Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22)

by Marie Corelli

  Lutera looked at him with a dubious air.

  “No! — it was brief enough so far as I was immediately concerned,” he replied;— “I do not suppose I stayed more than twenty minutes in the Throne-room altogether. I understand you have been told that our proposed negotiations are to be vetoed?”

  Pérousse smiled.

  “I have been told — yes! — but I have been told many things which I do not believe! The King certainly has the right of veto; but he dare not exercise it.”

  “Dare not?” echoed the Marquis— “From his present unconstitutional attitude it seems to me he dare do anything!”

  “I tell you he dare not!” repeated Pérousse quietly;— “Unless he wishes to lose the Throne. I daresay if it came to that, we should get on quite as well — if not better — with a Republic!”

  Lutera looked at him with an amazed and reluctant admiration.

  “You talk of a Republic? You, — who are for ever making the most loyal speeches in favour of the monarchy?”

  “Why not?” queried Pérousse lightly;— “If the monarchy does not do as it is told, whip it like a naughty child and send it to bed. That has been easily arranged before now in history!”

  The Marquis sat silent, — thinking, or rather brooding heavily. Should he, or should he not unburden himself of certain fears that oppressed his mind? He cleared his throat of a troublesome huskiness and began, —

  “If the purely business transactions in which you are engaged — —”

  “And you also,” put in Pérousse placidly.

  The Premier shifted his position uneasily and went on.

  “I say, if the purely business transactions of this affair were publicly known — —”

  “As well expect Cabinet secrets to be posted on a hoarding in the open thoroughfare!” said Pérousse. “What afflicts you with these sudden pangs of distrust at your position? You have taken care to provide for all your own people! What more can you desire?”

  Lutera hesitated; then he said slowly: —

  “I think there is only one thing for me to do, — and that is to send in my resignation at once!”

  Carl Pérousse raised himself a little out of his chair, and opened his narrow eyes.

  “Send in your resignation!” he echoed; “On what grounds? Do me the kindness to remember, Marquis, that I am not yet quite ready to take your place!”

  He smiled his disagreeable smile, — and the Marquis began to feel irritated.

  “Do not be too sure that you will ever have it to take,” he said with some acerbity; “If the King should by any means come to know of your financial deal — —”

  “You seem to be very suddenly afraid of the King!” interrupted Pérousse; “Or else strange touches of those catch-word ideals ‘Loyalty’ and ‘Patriotism’ are troubling your mind! You speak of my financial deal, — is not yours as important? Review the position; — it is simply this; — for years and years the Ministry have been speculating in office matters, — it is no new thing. Sometimes they have lost, and sometimes they have won; their losses have been replaced by the imposition of taxes on the people, — their gains they have very wisely said nothing about. In these latter days, however, the loss has been considerably more than the gain. ‘Patriotism,’ as stocks, has gone down. ‘Honour’ will not pay the piper. We cannot increase taxation just at present; but by a war, we can clear out some of the useless population, and invest in contracts for supplies. The mob love fighting, — and every small victory won, can be celebrated in beer and illuminations, to expand what is called ‘the heart of the People.’ It is a great ‘heart,’ and always leaps to strong drink, — which is cheap enough, being so largely adulterated. The country we propose to subdue is rich, — and both you and I have large investments of land there. With the success which our arms are sure to obtain, we shall fill not only the State coffers (which have been somewhat emptied by our predecessors’ peculations), but our own coffers as well. The King ‘vetoes’ the war; then let us hear what the People say! Of course we must work them up first; and then get their verdict while they are red-hot with patriotic excitement. The Press, ordered by Jost, can manage that! Put it to the country; (through Jost); — but do not talk of resigning when we are on the brink of success! I will carry this thing through, despite the King’s ‘veto’!”

  “Wait!” said the Marquis, drawing his chair closer to Pérousse, and speaking in a low uneasy tone; “You do not know all! There is some secret agency at work against us; and, among other things, I fear that a foreign spy has been inadvertently allowed to learn the mainspring of our principal moves. Listen, and judge for yourself!”

  And he related the story of David Jost’s midnight experience, carefully emphasising every point connected with his own signet-ring. As he proceeded with the narration, Pérousse’s face grew livid, — once or twice he clenched his hand nervously, but he said nothing till he had heard all.

