“Have you business with the King, Marquis?” enquired the young man with a light laugh. “If you have, you must do as I am doing, — wait his Majesty’s pleasure!”
The Premier lifted his eyebrows, smiled deprecatingly, and murmuring something about pressure of State affairs, shook hands with Von Glauben, whose countenance, as usual, presented an impenetrable mask to his thoughts.
“It is rather a new experience for me,” continued the Prince, “to be treated as a kind of petitioner on the King’s favour, and kept in attendance, — but no matter! — novelty is always pleasing! I have been cooling my heels here for more than an hour. Von Glauben, too, has been waiting; — contrary to custom, he has not even been permitted to enquire after his Majesty’s health this morning!”
Lutera maintained his former expression of polite surprise, but said nothing. Instinct warned him to be sparing of words lest he should betray his own private anxiety.
The Prince went on carelessly.
“Majesty takes humours like other men, and must, more than other men, I suppose, be humoured! Yet there is to my mind something unnatural in a system which causes several human beings to be dependent on another’s caprice!”
“You will not say so, Sir, when you yourself are King,” observed the Marquis.
“Long distant be the day!” returned the Prince. “Indeed, I hope it may never be! I would rather be the simplest peasant ploughing the fields, and happy in my own way, than suffer the penalties and pains surrounding the possession of a Throne!”
“Only,” put in Von Glauben sententiously, “you would have to take into consideration, Sir, whether the peasant ploughing the fields is happy in his own way. I have made ‘the peasant ploughing the fields’ a special form of study, — and I have always found him a remarkably discontented, often ill-fed — and therefore unhealthy individual.”
“We are all discontented, if it comes to that!” said Prince Humphry with a light laugh,— “Except myself! I am perfectly contented!”
“You have reason to be, Sir,” said Lutera, bowing low.
“You are quite right, Marquis! — I have! More reason than perhaps you are aware of!”
His eyes lightened and flashed; he looked unusually handsome, and the Premier’s shifty glance rested on him for a moment with a certain curiosity. But he had not been accustomed to pay very much attention to the words or actions of the Heir-Apparent, considering him to be a very ‘ordinary’ young man, without either the brilliancy or the ambition which should mark him out as worthy of his exalted station. And before any further conversation could take place, Sir Roger de Launay entered the room and announced to the Marquis that the King was ready to receive him. Prince Humphry turning sharply round, faced the equerry.
“I am still to wait?” he enquired, with a slight touch of hauteur.
Sir Roger bowed respectfully.
“Your instant desire to see the King, your father, Sir, was communicated to his Majesty at once,” he replied. “The present delay is by his Majesty’s own orders. I much regret — —”
“Regret nothing, my dear Sir Roger,” he said. “My patience does not easily tire! Marquis, I trust your business will not take long?”
“I shall endeavour to make it as brief as possible, Sir,” replied the Premier deferentially as he withdrew.
It was with a certain uneasiness, however, in his mind that he followed Sir Roger to the Throne-room. There was no possibility of exchanging so much as a word with the equerry; besides, De Launay was not a talking man. Passing between the lines of attendants, pages, lords-in-waiting and others, he was conscious of a certain loss of his usual self-possession as he found himself at last in the presence of the King, — who, attired in brilliant uniform, was conversing graciously and familiarly with a select group of distinguished individuals whose costume betokened them as envoys or visitors from foreign courts in the diplomatic service. Perceiving the Premier, however, he paused in his conversation, and standing quite still awaited his approach. Then he extended his hand, with his usual kindly condescension. Instinctively Lutera’s eyes searched that hand, with the expression of a guilty soul searching for a witness to its innocence. There shone the great sapphire — his own signet — and to his excited fancy its blue glimmer emitted a witch-like glow of menace. Meanwhile the King was speaking.
“You are just a few minutes late, Marquis!” he said; “Had you come a little earlier, you would have met M. Pérousse, who has matters of import to discuss with you.” Here he moved aside from those immediately in hearing. “It is perhaps as well you should know I have ‘vetoed’ his war propositions. It will rest now with you, to call a Council to-morrow, — the next day, — or, — when you please!”
