THE PREMIER’S SIGNET
The next day the sun rose with joyous brightness in a sky clear as
crystal. Storm, wind, and rain had vanished like the flying phantoms of
an evil dream, and all the beautiful land sparkled with light and life
in its enlacing girdle of turquoise blue sea. The gardens of the Royal
palace, freshened by the downpour of the past night, wore their most
enchanting aspect,--roses, with leaves still wet, dropped their scented
petals on the grass,--great lilies, with their snowy cups brimming with
rain, hung heavily on their slim green stalks, and the air was full of
the deliciously penetrating odour of the mimosa and sweetbriar. Down one
special alley, where the white philadelphus, or ‘mock orange’ grew in
thick bushes on either side, intermingled with ferns and spruce firs,
whose young green tips exhaled a pungent, healthy scent that entered
into the blood like wine and invigorated it, Sir Roger de Launay was
pacing to and fro with a swinging step which, notwithstanding its ease
and soldierly regularity, suggested something of impatience, and on a
rustic seat, above which great clusters of the philadelphus-flowers hung
like a canopy, sat Professor von Glauben, spectacles on nose, sorting a
few letters which he had just taken from his pocket for the purpose of
reading them over again carefully one by one. He was a very particular
man as regarded his correspondence. All letters that required answering
he answered at once,--the others, as he himself declared, ‘answered
themselves’ in silence.
“There is no end to the crop of fools in this world,” he was fond of
saying;--“Glorious, precious fools! I love them all! They make
life worth living--but sometimes I am disposed to draw the line at
letter-writing fools. These persons chance to read a book--my book for
example,--that particularly clever one I wrote on the possibilities of
eternal life in this world. They at once snatch their pens and write to
say that they are specially deserving of this boon, and wish to live for
ever--will I tell them how? And these are the very creatures I will not
tell how--because their perpetual existence would be a mistake and a
nuisance! The individuals whose lives are really valuable never ask
anyone how to make them so.”
He looked over his letters now with a leisurely indifference. The
morning’s post had brought him nothing of special importance. He glanced
from his reading now and again at De Launay marching up and down, but
said nothing till he had quite finished with his own immediate concerns.
Then he removed his spectacles from his nose and put them by.
“Left--Right--Left--Right--Left--Right! Roger, you remind me of my
drilling days on a certain flat and dusty ground at Coblentz! The
Rhine!--the Rhine! Ah, the beautiful Rhine! So dirty--so dull--with its
toy castles, and its big, ugly factory chimneys, and its atrociously
bad wine! Roger, I beseech you to have mercy upon me, and leave off that
marching up and down,--it gets on my nerves!”
“I thought nothing ever got on your nerves,” answered Sir Roger,
stopping abruptly--“You seem to take serious matters coolly enough!”
“Serious matters demand coolness,” replied Von Glauben. “We should only
let steam out over trifles. Have you seen his Majesty this morning?”
“Yes. I am to see him again at noon.”
“When do you go off duty?”
“Not for a month, at least.”
“Much may happen in that month,” said the Professor sententiously;
“_Your_ hair may grow white with the strangeness of your experiences!”
Sir Roger met his eyes, and they both laughed.
“Though it is no laughing matter,” resumed Von Glauben. “Upon my soul as
a German,--if I have any soul of that nationality,--I think it may be a
serious business!”
“You have come round to my opinion then,” said De Launay. “I told you
from the first that it was serious!”
“The King does not think it so,” rejoined Von Glauben. “I was summoned
to his presence early this morning, and found him in the fullest health
and highest spirits.”
“Why did he send for you then?” enquired De Launay.
“To feel his pulse and look at his tongue! To make a little game of
me before he stepped out of his dressing-gown! And I enjoyed it, of
course,--one must always enjoy Royal pleasantries! I think, Roger, his
Majesty wishes this entire affair treated as a pleasantry,--by us at any
rate, however seriously he may regard it himself.”
De Launay was silent for a minute or two, then he said abruptly:
“The Premier is summoned to a private audience of the King at noon.”
“Ah!” And Von Glauben drew a cluster of the overhanging philadelphus
flowers down to his nose and smelt them approvingly.
“And”--went on De Launay, speaking more deliberately, “this afternoon
their Majesties sail to The Islands----”
Von Glauben jumped excitedly to his feet.
“Not possible!”
Sir Roger looked at him with a dawning amusement beginning to twinkle in
his clear blue eyes.
