“Nothing!”
And the silence around him continued; a silence more expressive than any outspoken word of scorn.
But more surprises were in store for the Ministry, which found itself thus suddenly overthrown. The King announced the marriage of his son, the Crown Prince, to ‘a daughter of the People’! Boldly, and with an ardent passion of truth lighting up every feature of his handsome countenance, he stated this overwhelming piece of news in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, adding, that in consequence of the step taken, — a step which he did not himself in any way regret, — the Crown Prince asked to be allowed to resign the Throne in favour of his brother Rupert.
“Unless,” continued his Majesty, “the Nation should be proved ready to accept the wife he has chosen. It is needless to add that my son has married without my consent, and this is the reason of his present absence from the country. If the Nation accepts his wife, he will return to the Nation; if not, I am bound to say, knowing his mind, that there is nothing to be done, but to declare Prince Rupert Heir to the Throne. This, however, I personally desire may be left to the consideration and vote of the people!”
And when the House rose on that astonishing afternoon, they knew they were no longer a House, — they knew the Government was entirely overthrown, and that there would be a new Ministry and a General Election. They had to realise also, that their ‘Bills’ for imposing fresh taxes on the people were mere waste paper, — and they heard likewise with redoubled amazement that the King had decided to resign half his revenues for the space of five years, to assist the deficit in the National Exchequer.
At the conclusion of the whole unprecedented scene, they saw the King received, as it were, into the arms of a frenzied crowd, numbering many tens of thousands, which spread round all the Government buildings, and poured itself in thick streams through every street and thoroughfare, and they had to accept the fact that their ‘majority’ was reduced to a minority so infinitesimal, amid the greater wave of popular resolve, that it was not worth counting.
Carl Pérousse, leaving the House by a private door of egress, shamed, disgraced and crestfallen as he was, dared not trust the very sight of himself to such an overwhelming multitude, and managed by lucky chance to escape unobserved. He was assisted in this manoeuvre by General Bernhoff. The Chief of the Police perceived him slinking cautiously along the side-wall of an alley where the crowd had not penetrated, and helped him into a passing cab that he might be driven rapidly and safely to his home.
“You will no doubt excuse me” — said the General with a slight smile— “for not having acted more rigorously in the matter of the suspected ‘Pasquin Leroy’! I am afraid I should never have summed up sufficient impudence to ask the King to sign a warrant against himself!”
Pérousse muttered an inarticulate oath by way of reply. He realised fully that the game for him was lost. His speech of defence, so carefully prepared had been useless, for he could not have uttered it in the face of the damnatory evidence against him pronounced by the King, and verified by his own public actions. Yet his audacity had not, in the main, deserted him. He knew that, owing to his proved defalcations and fraudulent use of the public money, his own property would be confiscated to the Crown, — but he had always kept himself well prepared for emergencies, and had invested in foreign securities under various assumed names. Turning his attention to America, he felt pretty sure he could do something there, — but so far as his own country was concerned, he submitted to the inevitable, feeling that his day was done.
“The Jew is always triumphant!” he said, as he opened Jost’s newspaper next morning, and read a full account of the proceedings in the House, described with all the ‘colour’ and gush of Jost’s most melodramatic reporter. “There is no doubt a ‘leader’ on my ‘unhappy position’ as a fallen, but once trusted Minister!”
He was right; there was! A gravely-reproachful, sternly-commiserating ‘leader,’ wherein the apparently impeccable and highly conscientious writer ‘deplored’ the laxity of those who supported M. Carl Pérousse in his ‘regrettable’ scheme of self-aggrandisement.
“The rascal!” ejaculated Pérousse, as he read. “If I ever get a fresh start in the United States or South Africa, I’ll put him on a gridiron, and roast him to slow music!”