Completely taken aback, the Premier was silent for a moment, biting his lips to keep down the torrent of rage and disappointment that threatened to break out in violent and unguarded speech.
“Sir! — Your Majesty! Pardon me, but surely you cannot fail to understand that in a Constitution like ours, the course decided upon by Ministers cannot be vetoed by the King?”
The monarch smiled gravely.
“‘Cannot’ is a weak word, Marquis! I do not include it in my vocabulary! I fully grant you that a plan of campaign decided upon by Ministers as you say, has not been ‘vetoed’ by a reigning sovereign for at least a couple of centuries, — and the custom has naturally fallen into desuetude, — but if it should be found at any time, — (I do not say it has been found) that Ministers are engaged in a seriously mistaken policy, and are being misled by the doubtful propositions of private financial speculators, so much as to consider their own advantage more important and valuable than the prosperity of a country or the good of a people, — then a king who does not veto the same is a worse criminal than those he tacitly supports and encourages!”
Lutera turned a deadly white, — his eyes fell before the clear, straight gaze of his Sovereign, — but he said not a word.
“A king’s ‘veto’ has before now brought about a king’s dethronement,” went on the monarch; “Should it do so in my case, I shall not greatly care, — but if things trend that way, I shall lay my thoughts openly before the People for their judgment. They seldom or never hear the Sovereign whom they pay to keep, speak to them on a matter gravely affecting their national destinies, — but they shall hear me, — if necessary!”
The Marquis moistened his dry lips, and essayed to pronounce a few words.
“Your Majesty will run considerable risk — —”
“Of being judged as something more than a mere dummy,” said the King— “Or a fool set on a throne to be fooled! True! But the risk can only involve life, — and life is immaterial when weighed in the balance against Honour. By the way, Marquis, permit me to return to you this valuable gem”; — Here drawing off the Premier’s sapphire signet, he handed it to him— “Almost I envy it! It is a fine stone! — and worthy of its high service!”
“Your Majesty has increased its value by wearing it,” said Lutera, recovering a little of his strayed equanimity in his determination to probe to the bottom of the mystery which perplexed his mind. “May I ask — —”
“Anything in reason, my dear Marquis,” returned the King lightly, and smiling as he spoke. “A thousand questions if you like!”
“One will suffice,” answered the Premier. “I had an unpleasant dream last night about this very ring — —”
“Ah!” ejaculated the King; “Did you dream that I had dropped it in the sea on my way to The Islands yesterday?”
He spoke jestingly, yet with a kindly air, and Lutera gained courage to look boldly up and straight into his eyes.
“I did not dream that you had lost it, Sir,” he answered— “but that it had been stolen from your hand, and used by a spy for unlawful purposes!”
A strange expression crossed the King’s face, — a look of inward illumination; he smiled, but there was a quiver of strong feeling under the smile. Advancing a step, he laid his hand with a light
, half-warning pressure on the Premier’s shoulder.
“Dreams always go by contraries, Marquis!” he said;— “I assure you, on my honour as a king and a gentleman, that from the moment you lent it to me, till now, — when I return it to you, — that ring has never left my finger!”
CHAPTER XV.— “MORGANATIC” OR — ?
The Royal ‘at home’ was soon over. Many of those who had the felicity of breathing in the King’s presence that afternoon remarked upon his Majesty’s evident good health and high spirits, while others as freely commented on the unapproachableness and irritability of the Marquis de Lutera. Sir Walter Langton, the great English traveller, who was taking his leave of the Sovereign that day, being bound on an expedition to the innermost recesses of Africa, was not altogether agreeably impressed by the Premier, whom he met on this occasion for the first and only time. They had begun their acquaintance by talking generalities, — but drifted by degrees into the dangerous circle of politics, and were skirting round the edge of various critical questions of the day, when the Marquis said abruptly:
“An autocracy would not flourish in your country, I presume, Sir Walter? The British people have been too long accustomed to sing that they ‘never, never will be slaves.’ Your Government is really more or less of a Republic.”
