A WOMAN’S REASON
When Lotys recovered from her death-like swoon, she found herself on a
sofa among heaped-up soft cushions, in a small semi-darkened room hung
with draperies of rose satin, which were here and there drawn aside
to show exquisite groupings of Saxe china and rare miniatures on
ivory;--the ceiling above her was a painted mirror, where Venus in her
car of flowers, drawn by doves, was pictured floating across a crystal
sea,--the floor was strewn with white bearskins,--the corners were
filled with palms and flowers. As she regarded these unaccustomed
surroundings wonderingly, a firm hand was laid on her wrist, and a
brusque voice said in her ear:--
“Lie still, if you please! You have been seriously hurt! You must rest.”
She turned feebly towards the speaker, and saw a big burly man with a
bald head, seated at her side, who held a watch in one hand, and felt
her pulse with the other. She could not discern his features plainly,
for his back was set to the already shaded light, and her own eyes were
weak and dim.
“You are very kind!” she murmured--“I do not quite remember--Ah, yes!”
and a quick flash of animation passed over her face--“I know now! The
King! Is--is all well?”
“All is well, thanks to you!” replied the gruff voice--“You have saved
his life.”
“Thank God!”--and she closed her eyes again wearily, while two slow
tears trickled from under the shut white lids--“Thank God!”
Professor von Glauben, placed in charge of her by the King’s command,
gently relinquished the small white hand he held, and stepping
noiselessly to a table near at hand, poured out from one of the various
little flasks set thereon, a cordial the properties of which were alone
known to himself, and held the glass to her lips.
“Drink this off at once!”--he said authoritatively, yet kindly.
She obeyed. He then, turning aside with the empty glass, sat down
and watched her from a little distance. Soon a faint flush tinged her
dead-white skin, and presently, with a deep sigh, she opened her eyes
again. Then she became aware of a stiffness and smart in her right
shoulder, and saw that it was tightly bandaged, and that the bodice of
her dress was cut away from it. Lying perfectly still, she gradually
brought her strong spirit of self-control to bear on the situation, and
tried to collect her scattered thoughts. Very few minutes sufficed her
to recollect all that had happened, and as she realised more and more
vividly that she was in some strange and luxurious abode where she had
no business or desire to be, she gathered all the forces of her mind
to her aid, and with but a slight effort, sat upright. Professor
von Glauben came towards her with an exclamation of warning--but she
motioned him back with a very decided gesture.
“Please do not trouble!” she said--“I am quite able to move--to
stand--see!” And she rose to her feet, trembling a little, and steadying
herself by resting one hand on the edge of the sofa. “I do not know who
you are, but I am sure you have been most kind to me! And if you would
do me a still greater kindness, you will let me go away from here at
once!”
“Impossible, Madame!” declared the Professor, firmly--“His Majesty, the
King----”
“What of his Majesty, the King?” demanded Lotys with sudden hauteur--“Am
I not mistress of my own actions?”
The Professor made an elaborate bow.
“Most unquestionably you are, Madame!” he replied--“But you are also for
the moment, a guest in the King’s Palace; and having saved his life,
you will surely not withhold from him the courteous acceptance of his
hospitality?”
“The King’s Palace!” she echoed, and a little disdainful smile crossed
her lips--“I,--Lotys,--in the King’s Palace!” She moved a few steps, and
drew herself proudly erect. “You, sir, are a servant of the King’s?”
“I am his Majesty’s resident physician, at your service!” he said, with
another bow--“I have had the honour of attending to the wound you so
heroically received in his defence,--and though it is not a dangerous
wound, it is an exceedingly unpleasant one I assure you,--and will give
you a good deal of pain and trouble. Let me advise you very earnestly
to stay where you are, and rest--do not think of leaving the Palace
to-night.”
She sighed restlessly. “I must not think of staying in it!” she replied.
“But I do not wish to seem churlish--or ungrateful for your care and
kindness;--will you tell the King--” Here she broke off abruptly, and
fixed her eyes searchingly on his face. “Strange!” she murmured--“I seem
to have seen you before,--or someone very like you!”
The Professor was troubled with a sudden fit of coughing which made him
very red in the face, and obliged him to turn away for a moment in order
to recover himself. Still struggling with that obstinate catch in his
throat he said:
“You were saying, Madame, that you wished me to tell the King
something?”
