Thord was silent. A strong shudder shook his frame. The King laid a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Friend!” he said in a low voice; “Believe me, I am your friend more than ever! — you never had, and never will have a truer one than I! All your life’s work lost, you say? Nay, not so! It is gained! You conquered the People before I knew you, — and now you have conquered the People’s King!”
Slowly Thord raised his great, dark, passionate eyes, clouded black with thoughts which could find no adequate expression. The look in them went straight to the monarch’s heart. Baffled ambition, — the hunger of greatness, — the desire to do something that should raise his soul above such common ruck of human emmets as make of the earth the merest ant-hill whereon to eat and breed and die; — all this pent-up emotion swam luminously in the fierce bright orbs, which like mirrors, reflected the picture of the troubled mind within. The suppressed power of the man, who, apart from his confused notions of ‘liberty, equality, and fraternity’ could resort to the sternest and most self-endangering measures for destroying what he considered the abuses of the law, had moved the King, while disguised as Pasquin Leroy, to the profoundest admiration for his bold character; — but perhaps he was never more moved than at this supreme moment, when, hopelessly entangled in a net of most unexpected weaving, the redoubtable Socialist had to confess himself vanquished by the simple friendship and service of the very monarchy he sought to destroy.
“Sergius,” said the King again,— “Trust me! Trust me as your Sovereign, with the same trust that you gave to me as your comrade, Pasquin! For I am still your comrade, remember! Nothing can undo the oath that binds me to you and to the People! I have not become one of you to betray you; but to serve you! Our present position is certainly a strange one! — for by the tenets you hold, we should be sworn opponents, instead of, as we are, sworn friends! Political agitators would have set us one against the other for their own selfish ends; as matters stand, we are united in the People’s Cause; and I may perhaps do you more good living than dead! Give me a chance to serve you even better than I have done as yet! Still, — if you judge my death would be an advantage to the country, — you have but to say the word! I have sworn, — and I am ready to carry out the full accomplishment of my vow! Do you understand? You are, by the rules of this Committee my Chief! — there are no kings here; and I am good soldier enough to obey orders! It is for you to speak! — straightly, plainly, and at once, — to the Committee, — and to me!”
“Before God, you are brave!” muttered Thord, gazing at him in reluctant admiration. “So brave, that it is almost impossible to believe that you can be a King!”
He smiled.
“Speak! Speak, my friend!” he urged; “Our comrades are watching our conference like famished tigers! Give them food!”
Thus adjured, Thord advanced, and confronted the murmuring, gesticulating crowd of men, some of whom were wrathfully expostulating with Johan Zegota, because he declined to unlock the door of the room and let them out, till he had received his Chief’s commands to do so. Others were grouped round Paul Zouche, who had sat apparently stricken immovable in his chair ever since the King had declared his identity; and others showed themselves somewhat inclined to ‘hustle’ Sir Roger de Launay and Professor von Glauben, who guarded the approach to the platform like sentinels, — though they were discreet enough to show no weapons of defence.
“Comrades!”
The rich, deep voice of their leader thrilled through the room, and brought them all to silence and attention.
“Comrades!” said Thord slowly, — his accents vibrating with the deepest emotion. “I desire and command you all to be satisfied that no wrong has been done to you! I ask you all to understand, fully and surely, that no wrong is intended to you! The man whom we have loved, — the man who has served us faithfully as Pasquin Leroy, — is still the same man, though the King! Rank cannot alter his proved friendship and service, — nor kingship break his bond! He is one of us, — signed and sealed in the blood of Lotys; — and as one of us he must, and will remain! Have I spoken truly?” he added, turning to the King, “or is there more that I should say?”
Before any reply could be given a hubbub of voices cried: —
“Explain! Confess! Bind him to his oath!”
Whereat the King, stepping forward a pace or two, confronted his would-be doubters and detractors with a dauntless composure.