“All Governments are so in these days, I imagine,” replied Langton. “Autocracy on the part of a monarch is nowhere endured, save in Russia, — and what is Russia? A huge volcano, smouldering with fire, and ever threatening to break out in flame and engulf the Throne! Monarchs were not always wisdom personified in olden times, — and I venture to consider them nowadays less wise and more careless than ever. Only a return to almost barbaric ignorance and superstition would tolerate any complete monarchical authority in these present times of progress. It is only the long serfdom of Russia that hinders the triumph of Liberty there, as elsewhere.”
The Marquis listened eagerly, and with evident satisfaction.
“I agree with you!” he said. “You consider, then, that in no country, under any circumstances, could the people be expected to obey their monarch blindly?”
“Certainly not! Even Rome, with its visible spiritual Head and Sovereign, has no real power. It imagines it has; but let it make any decided step to ensnare the liberties of the people at large, and the result would be somewhat astonishing! Personally—” and he smiled gravely— “I have often thought that my own country would be very much benefited by a couple of years existence under an autocrat — an autocrat like Cromwell, for example. A man strong and fierce, intelligent and candid, — who would expose shams and destroy abuses, — who would have no mercy on either religious, social, or political fraud, and who would perform the part of the necessary hard broom for sweeping the National house. But, unfortunately, we have no such man. You have, — in your Sergius Thord!”
The Premier heard this name with unconcealed amazement.
“Sergius Thord! Why he is a mere fanatic — —”
“Pardon me!” interrupted Sir Walter,— “so was Cromwell!”
“But, my dear sir!” remonstrated the Marquis smilingly,— “Is it possible that you really consider Sergius Thord any sort of an influence in this country? If you do, I assure you you are greatly mistaken!”
“I think not,” responded Sir Walter quietly; “With every respect for you, Marquis, I believe I am not mistaken! Books written by Sergius Thord are circulating in their thousands all over the world — his speeches are reported not only here, but in journals which probably you never hear of, in far-off countries, — in short, his propaganda is simply enormous. He is a kind of new Rousseau, without, — so far as I can learn, — Rousseau’s private vices. He is a man I much wished to see during my stay here, but I have not had the opportunity of finding him out. He is an undoubted genius, — but I need not remind you, Marquis, that a man is never a prophet in his own country! The world’s ‘celebrity’ is always eyed with more or less suspicion as a strange sort of rogue or vagabond in his own native town or village!”
At that moment, the King, having concluded a conversation with certain of his guests, who were thereupon leaving the Throne-room, approached them. He had not spoken a word to the Premier since returning him his signet-ring, but now he said:
“Marquis, I was almost forgetting a special request I have to make of you!”
“A request from you is a command, Sir!” replied Lutera with hypocritical deference and something of a covert sneer, which did not escape the quick observation of Sir Walter Langton.
“In certain cases it should be so,” returned the King tranquilly; “And in this you will probably make it so! I have received a volume of poems by one Paul Zouche. His genius appears to me deserving of encouragement. A grant of a hundred golden pieces a year will not be too much for his hundred best poems. Will you see to this?”
The Marquis bowed.
“I have never heard of the man in question,” he replied hesitatingly.
“Probably not,” returned the King smiling;— “How often do Premiers read poetry, or notice poets? Scarcely ever, if we may credit history! But in this case — —”
“I will make myself immediately acquainted with Paul Zouche, and inform him of your Majesty’s gracious intention,” the Marquis hastened to say.
“It is quite possible he may refuse the grant,” continued the King; “Sometimes — though seldom — poets are prouder than Prime Ministers!”