“Yes!” said Lotys eagerly--“if you will be so good! Tell him that
I thank him for his courtesy;--but that I must go away from this
Palace,--that I cannot--may not--stop in it an hour longer! He does not
know who it is that saved his life,--if he did, he would not wish me to
remain a moment under his roof! He would be as anxious and willing for
me to leave as I am to go! Will you tell him this?”
“Madame, I will tell him,” replied the Professor deferentially, yet with
a slight smile--“But--if it will satisfy your scruples, or ease your
mind at all,--I may as well inform you that his Majesty does know who
you are! The populace itself declared your name to him, with shouts of
acclamation.” She flushed a vivid red, then grew very pale.
“If that be so, then he must also be aware that I am his sworn enemy!”
she said,--“And, that in accordance with the principles I hold, I cannot
possibly remain under his roof! Therefore I trust, sir, you will have
the kindness to provide me with a way of quick exit before my presence
here becomes too publicly reported.”
The Professor was slightly nonplussed. He considered for a moment; then
rapidly made up his mind.
“Madame, I will do so!” he said--“That is, if you will permit me first
of all to announce your intention of leaving the Palace, to the King.
Pardon me for suggesting that his Majesty can hardly regard as an enemy
a lady who has saved his life at the risk of her own.”
“I did not save it because he is the King,” she said curtly, “And you
are at liberty to tell him so. Please make haste to inform him at once
of my desire to leave the Palace,--and say also, that if he considers he
owes me any gratitude, he will show it by not detaining me.”
The Professor bowed and retired. Lotys, left alone, sat down for a
moment in one of the luxuriously cushioned chairs, and pressed her left
hand hard over her eyes to try and still their throbbing ache. Her
right arm was bound up and useless,--and the pain from the wound in her
shoulder caused her acute agony,--but she had a will of iron, and she
had trained her mental forces to control, if not entirely to master, her
physical weaknesses. She thought, not of her own suffering, but of the
exciting incident in which mere impulse had led her to take so marked a
share. It was by pure accident that she had joined the crowd assembled
to see the King lay the foundation-stone of the proposed new Theatre.
She had been as it were, entangled in the press of the people, and
had got pushed towards the centre of the scene almost against her own
volition. And while she had stood,--a passive and unwilling spectator
of the pageant,--her attention had been singularly attracted towards the
uneasy and restless movements of the youth who had afterwards attempted
the assassination of the monarch. She had watched him narrowly; though
she could not have explained why she did so, even to herself. He was
a complete stranger to her, and yet, with her quick intuition, she
had discerned a curious expression of anxiety and fear in his face, as
though of the impending horror of a crime,--a look which, because it
was so strained and unnatural, had aroused her suspicion. When she had
sprung forward to shield the King, only one idea had inspired her,--and
that idea she would not now fully own even to herself, because it was so
entirely, weakly feminine. Nevertheless, from woman’s weakness has often
sprung a hero’s strength--and so it had proved in this case. She did
not, however, allow herself to dwell on the instinctive impulse which
had thrown her on the King’s breast, ready to receive her own death-blow
rather than that he should die; she preferred to elude that question,
and to consider her action solely from the standpoint of those
Socialistic theories with which she was indissolubly associated.
“Had I not frustrated the attempt, the crime would have been set down
to us and our Brotherhood,” she said to herself, “Sergius--or Paul
Zouche--or I myself--or even Pasquin--yes, even he!--might, and
doubtless would, have been accused of instigating it. As it is, I think
I have saved the situation.” She rose and walked slowly up and down
the room. “I wonder who is behind the wretched boy concerned in
this business? He is too young to have determined on such a deed
himself,--unless he is mad;--he must be a tool in the hands of others.”
Here spying her long black cloak hanging across a chair, she took it
up and threw it round her,--her face was reflected back upon her from
a mirror set in the wall, round which a cluster of ivory cupids
clambered,--and she looked critically at her white drawn features, and
the disordered masses of her hair. Loosening these abundant locks,
she shook them down and gathered them into her one uncrippled hand,
preparatory to twisting them into the usual knot at the back of her
head, the while she looked at the little sculptured _amorini_ set round
the mirror, with a compassionate smile.
“Such a number of mimic Loves where there is no real love!” she said
half aloud,--when the opening of a door, and the swaying movement of a
curtain pushed aside, startled her; and still holding her rich hair up
in her hand she turned quickly,--to find herself face to face with,--the
King.