  “Your ring, you say, had never left the King’s possession?”

  “So the King himself assured me, this very afternoon.”

  “Then someone must have passed off an imitation signet on David Jost,” continued Pérousse meditatively. “What name did the spy give?”

  “Pasquin Leroy.”

  Carl Pérousse opened a small memorandum book, and carefully wrote the name down within it.

  “Whatever David Jost has said, David Jost alone is answerable for!” he then said calmly— “A Jew may be called a liar with impunity, and whatever a Jew has asserted can be flatly denied. Remember, he is in our pay!”

  “I doubt if he will consent to be made the scapegoat in this affair,” said Lutera; “Unless we can make it exceptionally to his advantage; — he has the press at his command.”

  “Give him a title!” returned Pérousse contemptuously; “These Jew press-men love nothing better!”

  The Marquis smiled somewhat sardonically.

  “Jost, with a patent of nobility would cut rather an extraordinary figure!” he said; “Still he would probably make good use of it, — especially if he were to start a newspaper in London! They would accept him as a great man there!”

  Pérousse gave a careless nod; his thoughts were otherwise occupied.

  “This Pasquin Leroy has gone to Moscow?”

  “According to his own words, he was leaving this morning.”

  “I daresay that statement is a blind. I should not at all wonder if he is still in the city. I will get an exact description of him from Jost, and set Bernhoff on his track.”

  “Do not forget,” said the Marquis impressively, “that he told Jost in apparently the most friendly and well-meaning manner possible, that the King had discovered the whole plan of our financial campaign. He even reported me as being ready to resign in consequence — —”

  “Which apparently you are!” interpolated Pérousse with some sarcasm.

  “I certainly have my resignation in prospect,” returned Lutera coldly— “And, so far, this mysterious spy has seemingly probed my thoughts. If he is as correct in his report concerning the King, it is impossible to say what may be the consequence.”

  “Why, what can the King do?” demanded Pérousse impatiently, and with scorn for the vacillating humour of his companion; “Granted that he knew everything from the beginning — —”

  “Including your large land purchases and contract concessions in the very country you propose war with,” put in the Marquis,— “Say that he knew you had resolved on war, and had already started a company for the fabrication of the guns and other armaments, out of which you get the principal pickings — what then?”

  “What then?” echoed Pérousse defiantly— “Why nothing! The King is as powerless as a target in a field, set up for arrows to be aimed at! He dare not divulge a State secret; he has no privilege of interference with politics; all he can do is to ‘lead’ fashionable society — a poor business at best — and at present his lead is not particularly apparent. The King must do as We command!”

&n
bsp; He rose and paced up and down with agitated steps.

  “To-day, when he told me he had resolved to ‘veto’ my propositions, I accepted his information without any manifestation of surprise. I merely said it would have to be stated in the Senate, and that reasons would have to be given. He agreed, and said that he himself would proclaim those reasons. I told him it was impossible!”

  “And what was his reply?” asked the Marquis.

  “His reply was as absurd as his avowed intention. ‘Hitherto it has been impossible,’ he said; ‘But in Our reign we shall make it possible!’ He declined any further conversation with me, referring me to you and our chief colleagues in the Cabinet.”

  “Well?”

  “Well! I pay no more attention to a King’s sudden caprice than I do to the veering of the wind! He will alter his mind in a few days, when the exigency of the matters in hand becomes apparent to him. In the same way, he will revoke his decision about that grant of land to the Jesuits. He must let them have their way.”

  “What benefit do we get by favouring the Jesuits?” asked Lutera.

  “Jost gets a thousand a year for putting flattering notices of the schools, processions, festivals and such nonsense in his various newspapers; and our party secures the political support of the Vatican in Europe, — which just now is very necessary. The Pope must give his Christian benediction not only to our Educational system, but also to the war!”

  “Then the King has set himself in our way already, even in this matter?”

  “He has! Quite unaccountably and very foolishly. But we shall persuade him still to be of our opinion. The ass that will not walk must be beaten till he gallops! I have no anxiety whatever on any point; even the advent of Jost’s spy, with an imitation of your signet on his finger appears to me quite melodramatic, and only helps to make the general situation more interesting, — to me at least; — I am only sorry to see that you allow yourself to be so much concerned over these trifles!”

