“They want us back, my Gloria!” he said; “The Nation asks for me — and for you!”
She raised herself a little on one arm.
“Do they know all?”
“Yes! The King, my father, has announced everything concerning our marriage, not only to the Government, but by special ‘manifesto’ to the People. I did not think he would be so brave!”
“Or so true!” said Gloria, her eyes darkening and deepening with the intensity of her thought. “Let me read this strange news, Humphry!”
He gave her the papers, — and a few tears sparkled on her lashes like diamonds and fell, as with a beating heart she read of the complete triumph of the King over the Socialist and Revolutionary party, — of his march with the multitude to the Government House, — of his bold denunciation of Carl Pérousse, ending in the utter overthrow of a fraudulent Ministry, — and of his determination to renounce for five years, one half his royal revenues in order to personally assist the deficit in the National Exchequer.
“He is, in very truth a King!” she said, looking up with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes,— “Surely the noblest in the world!”
Prince Humphry’s face expressed wonderment as well as admiration.
“I have been utterly mistaken in him,” — he confessed,— “Or else, something has greatly changed his ideas. I should never have deemed him capable of running so much risk of his position, or of showing so much heroism, candour and self-sacrifice. All my life I have been accustomed to see him more or less indifferent to everything but his own pleasure, and more or less careless of the griefs of others; but now it seems as if he had kept himself back on purpose, only to declare his true character more openly and boldly in the end!”
Gloria read on, with eagerness and interest, till she came to the King’s ‘manifesto’ regarding his son’s marriage with ‘a daughter of the People.’ She pointed to this expression with the tapering, rosy point of her delicate little finger.
“That is me!” she said; “I am a daughter of the People! I am proud of the name!”
“You are my wife!” said the Prince; “And you are Crown Princess of the realm!”
She looked meditative.
“I am not sure I like that title so well!” she said surveying him archly under the shadow of her long lashes; “Indeed — if you were not Crown Prince, — I should not like it at all!”
Prince Humphry smiled, and tenderly touched the scarlet passion-flowers in her hair.
“But as I am Crown Prince, you will try to put up with it, my Gloria!” and he kissed her again. “We must return home, Sweetheart! — and as speedily as possible, — though I am sorry our restful honey-time is over!”
Gloria looked wistfully around her, — over the long smooth undulating lawns, the thickets of myrtle and orange, the lovely deep groves of trees, and away to the peaks of the distant dark blue hills, over which a great golden moon was slowly rising.
“I am sorry too!” she said; “I could live always like this, in peace with you, far, far away from all the world! Hark!”
She held up her hand to invite attention, as the delicious warble of a nightingale, or ‘bul-bul’ broke the heated silence into liquid melody. Her lover-husband took that little uplifted hand, and drawing it in his own, kissed it fondly, — and so for a moment they were very quiet, while the little brown bird of music poured from its palpitating throat a cadence of heart-moving song. Gradually, the golden splendour of the Indian moonlight widened through the trees, enveloping them in its clear luminous radiance; and the two beautiful human creatures, gazing into each other’s eyes with all the unspeakable rapture of a perfect love, touched that wondrous height of pure mutual passion which makes things temporal seem very far off, and things eternal very near.
“If life could always be like this,” murmured Gloria; “We should surely understand God better! We should feel that He truly loved us, and wished us to love each other! Ah, if only all the world were as happy as I am!”
“You will help to make a great part of it so, my beloved!” said the Prince; “You will bring with you into our kingdom, comfort for the sorrowful, aid to the poor, sympathy for the lonely, thought for all! You will forget nothing that calls for your remembrance, my Sweet! And one nation at least, will know what it is to have a true woman’s love to light up the darkness of a Throne!”
That night a cable message was sent by the Prince to his father, stating his intention to return home immediately. The Oriental potentate who had generously placed his palace at the Royal lovers’ disposal, and had religiously preserved the secret of their identity and whereabouts, being himself much fascinated and interested by the romance of their story, now commanded festivals and illuminations for their entertainment before their departure, and within a fortnight of the despatch of his message, the Prince’s yacht had left the mystic shores of the East, and started on its homeward journey.
The news that the Crown Prince was returning with his bride, set all the country in a flutter of excitement, and the General Election being concluded, and the meeting of the new Government being deferred until after the Heir-Apparent’s return, the people of every city and town and province set themselves busily to work to prepare suitable festivities for the homecoming of the Royal pair. At The Islands especially the spirit of enthusiasm was complete — all sorts of ideas for fêtes and sports, and bonfires and illuminations, exercised the minds of the simple fisher-folk, who were wild with joy at the singular destiny that had befallen their ‘waif of the sea’ as they were wont to call the beautiful girl who had grown up among them, — and the aged Réné Ronsard was made the centre of their interest and attention, — even of their adulation. But Ronsard had grown very listless of late. His age began to tell heavily upon him, and the news that Gloria was returning in all triumph as Crown Princess, moved him but little.