There was an instant’s dead silence. Dropping the silken gold weight
of her tresses to fall as they would, regardless of conventional
appearances, she stood erect, making all unconsciously to herself,
a picture of statuesque and beauteous tragedy. Her plain black
garments,--the long cloak enveloping her slight form, and the glorious
tangle of her unbound hair rippling loosely about her pale face, in
which her eyes shone like blue flowers, made luminous by the sunlight
of the inspired soul behind them, all gave her an almost supernatural
air,--and made her seem as wholly unlike any other woman as a strange
leaf from an unexplored country is unlike the foliage common to one’s
native land. The King looked steadfastly upon her; she, meeting his gaze
with equal steadfastness, felt her heart beating violently, though,
as she well knew, it was not with fear. She had no thought of Court
etiquette,--nor had she any reason to consider it, his Majesty having
himself deliberately trespassed upon its rules by visiting her thus
alone and unattended. She offered no reverence,--no salutation;--she
simply stood before him, quite silent, awaiting his pleasure,--though
in her eyes there shone a dangerous brilliancy that was almost feverish,
and nervous tremors shook her from head to foot. The strange dumb spell
between them relaxed at last. With a kind of effort which expressed
itself in the extra rigidity and pallor of his fine features, the King
spoke:
“Madame, I have come to thank you! Your noble act of heroism this
afternoon has saved my life. I do not say it is worth saving!--but the
Nation appears to think it is,--and in the name of the Nation, whose
servant I am, I offer you my personal gratitude--and service!”
He bowed low as he said these words gravely and courteously. Her eyes
still searched his face wistfully, with the eager plaintive expression
of a child looking for some precious treasure it has lost. She strove
to calm her throbbing pulses,--to quiet the hurrying blood in her
veins,--to brace herself up to her usual impervious height of composure
and self-control.
“I need no thanks!” she answered briefly--“I have only done my duty!”
“Nay, Madame, is it quite consistent with your duty to shield from death
one so hated by your disciples and followers?” he asked, with a tinge of
melancholy in his accents--“You--as the famous Lotys--should have helped
to kill, not to save!”
She regarded him fearlessly.
“You mistake!” she said--“As King, you should learn to know your
subjects better! We are not murderers. We do not seek your life,--we
seek to make you understand the need there is of honesty and justice. We
live our lives among the poor; and we see those poor crushed down into
the dust by the rich, without hope and without help,--and we
endeavour to rouse them to a sense of this Wrong, so that they may, by
persistence, obtain Right. We do not want the death of any man! Even
to a traitor we give warning and time, ere we punish his treachery. The
unhappy wretch who attempted your life to-day was not of our party, or
our teaching, thank God!”
“I am sure of that!” he said very gently, his face brightening with a
kind smile,--then, seeing her swerve, as though about to fall, he caught
her on one arm--“You are faint! You must not stand too long. I fear you
are suffering from the pain of that cruel wound inflicted on you for my
sake!”
“A little--” she managed to say, with white lips--“But it is nothing--it
will soon pass----”
She sank helplessly into the chair he placed for her, and mutely watched
him as he walked to the window and threw it open, admitting the sweet,
fresh, sea-scented air, and a flood of crimson radiance from the setting
sun.
“I am informed that you wish to quit the Palace at once,” he said,
averting his gaze from hers for a moment;--“Need I say how much I regret
this decision of yours? Both I and the Queen had hoped you would have
remained with us, under the care of our own physician, till you were
quite recovered. But I owe you too great a debt already to make any
further claim upon you--and I will not command you to stay, if you
desire to go.”
She lifted her head;--the faint colour was returning to her cheeks.
“I thank you!” she said simply;--“I do indeed desire to go. Every moment
spent here is a moment wasted!”
“You think so?”--and, turning from the window where he stood, he
confronted her again;--“May I venture to suggest that you hardly do
justice to me, or to the situation? You have placed me under very great
obligations--surely you should endure my company long enough to tell me
at least how I can in some measure show my personal recognition of your
brave and self-sacrificing action!”
She looked at him in musing silence. A strange glow came into her
eyes,--a deeper crimson flushed her cheek.
“You can do nothing for me!” she said, after a long pause, “You are a
King--I, a poor commoner. I would not be indebted to you for all the
world! I am prouder of my ‘common’ estate than you are of your royalty!
