“Alice! Alice! where are you? Come quickly.”
And Alice appeared at the head of the narrow stairway and came
accordingly.
“Alice! I am quite returned to my old way of feeling. I love him
adoringly--all the better for that horrid feeling of coldness I had
last night.”
“Is it the High Priest you have seen?” Alice asked, with as much
superstitious horror in her voice as is consistent with materialism.
“Of course. Did I not say I should see him? And oh! what I went
through first! Rags and dirt and vulgarity and bad language--actual
bad language though they spoke it low down. And soapy potatoes--at our
table anyway. And--and--oh! Alice, what _do_ you think?”
“I think nothing but ill-luck to us, Princess!”
“Don’t be dull! Think! Whom do you think I saw there with
_him_--with my star of Eden?”
“Indeed, no one short of the devil under the circumstances--and I speak
with piety.”
“Never heard of the devil. He isn’t fashionable with educated
classes--not on Lucifram. Now guess again!”
“His Chaplain?”
“No. _The man we saw this morning under the archway!_”
It is no exaggeration to say that Alice both started and turned pale.
She put her hand up warningly.
“Remember what you said--about being knocked off the chess-board,
Princess!”
“Oh! I’ve forgotten about that. He was quite fascinating. Not any more
ill-mannered than he could possibly help being!”
“Did you speak to the High Priest?”
“Yes, I went into his own private rooms--just imagine it! The sensation
was delicious. I don’t suppose many women have often gone there, do
you?”
“None except in a religious cause, I should think.”
“Well, my cause wasn’t religious. He sent one of the attendants to
take me to him. And he put his hand on my shoulder ever so nicely. No,
don’t open your eyes. It was quite in accordance even with Board-School
etiquette; there were four there besides himself and me.”
“Did you curtsey to him?”
“No, I did better still. I looked as if I simply worshipped the ground
he trod on. And I felt it too--really felt it.”
“With other people present?”
“Of course. It would have been too dangerous otherwise. And then he
asked me where all the children were.”
“What children?”
“Oh! I said I was one of a large family, you know: drunken father--and
six children--me the eldest--the next one about eight.”
“They never believed that?”
“Of course they did. The only time men don’t believe you is when you’re
speaking the truth--at least, taking them out of business hours.
They’re worse then; they won’t even believe you then when you’re
telling lies.”
“And that was all of your visit. You came away then?”
“No. He--he wants to reform me--make me give up begging. I think he
thinks I would make a good nun. He says it is a disgrace anybody should
be dressed in rags.”
“He is an honourable gentleman. I always knew it. I wonder your royal
highness does not shame to behave as you insist on doing?”
“There was never any shame attached to royalty. It’s a base feeling
that belongs purely to the lower orders. If you are _really_ royal
you are born without shame, live without it--die without it. Don’t
speak to me about anything so plebeian again, Alice.”
“Then you have promised to reform?” said Alice, much sat on, and but
imperfectly understanding.
But Marigold’s face beamed out once more all smiles and dimples.
“Oh no; he is too _clever_ to believe in promises. He has asked
for our address.”
“Sakes alive! Sakes alive! Princess, we’re done for. All the priests
knowing where we live. And that white-haired man with the little body
and big eyes. Oh! I daren’t stay here any longer, I dare not really.”
“Alice, you are a much braver woman than you take yourself to be. You
will certainly stay.”
“Not if he is coming.”
“Which _he_?”
“The man we saw this morning.”
“No one will ever think of coming except a very respectably dressed
priest of the lower orders, or perhaps a sister from the convents. And
they have most of them very sweet faces. I think I should like the
sisters.”
“They wouldn’t like you, if they knew what you are about.”
“But I should never tell them. All the same, I hope they don’t come.
Women won’t laugh and be easy with you--not religious women. When the
High Priest asked me my address, I was so afraid I told him wrong, and
he would have believed me, only his friend laughed and said there was
no such address in the town. Then he was very displeased with me. He
spoke to me as if I were nothing but the poorest beggar, and he--oh!
far above me; and then was when I loved him. I suppose it _must_
be love, for I felt I should never leave him--till--till he knew I
was a princess, even in my rags. He had no business to speak to me
so, even if I had told him lies. I am too beautiful. I can speak his
language better than he can speak himself--I wasn’t made to be spoken
to harshly, and I won’t be.”
“Did you tell him all that--and with the others present?”
“No. I looked as if I were very sorry for what I had done. I never
bullied any one but you, Alice, even in my own Palace.” And Alice
looked as self-consciously proud as if she had been paid the greatest
compliment.
“Now, bring me my lute, and I’ll pass away the time singing a song.
But don’t be very long over getting me some tea; remember I’ve had
nothing since breakfast--nothing but disagreeableness, however hard
I’ve tried to think it otherwise.”