Meanwhile the whole country went mad over the King. No man was ever so idolised; no man was ever made the centre of more hero-worship. In all the excitement of a General Election, the wave of loyalty rose to its extremest height, and no candidate that was not ready to follow the lines of reform laid down by the monarch, had a ghost of a chance of being returned as a deputy. With the abolition of the tax on bread, the popular jubilation increased; bonfires were lit on every hill, — rockets flared up star-like from every rocky point upon the coast, and the Nation gave itself entirely up to joy.
All the long dormant sentiment of the multitude was roused to a fever-heat by the story of Prince Humphry’s marriage, and he too, next to his father, became a veritable hero of romance in the eyes of the people, for whom Love, and all pertaining to love-matters form the most interesting part of life. Following his announcement in the House, the King issued a ‘manifesto,’ setting forth the facts of his son’s union with ‘One Gloria Ronsard, of The Islands,’ and requesting the vote of the people for, or against, the Prince as Heir-Apparent to the Throne.
The result of this bold and candid reliance on the Nation was one which could never have been foreseen by so-called ‘diplomatic’ statesmen, who are accustomed to juggle with simple facts, and who strive to cover up and conceal the too distinct plainness of truth. An electric thrill of chivalrous enthusiasm pulsated through the entire country; and the unanimous vote of the people was returned to the King in entire favour of the Crown Prince and his chosen bride. Perhaps no one was more astonished at this than the King himself. He had been prepared for considerable friction; he had been quite sure of opposition on the part of ‘Society,’ but, Society, moved for once from its usual selfishness by the boldness and daring of a heroic king, had ranked itself entirely on his side, and was ready and even anxious to accept in Prince Humphry a new kind of ‘Cophetua,’ even if he had chosen to wed a beggar-maid! And it so chanced that there were many persons who had seen Gloria, — and among these was Sergius Thord, He had not only seen her, but known her; — he had studied her character and qualities, — and was aware that she possessed one of the most pure and beautiful of womanly souls; — and though taken by surprise at the discovery that the young ‘sailor’ she had wedded was no other than the Crown Prince, yet, after the experience he had personally gone through with one ‘Pasquin Leroy,’ he could scarcely feel that any news, even of the most wonderful kind, was so wonderful after all! So that, as soon as he learned the truth, he brought all his enormous ‘following’ into unanimity as regarded the Prince’s romantic love-story; and ere long there was not one in the metropolis at least, who did not consider the marriage a good thing, and likely to weld even more closely together the harmonious relationship between people and Throne.
And so it chanced, that even while the General Election was still going on all over the country, an incessant popular clamour was made for the instant return of the Prince to his native land. The papers teemed with suggestions as to the ‘welcoming home’ of the young hero of romance and his bride, and Professor von Glauben, mentally giddy with the whirl of events, was nevertheless triumphantly elated.
“Now that you know everything,” he said to Sir Roger de Launay, “I hope you are satisfied! My ‘jam-pot’ that you spoke of, has turned out to be a special Sweetmeat for the whole nation!”
“I am very much surprised, I confess!” said Sir Roger slowly; “I should hardly have thought such a love-story possible in these modern days. And I should certainly never have given the nation credit for so much sentiment!”
“A nation is always sentimental!” declared the Professor; “What does a Government exist for? Merely to keep national sentiment in order. Minis
ters know well enough, that despite the various ‘Bills’ brought in for material advantage and improvement, they have always to deal with the imaginative aspiration of the populace, rather than their conception of logic. For truly, the masses have no logic at all; they will not stop to count the cost of an Army, but they will shout themselves hoarse at the sight of the Flag! The Flag is the Sentiment; the Army is the Fact. The King has secured all the votes of the nation on a question of Sentiment only, — but there is this pleasant scientific ‘fact underlying the sentiment, — Gloria is fit to be the mother of kings! And that is what I will not say of any royally-born woman I know!”
Sir Roger was silent.
“Consider our present Queen as a mother only!” he went on; “Beautiful and impassive as a snow-peak with the snow shining upon it! What of her sons? The Crown Prince is the best of them, — but he has only been saved from inherited mischief by his love for Gloria. The other two boys, Rupert and Cyprian, will probably be selfish libertines!”