“Quite possible! So possible, that the Royal yacht is ordered to be
in readiness at three o’clock. Their Majesties and suite will dine on
board, in order to enjoy the return sail by moonlight.”
The Professor’s countenance was a study. Anxiety and vexation struggled
with the shrewd kindness and humour of his natural expression, and his
suppressed feelings found vent in a smothered exclamation, which sounded
very much like the worst of blasphemous oaths used in dire extremity by
the soldiers of the Fatherland.
“What ails you?” demanded De Launay; “You seem strangely upset for a man
of cool nerve!”
“Upset? Who--what can upset me? Nothing! Roger, if I did not respect you
so much, I should call you an ass!”
Sir Roger laughed.
“Call me an ass, by all means,” he said, “if it will relieve your
feelings;--but in justice to me, let me know why you do so! What is my
offence? I give you a piece of commonplace information concerning the
movements of the Court this afternoon, and you jump off your seat as if
an adder had bitten you. Why?”
“I have the gout,” said Von Glauben curtly.
“Oh!” And again Sir Roger laughed. “That last must have been a sharp
twinge!”
“It was--it was! Believe me, my excellent Roger, it was exceedingly
severe!” His brow smoothed, and he smiled. “See here, my dear
friend!--you know, do you not, that boys will be boys, and men will be
men?”
“Both are recognised platitudes,” replied Sir Roger, his eyes still
twinkling merrily; “And both are frequently quoted to cover our various
follies!”
“True, true! But I wish to weigh more particularly on the fact that men
will be men! I am a man, Roger,--not a boy!”
“Really! Well, upon my word, I should at this moment take you for a raw
lad of about eighteen,--for you are blushing, Von Glauben!--actually
blushing!”
The Professor drew out a handkerchief, and wiped his brow.
“It is a warm morning, Roger,” he said, with a mildly reproachful air;
“I suppose I am permitted to feel the heat?” He paused--then with a
sudden burst of impatience he exclaimed: “By the Emperor’s head! It is
of no use denying it--I am very much put out, Roger! I must get a boat,
and slip off to The Islands at once!”
Sir Roger stared at him in complete amazement.
“You? You want to slip off to The Islands? Why, Von Glauben----!”
“Yes--yes,--I know! You cannot possibly imagine what I want to go there
for! You wouldn’t suppose, would you, that I had any special secrets--an
old man like me;--for instance, you would not suspect me of any love
secrets, eh?” And he made a ludicrous attempt to appear sentimental.
“The fact is, Roger,--I have got into a little scrape over at The
Islands--” here he looked warmer and redder than ever;--“and I want to
take precautions! You understand--I want to take care that the King does
not hear of it--Gott in Himmel! What a block of a man you are to stand
there staring open-mouthed at me! Were you never in love yourself?
“In love? In love!--you,--Professor? Pray pardon me--but--in love? Am I
to understand that there is a lady in your case?”
“Yes!--that is it,” said Von Glauben, with an air of profound relief;
“There is a lady in my case;--or my case, speaking professionally, is
that of a lady. And I shall get any sort of a sea-tub that is available,
and go over to those accursed Islands without any delay!”
“If the King should send for you while you are absent--” began De Launay
doubtfully.
“He will not send. But if he should, what of it? I am known to be
somewhat eccentric--particularly so in my love of hard work, fresh air
and exercise--besides, he has not commanded my attendance. He will not,
therefore, be surprised at my absence. I tell you, Roger,--I _must_ go!
Who would have expected the King to take it into his head to visit The
Islands without a moment’s warning! What a freak!”
“And here comes the reason of the freak, if I am not very much
mistaken,” said De Launay, lowering his voice as an approaching figure
flung its lengthy shadow on the path,--“Prince Humphry!”
Von Glauben hastily drew back, De Launay also, to allow the Prince to
pass. He was walking slowly, and reading as he came. Looking up from
his book he saw, them, and as they saluted him profoundly, bade them
good-day.
“You are up betimes, Professor,” he said lightly; “I suppose your
scientific wisdom teaches you the advantage of the morning air.”
“Truly, Sir, it is more healthful than that of the evening,” answered
Von Glauben in somewhat doleful accents.--“For example, a sail across
the sea with the morning breeze, is better than the same sort of
excursion in the glamour of the moon!”
Prince Humphry looked steadfastly at him, and evidently read something
of a warning, or a suggestion, in his face, for he coloured slightly and
bit his lip.