  “I have my family to think of,” said the Marquis slowly; “My reputation as a statesman, and my honour as a minister are both at stake.” Pérousse smiled oddly, but said nothing. “If in any way my name became a subject of popular animadversion, it would entirely ruin the position I believe I have attained in history. I have always wished,—” and there was a tinge of pathos in his voice— “my descendants to hold a certain pride in my career!”

  Pérousse looked at him with grim amusement.

  “It is a curious and unpleasant fact that the ‘descendants’ of these days do not care a button for their ancestors,” he said; “They generally try to forget them as fast as possible. What do the descendants of Robespierre, (if there are any), care about him? The descendants of Wellington? The descendants of Beethoven or Lord Byron? Among the many numerous advantages attending the world-wide fame of Shakespeare is that he has left no descendants. If he had, his memory would have been more vulgarised by them, than by any Yankee kicker at his grave! One of the most remarkable features of this progressive age is the cheerful ease with which sons forget they ever had fathers! I am afraid, Marquis, you are not likely to escape the common doom!”

  Lutera rose slowly, and prepared to take his departure.

  “I shall call a Cabinet Council for Monday,” he said; “This is Friday. You will find it convenient to attend?”

  Pérousse, rising at the same time, assented smilingly.

  “You will see things in a better and clearer light by then,” he said. “Rely on me! I have not involved you thus far with any intention of bringing you to loss or disaster. Whatever befalls you in this affair must equally befall me; we are both in the same boat. We must carry things through with a firm hand, and show no hesitation. As for the King, his business is to be a Dummy; and as Dummy he must remain.”

  Lutera made no reply. They shook hands, — not over cordially, — and parted; and as soon as Pérousse heard the wheels of the Premier’s carriage grinding away from his outer gate, he applied himself vigorously to the handle of one of the numerous telephone wires fitted up near his desk, and after getting into communication with the quarter he desired, requested General Bernhoff, Chief of the Police, to attend upon him instantly. Bernhoff’s headquarters were close by, so that he had but to wait barely a quarter of an hour before that personage, — the same who had before been summoned to the presence of the King, — appeared.

  To him Pérousse handed a slip of paper, on which he had written the words ‘Pasquin Leroy.’

  “Do you know that name?” he asked.

  General Bernhoff looked at it attentively. Only the keenest and closest observer could have possibly detected the slight flicker of a smile under the stiff waxed points of his military moustache, as he read it. He returned it carefully folded.

  “I fancy I have heard it!” he said cautiously; “In any case, I shall remember it.”

  “Good! There is a man of that name in this city; trace him if you can! Take this note to Mr. David Jost” — and while he spoke he hastily scrawled a few lines and addressed them— “and he will give you an exact personal description of him. He is reported to have left for Moscow, — but I discredit that statement. He is a foreign spy, engaged, we believe, in the work of taking plans of our military defences, — he must be arrested, and dealt with rigorously at once. You understand?”

  “Perfectly,” replied Bernhoff, accepting the note handed to him; “If he is to be discovered, I shall not fail to discover him!”

  “And when you think you are on the track, let me have information at once,” went on Pérousse; “But be well on your guard, and let no one learn the object of your pursuit. Keep your own counsel!”

  “I always do!” returned Bernhoff bluntly. “If I did not there might be trouble!”

  Pérousse looked at him sharply, but seeing the wooden-like impassiveness of his countenance, forced a smile.

  “There might indeed!” he said; “Your tact and discretion, General, do much to keep the city quiet. But this affair of Pasquin Leroy is a private matter.”

  “Distinctly so!” agreed Bernhoff quietly; “I hold the position entirely!”

  He shortly afterwards withdrew, and Carl Pérousse, satisfied that he had at any rate taken precautions to make known the existence of a spy in the city, if not to secure his arrest, turned to the crowding business on his hands with a sense of ease and refreshment. He might not have felt quite so self-assured and complacent, had he seen the worthy Bernhoff smiling broadly to himself as he strolled along the street, with the air of one enjoying a joke, the while he murmured, —

  “Pasquin Leroy, — engaged in taking plans of the military defences — is he? Ah! — a very dangerous amusement to indulge in! Engaged in taking plans! — Ah! — Yes! — Very good, — very good; excellent! Do I know the name? Yes! I fancy I might have heard it! Oh, yes, very good indeed — excellent! And this spy is probably still in the city? Yes! — Probably! Yes — I should imagine it quite likely!”

