THE COMRADE OF HIS FOES
This bold declaration, boldly spoken, had the startling effect of a
sudden and sharp flash of lightning in dense darkness. Amazement and
utter stupefaction held every man for the moment paralysed. Had a
volcano suddenly opened beneath their feet and belched forth its floods
of fire and lava, it could not have rendered them more helplessly
stricken and speechless.
“I _am_ the King!”
The words appeared to blaze on the air before them,--like the
handwriting on the wall at Belshazzar’s feast. The King! He,--their
friend, their advocate, he--Pasquin Leroy,--the most obedient, the most
daring and energetic of all the workers in their Cause--he--even he--was
the King! Was it,--could it be possible! Their eyes--all riveted in
fearful fascination upon him as he stood before them wholly at their
mercy, but cool, dauntless, and smilingly ready to die,--had the wild
uncomprehending stare of delirium;--the silence in the room was intense,
breathless and terrible. Suddenly, like a lion roused, Sergius Thord,
with a half-savage movement, sprang forward and seized him roughly by
the arm.
“You,--you are the King?” he said; “You,--Pasquin Leroy?” and struggling
for breath, his words almost choked him. “_You_! Enemy in the guise of
friend! You have fooled us! You have deceived us--you--!”
“Take care, Sergius!” said the monarch smiling, as he gently disengaged
himself from the fierce hand that clutched him; “This pistol is
loaded,--not to shoot you with!--but myself!--at your command! It would
be unfortunate if it went off and killed the wrong man by accident!”
His indomitable courage was irresistible; and Thord, relaxing his
grasp, fell back in something like awe. And then the spell of horror and
amazement that had struck the rest of the assemblage dumb, broke all
at once into a sort of wild-beast clamour. Every man ‘rushed’ for the
platform--and Max Graub and Axel Regor, taking swift and conscious
possession of their true personalities as Professor von Glauben and
Sir Roger de Launay, fought silently and determinedly to keep back the
crowding hands that threatened instant violence to the person of their
Royal master.
A complete hubbub and confusion reigned;--cries of “Traitor!” and “Spy!”
were hurled from one voice to another; but before a single member of the
Committee could reach the spot where stood the undaunted Sovereign whom
they had so lately idolised as their friend and helper, and whom they
were now ready to tear to pieces, Lotys flung herself in front of him,
while at the same moment she snatched the pistol he held from his hand,
and fired it harmlessly into the air. The loud report--the flash of
fire,--startled all the men, who gaped upon her, thunderstruck.
“Through me!” she cried, her blue eyes flashing glorious menace;
“Through me your shots! Through me your daggers! On me your destroying
hands! Through my body alone shall you reach this King! Stand back all
of you! What would you do? King or commoner, he is your comrade and
associate! Sovereign or servant, he is the bravest man among you! Touch
him who dare! Remember your Vow of Fealty!”
Transfigured into an almost sublime beauty by the fervour of her
emotion, she looked the supreme incarnation of inspired womanhood, and
the infuriated men fell back, dismayed and completely overwhelmed by the
strong conviction of her words, and the amazing situation in which they
found themselves.
It was true!--he, the King,--whom they had accepted and known as Pasquin
Leroy,--was verily their own comrade! He had proved himself a thousand
times their friend and helper!--they had sworn to defend him at the
cost of their own lives, if need be,--to shelter and protect him in all
circumstances, and to accept all the consequences of whatever danger he
might run in the performance of his duty. His duty now,--according to
the fatal drawing of lots,--was that he should kill the King; and he had
declared himself ready to fulfil the task by killing himself! But--as he
was their comrade--they were bound in honour to guard his life!
These bewildering and maddening thoughts coursed like fire through the
brain of Sergius Thord,--the while his eyes, grown suddenly dark and
bloodshot, rested wonderingly on the tall upright figure of the monarch,
standing quietly face to face with the blood-thirsty Revolutionary
Committee, entirely unmoved by their fierce and lowering looks, and on
Lotys, white, beautiful and breathless, kneeling at his feet! A crushing
sense of impotence and failure rushed over his soul like a storm
wave,--his brain grew thick with the hurrying confusion, and a great
cry, like that of a wounded animal, broke from his lips.
“My God! My God! All my life’s work lost--in a single moment!”
The King heard. Gently, and with careful courtesy, raising Lotys from
the position in which she had thrown herself to guard him from attack
for the second time, he pressed her hands tenderly in his own.
“Trust me!” he whispered; “Have no fear! Not a man among them will touch
me now!”
With a slight gesture he signed her back to the chair she had previously
occupied. She sank into it, trembling from head to foot, but her eyes
feverishly brilliant and watchful, were widely open and alert, ready to
note the least movement or look that indicated further danger. Then the
King addressed himself to Thord.
“Sergius, I am entirely in your hands! I wait your word of command!