“Do you agree with that theory, Sir Roger,” he said, turning to De
Launay.
“I have not tested it, Sir,” replied the equerry, “But I imagine that
whatever Professor von Glauben asserts must be true!”
The young man glanced quickly from one to the other, and then with a
careless air turned over the pages of the book he held.
“In the earlier ages of the world,” he said,--“men and women, I think,
must have been happier than they are now, if this book may be believed.
I find here written down--What is it, Professor? You have something to
say?”
“Pardon me, Sir,” said Von Glauben,--“But you said--‘If this book may be
believed.’ I humbly venture to declare that no book may be believed!”
“Not even your own, when it is written?” queried the Prince with
a smile; “You would not like the world to say so! Nay, but listen,
Professor,--here is a thought very beautifully expressed--and it was
written in an ancient language of the East, thousands of years before
we, in our quarter of the world, ever dreamt of civilization.--‘Of all
the sentiments, passions or virtues which in their divers turns affect
the life of a man, the influence and emotion of Love is surely the
greatest and highest. We do not here speak of the base and villainous
craving of bodily appetite; but of that pure desire of the unfettered
soul which beholding perfection, straightway and naturally flies to
the same. This love doth so elevate and instruct a man, that he seeketh
nothing better than to be worthy of it, to attempt great deeds and
valiantly perform them, to confront foul abuses, and most potently
destroy them,--and to esteem the powers and riches of this world as
dross, weighed against this rare and fiery talisman. For it is a jewel
which doth light up the heart, and make it strong to support all sorrow
and ill fortune with cheerfulness, knowing that it is in itself of
so lasting a quality as to subjugate all things and events unto its
compelling sway.’ What think you of this? Sir Roger, there is a whole
volume of comprehension in your face! Give some word of it utterance!”
Sir Roger looked up.
“There is nothing to say, Sir,” he replied; “Your ancient writer merely
expresses a truth we are all conscious of. All poets, worthy the name,
and all authors, save and except the coldest logicians, deem the world
well lost for love.”
“More fools they!” said Von Glauben gruffly; “Love is a mere illusion,
which is generally destroyed by one simple ceremony--Marriage!”
Prince Humphry smiled.
“You have never tried the cure, Professor,” he said, “But I daresay you
have suffered from the disease! Will you walk with me?”
Von Glauben bowed a respectful assent; and the Prince, with a kindly nod
of dismissal to De Launay, went on his way, the Professor by his
side. Sir Roger watched them as they disappeared, and saw, that at the
furthest end of the alley, when they were well out of ear-shot, they
appeared to engage in very close and confidential conversation.
“I wonder,” he mused, “I wonder what it all means? Von Glauben is
evidently mixed up in some affair that he wishes to keep secret from
the King. Can it concern Prince Humphry? And The Islands! What can Von
Glauben want over there?”
His brief meditation was interrupted by a soft voice calling.
“Roger!”
He started, and at once advanced to meet the approaching intruder, his
sister, Teresa de Launay, a pretty brunette, with dark sparkling eyes,
one of the favourite ladies of honour in attendance on the Queen.
“What were you dreaming about?” she asked, as he came near, “And what is
the Prince doing with old Von Glauben?”
“Two questions at once, Teresa!” he said, stooping his tall head to
kiss her; “I cannot possibly answer both in a breath! But answer me just
one--What are you here for?”
“To summon _you_!” she answered. “The Queen desires you to wait upon her
immediately.”
She fixed her bright eyes upon him as she spoke, and an involuntary sigh
escaped her, as she noted the touch of pallor that came on his face at
her words.
“Where is her Majesty?” he asked.
“Here--close at hand--in the arbour. She spied you at a distance through
the trees, and sent me to fetch you.”
“You had best return to her at once, and say that I am coming.”
His sister looked at him again, and hesitated--he gave a slight, vexed
gesture of impatience, whereupon she hurried away, with flying footsteps
as light as those of a fabled sylph of the woodlands. He watched her
go, and for a moment an expression came into his eyes of intense
suffering--the look of a noble dog who is suddenly struck undeservedly
by an unkind master.
“She sends for me!” he muttered; “What for? To amuse herself by reading
every thought of my life with her cold eyes? Why can she not leave me
alone?”