“Explain? Confess? Friends, I will do both! but for binding me to my oath, there is no need, — for it is too strong a compact of faith and friendship ever to be broken! Would you have me remind you of your Vow of Fealty pronounced so solemnly this evening? Did you not swear that ‘Whosoever among us this night shall draw the Red Cross Signal which destines him to take from life a life proved unworthy, shall be to us a sacred person, and an object of defence and continued protection’? As Pasquin Leroy, this vow applied to me, — as King, I ask no better or stronger pledge of loyalty!”
All eyes were fixed upon him as he spoke. For some moments there was a dead silence.
This silence was presently broken by a murmur of conflicting wonder, impatience and uncertainty, — deepening as it ran, — and then, — as the full situation became more and more apparent, coupled with the smiling and heroic calm of the monarch who had thus placed himself voluntarily in the hands of his sworn enemies, all their struggling passions were suddenly merged in one great wave of natural and human admiration for a brave man and a burst of impetuous cheering broke impulsively from every lip. Once started, the infection caught on like a fever, — and again and yet again the excited Revolutionists cheered ‘for the King!’ — till they made the room echo.
The tumult was extraordinary. Lotys sat silent, with clasped hands, her eyes dilated with feverish watchfulness and excitement, — the tempest of emotion in her own poor tortured soul, being of such a character which no words, no tears, no exclamations could possibly relieve. The memory of her interview with the King in his own Palace flashed across her like a scene limned in fire. She had no power to think — she was simply stunned and overwhelmed, — and held only one idea in her mind, and that was to save him at all costs, even at the sacrifice of her own life. Thord, carried away from his very self by the force of such a ‘Revolution’ as he had never planned or anticipated, stood more in the attitude of one who was trying to think, rather than of one who was thinking.
“For the King!” cried Johan Zegota, suddenly giving vent to the feelings he had long kept in check, — feelings which had made him a greater admirer of the so-called “Pasquin Leroy” than of Thord himself;— “For our sworn comrade, the King!”
Again the cheers broke out, to be redoubled in intensity when Louis Valdor added his voice to the rest and exclaimed:
“For the first real King I have ever known!”
Then the excitement rose to its zenith, — and amidst the tempest of applause, the King himself stood quiet, watching the turbulence with the thoughtful eyes of a student who seeks to unravel some difficult problem. Raising his hand gently, he, by this gesture created immediate silence, — and so, in this hush remained for an instant, leaning slightly against the Committee Table, draped as it was in its funereal black, — the lights at either end of it, and the red lamp in its centre flinging an unearthly radiance on his fine composed features. Long, long afterwards, his faithful servants, Sir Roger de Launay and Heinrich von Glauben retained a mental picture of him in that attitude, — the dauntless smile upon his lips, — the dreamful look in his eyes, — resting, as it seemed against a prepared funeral-bier, with the watch-lights burning for burial, — and the face of Lotys, pale as a marble mask, yet wearing an expression of mingled triumph and agony, shining near him like a star amid the gloom, while the tall form of Sergius Thord in the background loomed large, — a shadow of impending evil.
After a pause, he spoke.