“She would have been happier as a simple sailor’s wife!” he averred, when Professor von Glauben, who visited him constantly, sought to rouse him from the apathy into which he appeared to have sunk. “The greater the position, the heavier the burden! — the more outwardly brilliant the appearance of life, the deeper its secret bitterness!”
“But Gloria has Love with her, my friend!” urged the Professor; “And Love makes the bitterest things sweet!”
Ronsard’s aged eyes sparkled faintly.
“Ay, Love!” he echoed; “A dream — a delusion — and a snare! Unless it be a love strong enough to drag one down to death! — and then it is the strongest power in the world! It is a terror and a martyrdom, — and in nothing shall its desire be thwarted! If It calls — even kings obey!”
CHAPTER XXXII. — BETWEEN TWO PASSIONS
Slowly, and with hesitating steps, Sergius Thord mounted the long flight of stairs leading to the quiet attic which Lotys called ‘home.’ Here she lived; here she had chosen to live ever since Thord had made her, as he said, the ‘Soul of the Revolutionary Ideal.’ Here, since the King had conquered the Revolutionary Ideal altogether, and had made it a Loyalist centre, did she dwell still, though she had now some thoughts of yielding to the child Pequita’s earnest pleading, and taking up her abode with her and her father, in a pretty little house in the suburbs which, since Pequita’s success as première danseuse at the Opera, Sholto had been able to afford, and to look upon as something like a comfortable dwelling-place. For with the election of Thord to the dignity of a Deputy, had, of course, come the necessity of resigning his old quarters where his ‘Revolutionary’ meetings had been held, — and he now resided in a more ‘respectable’ quarter of the city, in such sober, yet distinctive fashion as became one who was a friend of the King’s, and who was likely to be a Minister some day, when he had further proved his political mettle. So that Sholto had no longer any need to try and eke out a scanty subsistence by letting rooms to revolutionists and ‘suspects’ generally, — and Thord himself had helped him to make a change for the better, as had also the King.
But Lotys had not as yet mo
ved. She had lived so long among the desperately poor, who were accustomed to go to her for sympathy and aid, that she could not contemplate leaving so many sick and suffering and sorrowful ones alone to fight their bitter battle. So had she said, at least, to Thord, when he had endeavoured to persuade her to establish herself in greater comfort, and in a part of the city which had a ‘better-class’ reputation. She had listened to his suggestions with a somewhat melancholy smile.
“Once, — and not so very long ago, — for you there was no such thing as the ‘better-class,’ Sergius!” she said; “You were wont to declare that rich and poor alike were all one family in the sight of God!”
“I have not altered my opinion,” said Thord, a slight flush colouring his cheek; “But — you are a woman — and as a woman should have every care and tenderness.”
“So should my still poorer sisters,” she replied; “And it is for those who have least comfort, that comfort should be provided. I am perfectly well and happy where I am!”
Remembering her fixed ideas on this point, there was an uneasy sense of trouble in Thord’s mind as he ventured again on what he feared would be a fruitless errand.
“If I could command her!” he thought, chafing inwardly at his own impotence to persuade or lead this woman, whose character and will were so much more self-contained and strong than his own. “If I could only exercise some authority over her! But I cannot. What small debt of gratitude she owed me as a child, has long been cleared by her constant work and the assistance she has given to me, — and unless she will consent to be my wife, I know I shall lose her altogether. For she will never submit to live on money that she has not earned.”
Arrived at the summit of the staircase he had been climbing, he knocked at the first door which faced him on the uppermost landing.
“Come in!” said the low, sweet voice that had thrilled and comforted so many human souls; and entering as he was bidden, he saw Lotys seated in a low chair near the window, rocking a tiny infant, so waxen-like and meagre, that it looked more like a corpse than a living child.
“The mother died last night,” she said gently, in response to his look of interrogation; “She had been struggling against want and sickness for a long time. God was merciful in taking her at last! The father has to go out all day in search of work, — often a vain search; so I do what I can for this poor little one!”
And she bent over the forlorn waif of humanity, kissing its pale small face, and pressing it soothingly to her warm, full breast. She looked quite beautiful in that Madonna-like attitude of protection and love, — her gold hair drooping against the slim whiteness of her throat, — her deep blue eyes full of that tenderness for the defenceless and weak, which is the loveliest of all womanly expressions.
Sergius Thord drew a chair opposite to her, and sat down.
“You are always doing good, Lotys!” he said, with a slight tremor in his voice; “There is no day in your life without its record of help to the helpless!”