He walked on then, with a quiet, even pace, and presently reaching the
end of the alley, came out on a soft stretch of greensward facing a
small ornamental lake and fountain. Here grew tall rushes, bamboos and
flag-flowers--here, too, on the quiet lake floated water-lilies, white
and pink, opening their starry hearts to the glory of the morning sun. A
quaintly shaped, rustic arbour covered with jasmine, faced the pool, and
here sat the Queen alone and unattended, save by Teresa de Launay,
who drew a little apart as her brother, Sir Roger, approached, and
respectfully bent his head in the Royal presence. For quite a minute he
stood thus in dumb attention, his eyes lowered, while the Queen glanced
at him with a curious expression, half of doubt, half of commiseration.
Suddenly, as if moved by a quick impulse, she rose--a stately, exquisite
figure, looking even more beautiful in her simple morning robe of white
cashmere and lace, than in all the glory of her Court attire,--and
extended her hand. Humbly and reverentially he bent over it, and kissed
the great jewel sparkling like a star on the central finger. As he
then raised his eyes to her face she smiled;--that smile of hers, so
dazzling, so sweet, and yet so cold, had sent many men to their deaths,
though she knew it not.
“I see very little of you, Sir Roger,” she said slowly, “notwithstanding
your close attendance on my lord the King. Yet I know I can command your
service!”
“Madam,” murmured De Launay, “my life----”
“Oh, no,” she rejoined quickly, “not your life! Your life, like mine,
belongs to the King and the country. You must give all, or not at all!”
“Madam, I do give all!” he answered, with a look in his eyes of mingled
pain and passion; “No man can give more!”
She surveyed him with a little meditative, almost amused air.
“You have strong feelings, Sir Roger,” she said; “I wonder what it is
like--to _feel_?”
“If I may dare to say so, Madam, I should wish you to experience the
sensation,” he returned somewhat bitterly; “Sometimes we awaken to
emotions too late--sometimes we never awaken. But I think it is wisest
to experience the nature of a storm, in order to appreciate the value of
a calm!”
“You think so?” She smiled indulgently. “Storm and calm are to me alike!
I am affected by neither. Life is so exceedingly trivial an affair, and
is so soon over, that I have never been able to understand why people
should ever trouble themselves about anything in it.”
“You may not always be lacking in this comprehension, Madam,” said
Sir Roger, with a certain harshness in his tone, yet with the deepest
respect in his manner; “I take it that life and the world are but a
preparation for something greater, and that we shall be forced to learn
our lessons in this preparatory school before we leave it, whether we
like it or no!”
The slight smile still lingered on her beautiful mouth,--she pulled a
spray of jasmine down from the trailing clusters around her, and set it
carelessly among the folds of her lace. Sir Roger watched her with moody
eyes. Could he have followed his own inclination, he would have snatched
the flower from her dress and kissed it, in a kind of fierce defiance
before her very eyes. But what would be the result of such an act?
Merely a little contemptuous lifting of the delicate brows--a slight
frown on the fair forehead, and a calm gesture of dismissal. No more--no
more than this; for just as she could not be moved to love, neither
could she be moved to anger. The words of an old song rang in his
ears:--
She laughs at the thought of love--
Pain she scorns, and sorrow she sets aside--
My heart she values less than her broidered glove,
She would smile if I died!
“You are a man, Sir Roger de Launay,” she said after a pause, “And
man-like, you propound any theory which at the moment happens to fit
your own particular humour. I am, however, entirely of your opinion
that this life is only a term of preparation, and with this conviction I
desire to have as little to do with its vile and ugly side as I can. It
is possible to accept with gratitude the beautiful things of Nature, and
reject the rest, is it not?”
“As you ask me the question point-blank, Madam, I say it is
possible,--it can be done,--and you do it. But it is wrong!”
She raised her languid eyelids, showing no offence.
“Wrong?”
“Wrong, Madam!” repeated Sir Roger bluntly; “It is wrong to shut from
your sight, from your heart, from your soul the ugly side of Nature;--to
shut your ears to the wants--the pains--the tortures--the screams--the
tears, and groans of humanity! Oh, Madam, the ugly side has a strange
beauty of its own that you dream not of! God makes ugliness as he makes
beauty; God created the volcano belching forth fire and molten lava, as
He created the simple stream bordered with meadow flowers! Why should
you reject the ugly, the fierce, the rebellious side of things? Rather
take it into your gracious thoughts and prayers, Madam, and help to make
it beautiful!”