What are ‘royal’ rewards? Jewels, money, place, title! All valueless
to me! If you would serve anyone, serve the People;--do something to
deserve their trust! If you would show _me_ any personal recognition, as
you say, for saving your life, make that life more noble!”
He heard her without offence, holding himself mute and motionless. She
rose from her seat, and approached him more closely.
“Perhaps, after all, it is well that I was,--unconsciously and against
my own volition,--brought here,” she said; “Perhaps it is God’s will
that I should speak with you! For, as a rule none of your unknown
subjects can, or may speak with you!--you are so much hemmed in and
ringed round with slaves and parasites! In so far as this goes, you are
to be pitied; though it rests with you to shake yourself free from the
toils of vulgar adulation. Your flatterers tell you nothing. They are
careful to keep you shut out of your own kingdom--to hide from you
things that are true,--things that you ought to know; they fool you with
false assurances of national tranquillity and content,--they persuade
you to play, like an over-grown child, with the toys of luxury,--they
lead you, a mere puppet, round and round in the clockwork routine of a
foolish and licentious society,--when you might be a Man!--up and doing
man’s work that should help you to regenerate and revivify the whole
country! I speak boldly--yes!--because I do not fear you!--because I
have no favours to gain from you,--because to me,--Lotys,--you,--the
King--are nothing!”
Her voice, perfectly tranquil, even, and coldly sweet, had not a single
vibration of uncertainty or hesitation in it--and her words seemed to
cut through the stillness of the room with clean incisiveness like
the sweep of a sword-blade. Outside, the sea murmured and the leaves
rustled,--the sun had sunk, leaving behind it a bright, pearly twilight
sky, flecked with pink clouds like scattered rose-petals.
He looked straight at her,--his clear dark grey eyes were filled with
the glowing fire of strongly suppressed feeling. Some hasty ejaculation
sprang to his lips, but he checked it, and pacing once or twice up and
down, suddenly wheeled round, and again confronted her.
“If, as a king, I fall so far short of kingliness, and am nothing to
you,”--he said deliberately; “Why did you shield me from the assassin’s
dagger a while ago? Why not have let me perish?”
She shook back her gold hair, and regarded him almost defiantly.
“I did not save you because you are the King!” she replied--“Be assured
of that!”
He was vaguely astonished.
“Merely a humane sentiment then?” he said--“Just as you would have saved
a dog from drowning!”
A little smile crept reluctantly round the corners of her mouth.
“There was another reason,” she began in a low tone,--then
paused--“But--only a woman’s reason!”
Something in her changing colour,--some delicate indefinable touch of
tenderness and pathos, which softened her features and made them almost
ethereal, sent a curious thrill through his blood.
“A woman’s reason!” he echoed; “May I not hear it?”
Again she hesitated,--then, as if despising herself for her own
irresolution she spoke out bravely.
“You may!”--she said--“There is nothing to conceal--nothing of which I
am ashamed! Besides, it is the true motive of the action which you are
pleased to call ‘heroic.’ I saved your life simply because--because you
resemble in form and feature, in look and manner, the only man I love!”
A curious silence followed her words. The faint far whispering of the
leaves on the trees outside seemed almost intrusively loud in such a
stillness,--the placid murmur of the sea against the cliff below
the Palace became well-nigh suggestive of storm. Lotys was suddenly
conscious of an odd strained sense of terror,--she had spoken as
freely and frankly as she would have spoken to any one of her own
associates,--and yet she felt that somehow she had been over-impulsive,
and that in a thoughtless moment she had let slip some secret which
placed her, weak and helpless, in the King’s power. The King himself
stood immovable as a figure of bronze,--his eyes resting upon her with
a deep insistence of purpose, as though he sought to wrest some further
confession from her soul. The tension between them was painful,--almost
intolerable,--and though it lasted but a minute, that minute seemed
weighted with the potentialities of years. Forcing herself to break the
dumb spell, Lotys went on hurriedly and half desperately:--
“You may smile at this,” she said--“Men always jest with a woman’s
heart,--a woman’s folly! But folly or no, I will not have you draw
any false conclusions concerning me,--or flatter yourself that it was
loyalty to you, or honour for your position that made me your living
shield to-day. No!--for if you were not the exact counterpart of him who
is dearer to me than all the world beside, I think I should have let you
die! I think so--I do not know! Because, after all, you are not like
him in mind or heart; it is only your outward bearing, your physical
features that resemble his! But, even so, I could not have looked idly
on, and seen his merest Resemblance slain! Now you understand! It is
not for you, as King, that I have turned aside a murderer’s weapon,--but
solely because you have the face, the eyes, the smile of one who is
a thousand times greater and nobler than you,--who, though poor and
uncrowned, is a true king in the grace and thought and goodness of his
actions,--who, all unlike you, personally attends to the wants of the
poor, instead of neglecting them,--and who recognises, and does his best
to remedy, the many wrongs which afflict the people of this land!”
