BELVANE INDULGES HER HOBBY
In a glade in the forest the Countess Belvane was sitting: her throne,
a fallen log, her courtiers, that imaginary audience which was always
with her. For once in her life she was nervous; she had an anxious
morning in front of her.
I can tell you the reason at once. Her Royal Highness was going to
review her Royal Highness's Army of Amazons (see _Scheme II, Safety of
Realm_). In half an hour she would be here.
And why not? you say. Could anything be more gratifying?
I will tell you why not. There was no Army of Amazons. In order that
her Royal Highness should not know the sad truth, Belvane drew their
pay for them. 'Twas better thus.
In any trouble Belvane comforted herself by reading up her diary. She
undid the enormous volume, and, idly turning the pages, read some of
the more delightful extracts to herself.
"_Monday, June 1st_," she read. "Became bad."
She gave a sigh of resignation to the necessity of being bad. Roger
Scurvilegs is of the opinion that she might have sighed a good many
years before. According to him she was born bad.
"_Tuesday, June 2nd_," she read on. "Realised in the privacy of my
heart that I was destined to rule the country. _Wednesday, June 3rd._
Decided to oust the Princess. _Thursday, June 4th._ Began ousting."
What a confession for any woman--even for one who had become bad last
Monday! No wonder Belvane's diary was not for everybody. Let us look
over her shoulder and read some more of the wicked woman's
confessions.
"_Friday, June 5th._ Made myself a----" Oh, that's quite private.
However we may read this: "_Thought for the week._ Beware lest you
should tumble down In reaching for another's crown." An admirable
sentiment which Roger Scurvilegs would have approved, although he
could not have rhymed it so neatly.
The Countess turned on a few more pages and prepared to write up
yesterday's events.
"_Tuesday, June 23rd_," she said to herself. "Now what happened?
Acclaimed with enthusiasm outside the Palace--how do you spell
'enthusiasm'?" She bit the end of her pencil and pondered. She
turned back the pages till she came to the place.
"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "It had three 's's' last time, so it's
'z's' turn."
She wrote "enthuzziazm" lightly in pencil; later on it would be picked
out in gold.
She closed the diary hastily. Somebody was coming.
It was Wiggs.
"Oh, if you please, your Ladyship, her Royal Highness sent me to tell
you that she would be here at eleven o'clock to review her new army."
It was the last thing of which Belvane wanted reminding.
"Ah, Wiggs, sweet child," she said, "you find me overwhelmed." She
gave a tragic sigh. "Leader of the Corps de Ballet"--she indicated
with her toe how this was done, "Commander-in-Chief of the Army of
Amazons"--here she saluted, and it was certainly the least she could
do for the money, "Warden of the Antimacassars and Grand Mistress of
the Robes, I have a busy life. Just come and dust this log for her
Royal Highness. All this work wears me out, Wiggs, but it is my duty
and I do it."
"Woggs says you make a very good thing out of it," said Wiggs
innocently, as she began to dust. "It must be nice to make very good
things out of things."
The Countess looked coldly at her. It is one thing to confide to your
diary that you are bad, it's quite another to have Woggsseses shouting
it out all over the country.
"I don't know what Woggs is," said Belvane sternly, "but send it to me
at once."
As soon as Wiggs was gone, Belvane gave herself up to her passions.
She strode up and down the velvety sward, saying to herself, "Bother!
Bother! Bother! Bother!" Her outbreak of violence over, she sat
gloomily down on the log and abandoned herself to despair. Her hair
fell in two plaits down her back to her waist; on second thoughts she
arranged them in front--if one is going to despair one may as well do
it to the best advantage.
Suddenly a thought struck her.
"I am alone," she said. "Dare I soliloquise? I will. It is a thing
I have not done for weeks. 'Oh, what a----" She got up quickly.
"_Nobody_ could soliloquise on a log like that," she said crossly.
She decided she could do it just as effectively when standing. With
one pale hand raised to the skies she began again.
"Oh, what a--"
"Did you call me, Mum?" said Woggs, appearing suddenly.
"_Bother!_" said Belvane. She gave a shrug of resignation. "Another
time," she told herself. She turned to Woggs.