He spoke with a force which surprised himself--he was carried away by a
passion that seemed almost outside his own identity. She looked at him
curiously.
“Does the King teach you to speak thus to me?” she asked.
De Launay started,--the hot colour mounting to his cheeks and brow.
“Madam!”
“Nay, no excuse! I understand! It is your own thought; but a thought
which is no doubt suddenly inspired by the King’s actions,” she went on
tranquilly; “You are in his confidence. He is adopting new measures of
domestic policy, in which, perchance, I may or may not be included--as
it suits my pleasure! Who knows!” Again the little musing smile crossed
her countenance. “It is of the King I wish to speak to you.”
She glanced around her, and saw that her lady-in-waiting, Teresa de
Launay, had discreetly wandered by herself to the edge of the water-lily
pool, and was bending over it, a graceful, pensive figure in the near
distance, within call, but certainly not within hearing.
“You are in his confidence,” she repeated, drawing a step nearer to him,
“and--so am I! You will not disclose his movements--nor shall I! But you
are his close attendant and friend,--I am merely--his wife! I make you
responsible for his safety!”
“Madam, I pray you pardon me!” exclaimed De Launay; “His Majesty has a
will of his own,--and his sacred life is not in my hands. I will defend
him to the utmost limit of human possibility,--but if he voluntarily
runs into danger, and disregards all warning, I, as his poor servant, am
not to blame!”
Her eyes, brilliant and full of a compelling magnetism, dwelt upon him
steadfastly.
“I repeat my command,” she said deliberately, “I make you responsible!
You are a strong man and a brave one. If the King is rash, it is
the duty of his servants to defend him from the consequences of his
rashness; particularly if that rashness leads him into danger for a
noble purpose. Should any mischance befall him, let me never see your
face again! Die yourself, rather than let your King die!”
As she spoke these words she motioned him away with a grand gesture of
dismissal, and he retired back from her presence in a kind of
stunned amazement. Never before in all the days of her social sway as
Crown-Princess, had she ever condescended to speak to him on any
matter of confidence,--never during her three years of sovereignty as
Queen-Consort had she apparently taken note, or cared to know any of the
affairs connected with the King, her husband. The mere fact that now her
interest was roused, moved De Launay to speechless wonderment. He hardly
dared raise his eyes to look at her, as she turned from him and went
slowly, with her usual noiseless, floating grace of movement, towards
the water-lily pool, there to rejoin her attendant, Teresa de Launay,
who at the same time advanced to meet her Royal mistress. A moment more,
and Queen and lady of honour had disappeared together, and De Launay was
left alone. A little bird, swinging on a branch above his head, piped
a few tender notes to the green leaves and the sunlit sky, but beyond
this, and the measured plash of the fountain, no sound disturbed the
stillness of the garden.
“Upon my word, Roger de Launay,” he said bitterly to himself, “you are
an ass sufficiently weighted with burdens! The love of a Queen, and the
life of a King are enough for one man’s mind to carry with any degree of
safety! If it were not for the King, I think I should leave this country
and seek some other service--but I owe him much,--if only by reason of
my own heart’s folly!”
Impatient with himself, he strode away, straight across the lawn and
back to the palace. Here he noticed just the slightest atmosphere of
uneasiness among some of the retainers of the Royal household,--a
vague impression of flurry and confusion. Through various passages and
corridors, attendants and pages were either running about with extra
haste, or else strolling to and fro with extra slowness. As he
turned into one of the ante-chambers, he suddenly confronted a tall,
military-looking personage in plain civilian attire, whom he at once
recognized as the Chief of the Police.
“Ah, Bernhoff!” he said lightly, “any storms brewing?”
“None that call for particular attention, Sir Roger,” replied the
individual addressed; “But I have been sent for by the King, and am here
awaiting his pleasure.”
Sir Roger showed no sign of surprise, and with a friendly nod passed on.
He began to find the situation rather interesting.
“After all,” he argued inwardly, “there is nothing to hinder the King
from being a social autocrat, even if he cannot by the rules of the
Constitution be a political one. And we should do well to remember that
politics are governed entirely by social influence. It is the same thing
all over the world--a deluded populace--a social movement which elects
a parliament and ministry--and then the result,--which is, that this or
that party hold the reins of government, on whichever side happens to be
most advantageous to the immediate social and financial whim. The people
are the grapes crushed into wine for their rulers’ drinking; and the
King is merely the wine-cup on the festal board. If he once begins to be
something more than that cup, there will be an end of revelry!”