You are armed,--all my companions here are armed also! But Lotys has
deprived me of the only weapon I possessed,--though there are plenty
more in the room to be had on loan. What say you? Shall I kill the King?
Or will you?”
Thord was silent. A strong shudder shook his frame. The King laid a firm
hand on his shoulder.
“Friend!” he said in a low voice; “Believe me, I am your friend more
than ever!--you never had, and never will have a truer one than I! All
your life’s work lost, you say? Nay, not so! It is gained! You conquered
the People before I knew you,--and now you have conquered the People’s
King!”
Slowly Thord raised his great, dark, passionate eyes, clouded black with
thoughts which could find no adequate expression. The look in them
went straight to the monarch’s heart. Baffled ambition,--the hunger of
greatness,--the desire to do something that should raise his soul
above such common ruck of human emmets as make of the earth the merest
ant-hill whereon to eat and breed and die;--all this pent-up emotion
swam luminously in the fierce bright orbs, which like mirrors, reflected
the picture of the troubled mind within. The suppressed power of the
man, who, apart from his confused notions of ‘liberty, equality, and
fraternity’ could resort to the sternest and most self-endangering
measures for destroying what he considered the abuses of the law, had
moved the King, while disguised as Pasquin Leroy, to the profoundest
admiration for his bold character;--but perhaps he was never more moved
than at this supreme moment, when, hopelessly entangled in a net of most
unexpected weaving, the redoubtable Socialist had to confess himself
vanquished by the simple friendship and service of the very monarchy he
sought to destroy.
“Sergius,” said the King again,--“Trust me! Trust me as your Sovereign,
with the same trust that you gave to me as your comrade, Pasquin! For I
am still your comrade, remember! Nothing can undo the oath that binds
me to you and to the People! I have not become one of you to betray you;
but to serve you! Our present position is certainly a strange one!--for
by the tenets you hold, we should be sworn opponents, instead of, as we
are, sworn friends! Political agitators would have set us one against
the other for their own selfish ends; as matters stand, we are united in
the People’s Cause; and I may perhaps do you more good living than
dead! Give me a chance to serve you even better than I have done as yet!
Still,--if you judge my death would be an advantage to the country,--you
have but to say the word! I have sworn,--and I am ready to carry out the
full accomplishment of my vow! Do you understand? You are, by the rules
of this Committee my Chief!--there are no kings here; and I am good
soldier enough to obey orders! It is for you to speak!--straightly,
plainly, and at once,--to the Committee,--and to me!”
“Before God, you are brave!” muttered Thord, gazing at him in reluctant
admiration. “So brave, that it is almost impossible to believe that you
can be a King!”
He smiled.
“Speak! Speak, my friend!” he urged; “Our comrades are watching our
conference like famished tigers! Give them food!”
Thus adjured, Thord advanced, and confronted the murmuring,
gesticulating crowd of men, some of whom were wrathfully expostulating
with Johan Zegota, because he declined to unlock the door of the room
and let them out, till he had received his Chief’s commands to do so.
Others were grouped round Paul Zouche, who had sat apparently stricken
immovable in his chair ever since the King had declared his identity;
and others showed themselves somewhat inclined to ‘hustle’ Sir Roger
de Launay and Professor von Glauben, who guarded the approach to the
platform like sentinels,--though they were discreet enough to show no
weapons of defence.
“Comrades!”
The rich, deep voice of their leader thrilled through the room, and
brought them all to silence and attention.
“Comrades!” said Thord slowly,--his accents vibrating with the deepest
emotion. “I desire and command you all to be satisfied that no wrong has
been done to you! I ask you all to understand, fully and surely, that no
wrong is intended to you! The man whom we have loved,--the man who has
served us faithfully as Pasquin Leroy,--is still the same man, though
the King! Rank cannot alter his proved friendship and service,--nor
kingship break his bond! He is one of us,--signed and sealed in the
blood of Lotys;--and as one of us he must, and will remain! Have I
spoken truly?” he added, turning to the King, “or is there more that I
should say?”
Before any reply could be given a hubbub of voices cried:--
“Explain! Confess! Bind him to his oath!”
Whereat the King, stepping forward a pace or two, confronted his
would-be doubters and detractors with a dauntless composure.
“Explain? Confess? Friends, I will do both! but for binding me to my
oath, there is no need,--for it is too strong a compact of faith and
friendship ever to be broken! Would you have me remind _you_ of your Vow
of Fealty pronounced so solemnly this evening? Did you not swear that
‘Whosoever among us this night shall draw the Red Cross Signal which
destines him to take from life a life proved unworthy, shall be to us
a sacred person, and an object of defence and continued protection’?
As Pasquin Leroy, this vow applied to me,--as King, I ask no better or
stronger pledge of loyalty!”
All eyes were fixed upon him as he spoke. For some moments there was a
dead silence.