With a brief nod of dismissal he turned away, inviting Sir Walter Langton to accompany him, and there was nothing more for the Marquis to do, save to return even as he had come, with two pieces of information puzzling his brain, — one, that the King’s ‘veto’ had stopped a declaration of war, — unless, — which was a very remote contingency, — he and his party could persuade the people to go against the King, — the other, that some clever spy, with the assistance of a fraudulent imitation of his signet-ring, had become aware of the financial interests involved in a private speculation depending on the intended war, which included himself, Carl Pérousse, and two or three other members of the Ministry. And, out of these two facts might possibly arise a whole train of misfortune, ruin and disgrace to those concerned.
It was considerably past three o’clock in the afternoon when the King, retiring to his own private cabinet, desired Sir Roger de Launay to inform Prince Humphry that he was now prepared to receive him. Sir Roger hesitated a moment before going to fulfil the command. The King looked at him with an indulgent smile.
“Things are moving too quickly, you think, Roger?” he queried. “Upon my soul, I am beginning to find a new zest in life! I feel some twenty years younger since I saw the face of the beautiful Gloria yesterday! We must promote her sailor husband, and bring his pearl of the sea to our Court!”
“It was on this very subject, Sir, that Von Glauben wished to see your Majesty the first thing this morning,” said Sir Roger;— “But you refused him so early an audience. Yet you will remember that yesterday you told him you wished for an explanation of his acquaintance with this girl. He was ready and prepared to give it, but was prevented, — not only by your refusal to see him, — but also by the Prince.”
Drawing up a chair to the open window, the King seated himself deliberately, and lit a cigar.
“Presumably the Prince knows more than the Professor!” he said calmly; “We will hear both, and give Royalty the precedence! Tell Prince Humphry I am waiting for him.”
Sir Roger withdrew, and in another two or three minutes returned, throwing open the door and ushering in the Prince, who entered with a quick step, and brief, somewhat haughty salutation. Puffing leisurely at his cigar, the King glanced his son up and down smilingly, but said not a word. The Prince stood waiting for his father to speak, till at last, growing impatient and waiving ceremony, he began.
“I came, Sir, to spare Von Glauben your reproaches, — which he does not merit. You accused him yesterday, he tells me, of betraying your trust; he has neither betrayed
your trust nor mine! I alone am to blame in this matter!”
“In what matter?” enquired the King quietly.
Prince Humphry coloured deeply, and then grew pale. There was a ray of defiance in the light of his fine eyes, but the tumult within his soul showed itself only in an added composure of his features.
“You wish me to speak plainly, I suppose,” he said;— “though you know already what I mean. I repeat, — I, and I alone, am to blame, — for — for anything that seemed strange to you yesterday, when you met Von Glauben at The Islands.”
The King’s serious face lightened with a gleam of laughter.
“Nothing seemed very strange to me, Humphry,” he said, “except the one fact that I found Von Glauben, — whom I supposed to be studying scientific problems, — engaged in studying a woman instead! A very beautiful woman, too, who ought to be something better than a sailor’s wife. And I do not understand, as yet, what he has to do with her, unless—” Here he paused and went on more slowly— “Unless he is, as I suspect, acting for you in some way, and trying to tempt the fair creature with the prospect of a prince’s admiration while the sailor husband is out of the way! Remember, I know nothing — I merely hazard a guess. You are an habitué of The Islands; — though I learned, on enquiry of the interesting old gentleman who was good enough to be my host, Réné Ronsard, that nobody had ever seen you there. They had only seen your yacht constantly cruising about the bay. This struck me as curious, I must confess. Some of your men were well known, — particularly one, — the husband of the pretty girl I saw. Her name, it seems, is Gloria, — and I must admit that it entirely suits her. I can hardly imagine that if you have visited The Islands as often as you seem to have done, you can have escaped seeing her. She is too beautiful to remain unknown to you — particularly if her husband is, as they tell me, in your service. I asked her to give me his name, but she refused it point-blank. I do not wish to accuse you of an amour, which you are perhaps quite innocent of — but certain things taken in their conjunction look suspicious, — and I would remind you that honour in princes, — as in all men, — should come before self-indulgence.”
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 545
