“You are a stranger here, Sir Walter Langton! — I cannot allow you to feel solitary in our company!”
“Is it possible for anyone to feel solitary when you are near, Madam?” returned Sir Walter gallantly, as he obeyed the gesture with which she motioned him to be seated;— “You must be weary of hearing that even your silent presence is sufficient to fill space with melody and charm! And I am not altogether a stranger; I know this country well, though I have never till now had the honour of visiting its ruling sovereign.”
“It is very unlike England,” said the Queen, slowly unfurling her fan of soft white plumage and waving it to and fro.
“Very unlike, indeed!” he agreed, and a musing tenderness darkened his fine hazel eyes as he gazed out on the sparkling sea.
“You like England best?” resumed the Queen.
“Madam, I am an Englishman! To me there is no land so fair, or so much worth living and dying for, as England!”
“Yet — I suppose, like all your countrymen, you are fond of change?”
“Yes — and no, Madam!” replied Langton.— “In truth, if I am to speak frankly, it is only during the last thirty or forty years that my countrymen have blotted their historical scutcheons by this fondness for change. Where travelling is necessary for the attainment of some worthy object, then it is wise and excellent, — but where it is only for the purpose of distracting a self-satiated mind, it is of no avail, and indeed frequently does more harm than good.”
“Self-satiated!” repeated the Queen,— “Is not that a strange word?”
“It is the only compound expression I can use to describe the discontented humour in which the upper classes of English society exist to-day,” replied Sir Walter. “For many years the soul of England has been held in chains by men whose thoughts are all of Self, — the honour of England has been attainted by women whose lives are moulded from first to last on Self. To me, personally, England is everything, — I have no thought outside it — no wish beyond it. Yet I am as ashamed of some of its leaders of opinion to-day, as if I saw my own mother dragged in the dust and branded with infamy!”
“You speak of your Government?” began the Queen.
“No, Madam, — I have no more quarrel with my country’s present Government than I could have with a child who is led into a ditch by its nurse. It is a weak and corrupted Government; and its actual rulers are vile and abandoned women.”
The Queen’s eyes opened in a beautiful, startled wonderment; — this man’s clear, incisive manner of speech interested her.
“Women!” she echoed, then smiled; “You speak strongly, Sir Walter! I have certainly heard of the ‘advanced’ women who push themselves so much forward in your country, but I had no idea they were so mischievous! Are they to be admired? Or pitied?”
“Pitied, Madam, — most sincerely pitied!” returned Sir Walter;— “But such misguided simpletons as these are not the creatures who rule, or play with, or poison the minds of the various members who compose our Government. The ‘advanced’ women, poor souls, do nothing but talk platitudes. They are perfectly harmless. They have no power to persuade men, because in nine cases out of ten, they have neither wit nor beauty. And without either of these two charms, Madam, it is difficult to put even a clever cobbler, much less a Prime Minister, into leading strings! No, — it is the spendthrift women of a corrupt society that I mean, — the women who possess beauty, and are conscious of it, — the women who have a mordant wit and use it for dangerous purposes — the women who give up their homes, their husbands, their children and their reputations for the sake of villainous intrigue, and the feverish excitement of speculative money-making; — with these — and with the stealthy spread of Romanism, — will come the ruin of my country!”
“So grave as all that!” said the Queen lightly;— “But, surely, Sir Walter, if you see ruin and disaster threatening so great an Empire in the far distance, you and other wise men of your land are able to stave it off?”
“Madam, I have no power!” he returned bitterly. “Those who have thought and worked, — those who are able to see what is coming by the light of past experience, are seldom listened to, or if they get a hearing, they are not seldom ridiculed and ‘laughed down.’ Till a strong man speaks, we must all remain dumb. There is no real Government in England at present, just as there is no real Church. The Government is made up of directly self-interested speculators and financiers rather than diplomatists, — the Church, for which our forefathers fought, is yielding to the bribery of Rome. It is a time of Sham, — sham politics, and sham religion! We have fallen upon evil days, — and unless the people rise, as it is to be hoped to God they will, serious danger threatens the glory and the honour of England!”
“Would you desire revolution and bloodshed, then?” enquired the Queen, becoming more and more interested as she saw that this Englishman did not, like most of his sex, pass the moments in gazing at her in speechless admiration,— “Surely not!”
“I would have revolution, Madam, but not bloodshed,” he replied;— “I think my countrymen are too well grounded in common-sense to care for any movement which could bring about internal dissension or riot, — but, at the same time, I believe their native sense of justice is great enough to resist tyranny and wrong and falsehood, even to the death. I would have a revolution — yes — but a silent and bloodless one!”
“And how would you begin?” asked the Queen.
“The People must begin, Madam!” he answered;— “All reforms must begin and end with the People only! For example, if the People would decline to attend any church where the incumbent is known to encourage practices which are disloyal to the faith of the land, such disloyalty would soon cease. If the majority of women would refuse to know, or to receive, any woman of high position who had voluntarily disgraced herself, they would soon put a stop to the lax morality of the upper classes. If our builders, artisans and mechanics would club together, and refuse to make guns or ships for our enemies in foreign countries, we should not run the risk of being one day hoisted with our own petard. In any case, the work of Revolution rests with the people, though it is quite true they need teachers to show them how to begin.”