“Comrades! I thank you for the expressed renewal of your trust in me. In my heart and soul, as a man, I am o
ne of you and with you; — even though fate has made me a king! You demand an explanation — a confession. You shall have both! When I enrolled myself as a member of your Committee, I did so in all honesty and honour, — wishing to discover the object of your Cause, and prepared to aid it if I found it worthy. When I sealed my compact with you in the blood of Lotys, the Angel of our Covenant,” — here the cheering again broke out, — and Lotys, turning aside, endeavoured to restrain the tears that threatened to fall; — then, as silence was restored, he resumed;— “When as I say, I did this, — you will remember that on being asked of my origin and country, I answered that I was a slave. I spoke truly! There is no greater slave in all the length and breadth of the world than a king! Bound by the chains of convention and custom, he is coerced more violently than any prisoner, — his lightest word is misunderstood — his smallest action is misconstrued, — his very looks are made the subject of comment — and whether he walks or stands, — sits to give wearisome audience, or lies down to forget his sorrows in sleep, he should assuredly be an object of the deepest pity and consideration, instead of being as he often is, a target for the arrows of slander, — a pivot round which to move the wheel of social evil and misrule! The name of Freedom sounds sweet in your ears, my friends! — how sweet it is — how dear it is, we all know! You are ready to fight for it — to die for it! Then remember, all of you, that it is a glory utterly unknown to a king! Were he to take sword in hand and do battle for it unto the death, he could never obtain it; — he might win it for his country, but never for himself! Nothing so glorious as Liberty! — you cry! True! — but kings are prisoners from the moment they ascend thrones! And you never set them free, save in the way you suggested this evening;” and he smiled, “which way is still open to you — and — to me! But while you take time to consider whether I shall or shall not fulfil the duty which the drawing of lots on this Day of Fate has assigned to me, — whether you, on your parts, will or will not maintain the Vow of Fealty which we all have sworn together, — I will freely declare to you the motives which led me to depart from the conventional rule and formality of a merely ‘Royal’ existence, and to become as a Man among men, — for once at least in the history of modern sovereigns!”
He paused, — every eye was fixed upon him; and the stillness was so intense that the lightest breath might be heard.
“I came to the Throne three years ago,” he resumed, “and I accepted its responsibilities with reluctance. As Heir-Apparent, you all know, or think you know, my career; for some of you have very freely expressed your convictions concerning it! It was discreditable, — according to the opinions formed and expressed by this Committee. No doubt it was! Let any man among you occupy my place; — and be surrounded by the same temptations, — and then comport himself wisely — if he can! Such an one would need to be either god or hero; and I profess to be neither. But I do not wish to palliate or deny the errors of the past. The present is my concern, — the present time, and the present People. Great changes are fermenting in the world; and of these changes, especially of those directly affecting our own country, I became actively conscious, shortly after I ascended the Throne. I heard of disaffections, — disloyalties; I gathered that the Ministry were suspected of personal self-aggrandisement. I learned that a disastrous policy was on foot respecting National Education — in which priestcraft would be given every advantage, and Jesuitry obtain undue influence over the minds of the rising generation. I heard, — I studied, — and finding that I could get no true answer on any point at issue from anyone of my supposed ‘reliable’ ministers, I resolved to discover things for myself. I found out that the disaffected portion of the metropolis was chiefly under the influence of Sergius Thord — and accordingly I placed myself in his way, and became enrolled among you as ‘Pasquin Leroy’; his sworn associate. I am his sworn associate still! I am proud that he should call me friend; — and even as we have worked already for the People, so we will work still — together!”
No restraint could have availed to check the wild plaudits that broke out afresh at these words. Still thoughtfully and with grave kindness contemplating all the eager and excited faces upturned to him, the King went on.
“You know nearly all the rest. As Pasquin Leroy, I discovered all the shameful speculations with the public money, carried on by Carl Pérousse, — and found that so far, at any rate, your accusations against him were founded in fact. At the first threatening suspicion of possible condemnation the Marquis de Lutera resigned, — thus evidencing his guilty participation in the intended plunder. A false statement printed by David Jost, stating that I, — the King, — had revoked my decision concerning the refusal of land to the Jesuits, caused me to announce the truth of my own action myself, in the rival newspaper. Of my excommunication from the Church it is unnecessary to speak; a man is not injured in God’s sight by that merely earthly ban. Among other things” — and he smiled,— “I found myself curiously possessed of a taste for literature! — and proved, that whereas some few monarchs of my acquaintance cannot be quite sure of their spelling, I could, at a pinch, make myself fairly well understood by the general public, as a skilled writer of polemics against myself! — as well as against the Secretary of State. This, so far as I personally am concerned, has been the humorous side of my little drama of disguise! — for sometimes I have had serious thoughts of appearing as a rival to our friend, Paul Zouche, in the lists of literary Fame!”