This silence was presently broken by a murmur of conflicting wonder,
impatience and uncertainty,--deepening as it ran,--and then,--as the
full situation became more and more apparent, coupled with the smiling
and heroic calm of the monarch who had thus placed himself voluntarily
in the hands of his sworn enemies, all their struggling passions were
suddenly merged in one great wave of natural and human admiration for a
brave man and a burst of impetuous cheering broke impulsively from every
lip. Once started, the infection caught on like a fever,--and again and
yet again the excited Revolutionists cheered ‘for the King!’--till they
made the room echo.
The tumult was extraordinary. Lotys sat silent, with clasped hands, her
eyes dilated with feverish watchfulness and excitement,--the tempest of
emotion in her own poor tortured soul, being of such a character which
no words, no tears, no exclamations could possibly relieve. The memory
of her interview with the King in his own Palace flashed across her
like a scene limned in fire. She had no power to think--she was simply
stunned and overwhelmed,--and held only one idea in her mind, and that
was to save him at all costs, even at the sacrifice of her own
life. Thord, carried away from his very self by the force of such a
‘Revolution’ as he had never planned or anticipated, stood more in the
attitude of one who was trying to think, rather than of one who was
thinking.
“For the King!” cried Johan Zegota, suddenly giving vent to the feelings
he had long kept in check,--feelings which had made him a greater
admirer of the so-called “Pasquin Leroy” than of Thord himself;--“For
our sworn comrade, the King!”
Again the cheers broke out, to be redoubled in intensity when Louis
Valdor added his voice to the rest and exclaimed:
“For the first real King I have ever known!”
Then the excitement rose to its zenith,--and amidst the tempest of
applause, the King himself stood quiet, watching the turbulence with
the thoughtful eyes of a student who seeks to unravel some difficult
problem. Raising his hand gently, he, by this gesture created immediate
silence,--and so, in this hush remained for an instant, leaning
slightly against the Committee Table, draped as it was in its funereal
black,--the lights at either end of it, and the red lamp in its centre
flinging an unearthly radiance on his fine composed features. Long, long
afterwards, his faithful servants, Sir Roger de Launay and Heinrich
von Glauben retained a mental picture of him in that attitude,--the
dauntless smile upon his lips,--the dreamful look in his eyes,--resting,
as it seemed against a prepared funeral-bier, with the watch-lights
burning for burial,--and the face of Lotys, pale as a marble mask, yet
wearing an expression of mingled triumph and agony, shining near him
like a star amid the gloom, while the tall form of Sergius Thord in the
background loomed large,--a shadow of impending evil.
After a pause, he spoke.
“Comrades! I thank you for the expressed renewal of your trust in me. In
my heart and soul, as a man, I am one of you and with you;--even though
fate has made me a king! You demand an explanation--a confession. You
shall have both! When I enrolled myself as a member of your Committee,
I did so in all honesty and honour,--wishing to discover the object of
your Cause, and prepared to aid it if I found it worthy. When I
sealed my compact with you in the blood of Lotys, the Angel of our
Covenant,”--here the cheering again broke out,--and Lotys, turning
aside, endeavoured to restrain the tears that threatened to fall;--then,
as silence was restored, he resumed;--“When as I say, I did this,--you
will remember that on being asked of my origin and country, I answered
that I was a slave. I spoke truly! There is no greater slave in all
the length and breadth of the world than a king! Bound by the chains
of convention and custom, he is coerced more violently than any
prisoner,--his lightest word is misunderstood--his smallest action
is misconstrued,--his very looks are made the subject of comment--and
whether he walks or stands,--sits to give wearisome audience, or lies
down to forget his sorrows in sleep, he should assuredly be an object of
the deepest pity and consideration, instead of being as he often is, a
target for the arrows of slander,--a pivot round which to move the wheel
of social evil and misrule! The name of Freedom sounds sweet in your
ears, my friends!--how sweet it is--how dear it is, we all know! You are
ready to fight for it--to die for it! Then remember, all of you, that it
is a glory utterly unknown to a king! Were he to take sword in hand and
do battle for it unto the death, he could never obtain it;--he might
win it for his country, but never for himself! Nothing so glorious as
Liberty!--you cry! True!--but kings are prisoners from the moment
they ascend thrones! And you never set them free, save in the way you
suggested this evening;” and he smiled, “which way is still open to
you--and--to me! But while you take time to consider whether I shall or
shall not fulfil the duty which the drawing of lots on this Day of
Fate has assigned to me,--whether you, on your parts, will or will not
maintain the Vow of Fealty which we all have sworn together,--I will
freely declare to you the motives which led me to depart from the
conventional rule and formality of a merely ‘Royal’ existence, and to
become as a Man among men,--for once at least in the history of modern
sovereigns!”
He paused,--every eye was fixed upon him; and the stillness was so
intense that the lightest breath might be heard.