Sir Roger opened his eyes in astonishment.
“Why do you say that?” he asked; “They are harmless lads enough! Cricket and football are enough to make them happy.”
“For the present, no doubt!” agreed Von Glauben; “But it sometimes happens that the young human animal who expends all his brains on kicking a football, is quite likely to expend another sort of force when he grows up, in morally kicking other things! At least, that is how I regard it. The over-cultivation of physical strength leads to mental callousness and brutality. These are scientific points which require discussion, — not with you, — but with a scientist. Nothing should be overdone. Too much enervation and lack of athleticism leads to moral deterioration certainly, — but so does too much ‘sport’ as they call it. There is a happy medium to be obtained on both sides, but human beings generally miss it. Prince Humphry, born of a beautiful, introspective, selfish — yes, I repeat it! — selfish mother, would, if he had married a hard-natured, cold and conventional wife, probably have been the most indifferent, casual, and careless sovereign that ever reigned; but, united as he is to a trusting, warm-hearted, loving, womanly woman like Gloria, he will probably make himself the idol of the Nation.”
“Not more so than his father is!” said Sir Roger, with a smile.
“Ach so! That would be difficult, I grant you!” agreed the Professor; “As I told you, Roger, at the beginning of this drama in which we have both played our little parts; no harm ever came undeservedly to a brave man with a good conscience!”
“True! And no harm has come to the King — as yet!” said Sir Roger thoughtfully. “But I sometimes fear one man —— !”
“Sergius Thord?” suggested Von Glauben; “To speak honestly, so do I! But I watch him — I watch him closely! He loves Lotys, as a tiger loves its mate, — and if he should ever suspect —— !”
“Hush!” said Roger quickly; “Do not speak of it! I assure you I am always on guard!”
“Good! So am I! But Thord is too busy just now climbing the hill to look either backward or aside. When he reaches the summit, it is possible he may see the whole landscape at a glance!”
“He will reach the summit very soon!” said De Launay; “His election as deputy for the city, is certain. From the moment he announced himself as candidate, there has been no opposition.”
“He will be returned by an overwhelming majority,” said the Professor; “And he will gain all the power he has been working for. Also, with the power, he will obtain all the difficulty, responsibility, disappointment and bitterness. Power is a dangerous possession, unless it is accompanied by a cool head; and in that our friend Sergius Thord is lacking. He is a creature of impulse — and a savage creature too! — a half-educated genius, — than which nothing in the shape of humanity is more desperately difficult to manage!”
“Lotys can manage him!” said Sir Roger.
“That depends!” And the Professor rubbed his nose irritably. “Women are excellent diplomatists up to a certain point, but their limit is reached when they fall in love! Passion and enthusiasm transform them into quite as absurd fools as — men!”
Sir Roger smiled, and changed the subject.
But in a few days, what had been foreshadowed in their conversation came true. One of the chief results of the General Election was the triumphal return of Sergius Thord as Deputy for the Metropolis by an enormous majority; and in the evening of the day on which the polling was declared, great crowds assembled beneath the windows of his house, — that house so long known as the quarters of the Revolutionary Committee, — roaring themselves hoarse with acclamation. He was, of course, called out before them to speak, — and he yielded to the clamorous demand, as perforce he was bound to do, but strangely enough, with extreme reluctance.
A certain vague weariness depressed his spirits; his undisputed election as one of the most important Government-representatives of the people, lacked the savour of the triumph he had expected; — and like all those who have worked for years to win a coveted post and succeed at last in winning it, he was filled with the fatal satiety of accomplishment. Power, — temporal power, — was after all not so great as it had seemed! He had climbed — he had striven; but all the joy was contained in the climbing and the striving. Now that he had gained his point there seemed nothing left to prick afresh his flagging ambition. Nevertheless, he succeeded in addressing his enthusiastic followers and worshippers with something of his old fervour and fire, — sufficiently well, at any rate, to satisfy them, and send them off with renewed shouts of exultation, expressive of their continued reliance on his courage and ability. But, when left alone at last, his heart suddenly failed him.