His ideas were not without good foundation in fact. Throughout all
history, where a strong man has ruled a nation, whether for good or ill,
he has left his mark; and where there has been no strong man, the annals
of the time are vapid and uninteresting. Governments emanate from social
influences. The social rule of the Roman Emperors bred athletes, heroes,
and poets, merely because physical strength and courage, combined with
heroism and poetic perception were encouraged by Roman society. The
social rule of England’s Elizabeth had its result in the brilliant
attainments of the many great men who crowded her Court--the social rule
of Victoria, until the death of the Prince Consort, bred gentle women
and chivalrous men. In all these cases, the reigning monarchs governed
society, and society governed politics. Politics, indeed, can scarcely
be considered apart from society, because on the nature and character of
society depend the nature and character of politics. If society is
made up of corrupt women and unprincipled men, the spirit of political
government will be as corrupt and unprincipled as they. If any King,
beholding such a state of things, were to suddenly cut himself clear of
the corruption, and to make a straight road for his own progress--clean
and open--and elect to walk in it, society would follow his lead, and as
a logical consequence politics would become honourable. But no monarchs
have the courage of their opinions nowadays,--if only one sovereign of
them all possessed such courage, he could move the world!
The long bright day unwound its sunny hours, crowned with blue skies and
fragrant winds, and the life and movement of the fair city by the sea
was gay, incessant and ever-changing. There was some popular interest
and excitement going on down at the quay, for the usual idle crowd had
collected to see the Royal yacht being prepared for her afternoon’s
cruise. Though she was always kept ready for sailing, the King’s orders
this time had been sudden and peremptory, and, consequently, all the
men on board were exceptionally hard at work getting things in immediate
readiness. The fact that the Queen was to accompany the King in the
afternoon’s trip to The Islands, where up to the present she had never
been, was a matter of lively comment,--her extraordinary beauty never
failing to attract a large number of sight-seers.
In the general excitement, no one saw Professor von Glauben quietly
enter a small and common sailing skiff, manned by two ordinary fishermen
of the shore, and scud away with the wind over the sea towards the
west, where, in the distance on this clear day, a gleaming line of light
showed where The Islands lay, glistening like emerald and pearl in the
midst of the dark blue waste of water. His departure was unnoticed,
though as a rule the King’s private physician commanded some attention,
not only by reason of his confidential post in the Royal household, but
also on account of certain rumours which were circulated through the
country concerning his wonderful skill in effecting complete cures where
all hope of recovery had been abandoned. It was whispered, indeed, that
he had discovered the ‘Elixir of Life,’ but that he would not allow its
properties to be made known, lest as the Scripture saith, man should
‘take and eat and live for ever.’ It was not advisable--so the Professor
was reported to have said--that all men should live for ever,--but only
a chosen few; and he, at present, was apparently the privileged person
who alone was fitted to make the selection of those few. For this and
various other reasons, he was generally looked at with considerable
interest, but this morning, owing to the hurried preparations for the
embarking of their Majesties on board the Royal yacht, he managed to
escape from even chance recognition,--and he was well over the sea,
and more than half-way to his destination before the bells of the city
struck noon.
Punctual to that hour, a close carriage drove up to the palace. It
contained no less a personage than the Prime Minister, the Marquis de
Lutera,--a dark, heavy man, with small furtive eyes, a ponderous
jaw, and a curious air of seeming for ever on an irritable watch for
offences. His aspect was intellectual, yet always threatening; and his
frigid manner was profoundly discouraging to all who sought to win his
attention or sympathy. He entered the palace now with an easy, not to
say assertive deportment, and as he ascended the broad staircase which
led to the King’s private apartments, he met the Chief of the Police
coming down. This latter saluted him, but he barely acknowledged
the courtesy, so taken by surprise was he at the sight of this
administrative functionary in the palace at so early an hour. However,
it was impossible to ask any questions of him on the grand staircase,
within hearing of the Royal lackeys; so he continued on his way
upstairs, with as much dignity as his heavily-moulded figure would
permit him to display, till he reached the upper landing known as the
‘King’s Corridor,’ where Sir Roger de Launay was in waiting to conduct
him to his sovereign’s presence. To him the Marquis addressed the
question:
“Bernhoff has been with the King?”
“Yes. For more than an hour.”
“Any robbery in the palace?”
De Launay smiled.