“And are these teachers forthcoming?”
“I think so!” said Sir Walter meditatively. “Throughout all history, as far back as we can trace it, whenever a serious reform has been needed in either society or government, there has always been found a leader to head the movement.”
The Queen’s beautiful eyes rested upon him with a certain curiosity.
“What of your King?” she said.
“Madam, he is my King!” he replied,— “And I serve him faithfully!”
She was silent. She began to wonder whether he had any private motive to gain, any place he sought to fill, that he should assume such a touch-me-not air at this stray allusion to his Sovereign.
“Lèse-majesté is so common nowadays!” she mused;— “It is such an ordinary thing to hear vulgar parvenus talk of their king as if he were a public-house companion of theirs, that it is somewhat remarkable to find one who speaks of his monarch with loyalty and respect. I suppose, however, like everyone else, he has his own ends to serve! — Kings are the last persons in the world who can command absolute fidelity!”
She glanced dreamily over the sea, and perceiving a slight shade of weariness on her face, Sir Walter discreetly rose, craving her permission to retire to the saloon, where he had promised to join the King. When he had left her, she turned to one of her ladies, the Countess Amabil, and remarked:
“A very personable gentleman, is he not?”
“Madam,” rejoined the Countess, who was very lovely in herself, and of a bright and sociable disposition;— “I have often thought it would be more pleasant and profitable for all of us if we had many such personable gentlemen with us oftener!”
A slight frown of annoyance crossed the Queen’s face. The Countess was a very charming lady; very fascinating in her own way, but her
decided predilection for the sterner sex often led her to touch on dangerous ground with her Royal mistress. This time, however, she escaped the chilling retort her remark might possibly, on another occasion, have called down upon her. The Queen said nothing. She sat watching the sea, — and now and again took up her field-glass to study the picturesque coast of The Islands, which was rapidly coming into view. Teresa de Launay, the second lady in attendance on her, was reading, and, seeing her quite absorbed in her book, the Queen presently asked her what it contained.
“You have smiled twice over that book, Teresa,” she said kindly;— “What is it about?”
“Madam, it speaks of love!” replied Teresa, still smiling.
“And love makes you smile?”
“I would rather smile than weep over it, Madam!” replied Teresa, with a slight colour warming her fair face;— “But as concerns this book, I smile, because it is full of such foolish verses, — as light and sweet — and almost as cloying, — as French fondants!”
“Let me hear!” said the Queen; “Read me a few lines.”
“This one, called ‘A Canzonet’ is brief enough for your Majesty’s immediate consideration,” replied Teresa;— “It is just such a thing as a man might scribble in his note-book after a bout of champagne, when he is in love for ten minutes! He would not mean a word of it, — but it might sound pretty by moonlight!” Whereupon she read aloud: —
My Lady is pleased to smile,
And the world is glad and gay;
My Lady is pleased to weep; —
And it rains the livelong day!
My Lady is pleased to hate,
And I lose my life and my breath;
My Lady is pleased to love, —
And I am the master of Death!
I know that my Lady is Love,
By the magical light about her;
I know that my Lady is Life,
For I cannot live without her!
“And you do not think any man would truly mean as much love as this?” queried the Queen.
“Oh, Madam, you know he would not! If he had written such lines about the joys of dining, or the flavour of an excellent cigar, they might then indeed be taken as an expression of his truest and deepest feeling! But his ‘Lady’! Bah! She is a mere myth, — a temporary peg to hang a stray emotion on!”
She laughed, and her laughter rippled merrily on the air.
“I do not think the men who write so easily about love can ever truly feel it,” she went on;— “Those who really love must surely be quite unable to express themselves. This man who sings about his ‘Lady’ being pleased to do this or do that, was probably trying to obtain the good graces of some pretty housemaid or chorus girl!”
A slight contemptuous smile crossed the Queen’s face; from her expression it was evident that she agreed in the main with the opinion of her vivacious lady-in-waiting. Just at that moment the King and his suite, with Sir Walter Langton and one or two other gentlemen, who had been invited to join the party, came up from the saloon, and the conversation became general.
“Have you seen Humphry at all to-day?” enquired the King aside of De Launay. “I sent him an early message asking him to join us, and was told he had gone out riding. Is that true?”
“I have not seen his Royal Highness since the morning, Sir,” replied the equerry; “He then met me, — and Professor von Glauben also — in the gardens. He gave me no hint as to whether he knew of your intention to sail to The Islands this afternoon or not; he was reading, and with some slight discussion on the subject of the book he was interested in, he and the Professor strolled away together.”
“But where is Von Glauben?” pursued the King; “I sent for him likewise, but he was absent.”
“I understood him to say that you had not commanded his attendance again to-day, Sir,” replied Sir Roger;— “He told me he had already waited upon you.”