“What is the use of it!” he thought wearily; “True, I now represent the city, — I lead its opinions — I am its mouth-piece for the State, — and the wrongs and injuries done to the million are mine to bring before the Government; and my business it will be to force remedial measures for the same. But what then? There will be, there must be, constant discussion, argument, contradiction, — for there are always conflicting opinions in every aspect of human affairs, — and it will be my work to put down all contradiction, — all opposition, — and to carry the People’s Cause with a firm hand. Yet — after all, if I succeed, it will be the King’s doing, — not mine! To him I partly owe my present power; the power I had before, was all my own!”
Sullen and silent he brooded on the changes in his fortunes with no very satisfied mind. While he could not, as a brave man, refuse his respect and homage to the monarch who had quietly made himself complete master of the ‘Revolutionary’ organisation, and who had succeeded in turning thousands of disaffected persons into ardent Loyalists, he was nevertheless troubled by a lurking suspicion that Lotys had secretly known and favoured the King’s scheme. Vaguely ashamed in his own mind of the idea, he yet found himself giving way to it now and again, as he remembered how she had defended his life, — not once but twice, — and how she had often frankly declared her admiration for the unselfishness, heroism, and tireless energy of the so-called ‘Pasquin Leroy.’ After much perplexed meditation, he came at last to one resolve.
“She must be my wife!” he said, his eyes gleaming with a sudden fire of passion and determination combined; “If, — as she says, — she does not love me, she must learn to love me! Then, all will be well! With her, it is possible I may reach still greater heights; without her, I can do nothing!”
Meantime, while the results of the Election to what was now called ‘The Royal Government,’ were being daily recorded in all parts of the world, and the King himself, from a selection of the ablest and most honourably-proved men of the time, was forming a new Ministry, the news of these radical changes in the kingdom’s affairs, spreading rapidly everywhere by cable, as news always spreads nowadays, reached a certain far corner in one of the most beautiful provinces of India, — a corner scarcely known to the conventional traveller, — where, in a wondrous palace, lent to them by one of the most civilised and kindl
y of Oriental potentates, — a palace surrounded by gardens that might have been a true copy of the fabled Eden, Prince Humphry and the fair ‘Gloria’ of his life, were passing a happy, ‘hidden-away’ time of perfect repose.
The evening on which they learned that their own nation demanded their return was ‘like the night of Al-Kadir, better than a thousand months.’ All day long the heat had been intense, — and they had remained indoors enjoying the coolness of marble courts and corridors, and plashing fountains, — but with the sunset a soft breeze had sprung up, and Gloria, passing into the shadiest corner of the gardens, had laid herself down in a silken hammock swung between two broad sycamore trees, and there, gently swaying to and fro, she watched her husband reading the various European journals that had arrived for his host by that day’s mail. Beautiful always, she had grown lovelier than ever in these halcyon days of rest, when ‘Love took up the harp of Life and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass’d in music out of sight.’ To her native grace she now united a distinctive dignity which added to her always gracious and queenly charm, and never had she looked more exquisite than now, when rocking gently in the suspended network of woven turquoise silk fringed with silver, she rested her head against cushions of the same delicate hue, and turned her expressive eyes enquiringly towards her husband, — wondering what kept him so silent, and what was the cause of the little line of anxiety which furrowed his brow. Clad in a loose diaphanous robe of white, with a simple band of silver clasping it round her supple form, her rich hair caught carelessly back with a knot of scarlet passion-flowers, she looked a creature too fair for earth, a being all divine; and the Prince presently turning his glances towards her, evidently thought so, from the adoring tenderness with which he bent over her and kissed the ripe, red, smiling lips which pouted so deliciously to take the offered caress.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli Page 575