“I came to the Throne three years ago,” he resumed, “and I accepted its
responsibilities with reluctance. As Heir-Apparent, you all know, or
think you know, my career; for some of you have very freely expressed
your convictions concerning it! It was discreditable,--according to the
opinions formed and expressed by this Committee. No doubt it was!
Let any man among you occupy my place;--and be surrounded by the same
temptations,--and then comport himself wisely--if he can! Such an one
would need to be either god or hero; and I profess to be neither. But I
do not wish to palliate or deny the errors of the past. The present is
my concern,--the present time, and the present People. Great changes
are fermenting in the world; and of these changes, especially of those
directly affecting our own country, I became actively conscious, shortly
after I ascended the Throne. I heard of disaffections,--disloyalties;
I gathered that the Ministry were suspected of personal
self-aggrandisement. I learned that a disastrous policy was on foot
respecting National Education--in which priestcraft would be given every
advantage, and Jesuitry obtain undue influence over the minds of the
rising generation. I heard,--I studied,--and finding that I could get no
true answer on any point at issue from anyone of my supposed ‘reliable’
ministers, I resolved to discover things for myself. I found out
that the disaffected portion of the metropolis was chiefly under the
influence of Sergius Thord--and accordingly I placed myself in his way,
and became enrolled among you as ‘Pasquin Leroy’; his sworn associate.
I am his sworn associate still! I am proud that he should call me
friend;--and even as we have worked already for the People, so we will
work still--together!”
No restraint could have availed to check the wild plaudits that broke
out afresh at these words. Still thoughtfully and with grave kindness
contemplating all the eager and excited faces upturned to him, the King
went on.
“You know nearly all the rest. As Pasquin Leroy, I discovered all
the shameful speculations with the public money, carried on by Carl
Pérousse,--and found that so far, at any rate, your accusations against
him were founded in fact. At the first threatening suspicion of possible
condemnation the Marquis de Lutera resigned,--thus evidencing his guilty
participation in the intended plunder. A false statement printed
by David Jost, stating that I,--the King,--had revoked my decision
concerning the refusal of land to the Jesuits, caused me to announce
the truth of my own action myself, in the rival newspaper. Of my
excommunication from the Church it is unnecessary to speak; a man is
not injured in God’s sight by that merely earthly ban. Among other
things”--and he smiled,--“I found myself curiously possessed of a
taste for literature!--and proved, that whereas some few monarchs of
my acquaintance cannot be quite sure of their spelling, I could, at a
pinch, make myself fairly well understood by the general public, as
a skilled writer of polemics against myself!--as well as against the
Secretary of State. This, so far as I personally am concerned, has been
the humorous side of my little drama of disguise!--for sometimes I have
had serious thoughts of appearing as a rival to our friend, Paul Zouche,
in the lists of literary Fame!”
A murmur of wondering laughter ran round the room,--and all heads were
turned to one corner, as the King, with the kindly smile still lighting
up his eyes and lips, called:
“Zouche, are you there? Do you hear me?”
Zouche did hear. He had been sitting in a state of semi-stupor all the
evening,--his chaotic mind utterly confused and bewildered by the events
which had taken place;--but now, on being called, his usual audacious
and irrepressible spirit came to his aid, and he answered:
“O King, I hear! O King, your Majesty would make the deaf to hear,
and the dumb to speak! And if there is anything to be done to me for
abominating you, O King, who had the impudence to offer me a hundred
gold pieces a year for my poems, I, O King, will submit to the utmost
terrors of the law!”
A burst of laughter long and loud, relieved the pent-up feelings of the
company. The King laughed as heartily as the rest, and over the brooding
features of Thord himself came the shadow of a smile.
“We will settle our accounts together later on, Zouche!” said the
monarch gaily; “Meanwhile, I beg you to continue your harmless
abomination of me at your leisure!”
Another laugh went round, and then the King resuming his speech
continued:
“I have played two parts at once,--Revolutionist and King! But both
parts are after all but two sides of the same nature. When I first came
among you, I bade you all look at me well,--I asked you to note the
resemblance I bore to the ruling Sovereign. I called myself ‘the living
copy of the man I most despise.’ That was quite true! For there is no
one I despise more utterly than myself,--when I think what I might have
done with my million opportunities, and how much time I have wasted! You
all scrutinised me closely;--and I did not flinch! You all accepted my
service,--and I have served you well! I have noted every one of your
desires. Where possible, I have sought to fulfil them. Every accusation
you have brought against the Ministry has been sifted to the bottom,
and proved down to the hilt. My publicly-proclaimed decision to nominate
Carl Pérousse as Premier was merely thrown out as a test to try the
temper and quality of the nation. That test has answered its purpose
well! But there is no need for fear,--Carl Pérousse will never be
nominated to anything but disgrace! All his schemes are in my hand,--I
hold complete documentary proofs of his dishonesty and guilt; and the
very day which you have chosen as that on which to appeal to the King
against the choice of him as Prime Minister, will see him denounced by
myself in person to the Government.”