Her sweet voice thrilled with passion,--her cheeks
glowed,--unconsciously she stretched out her uninjured hand with an
eloquent gesture of pride and conviction. The King’s figure, till now
rigid and motionless, stirred;--advancing a step, he took that hand
before she could withhold it, and raised it to his lips.
“Madame, I am twice honoured!” he said, in accents that shook ever so
slightly--“To resemble a good man even outwardly is something,--to wear
in any degree the lineaments of one whom a brave and true woman honours
by her love is still more! You have made me very much your debtor”--here
he gently relinquished the hand he had kissed--“but believe me, I shall
endeavour most faithfully to meet the claim you have upon my gratitude!”
Here he paused, and drawing back, bowed courteously. “The way for your
departure is clear,” he continued;--“I have ordered a carriage to be
in waiting at one of the private entrances to the Palace. Professor von
Glauben, my physician, who has just attended you, will escort you to it.
You will pass out quite unnoticed,--and be,--as you desire it--again at
full liberty. Let the memory of the King whose life you saved trouble
you no more,--except when you look upon his better counterpart!--as
then, perchance, you may think more kindly of him! For he has to
suffer!--not so much for his own faults, as for the faults of a system
formulated by his ancestors.”
Her intense eyes glowed with a fire of enthusiasm as she lifted them to
his face.
“Kingship would be a grand system,” she said, “if kings were true! And
Autocracy would be the best and noblest form of government in the world,
if autocrats could be found who were intellectual and honest at one and
the same time!”
He looked at her observantly.
“You think they are neither?”
“_I_ think? ‘I’ am nothing,--my opinions count for nothing! But History
gives evidence, and supplies proof of their incompetency. A great
king,--good as well as great,--would be the salvation of this present
time of the world!”
Still he kept his eyes upon her.
“Go on!”--he said--“There is something in your mind which you would fain
express to me more openly. You have eloquent features, Madame!--and your
looks are the candid mirror of your thoughts. Speak, I beg of you!”
The light of a daring inward hope flashed in her face and inspired her
very attitude, as she stood before him, entirely regardless of herself.
“Then,--since you give me leave,--I _will_ speak!” she said; “For
perhaps I shall never see you again--never have the chance to ask you,
as a Man whom the mere accident of birth has made a king, to have more
thought, more pity, more love for your subjects! Surely you should be
their guardian--their father--their protector? Surely you should not
leave them to become the prey of unscrupulous financiers or intriguing
Churchmen? Some say you are yourself involved in the cruel schemes which
are slowly but steadily robbing this country’s people of their Trades,
the lawful means of their subsistence; and that you approve, in the
main, of the private contracts which place our chief manufactures and
lines of traffic in the hands of foreign rivals. But I do not believe
this. We--and by we, I mean the Revolutionary party--try hard not to
believe this! I admit to you, as faithfully as if I stood on my trial
before you, that much of the work to which we, as a party have pledged
ourselves, consists in moving the destruction of the Monarchy, and the
formation of a Republic. But why? Only because the Monarchy has proved
itself indifferent to the needs of the people, and deaf to their
protestations against injustice! Thus we have conceived it likely that
a Republic might help to mend matters,--if it were in power for at least
some twenty or thirty years,--but at the same time we know well enough
that if a King ruled over us who was indeed a King,--who would refuse to
be the tool of party speculators, and who could not be moved this way or
that by the tyrants of finance, the people would have far more chance
of equality and right under a Republic even! Only we cannot find that
king!--no country can! You, for instance, are no hero! You will not
think for yourself, though you might; you only interest yourself in
affairs that may redound to your personal and private credit; or
in those which affect ‘society,’ the most dissolute portion of the
community,--and you have shown so little individuality in yourself or
your actions, that your unexpected refusal to grant Crown lands to
the Jesuits was scarcely believed in or accepted, otherwise than as a
caprice, till your own ‘official’ announcement. Even now we can scarcely
be brought to look upon it except as an impulse inspired by fear!
