Her Royal Highness: A Romance of the Chancelleries of Europe
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ill-paidprofession, for entertaining is a constant drain upon one's pocket, asevery Foreign Office official, from the poverty-stricken Consul to theAmbassador, harassed by debt, can, alas! testify.
Many an Ambassador to a foreign Court has been ruined by the constantdrain of entertaining. Appearances and social entertainments are hisvery life, and if he cuts down his expenses Britain's prestige mustsuffer, and at Downing Street they will quickly query the cause of hisparsimony. So the old game goes on, and the truth is, that many a manof vast diplomatic experience and in a position of high responsibilityis worse off in pocket than the average suburban tradesman.
Hubert Waldron bit his lip. After all, he was a fool to allow himselfto think of her. No diplomat should marry until he became appointedMinister, and a bachelor life was a pleasant one. Curious, he thought,that he, a man who had run the whole gamut of life in the capitals, andwho had met so many pretty and fascinating women in that gay world whichrevolves about the Embassies, should become attracted by that merrylittle French girl, Lola Duprez.
Breakfast over, the party went ashore again, now in linen clothes andsun-helmets, to wander about the temple till noon, when they were toleave for Wady Haifa.
He saw Lola and Edna Eastham walking with Chester Dawson, so, following,he joined them and at last secured an opportunity of speaking with Lolaalone.
They were strolling slowly around the edge of the sandstone cliff, awayfrom the colossal facade of the temple, and out of sight of the steamer,for the old Frenchman had fortunately still remained on board--theblazing heat being too much for him.
"Lola," her companion exclaimed, "I have spoken to your uncle quiteopenly this morning. I know that he hates me."
She turned quickly and looked straight at him with her wonderful darkeyes.
"Well--?" she asked.
"He has told me the truth," Waldron went on seriously. "He hasexplained that the reason he objects to our companionship is because youare already betrothed."
"Betrothed?" she echoed, staring at him.
"Yes. To whom? Tell me, mam'zelle," he asked slowly.
She made no response. Her eyes were downcast; her cheeks suddenly pale.They were standing beneath the shadow of an ancient wide-spreading treewhich struggled for existence at the edge of the Nile flood.
"He has said that I am betrothed--eh?" she asked, as though speaking toherself.
"He has told me so. Your future husband has been already chosen," hesaid in a low, mechanical tone.
Her teeth were set, her sweet, refined countenance had grown even paler.
"Yes," she admitted at last, drawing a deep breath. "My past has beenbright and happy, but, alas! before me there now only lies tragedy; anddespair. Ah! if I were but my own mistress--if only I could escape thisgrip of evil which is ever upon me!"
"Grip of evil! What do you mean?" he inquired eagerly.
"Ah! you do not know--you can never tell!" she cried. "The evil hand ofJules Gigleux is ever upon me, a hard, iron, inexorable hand. Ah!M'sieur Waldron, you would, if you only knew the truth, pity a woman whois in the power of a man of that stamp--a man who has neither feeling,nor conscience, neither human kindness nor remorse."
"He's a confounded brute--that I know. I feel sure of it," hercompanion declared hastily. "But look here, mam'zelle, can't I assistyou? Can't I help you out of this pitfall into which you seem to havefallen. Why should you be forced to marry this man whom your uncle haschosen--whoever he may be?"
She shook her head mournfully, her lips quite white.
"No," she sighed. "I fear your efforts could have no avail. It is truethat I am betrothed--pledged to a man whom I hate. But I know that Icannot escape. I must obey the decree which has gone forth. Few girlsto-day marry for love, I fear--and true love, alas! seems ever to bringpoverty in its wake."
"That's the old sentimental way of looking at it," he declared."There's many a rich marriage in which Cupid plays the principal part.I've known lots."
"In my case it cannot be," the girl declared hopelessly. "My future hasbeen planned for me, and admits of no alteration," she went on. "To me,love--the true love of a woman towards a man--is forbidden. My onlythought is to crush it completely from my heart and to meet my futurehusband as I would a dire misfortune."