A storm of applause greeted this welcome announcement. For a moment all
the men went mad with excitement, shouting, stamping and singing,--while
again and yet again the cry: ‘For the King!’ echoed round and round in
tempestuous cheering.
Sergius Thord gazed blankly at the Scene with a strange sense of being
the dreaming witness of some marvellous drama enacted altogether away
from the earth. He could hot yet bring himself to realise that by such a
simple method as the independent working of one individual intelligence,
all his own followers had been swept round to loyalty and love for
a monarch, whom previously, though without knowing him, they had
hated--and sworn to destroy! Yet, in very truth, all the hatreds and
envys,--all the slanders and cruelties of the members of the human race
towards each other, spring from ignorance; and when disaffected persons
hate a king, they do so mostly because they do not know him, and
because they can form no true opinion of his qualities or the various
difficulties of his position. If the Anarchist, bent on the destruction
of some person in authority, only had the culture and knowledge
to recognise how much that person already suffers, by being in all
probability forced to fulfil duties for which he has no heart or mind,
he would stay his murderous hand, and pity rather than condemn. For the
removal of one ruler only means the installation of another,--and the
wild and often gifted souls of reformers, stumbling through darkness
after some great Ideal which resolves itself into a shadow and delusion
the nearer one approaches to it, need to be tenderly dealt with from the
standpoint of plainest simplicity and truth,--so that they may feel
the sympathetic touch of human love and care emanating from those very
quarters which they seek to assail. This had been the self-imposed
mission of the King who had played the part of ‘Pasquin Leroy’;--and
thus, fearing nothing, doubting nothing, and relying simply on his own
strength, discretion, and determination, he had gained a moral victory
over the passions of his secret foes such as he had never himself
anticipated. When silence was again restored, he proceeded:
“The various suggestions made in my presence during the time I have
been a member of this Committee, will all be carried out. The present
Government will naturally oppose every measure,--but I,--backed by
such supporters as I have now won,--will elect a new Government--a new
Ministry. When I began this bloodless campaign of my own, the present
Ministry were on the edge of war. Determined to provoke hostilities
with a peaceful Power, they were ready even with arms and ammunition,
manufactured by a ‘Company,’ of which Pérousse was the director and
chief shareholder! Contracts for army supplies were being secretly
tendered; and one was already secretly accepted and arranged for,--in
which Carl Pérousse and the Marquis de Lutera were to derive enormous
interest;--the head of the concern being David Jost. This plan was
concocted with devilish ingenuity,--for, if the war had actually broken
out, the supplies of our army would have been of the worst possible
kind, in order to give the best possible profit to the contractors; and
Jost, with his newspaper influence, would have satisfied the public mind
by printing constant reiterations of the completeness and excellence of
the supplies, and the entire contentment and jubilation of the men! But
I awoke to my responsibilities in time to checkmate this move. I
forbade the provocation intended;--I stopped the war. In this matter
at least--much loss of life, much heavy expenditure, and much
ill-will among other nations has been happily spared to us. For the
rest,--everything you have been working for shall be granted,--if you
yourselves will help me to realise your own plans! I want you in your
thousands!--ay, in your tens of thousands! I want you all on my side!
With you,--the representatives of the otherwise unvoiced People,--I will
enforce all the measures which you have discussed before me, showing
good and adequate reason why they should be carried. The taxes you
complain of shall be instantly removed;--and for the more speedy
replenishment of the National Exchequer, I gladly resign one half my
revenues from all sources whatsoever for the space of five years; or
longer, if considered desirable. But I want your aid! Will you all stand
by me?”
A mighty shout answered him.
“To the death!”
He turned to Thord.
“Sergius,” he said, “my task is finished--my confession made! The next
Order of this meeting must come from you!”
Thord looked at him amazedly.
“From me? Are you not the King?”
“Only so long as the People desire it!” replied the monarch gently; “And
are you not the representative of the People?”
Thord’s chest heaved. Burning tears stood in his eyes. The strangeness
of the situation--the deliberate coolness and resolve with which this
sovereign ruler of a powerful kingdom laid his life trustingly in his
hands, was too much for his nerve.
“Lotys!” he said huskily; “Lotys!”
She rose at once and came to him, moving ghostlike in her white
draperies, her eyes shining--her lips tremulous.
“Lotys,” he said, “The King is in our hands! You saved his life
once--will you save it again?”
She raised her bent head, and the old courageous light flashed in her
face, transfiguring its every feature.
“It is not for me to save!” she replied in clear firm tones; “It is for
you--and for all of us,--to defend!”
A ringing cheer answered her. Sergius Thord slowly advanced, and as he
did so, the King, seeing his movement frankly held out his hand. For
a moment the Socialist Chief hesitated--then suddenly yielding to his
overpowering impulse, caught that hand and raised his dark eyes full to
the monarch’s face.