“I think not! So far as I am permitted to be cognisant of events, there
is nothing wrong!”
The Marquis looked slightly perplexed.
“The King is well?”
“Remarkably well--and in excellent humour! He is awaiting you,
Marquis,--permit me to escort you to him!”
The carved and gilded doors of the Royal audience-chamber were thereupon
flung back, and the Marquis entered, ushered in by De Launay. The
doors closed again upon them both; and for some time there was profound
silence in the King’s corridor, no intruder venturing to approach save
two gentlemen-at-arms, who paced slowly up and down at either end on
guard. At the expiration of about an hour, Sir Roger came out alone,
and, glancing carelessly around him, strolled to the head of the grand
staircase, and waited patiently there for quite another thirty minutes.
At last the doors were flung open widely again, and the King himself
appeared, clad in easy yachting attire, and walking with one hand
resting on the arm of the Marquis de Lutera, who, from his expression,
seemed curiously perturbed.
“Then you will not come with us, Marquis?” said the King, with an air
of gaiety; “You are too much engrossed in the affairs of Government to
break loose for an afternoon from politics for the sake of pleasure? Ah,
well! You are a matchless worker! Renowned as you are for your studious
observation of all that may tend to the advancement of the nation’s
interests--admired as you are for the complete sacrifice of all your own
advantages to the better welfare of the country, I will not (though I
might as your sovereign), command your attendance on this occasion! I
know the affairs you have in hand are pressing and serious!”
“They will be more than usually so, Sir,” said the Marquis in a low
voice; “for if you persist in maintaining your present attitude, the
foreign controversy in which we are engaged can scarcely go on. But your
action will be questioned by the Government!”
The King laughed.
“Good! By all means question it, my dear Marquis! Prove me an
unconstitutional monarch, if you like, and put Humphry on the throne in
my place,--but ask the People first! If they condemn me, I am satisfied
to be condemned! But the present political difference between ourselves
and a friendly nation must be arranged without offence. There does not
exist at the moment any reasonable cause for fanning the dispute into a
flame of war.”--He paused, then resumed--“You will not come with us?”
“Sir, if you will permit me to refuse the honour on this occasion----”
“The permission is granted!” replied the King, still smiling; “Farewell,
Marquis! We are not in the habit of absenting ourselves from our own
country, after the fashion of certain of our Royal neighbours, who shall
be nameless; and we conceive it our duty to make ourselves acquainted
with the habits and customs of all our subjects in all quarters of our
realm. Hence our resolve to visit The Islands, which, to our shame be it
said, we have neglected until now. We expect to derive both pleasure and
instruction from the brief voyage!”
“Are the islanders aware of your intention, Sir?” enquired the Marquis.
“Nay--to prepare them would have spoilt our pleasure!” replied the King.
“We will take them by surprise! We have heard of certain countries,
whose villages and towns have never seen the reigning sovereign,--and
though we have been but three years on the throne, we have resolved that
no corner of our kingdom shall lack the sunlight of our presence!”
He gave a mirthful side-glance at De Launay. Then, extending his hand
cordially, he added: “May all success attend your efforts, Marquis,
to smooth over this looming quarrel between ourselves and our friendly
trade-rivals! I, for one, would not have it go further. I shall see you
again at the Council during the week.”
As the premier’s hand met that of his Sovereign, the latter exclaimed
suddenly:
“Ah!--I thought I missed a customary friend from my finger; I have
forgotten my signet-ring! Will you lend me yours for to-day, Marquis?”
“Sir, if you will deign to wear it!” replied the Marquis readily, and
at once slipping off the ring in question, he handed it to the King, who
smilingly accepted it and put it on.
“A fine sapphire!” he said approvingly; “Better, I think, than my ruby!”
“Sir, your praise enhances its value,” said De Lutera bowing profoundly;
“I shall from henceforth esteem it priceless!”
“Well said!” returned the King, “And rightly too!--for diplomacy is wise
in flattering a king to the last, even while meditating on his possible
downfall! Adieu, Marquis! When we next meet, I shall expect good news!”
He descended the staircase, closely attended by De Launay, and passed
at once into a larger room of audience, where some notable persons of
foreign distinction were waiting to be received. On the way thither,
however, he turned to Sir Roger for a moment, and held up the hand on
which the Marquis de Lutera’s signet flashed like a blue point of flame.
“Behold the Premier’s signet!” he said with a smile; “Methinks, for
once, it suits the King!”