Woggs must have been quite close at hand to have been found by Wiggs
so quickly, and I suspect her of playing in the forest when she ought
to have been doing her lessons, or mending stockings, or whatever made
up her day's work. Woggs I find nearly as difficult to explain as
Wiggs; it is a terrible thing for an author to have a lot of people
running about his book, without any invitation from him at all.
However, since Woggs is there, we must make the best of her. I fancy
that she was a year or two younger than Wiggs and of rather inferior
education. Witness her low innuendo about the Lady Belvane, and the
fact that she called a Countess "Mum."
"Come here," said Belvane. "Are you what they call Woggs?"
"Please, Mum," said Woggs nervously.
The Countess winced at the "Mum," but went on bravely. "What have you
been saying about me?"
"N--Nothing, Mum."
Belvane winced again, and said, "Do you know what I do to little girls
who say things about me? I cut their heads off; I----" She tried to
think of something very alarming! "I--I stop their jam for tea. I--I
am _most_ annoyed with them."
Woggs suddenly saw what a wicked thing she had done.
"Oh, please, Mum," she said brokenly and fell on her knees.
"_Don't_ call me 'Mum,'" burst out Belvane. "It's so _ugly_. Why do
you suppose I ever wanted to be a countess at all, Woggs, if it wasn't
so as not to be called 'Mum' any more?"
"I don't know, Mum," said Woggs.
Belvane gave it up. The whole morning was going wrong anyhow.
"Come here, child," she sighed, "and listen. You have been a very
naughty girl, but I'm going to let you off this time, and in return
I've something you are going to do for me."
"Yes, Mum," said Woggs.
Belvane barely shuddered now. A sudden brilliant plan had come to
her.
"Her Royal Highness is about to review her Army of Amazons. It is a
sudden idea of her Royal Highness's, and it comes at an unfortunate
moment, for it so happens that the Army is--er----" _What_ was the
Army doing? Ah, yes--"manoeuvring in a distant part of the country.
But we must not disappoint her Royal Highness. What then shall we do,
Woggs?"
"I don't know, Mum," said Woggs stolidly.
Not having expected any real assistance from her, the Countess went
on, "I will tell you. You see yonder tree? Armed to the teeth _you_
will march round and round it, giving the impression to one on this
side of a large army passing. For this you will be rewarded. Here
is----" She felt in the bag she carried. "No, on second thoughts I
will owe it to you. Now you quite understand?"
"Yes, Mum," said Woggs.
"Very well, then. Run along to the Palace and get a sword and a
helmet and a bow and an arrow and an--an arrow and anything you like,
and then come back here and wait behind those bushes. When I clap my
hands the army will begin to march."
Woggs curtsied and ran off.
It is probable that at this point the Countess would have resumed her
soliloquy, but we shall never know, for the next moment the Princess
and her Court were seen approaching from the other end of the glade.
Belvane advanced to meet them.
"Good morning, your Royal Highness," she said, "a beautiful day, is it
not?"
"Beautiful, Countess."
With the Court at her back, Hyacinth for the moment was less nervous
than usual, but almost at the first words of the Countess she felt her
self-confidence oozing from her. Did I say I was like this with my
publishers? And Roger's dragged-in Uncle----one can't explain it.
The Court stood about in picturesque attitudes while Belvane went on:
"Your Royal Highness's brave Women Defenders, the Home Defence Army of
Amazons" (here she saluted; one soon gets into the knack of it, and it
gives an air of efficiency) "have looked forward to this day for
weeks. How their hearts fill with pride at the thought of being
reviewed by your Royal Highness!"
She had paid, or rather received, the money for the Army so often that
she had quite got to believe in its existence. She even kept a roll of
the different companies (it meant more delightful red ink for one
thing), and wrote herself little notes recommending Corporal Gretal
Hottshott for promotion to sergeant.
"I know very little about armies, I'm afraid," said Hyacinth. "I've
always left that to my father. But I think it's a sweet idea of yours
to enrol the women to defend me. It's a little expensive, is it not?"
"Your Royal Highness, armies are _always_ expensive."
The Princess took her seat, and beckoned Wiggs with a smile to her
side. The Court, in attitudes even more picturesque than before,
grouped itself behind her.
"Is your Royal Highness ready?"
"Quite ready, Countess."
The Countess clapped her hands.