“You have conquered me!” he said, “But only by your qualities as
a man--not by your authority as a king! You have won my honour--my
respect--my gratitude--my friendship--and with these, so long as you
are faithful to our Cause, take my allegiance! More I cannot say--more I
will not promise!”
“I need no more!” responded the King cheerily, enclosing his hand in a
warm clasp. “We are friends and fellow-workers, Sergius!--we can never
be rivals!”
As he spoke, his glance fell on Lotys. She shrank from the swift passion
of his gaze,--and her eyelids drooped half-swooningly over the bright
star-windows of her own too ardent soul. Abruptly turning from both her
and Thord, the King again addressed the company:
“One word more, my friends! It is arranged that you, with all your
thousands of the People are to convene together in one great multitude,
and march to the Palace to demand justice from the King. There is now
no need to do this,--for the King himself is one of you!--the King
only lives and reigns that justice in all respects may be done! I will
therefore ask you to change your plan;--and instead of marching to
the Palace, march with me to the House of Government. You would have
demanded justice from the King; the King himself will go with you to
demand justice for the People!”
A wild shout answered him; and he knew as he looked on the faces of his
hearers that he had them all in his power as the servants of his will.
“And now, gentlemen,” he proceeded; “I should perhaps make some excuses
for my two friends, known to you as Max Graub and Axel Regor. I told you
I would be responsible for their conduct, and, so far as they have been
permitted to go, they have behaved well! I must, however, in justice
to them, assure you that whereas I became a member of your Committee
gladly, they followed my example reluctantly, and only out of fidelity
and obedience to me. They have lived in the shadow of the Throne,--and
have learned to pity,--and I think,--to love its occupant! Because they
know,--as you have never known,--the heavy burden which a king puts on
with his crown! They have, however, in their way, served you under my
orders, and under my orders will continue to serve you still. Max
Graub, or, to give him his right name, Heinrich von Glauben, has a high
reputation in this country for his learning, apart from his position as
Household Physician to our Court;--Axel Regor is my very good friend Sir
Roger de Launay, who is amiable enough to support the monotony of his
duty as one of my equerries in waiting. Now you know us as we are! But
after all, nothing is changed, save our names and the titles we bear; we
are the same men, the same friends, the same comrades!--and so I trust
we shall remain!”
The cheering broke out again, and Sir Roger de Launay, who was quite as
overwhelmed with astonishment at the courage and coolness of his Royal
master as any Revolutionist present, joined in it with a will, as did
Von Glauben.
“One favour I have to ask of you,” proceeded the King, “and it is this:
If you exempt me to-night from killing the King;” and he smiled,--“you
must also exempt all the members of the Revolutionary Committee from
any similar task allotted to them by having drawn the fatal Signal! Our
friend, Zouche, for instance, has drawn the name of Carl Pérousse. Now I
want Zouche for better work than that of killing a rascal!”
Loud cheers answered him, and Zouche rising from his place advanced a
little.
“Majesty!” he cried, “You are right! I hand your Majesty’s intended
Premier over to you with the greatest, pleasure in the world! Apart from
the fact of your being the King, I am compelled to admit that you have
common sense!”
Laughter and cheers resounded through the room again, and the King
quietly turning round, extinguished the red lamp on the table. The
thirteenth light was quenched; the Day of Fate was ended. As the ominous
crimson flare sank out, a sudden silence prevailed, and the King fixed
his eyes on Lotys.
“From you, Madame, must come my final exoneration! If you still condemn
me as a King, I shall be indeed unfortunate! If you still think well
of me as a man, I shall be proud! I have to thank you, not only for my
life, but for having helped me to make that life valuable! As Pasquin
Leroy, I have sought to serve you,--as King, I seek to serve you still!”
The silence continued. Every man present watched the visible emotion
which swept every vestige of colour from the face of Lotys, and made her
eyes so feverishly bright. Every man gazed at her as she rose from her
chair and came forward a little to the front of the platform. It was
with a strong effort that she raised her eyes to those of the King, and
in that one glance between them, the lightning flash of a resistless
love tore the veil of secrecy from their souls. But she spoke out
bravely.
“I thank your Majesty!” she said; “I thank you for all you have done for
us as our comrade and associate,--for all you will yet do for us as our
comrade and associate still! It is better to be a brave man than a weak
King--but it is best to be a strong man and a strong king both
together! You have disproved the thoughts I had of you as King! You have
ratified--” here she paused, while the colour suddenly sprang to her
cheeks, and her breath came pantingly and quick,--“and strengthened the
thoughts I had of you as our Pasquin!” Her eyes softened with tears,
though she smiled. “We have believed in you; we believe in you still!
All is as it was,--save in the one thing new,--that where we were banded
together against the King, we are now united for, and with the King!”
These words were all that were needed to reawaken and confirm the
enthusiasm of the Revolutionists, whose ‘revolutionary’ measures were
now accepted and sworn to by the Crowned Head of the Realm. Thereupon,
they gave themselves up to the wildest cheering.