Herein, we do you, no doubt, a grave injustice; I, for one, honestly
believe that you have refused these lands to the Priest-Politicians,
out of earnest consideration for the future peace and welfare of your
subjects.”
“Nay, why believe even thus much of me?” he interrupted with a grave
smile; “May you not be misled by that Resemblance I bear, to one who is,
in your eyes, so much my superior?”
A faint expression of offence darkened her face, and her brows
contracted.
“You are pleased to jest!” she said coldly; “As I said before, it is
man’s only way of turning aside, or concluding all argument with a
woman! I am mistaken perhaps in the instinct which has led me to speak
to you as openly as I have done,--and yet,--I know in my heart I can do
you no harm by telling you the truth, as others would never tell it
to you! Many times within this last two months the people have sent in
petitions to you against the heavy taxes with which your Government is
afflicting them, and they can get no answer to their desperate appeals.
Is it kingly--is it worthy of your post as Head of this realm, to turn a
deaf ear to the cries of those whose hard-earned money keeps you on the
Throne, housed in luxury, guarded from every possible evil, and happily
ignorant of the pangs of want and hunger? How can you, if you have a
heart, permit such an iniquitous act on the part of your Government as
the setting of a tax on bread?--the all in all of life to the very poor!
Have you ever seen young children crying for bread? I have! Have you
ever seen strong men reduced to the shame of stealing bread, to
feed their wives and infants? I have! I think of it as I stand here,
surrounded by the luxury which is your daily lot,--and knowing what I
know, I would strip these satin-draped walls, and sell everything of
value around me if I possessed it, rather than know that one woman or
child starved within the city’s precincts! Your Ministers tell you there
is a deficiency in the Exchequer,--but you do not ask why, or how the
deficiency arose! You do not ask whether Ministers themselves have
not been trafficking and speculating with the country’s money! For
if deficiency there be, it has arisen out of the Government’s
mismanagement! The Government have had the people’s money,--and have
thrown it recklessly away. Therefore, they have no right to ask for
more, to supply what they themselves have wilfully wasted. No right, I
say!--no right to rob them of another coin! If I were a man, and a king
like you, I would voluntarily resign more than half my annual kingly
income to help that deficit in the National Exchequer till it had been
replaced;--I would live poor,--and be content to know that by my act I
had won far more than many millions--a deathless, and beloved name of
honour with my people!”
She paused. He said not a word. Suddenly she became conscious that her
hair was unbound and falling loosely about her; she had almost forgotten
this till now. A wave of colour swept over her face,--but she mastered
her embarrassment, and gathering the long tresses together in her left
hand, twisted them up slowly, and with an evident painful effort. The
King watched her, a little smile hovering about his mouth.
“If I might help you!” he said softly--“but--that is a task for my
Resemblance!”
She appeared not to hear him. A sudden determination moved her, and she
uttered her thought boldly and at all hazards.
“If you do not, as the public report, approve of the financial schemes
out of which your Ministers make their fortunes, to the utter ruin of
the people in general,” she said slowly; “Dismiss Carl Pérousse from
office! So may you perchance avert a great national disaster!”
He permitted himself to smile indulgently.
“Madame, you may ask much!--and however great your demands, I will do
my utmost to meet and comply with them;--but like all your charming sex,
you forget that a king can seldom or never interfere with a political
situation! It would be very unwise policy on my part to dismiss M.
Pérousse, seeing that he is already nominated as the next Premier.”
“The next Premier!” Lotys echoed the words with a passionate scorn; “If
that is so, I give you an honest warning! The people will revolt,--no
force can hold them back or keep them in check! And if you should
command your soldiery to fire on the populace, there must be bloodshed
and crime!--on your head be the result! Oh, are you not, can you not be
something higher than even a king?--an honest man? Will you not open the
eyes of your mind to see the wickedness, falsehood and treachery of
this vile Minister, who ministers only to his own ends?--who feigns
incorruptibility in order to more easily corrupt others?--who assumes
the defence of outlying states, merely to hide the depredations he is
making on home power? Nay, if you will not, you are not worth a beggar’s
blessing!--and I shall wonder to myself why God made of you so exact a
copy of one whom I know to be a good man!”
