself, however, found her mind curiously perturbed and full of conjectures concerning her son’s idyllic love-story, in which all considerations for her as Queen and mother seemed omitted, — and where she, as it were, appeared to be shut outside a lover’s paradise, the delights of which she had never experienced. The King held many private conferences with her on the matter, in which sometimes Professor von Glauben was permitted to share; — and the upshot of these numerous discussions resulted in a scheme which was as astonishing in its climax as it was unexpected. Over and over again it has been proved to nations as well as to individuals, that the whole course of events may be changed by the fixed determination of one resolute mind; but it is not often that the moral force of a mere girl succeeds in competing with the authority of kings and parliaments. But so it chanced on this occasion, and in the following manner.
One glorious early morning, the sun having risen without a cloud in the deep blue of the sky, and the sea being as calm as an inland lake, the King’s yacht was seen to weigh anchor and steam away at her fullest speed towards The Islands. Little or no preparation had been made for her short voyage; there was no Royal party on board, and the only passenger was Professor von Glauben. He sat solitary on deck in a luxurious chair, smoking his meerschaum pipe, and dubiously considering the difficult and peculiar situation in which he was placed. He made no attempt to calculate the possible success or failure of his mission— ‘for,’ said he very sagely, ‘it all depends on a woman, and God alone knows what a woman will do! Her ways are dark and wonderful, and altogether beyond the limit of the comprehension of man!’
His journey was undertaken at the King’s command; and equally by the King’s command he had been compelled to keep it a secret from Prince Humphry. He had never been to The Islands since the King’s ‘surprise visit’ there, and he was of course not aware that Gloria now knew the real rank and position of her supposed ‘sailor’ husband. He was at present charged to break the news to her, and bring her straightway to the palace, there to confront both the King and Queen, and learn from them the true state of affairs.
“It is a cruel ordeal,” he said, shaking his head sorrowfully; “Yet I myself am a party to its being tried. For once in my life I have pinned my faith on the unspoilt soul of an unworldly woman. I wonder what will come of it? It rests entirely with Gloria herself, and with no one else in the world!”
As the yacht arrived at its destination and dropped anchor at some distance from the pier, owing to the shallowness of the tide at that hour of the day, The Islands presented a fair aspect in the dancing beams of the summer sunlight. Numbers of fruit trees were bursting into blossom, — the apple, the cherry, the pink almond and the orange blossom all waved together and whispered sweetness to one another in the pure air, and the full-flowering mimosa perfumed every breath of wind. Fishermen were grouped here and there on the shore, mending or drying their nets; and in the fields beyond could be perceived many workers pruning the hedges or guiding the plough. The vision of a perfect Arcadia was presented to the eye; and so the Professor thought, as getting into the boat lowered for him, he was rowed from the yacht to the landing-place, and there dismissed the sailors, warning them that at the first sound of his whistle they should swiftly come for him again.
“What a pity to spoil her peace of mind — her simplicity of life!” he thought, as he walked at a slow and reluctant pace towards Ronsard’s cottage; “And I fear we shall have trouble with the old man! I wonder if his philosophy will stand hard wear and tear!”
The pretty, low timber-raftered house confronted him at the next bend in the road, and presented a charming aspect of tranquillity. The grass in front of it was smooth as velvet and emerald-green, and in one of the flower borders Ronsard himself was digging and planting. He looked up as he heard the gate open, but did not attempt to interrupt his work; — and Von Glauben advanced towards him with a considerable sense of anxiety and insecurity in his mind. Anon he paused in the very act of greeting, as the old man turned his strong, deeply-furrowed countenance upon him with a look of fierce indignation and scorn.
“So! You are here!” he said; “Have you come to look upon the evil your Royal master has worked? Or to make dutiful obeisance to Gloria as Crown-Princess?”
Von Glauben was altogether taken aback.
“Then — you know — ?” he stammered.
“Oh yes, I know!” responded Ronsard sternly and bitterly; “I know everything! There has been full confession! If the husband of my Gloria were more prince than man, my knife would have slit his throat! But he is more man than prince! — and I have let him live — for her sake!”
“Well — that is so far good!” said Von Glauben, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and heaving a deep sigh of relief; “And as you fully comprehend the situation, it saves me the trouble of explaining it! You are a philosopher, Ronsard! Permit me to remind you of that fact! You know, like myself, that what is done, even if it is done foolishly, cannot be undone!”
“I know it! Who should know it so well as I!” and Ronsard set a delicate rose-tree roughly in the hole he had dug for it, and began to fiercely pile in the earth around it;— “Fate is fate, and there is no gainsaying it! The law of Compensation will always have its way! Look you, man! — and listen! I, Réné Ronsard, once killed a king! — and now in my old age, the only creature I ever loved is tricked by the son of a king! It is just! So be it!”
He bent his white head over his digging again, and Von Glauben was for a moment silent, vaguely amazed and stupefied by this sudden declaration of a past crime.
“You should not say ‘tricked,’ my friend!” he at last ventured to remark; “Prince Humphry is an honest lad; — he means to keep his word!”
Ronsard looked up, his eyes gleaming with fury.
“Keep his word? Bah! How can he? Who in this wide realm will give him the honourable liberty to keep his word? Will he acknowledge Gloria as his wife before the nation? — she a foundling and a castaway? Will he make her his future queen? Not he! He will forsake her, and live with another woman, in sin which the law will sanctify!”
He went on planting the rose-tree, then, — dropping his spade, — tossed up his head and hands with a wild gesture.
“What, and who is this God who so ordains our destiny!” he exclaimed; “For surely this is His work, — not mine! Hidden away from all the world with my life’s secret buried in my soul, I, without wife, or children or friends, or any soul on earth to care whether I lived or died, was sent an angel comforter; — the child I rescued from the sea! ‘Gloria, Gloria in excelsis Deo!’ the choristers sang in the church when I found her! I thought it true! With her, — in every action, in every thought and word, I strove, — and have faithfully striven, — to atone for my past crime; — for I was forced through others to kill that king! When proved guilty of the deed, I was told by my associates to assume madness, — a mere matter of acting, — and, being adjudged as insane, I was sent with other criminals on a convict ship, bound for a certain coast-prison, where we were all to be kept for life. The ship was wrecked off the rocks yonder, and it was reported that every soul on board went down, but I escaped — only I, — for what inscrutable reason God alone knows! Finding myself saved and free, I devoted my life to hard work, and to doing all the good I could think of to atone — to atone — always to atone! Then the child was sent to me; and I thought it was a sign that my penance was accepted; but no! — no! — the compensating curse falls, — not on me, — not on me, for if only so, I would welcome it — but on Her! — the child of my love — the heart of my heart! — on Her!”
He turned away his face, and a hard sob broke from his labouring chest. Von Glauben laid a gentle, protective hand on his shoulder.
“Ronsard, be a man!” he said in a kind, firm voice; “This is the first time you have told me your true history — and — I shall respect your confidence! You have suffered much — equally you have loved much! Doubt not that you are forgiven much. But why should you assume, or foresee unhappiness for Gloria? Why talk of a curse where perhaps there is only an intended blessing? Is she unhappy, that you are thus moved?”