  Still smiling, and apparently in the best of humours with himself and the world at large, the General continued his easy stroll by the sea-fronted ways of the city, along the many picturesque terraces, and up flights of marble steps built somewhat in the fashion of the prettiest corners of Monaco, till he reached the chief promenade and resort of fashion, which being a broad avenue running immediately under and in front of the King’s palace facing the sea, was in the late sunshine of the afternoon crowded with carriages and pedestrians. Here he took his place with the rest, saluting a fellow officer here, or a friend there, — and stood bareheaded with the rest of the crowd, when a light gracefully-shaped landau, drawn by four greys, and escorted by postillions in the Royal liveries, passed like a triumphal car, enshrining the cold, changeless and statuesque beauty of the Queen, upon whom the public were never weary of gazing. She was a curiosity to them — a living miracle in her unwithering loveliness; for, apparently unmoved by emotion herself, she roused all sorts of emotions in others. Bernhoff had seen her a thousand times,
but never without a sense of new dazzlement.

  “Always the same Sphinx!” he thought now, with a slight frown shading the bluff good-nature of his usual expression; “She is a woman who will face Death as she faces Time, — with that cold smile of hers which expresses nothing but scorn of all life’s little business!”

  He proceeded meditatively on his way to the palace itself, where, on demand, he was at once admitted to the private apartments of the King.

  CHAPTER XVIII. — ROYAL LOVERS

  Silver-white glamour of the moon, and velvet darkness of deep branching foliage held the quiet breadth of The Islands between them. Low on the shore the fantastic shapes of one or two tall cliffs were outlined black on the fine sparkling sand, — tiny waves rose from the bosom of the calm sea, and cuddling together in baby ripples made bubbles of their crests, and broke here and there among the pebbles with low gurgles of laughter, and in the warm silence of the southern night the nightingales began to tune up their delicate fluty voices with delicious tremors and pauses in the trying of their song. The under-scent of hidden violets among moss flowed potently upon the quiet air, mingled with strong pine-odours and the salt breath of the gently heaving sea, — and all the land seemed as lonely and as fair as the fabled Eden might have been, when the first two human mated creatures knew it as their own. To every soul that loves for the first time, the vision of that Lost Paradise is granted; to every man and woman who know and feel the truth of the divine passion is vouchsafed a flashing gleam of glory from that Heaven which gives them to each other. For the voluptuary — for the animal man, — who like his four-footed kindred is only conscious of instinctive desire, this pure expansion of the heart and ennobling of the thought is as a sealed book, — a never-to-be-divulged mystery of joy, which, because he cannot experience it, he is unable to believe in. It is a glory-cloud in which the privileged ones are ‘caught up and received out of sight.’ It transfuses the roughest elements into immortal influences, — it colours the earth with fairer hues, and fills the days with beauty; every hour is a gem of sweet thought set in the dreaming soul, and the lover, at certain times of rapt ecstasy, would smile incredulously were he told that anyone living could be unhappy. For love goes back to the beginning of things, — to the time when the world was new. It has its birth in that primeval light when ‘the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.’ If it is real, deep, passionate and disinterested love, it sees no difficulties and knows no disillusions. It is a sufficient assurance of God to make life beautiful. But in these days of the eld-time of nations, when all things are being mixed and prepared for casting into a new mould of world-formation, where we and our civilizations are not, and shall not be, — any more than the Egyptian Rameses is part of us now, — love in its pristine purity, faith and simplicity, is rare. Very little romance is left to hallow it; and it is doubtful whether the white moon, swinging like a silver lamp in heaven above the peaceful Islands, shed her glory anywhere on any such lovers in the world, as the two who on this fair night of the southern springtime, with arms entwined round each other, moved slowly up and down on the velvet greensward outside Ronsard’s cottage, — Gloria and her ‘sailor’ husband.