A murmur of wondering laughter ran round the room, — and all heads were turned to one corner, as the King, with the kindly smile still lighting up his eyes and lips, called:
“Zouche, are you there? Do you hear me?”
Zouche did hear. He had been sitting in a state of semi-stupor all the evening, — his chaotic mind utterly confused and bewildered by the events which had taken place; — but now, on being called, his usual audacious and irrepressible spirit came to his aid, and he answered:
“O King, I hear! O King, your Majesty would make the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak! And if there is anything to be done to me for abominating you, O King, who had the impudence to offer me a hundred gold pieces a year for my poems, I, O King, will submit to the utmost terrors of the law!”
A burst of laughter long and loud, relieved the pent-up feelings of the company. The King laughed as heartily as the rest, and over the brooding features of Thord himself came the shadow of a smile.
“We will settle our accounts together later on, Zouche!” said the monarch gaily; “Meanwhile, I beg you to continue your harmless abomination of me at your leisure!”
Another laugh went round, and then the King resuming his speech continued:
“I have played two parts at once, — Revolutionist and King! But both parts are after all but two sides of the same nature. When I first came among you, I bade you all look at me well, — I asked you to note the resemblance I bore to the ruling Sovereign. I called myself ‘the living copy of the man I most despise.’ That was quite true! For there is no one I despise more utterly than myself, — when I think what I might have done with my million opportunities, and how much time I have wasted! You all scrutinised me closely; — and I did not flinch! You all accepted my service, — and I have served you well! I have noted every one of your desires. Where possible, I have sought to fulfil them. Every accusation you have brought against the Ministry has been sifted to the bottom, and proved down to the hilt. My publicly-proclaimed decision to nominate Carl Pérousse as Premier was merely thrown out as a test to try the temper and quality of the nation. That test has answered its purpose well! But there is no need for fear, — Carl Pérousse will never be nominated to anything but disgrace! All his schemes are in my hand, — I hold complete documentary proofs of his dishonesty and guilt; and the very day which you have chosen as that on which to appeal to the King against the choice of him as Prime Minister, will see him denounced by myself in person to the Government.”
A storm of applause greeted this welcome announcement. For a mo
ment all the men went mad with excitement, shouting, stamping and singing, — while again and yet again the cry: ‘For the King!’ echoed round and round in tempestuous cheering.
Sergius Thord gazed blankly at the Scene with a strange sense of being the dreaming witness of some marvellous drama enacted altogether away from the earth. He could hot yet bring himself to realise that by such a simple method as the independent working of one individual intelligence, all his own followers had been swept round to loyalty and love for a monarch, whom previously, though without knowing him, they had hated — and sworn to destroy! Yet, in very truth, all the hatreds and envys, — all the slanders and cruelties of the members of the human race towards each other, spring from ignorance; and when disaffected persons hate a king, they do so mostly because they do not know him, and because they can form no true opinion of his qualities or the various difficulties of his position. If the Anarchist, bent on the destruction of some person in authority, only had the culture and knowledge to recognise how much that person already suffers, by being in all probability forced to fulfil duties for which he has no heart or mind, he would stay his murderous hand, and pity rather than condemn. For the removal of one ruler only means the installation of another, — and the wild and often gifted souls of reformers, stumbling through darkness after some great Ideal which resolves itself into a shadow and delusion the nearer one approaches to it, need to be tenderly dealt with from the standpoint of plainest simplicity and truth, — so that they may feel the sympathetic touch of human love and care emanating from those very quarters which they seek to assail. This had been the self-imposed mission of the King who had played the part of ‘Pasquin Leroy’; — and thus, fearing nothing, doubting nothing, and relying simply on his own strength, discretion, and determination, he had gained a moral victory over the passions of his secret foes such as he had never himself anticipated. When silence was again restored, he proceeded:
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 572