There was a moment's hesitation, and then, armed to the teeth, Amazon
after Amazon marched by. . . .
An impressive scene. . . .
However, Wiggs must needs try to spoil it.
"Why, it's Woggs!" she cried.
"Silly child!" said Belvane in an undertone, giving her a push.
The Princess looked round inquiringly.
"The absurd creature," explained the Countess, "thought she recognized
a friend in your Royal Highness's gallant Army."
"How clever of her! They all look exactly alike to _me_."
Belvane was equal to the occasion.
"The uniform and discipline of an army have that effect rather," she
said. "It has often been noticed."
"I suppose so," said the Princess vaguely. "Oughtn't they to march in
fours? I seem to remember, when I came to reviews with Father----"
"Ah, your Royal Highness, that was an army of men. With women--well,
we found that if they marched side by side, they _would_ talk all the
time."
The Court, which had been resting on the right leg with the left knee
bent, now rested on the left leg with the right knee bent. Woggs also
was getting tired. The last company of the Army of Amazons was not
marching with the abandon of the first company.
[Illustration: _Armed to the teeth, Amazon after Amazon marched by_]
"I think I should like them to halt now so that I can address them,"
said Hyacinth.
Belvane was taken aback for the moment.
"I am afraid, your--your Royal Highness," she stammered, her brain
working busily all the time, "that that would be contrary to--to--to
the spirit of--er--the King's Regulations. An army--an army in
marching order--must--er--_march_." She made a long forward movement
with her hand. "Must march," she repeated, with an innocent smile.
"I see," said Hyacinth, blushing guiltily again.
Belvane gave a loud cough. The last veteran but two of the Army
looked inquiringly at her and passed. The last veteran but one came
in and was greeted with a still louder cough. Rather tentatively the
last veteran of all entered and met such an unmistakable frown that it
was obvious that the march-past was over. . . . Woggs took off her
helmet and rested in the bushes.
"That is all, your Royal Highness," said Belvane. "158 marches past,
217 reported sick, making 622; 9 are on guard at the Palace--632 and 9
make 815. Add 28 under age and we bring it up to the round thousand."
Wiggs opened her mouth to say something, but decided that her mistress
would probably wish to say it instead. Hyacinth, however, merely
looked unhappy.
Belvane came a little nearer.
"I--er--forgot if I mentioned to your Royal Highness that we are
paying out today. One silver piece a day and several days in the
week, multiplied by--how many did I say?--comes to ten thousand pieces
of gold." She produced a document, beautifully ruled. "If your Royal
Highness would kindly initial here----"
Mechanically the Princess signed.
"Thank you, your Royal Highness. And now perhaps I had better go and
see about it at once."
She curtsied deeply, and then, remembering her position, saluted and
marched off.
Now Roger Scurvilegs would see her go without a pang; he would then
turn over to his next chapter, beginning "Meanwhile the King----," and
leave you under the impression that the Countess Belvane was a common
thief. I am no such chronicler as that. At all costs I will be fair
to my characters.
Belvane, then, had a weakness. She had several of which I have
already told you, but this is another one. She had a passion for the
distribution of largesse.
I know an old gentleman who plays bowls every evening. He trundles
his skip (or whatever he calls it) to one end of the green, toddles
after it, and trundles it back again. Think of him for a moment, and
then think of Belvane on her cream-white palfrey tossing a bag of gold
to right of her and flinging a bag of gold to left of her, as she
rides through the cheering crowds; upon my word I think hers is the
more admirable exercise.
And, I assure you, no less exacting. When once one has got into this
habit of "flinging" or "tossing" money, to give it in any ordinary
way, to slide it gently into the palm, is unbearable. Which of us who
has, in an heroic moment, flung half a crown to a cabman can ever be
content afterwards to hold out a handful of three-penny bits and
coppers to him? One must always be flinging. . . .
So it was with Belvane. The largesse habit had got hold of her. It
is an expensive habit, but her way of doing it was less expensive than
most. The people were taxed to pay for the Amazon Army; the pay of
the Amazon Army was flung back at them; could anything be fairer?
True, it brought her admiration and applause. But what woman does not
like admiration? Is that an offence? If it is, it is something very
different from the common theft of which Roger Scurvilegs would accuse
her. Let us be fair.