She shook her head deprecatingly, and went on caressing and soothing the tiny babe in silence.
After a pause, he spoke again.
“I have come to you, Lotys, to ask you many things!”
She looked up with a little smile.
“Do you need advice, Sergius? Nay, surely not! — you have passed beyond it — you are a great man!”
He moved impatiently.
“Great? What do you mean? I am Deputy for the city, it is true — but that is not the height of my ambition; it is only a step towards it.”
“To what do you aspire?” she queried. “A place in the Ministry? You will get that if you wait long enough! And then — will you be satisfied?”
“No — I shall never be satisfied — never till—”
He broke off and shifted his position. His fierce eyes rested tenderly upon her as she sat holding the motherless infant caressingly in her arms.
“You have heard the latest news?” he asked presently, “That Carl Pérousse has left the country?”
“No, I have not heard that,” said Lotys; “But why was he allowed to go without being punished for his dishonesty?”
“To punish him, would have involved the punishment of many more associated with him,” replied Thord; “His estates are confiscated; — the opportunity was given him to escape, in order to avoid further Ministerial scandals, — and he has taken the chance afforded him!”
She was silent.
“Jost too has gone,” pursued Thord; “He has sold his paper to his chief rival. So that now both journals are amalgamated under one head, and work for the same cause — our cause, and the King’s.”
Lotys looked up with a slight smile.
“It is the same old system then?” she said. “For whereas before there was one newspaper subsidised by a fraudulent Ministry, there are now two, subsidised by the Royal Government; — with which the Socialist party is united!”
He frowned.
“You mistake! We shall subsidise no newspaper whatever. We shall not pursue any such mistaken policy.”
“Believe me, you will be compelled to do so, Sergius!” she declared, still smiling; “Or some other force will step in! Do you not see that politics always revolve in the same monotonous round? You have called me the Soul of an Ideal, — but even when I worked my hardest with you, I knew it was an Ideal that could never be realised! But the practice of your theories led me among the poor, where I felt I could be useful, — and for this reason I conjoined what brains I had, what strength I had, with yours. Yet, no matter how men talk of ‘Revolution,’ any and every form of government is bound to run on the old eternal lines, whether it be Imperial, Socialistic or Republican. Men are always the same children — never satisfied, — ever clamouring for change, — tired of one toy and crying for another, — so on and on, — till the end! I would rather save a life” — and she glanced pityingly down upon the sleeping infant she held-”than upset a throne!”
“I quite believe that;” said Sergius slowly; “You are a woman, most womanly! If you could only learn to love — —”
He paused, startled at the sudden rush of colour that spread over her cheeks and brow; but it was a wave of crimson that soon died away, leaving her very pale.
“Love is not for me, Sergius!” she said; “I am no longer young. Besides, the days of romance never existed for me at all, and now it is too late. I have grown too much into the habit of looking upon men as poor little emmets, clambering up and down the same tiny hill of earth, — their passions, their ambitions, their emotions, their fightings and conquests, their panoply and pride, do not interest me, though they move me to pity; I seem to stand alone, looking beyond, straight through the glorious world of Nature, up to the infinite spaces above, searching for God!”
“Yet you care for that waif?” said Thord with a gesture towards the child she held.
“Because it is helpless,” she answered; “only that! If it ever lives to grow up and be a man, it will forget that a woman ever held it, or cherished it so! No wild beast of the forest — no treacherous serpent of the jungle, is more cruel in its inherited nature, than man when he deals with woman; — as lover, he betrays her, — as wife, he neglects her, — as mother, he forgets her!”
“You have a bad opinion of my sex!” said Thord, half angrily; “Would you say thus much of the King?”
She started, then controlled herself.
“The King is brave, — but beyond exceptional courage, I do not think he differs from other men.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
“No.”
The answer came coldly, and with evident resentment at the query. Thord hesitated a minute or two, looking at her yearningly; then he suddenly laid his hand on her arm.
“Lotys!” he said in a half-whisper; “If you would only love me! If you would be my wife!”
She raised her dark-blue pensive eyes.
“My poor Sergius! With all your triumphs, do you still hanker for a wayside weed? A
las! — the weed has tough roots that cannot be pulled up to please you! I would make you happy if I could, dear friend! — but in the way you ask, I cannot!”
His heart beat thickly.
“Why?”
“Why? Ask why the rain will not melt marble into snow! I love you, Sergius — but not with such love as you demand. And I would not be your wife for all the world!”
He restrained himself with difficulty.
“Again — why?”
She gave a slight movement of impatience.
“In the first place, because we should not agree. In the second place, because I abhor the very idea of marriage. I see, day by day, what marriage means, even among the poor — the wreck of illusions — the death of ideals — the despairing monotony of a mere struggle to live—”
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 576