Her breath came and went quickly,--her cheeks were flushed, and great
tears stood in her eyes. But he seemed altogether unmoved.
“I’ faith, I shall wonder too!” he said very tranquilly; “Good men are
scarce!--and to be the copy of one is excellent, though it may in some
cases be misleading! Madame, I have heard you with patience, and--if
you will permit me to say so--admiration! I honour your courage--your
frankness--and--still more--your absolute independence. You speak of
wrongs to the People. If such wrongs indeed exist----”
“If!” interrupted Lotys with a whole world of meaning in the expression.
“I say, if they indeed exist, I will, as far as I may,--endeavour to
remedy them. I, personally, have no hesitation in declaring to you that
I am not involved in the financial schemes to which you allude--though
I know two or three of my fellow-sovereigns who are! But I do not care
sufficiently for money to indulge in speculation. Nevertheless, let me
tell you, speculation is good, and even necessary in matters affecting
national finance, and I am confident--” here he smiled enigmatically,
“that the country’s honour is safe in the hands of M. Pérousse!”
At this she lifted her head proudly and looked at him, with eyes that
expressed so magnificent a disdain, that had he been any other than the
man he was, he might have quailed beneath the lightning flash of such
utter contempt.
“You are confident that the country’s honour is safe!” she repeated
bitterly; “I am confident that it is betrayed and shamed! And History
will set a curse against the King who helped in its downfall!”
He regarded her with a vague, lingering gentleness.
“You are harsh, Madame!” he said softly; “But you could not offend me if
you tried! I quarrel with none of your sex! And you will, I hope, think
better of me some day,--and not be sorry--as perhaps you are now--for
having saved a life so worthless! Farewell!”
She offered no response. The silken portière rustled and swayed,--the
door opened and shut again quietly--he was gone. Left alone, Lotys
dropped wearily on the sofa, and burying her head in the soft cushions,
gave way to an outburst of tears and sobbed like a tired and exhausted
child. In this condition Professor von Glauben, entering presently,
found her. But his sympathy, if he felt any, was outwardly very chill
and formal. Another dose of his ‘cordial,’--a careful examination and
re-strapping of the wounded shoulder,--these summed up the whole of his
consolation; and his precise cold manner did much to restore her to her
self-possession. She thanked him in a few words for his professional
attention, without raising her eyes to his face, and quietly followed
him down a long narrow passage which terminated in a small private door
giving egress to the Royal pleasure-grounds,--and here a hired close
carriage was waiting. Putting her carefully into this vehicle, the
Professor then delivered himself of his last instructions.
“The driver has no orders beyond the citadel, Madame,” he explained.
“His Majesty begged me to say that he has no desire to seem inquisitive
as to your place of residence. You will therefore please inform the
coachman yourself as to where you wish to be driven. And take care of
that so-much-wounded shoulder!” he added, relapsing into a kinder
and less formal tone;--“It will pain you,--but there will be no
inflammation, not now I have treated it!--and it will heal quickly, that
I will guarantee--I, who have had first care of it!”
She thanked him again in a low voice,--there was an uncomfortable lump
in her throat, and tears still trembled on her lashes.
“Remember well,” said the Professor cheerily; “how very grateful we
are to you! What we shall do for you some day, we do not yet know!
A monument in the public square, or a bust in the Cathedral? Ha, ha!
Goodbye! You have the blessing of the nation with you!”
She shook her head deprecatingly,--she tried to smile, but she could
not trust herself to speak. The carriage rolled swiftly down the broad
avenue and soon disappeared, and the Professor, having watched the last
flash of its wheels vanish between the arching trees, executed a slow
and somewhat solemn _pas-seul_ on the doorstep where it had left him.
“Ach so!” he exclaimed, almost audibly; “The King’s Comedy progresses!
But it had nearly taken the form of Tragedy to-day--and now Tragedy
itself has melted into sentiment, and tears, and passion! And with this
very difficult kind of human mixture, the worst may happen!”
He re-entered the Palace and returned with some haste to the apartments
of the King, whither he had been bidden.
But on arriving there he was met by an attendant in the ante-room who
informed him that his Majesty had retired to his private library and
desired to be left alone.