“Comrades!” cried Paul Zouche, in the midst of the uproar; “There is one
point you seem to have missed! The King,--God bless him!--doesn’t see
it,--Thord, glowering like an owl in his ivy-bush of hair, doesn’t see
it! It is only left to me to perceive the chief result of this evening’s
disclosures!”
All the men laughed.
“What is it, Zouche?” demanded Louis Valdor.
“Ay! What is it?” echoed Zegota.
“Speak, Zouche!” said the King; “Whatever strange conclusion your poetic
brain discovers, doubt not but that we shall accept it,--from!”
“Accept it? I should think so!” cried Zouche; “You are bound to accept
it whether you like it or not; there is no other way out of it!”
“Well, what is it?” repeated Zegota impatiently; “Declare it!”
“It is this;” said Zouche, “Simply this,--that, with the King as our
comrade and associate, the Revolutionary Committee is no use! It is
finished! There can be no longer a Revolutionary Committee!”
“That is true!” said the King; “It may henceforth be known as a new
Parliament!”
Cheer after cheer echoed through the crowded room, and while the noise
was at its height a knocking was heard outside and Sholto, the hunchback
father of Pequita, demanded admittance. Zegota unlocked the door, and in
a few minutes the situation was explained to the astonished landlord of
the Revolutionary Committee quarters. Overwhelmed at the news, and full
of gratitude for the kindness shown to his child, which he now knew had
emanated from the King in person, he would have knelt to kiss the Royal
hand, had not the monarch prevented him.
“No, my good Sholto!” he said gently; “Enough of such humility wearies
me in the monotonous routine of Court life; and were it not for custom
and prejudice, I would suffer no self-respecting man to abase himself
before me, simply because my profession is that of King! Tell Pequita
that I would not look at her, or applaud her dancing the other night,
because I wished her to hate the King and to love Pasquin!--but now you
must ask her for me, to love them both!”
Sholto bowed low, profoundly overcome. Was this the King against whom
they had all been in league?--this simple, unaffected man, who seemed
so much at home and at one with them all? Amazed and bewildered, he, by
general invitation, mixed with the rest of the men, for each of whom
the King had a kind and appreciative word, or a fresh pledge of his good
faith and intention towards them and the reforms they sought to effect.
Von Glauben was surrounded by a group of those among whom he had made
himself popular; and a hundred eager questions were asked of both him
and De Launay, who were ready enough to eulogise the daring of their
Royal master, and the determination with which he had resolved on making
his secret foes his open friends.
“After all,” said Zegota deprecatingly, “it is not so much the King whom
we were against, as the Government.”
“Ah! You forget, no doubt,” said Von Glauben, “that the King--any
King--is usually a Dummy in the hands of Government, unless, as in
the present instance, he chooses to become a living Personality for
himself!”
“The King has created an autocracy!” said Louis Valdor; “and it will
last for his lifetime. But after----!”
“After him,--if his eldest son, Prince Humphry, comes to the
Throne,--the autocracy will be continued;” said Von Glauben decisively;
“For he is a young man who is singularly fond of having his own way!”
The conversation now became general; and the big, bare, common room
assumed in a few minutes almost the aspect of a Royal levée. This was
curious enough,--and furnished food for meditation to Professor von
Glauben, who was considerably excited by the dramatic dénouement of the
Day of Fate,--a climax for which neither he nor Sir Roger had been
in the least prepared. He said something of it to Sir Roger who was
watching Lotys.
“You look at the woman,” he said; “I look at the man! Do you think this
drama is finished?”
“Not yet!” answered De Launay curtly; “Nor is the danger over!”
The hum of talk continued; and the good feeling of friendship and unity
of the assemblage was intensified with every cordial handshake. When the
time came to break up, someone suggested that a carriage should be sent
for to convey the King and his two companions to the Palace. Whereat the
monarch laughed aloud and right joyously.
“By my faith!” he exclaimed; “You, my friends, would actually pamper me
already, by offering me a luxury which you yourselves do not propose
to enjoy! Ah, my friends, here comes in the mischief of the monarchical
system! What of your ‘Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity’? Do I ask to
have anything different to yourselves? Can I not walk, even as you do?
Have I not walked to, and from these meetings often? And even so, I
purpose to walk now! If you are true Revolutionists--as I am--do not
reverse your own theories! You complain,--and justly,--that a king is
over-flattered; do not then flatter him yourselves by insisting on such
convenience for him as he does not even demand at your hands!”
“You take us too literally, Sir,” said Louis Valdor; “Even
Revolutionists owe respect to their chief!”
“Sergius Thord is your Chief, my friend!” replied the monarch; “And,
from a Revolutionary point of view, mine! But you have never thought of
sending _him_ anywhere in a carriage! Ah!--what children we are! What
slaves of convention! ‘Liberty, Equality and Fraternity’ have been
the ideals of ages;--yet despite them, we are always ready to follow a
Leader,--and form ourselves into one body under a Head!”