"Not a very cheerful outlook, I fear."
"No, my future can, alas! be only one of tragedy, M'sieur Waldron, sothe less we discuss it the better. It is, I assure you, a very painfulsubject," and again she sighed heavily, and he saw hot tears welling inthose splendid eyes which he always admired so profoundly.
Her face was full of black tragedy, and as Waldron gazed upon it hisheart went out in deepest sympathy towards her.
"But surely this uncle of yours is not such an absolute brute as tocompel you to wed against your will!" he cried.
"Not he alone compels me. There are other interests," was her slowreply, her voice thick with suppressed emotion. "I am bound, fettered,hand and foot. Ah! you do not know!" she cried.
"Cannot I assist you to break these fetters?" he asked, bending to herearnestly. "I see that you are suffering, and if I can do anything toserve your interests I assure you, mademoiselle, I will."
"I feel certain of that," was her answer. "Already you have been verygood and patient with me. I know I have often sorely tried your temper.But you must forgive me. It is my nature, I fear, to be mischievousand irresponsible."
At that instant the recollection of the night in Assouan crossedWaldron's mind--of that mysterious messenger who had come post-hastefrom Europe, and had as mysteriously returned. He had never mentionedthe affair, for had he done so she would have known that he had spiedupon her. Therefore he had remained silent.
They stood together beneath the shade of that spreading tree with theheat of the desert sand reflected into their faces--stood in silence,neither speaking.
At last he said:
"And may I not know the identity of the man who is marked out to be yourhusband?"
"No; that is a secret, M'sieur Waldron, which even you must not know.It is my affair, and mine alone," she replied in a low tone.
"I'm naturally most curious," he declared, "for if I can assist you toextricate yourself from this impasse I will."
"I thank you most sincerely," was her quick response, as she looked upat him with her soft, big eyes. "If at any time I require yourassistance I will certainly count upon you. But, alas! I fear that noeffort on your part could avail me. There are reasons--reasons beyondmy control--which make it imperative that I should marry the man markedout for me."
"It's a shame--a downright sin!" he cried fiercely. "No, mademoiselle,"and he grasped her small hand before she could withdraw it; "I will notallow you to sacrifice yourself to your uncle's whim."
She shook her head slowly, answering:
"It is, alas! not within your power to prevent it! The matter hasalready been arranged."
"Then you are actually betrothed?"
"Yes," she replied in a hoarse voice. "To a man I hate."
"Then you must let me act on your behalf. I must--I will?"
"No. You can do nothing to help me. As I have already explained, mylife in future can only be one of tragedy--just as yours may be, Ifear," she added in a slow, distinct voice.
"I hardly follow you," he exclaimed, looking at her much puzzled.
She smiled sadly, turning her big eyes upon his.
"Probably not," she said. "But does not half Madrid know the tragedy ofyour love for the dancer, Beatriz Rojas de Ruata, the beautiful womanwhose misfortune it is to have a husband in the person of a drunkencab-driver."
"What!" he gasped, starting and staring at her in amazement. "Then youknow Madrid?"
"Yes, I have been in Madrid," was her answer. "And I have heard in the_salons_ of your mad infatuation for the beautiful opera-dancer. It iscommon gossip, and most people sigh and sympathise with you, for it isknown, too, that Hubert Waldron, of the British Embassy, is the soul ofhon
our--and that such love as his can only bring tragedy in its train."
"You never told me that you had been in Madrid!"
"Because you have never asked me," was her calm reply. "But I know muchmore concerning you, M'sieur Waldron, than you believe," she said with amysterious smile. Then, her eyes glowing, she added: "I have heard youdiscussed in Madrid, in Barcelona, and in San Sebastian, and I know thatyour love for the beautiful Beatriz Rojas de Ruata is just as fraughtwith tragedy as the inexorable decree which may, ere long, bind me aswife to the one man whom I hate and detest most in all the