“Certainly I did not command his attendance when I saw him the first thing this morning,” replied the King; “I summoned him then merely to satisfy his scruples concerning my health and safety, as he seemed last night to have doubts of both!” He smiled, and his eyes twinkled humourously. “Later on, I requested him to join us in this excursion, but his servant said he had gone out, leaving no word as to when he would return. An eccentricity! I suppose he must be humoured!”
Sir Roger was silent. The King looked at him narrowly, and saw that there was something in his thoughts which he was not inclined to utter, and with wise tact and discretion forbore to press any more questions upon him. It was not a suitable time for cross-examination, even of the most friendly kind; there were too many persons near at hand who might be disposed to listen and to form conjectures; moreover the favouring wind had so aided the Royal yacht in her swift course that The Islands were now close at hand, and the harbour visible, the run across from the mainland having been accomplished under the usual two hours.
The King scanned the coast through his glass with some interest.
“We shall obtain amusement from this unprepared trip,” he said, addressing the friends who were gathered round him; “We have forbidden any announcement of our visit here, and, therefore, we shall receive no recognition, or welcome. We shall have to take the people as we find them!”
“Let us hope they will prove themselves agreeable, Sir,” said one of the suite, the Marquis Montala, a somewhat effeminate elegant-looking man, with small delicate features and lazily amorous eyes,— “And that the women of the place will not be too alarmingly hideous.”
“Women are always women.” said the King gaily; “And you, Montala, if you cannot find a pretty one, will put up with an ugly one for the moment rather than have none at all! But beauty exists everywhere, and I daresay we shall find it in as good evidence here as in other parts of the kingdom. Our land is famous for its lovely women,” — and turning to Sir Walter Langton he added— “I think, Sir Walter, we can almost beat your England in that one particular!”
“Some years ago, Sir, I should have accepted that challenge,” returned Sir Walter, “And with the deepest respect for your Majesty, I should have ventured to deny the assertion that any country in the world could surpass England for the beauty of its women. But since the rage for masculine sports and masculine manners has taken hold of English girls, I am not at all disposed to defend them. They have, unhappily, lost all the soft grace and modesty for which their grandmothers were renowned, and one begins to remark that their very shapes are no longer feminine. The beautiful full bosoms, admired by Gainsborough and Romney, are replaced by an unbecoming flatness — the feet and hands are growing large and awkward, instead of being well-shaped, white and delicate — the skin is becoming coarse and rough of texture, and there is very little complexion to boast of, if we except the artificial make-up of the women of the town. Some few pretty and natural women remain in the heart of the forest and the country, but the contamination is spreading, and English women are no longer the models of womanhood for all the world.”
“Are you married, Sir Walter?” asked the King with a smile.
“To no woman, Sir! I have married England — I love her and work for her only!”
“You find that love sufficient to fill your heart?”
“Perhaps,” returned Sir Walter musingly— “perhaps if I speak personally and selfishly — no! But when I argue the point logically, I find this — that if I had a wife she might probably occupy too much of my time, — certes, if I had children, I should be working for them and their future welfare; — as it is, I give all my life and all my work to my country, and my King!”
“I hope you will meet with the reward you merit,” said the Queen gently; “Kings are not always well served!”
“I seek no reward,” said Sir Walter simply; “The joy of work is always its own guerdon.”
As he spoke the yacht ran into harbour, and with a loud warning cry the sailors flung out the first rope to a man on the pier, who stood gazing in open-mouthed wonder at th
eir arrival. He seemed too stricken with amazement to move, for he failed to seize the rope, whereat, with an angry exclamation as the rope slipped back into the water, and the yacht bumped against the pier, a sailor sprang to land, and as it was thrown a second time, seized it and made it fast to the capstan. A few more moments and the yacht was safely alongside, the native islander remaining still motionless and staring. The captain of the Royal vessel stepped on shore and spoke to him.
“Are there any men about here?”
The individual thus addressed shook his head in the negative.
“Are you alone to keep the pier?”
The head nodded in the affirmative. A voice, emanating from a thickly bearded mouth was understood to growl forth something about ‘no strange boats being permitted to harbour there.’ Whereupon the Captain walked up to the uncouth-looking figure, and said briefly.
“We are here by the King’s order! That vessel is the Royal yacht, and their Majesties are on board.”
For one instant the islander stared more wildly than ever, then with a cry of amazement and evident alarm, ran away as fast as his legs could carry him and disappeared. The captain returned to the yacht and related his experience to Sir Roger de Launay. The King heard and was amused.
“It seems, Madam,” he said, turning to the Queen, “That we shall have The Islands to ourselves; but as our visit will be but brief, we shall no doubt find enough to interest us in the mere contemplation of the scenery without other human company than our own. Will you come?”
He extended his hand courteously to assist her across the gangway of the vessel, and in a few minutes the Royal party were landed, and the yacht was left to the stewards and servants, who soon had all hands at work preparing the dinner which was to be served during the return sail.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 538