“Provided the Head has brains in it!” said Zouche. “But otherwise--”
“You cut it off!” laughed the monarch--“and quite right too!”
They now began to separate. The hunchback Sholto explained that it was
long after midnight, and that he had already put out all the lights in
the basement.
Whereupon the King, turning to Sergius Thord said: “Farewell for the
moment, Sergius! Come to me at the Palace with the whole plan of the
meeting you are now organising; I shall hold myself ready to fall in
with your plans! Gather your thousands, and--leave the rest to me!”
Thord clasped his extended hand,--and was moved by a curious instinct
to bend down low over it after the fashion of a courtier, but restrained
himself almost by force. The men began to move; one after the other bade
good-night to the King--then to Thord, and last to Lotys, who, drawing
on her cloak, prepared to leave also.
“I will see you safely down the stairs,” said the King smilingly, to
her. “It is not the first time I have done so! How now, Zouche?”
Paul Zouche stood before him, his eyes full of a strange mingled pathos
and scorn.
“I have to thank your Majesty,” he said slowly, “for something I do not
in the least value,--Fame! It has come too late! Had it been my portion
three years ago, the woman I loved would have been proud of me, and I
should have been happy! She is dead now--and nothing matters!”
The King was silent. There was something both solemn and pitiful about
this wreck of manhood which was still kept alive by the fire of genius.
“With one word you might have saved me--and her!” he went on. “When you
came to the Throne,--and all the wretched versifiers in the kingdom were
scribbling twaddle in the way of ‘Coronation odes’ and medleys, I wrote
‘The Song of Freedom’ for your glory! All the people of the land know
that song now!--but you might have known it then! For now it is too
late!--too late to call her back;--too late to give me peace!”
He paused;--then--without another word--turned, and went out.
“Poor Zouche!” said the King gently; “I accept his reproach and
understand it! He is right! The recognition of his genius is one of the
thousand chances I have missed! But, as God lives, I will miss no more!”
A great quietude fell on the house as the Revolutionary Committee
dispersed. The last to leave was the King, his two friends, and Lotys.
Lotys declined all escort somewhat imperatively, refusing to allow
Sergius Thord to see her to her own home.
“I must be alone!” she said; “Do you not understand! I want to
think--I want to realise our change of position. I cannot talk to you,
Sergius,--no--not till to-morrow--you must let me be!”
He drew back, chilled and hurt by her tone, but forbore to press his
company on her. With another farewell to the King, he stood at the top
of the long dark winding stair watching the group descend,--first Von
Glauben, next De Launay,--thirdly, the King,--and lastly, Lotys.
“Good-night!” he called, as her white robes vanished in the gloom.
“Good-night!” she answered tremulously, as she disappeared.
And he, returning to the empty room, stared vacantly at the table draped
with black, and the funeral urn set upon it,--stared at the empty
chairs and bare walls, and listened as it were, to the midnight
silence,--realising that he as Chief of the Revolutionary Committee,
was no longer a chief but a servant!--and that the power he sought--that
power which he had endeavoured to attain in order that he might make
of Lotys, as he had said, ‘a queen among women!’ was only to be won
through,--the King! The King knew all his secret plans and his
aims,--he held the clue to the whole network of his Revolutionary
organisation,--and the only chance he now had of ever arriving at
the highest goal of his ambition was in the King’s hands! Thus was
he,--Socialist and Revolutionist,--made subject to the Throne; the very
rules he had drawn up for himself and his Committee making it impossible
that he could be otherwise than loyal, to a monarch who was at the same
time his comrade!
Meanwhile, in the thick darkness of the hall below, while Von Glauben
and De Launay were groping their way to the door which was cautiously
held open by Sholto, Lotys, moving with hesitating steps down the
stairs, felt rather than saw a head turned back upon her,--a flash of
eyes in the darkness, and heard her name breathed softly:
“Lotys!”
She grew dizzy and uncertain of her footing; she could not answer.
Suddenly a strong arm caught her,--she was drawn into a close, fierce,
jealous clasp; warm lips caressed her hair, her brow, her eyes; and a
voice whispered in her ear:
“You love me, Lotys! You love me! Hush!--do not deny it--you cannot deny
it!--you know it, as I know it!--you have told me you love me! You love
me, my Love! You love me!”
Another moment--and the King passed quietly out of the door with a bland
‘Good-night’ to Sholto, and joining his two companions, raised his hat
to Lotys with a courteous salutation.
“Good-night, Madame!”
She stood in the doorway, shuddering violently from head to
foot,--watching his tall figure disappear in the shadows of the street.
Then stretching out her hands blindly, she gave a faint cry, and
murmuring something inarticulate to the alarmed Sholto, fell senseless
at his feet.