A Modern Mercenary

by K. Prichard and Hesketh Vernon Hesketh Prichard

  CHAPTER XXX.

  'UPON THE GREAT WORLD'S ALTAR-STAIRS.'

  It is a commonplace that selfish natures, balked of gratification, seekrelief in making the unhappiness of others, preferably of those who arehelpless to resist or to resent. Therefore Count Sagan employed theinterval before going to the Palace to procure the signature of the Duketo Rallywood's death-warrant in paying a flying visit to his wife, whomhe had not seen since the morning of the boar-hunt at the Castle.

  He found several other people calling upon Madame de Sagan, who was notfond of solitude. Numbers gave the pretty Countess courage. She took nonotice of her husband's entrance, although the soft colour left her faceinstantly as a candle-flame is blown out. But Count Simon had only fiveminutes to spare and something to say in them. Isolde's feeble rebellionescaped him; he strode to her side, and with a single glance dispersedthe little coterie of guests about her, the only one who kept hisposition being Baron von Elmur.

  Sagan stood before his wife, an evil smile on his coarse bearded mouth.He nodded at Elmur.

  'I have news of interest for both of you.'

  'Ah! it is over then?' Elmur asked at once. He discerned the Count'sintention and would have averted its fulfilment if possible. The thoughtthat he was about to make a woman unhappy never deterred Elmur from anycourse of action whatsoever, but he preferred not to see them so. Hedelighted in pretty women, and Isolde of Sagan was exceptionally pretty;therefore, for the sake of the next half hour of her society he wouldhave spared her the tidings her husband's malice designed to thrust uponher in public. Afterwards the deluge might come, but what matter? Havewe not all our deluges in private that submerge our world in tears?'Madame has kindly promised to assist in the _tableaux vivants_ nextweek,' he added hastily.

  The Count grinned his contempt.

  'You should reproduce the death of a traitor. Come to see Rallywood shotin the morning by way of an object lesson.'

  Madame de Sagan's hand flew to her throat with a quick gasp of horror;for a second the room seemed to swing round, then slowly settle again.

  'Why, what has he done?' she asked; her lips were dry but she spokedeliberately.

  'Nothing new, only he happened to be found out this time. Well, aurevoir!'

  Elmur stood up and followed him.

  'The signature of his Highness?' he asked in a low voice.

  'I go to get it and other things also. I have arranged the interviewwith Selpdorf.'

  Elmur bowed and returned to his place by the side of the Countess.Isolde's blue eyes, dewy as a child's with unshed tears, appealed tohim.

  'It is not true?'

  Elmur reflected that he had never before seen her look so pretty. Mostwomen with tears in their eyes repelled his fastidiousness, but this onewas delicious. He bent towards her and said as much with a fervour thatsurprised her. She smiled tremulously. She had always considered thewary German worth capturing, but he was an elusive bird. Admiration hadnever before got the better of his self-possession; now for the firsttime he appeared to be carried away by it. The keenness of conquestthrilled her. Jack?--ah, yes, poor Jack! But he was practically lost toher for ever. She sighed a little; she had been fond of Jack, but thelove that can stand against the inevitable was not hers. She remindedherself that Jack had preferred Valerie--but, why, so had Elmur! Atemptation came to her; she glanced again at Elmur. He was personablethough advancing to middle age, and handsome as men go, though his eyeswere close-set and cunning. He was not like poor Jack--no, she wouldnever find anyone perhaps quite so good to look upon as Jack, with hisbroad shoulders and corn-coloured hair, and those dear frank eyes! No,but----

  'Madame, what are you thinking of? I wish I dared flatter myself that Icould ever draw tears to those exquisite eyes,' Elmur said again withwarmth. He wanted excitement and Isolde was yielding. There are womenwho will sacrifice the most sacred things, God's word itself, on thealtar of their vanity. Isolde withdrew her slight hand from his touch,but it was the withdrawal that invites advance. She hesitated no longer.

  'There are other eyes whose tears will be bitterer than mine; are younot jealous of them? I am sorry for Captain Rallywood, of course, butpoor Valerie--what am I saying?'

  'Whatever you say interests me,' he urged, his eyes following hers.

  She pouted coquettishly.

  'Yes, because I speak of Valerie!'

  'No, it is because you speak!' he declared amorously. 'Tell me ofMademoiselle Valerie if you will,' this as a concession, 'though youcould tell me something more interesting.'

  'Not more interesting to you than this,' she exclaimed, nodding hergolden head at him with her little air of foolish wisdom. 'It is luckythat Captain Rallywood is--is about to furnish an object-lesson,for----' she raised her slender finger and laid it on her lips, smilingat him.

  He looked round. They were alone in a smaller drawing-room; it was notpossible for the guests in the other saloon to see them. He drew thefinger from her lips and pressed it to his own. He would woo the truthfrom this beautiful fool. His words meant one thing, his looks another.

  'And Valerie?' he questioned, seeming to count her fingers on his palm.

  'Valerie loves him--she told me so,' whispered Isolde, since there wasno longer need to speak louder.

  'And you, my dear lady?' And it may be the speech was the moreimpassioned because in his heart he was damning the picturesqueness ofthe captain of the Guard.

  * * * * *

  And Rallywood? Rallywood sat in his quarters thinking thoughts that,like music, lead sometimes on to exaltation. His earthly life was done,and he looked out into the dim beyond fearlessly. His eyes were set andsad, for he should see her face and hear Valerie's voice no more, but hewould be waiting in that somewhere for her. A man in the supremer hoursoften turns again to the faiths of his childhood; so now Rallywood, atthe summit of his life, found himself given back all those lost dreams.

  He did not know how she came there. He heard no footstep enter. And whenhe knew, neither spoke.

  There was nothing to say; it was all understood so well. She stoodbeside him, her hands in his in a strange lull of mutual knowledge.

  'How did you come?' he asked her at last.

  'Anthony,' she answered, 'he knows--all.'

  'How like him! But,' with a man's ready thought for the woman he loves,'you must not be found here. Say good-bye to me, Valerie.'

  'John,' she clung to him, 'how can I let you go? You are dying forMaasau--for my father--for me--yes, yes, I can guess all!'

  'Valerie, do you know what your love is to me? I need nothing more. Ihave not thought of what there is beyond, but when you want me you willfind me waiting.'

  In the long silence life itself might have been suspended.

  'When?' said Valerie, in a sudden recollection of anguish.

  'To-morrow,' he answered, understanding the broken question.

  Valerie raised her wet eyes.

  'In my life there can be no to-morrow. God may not let me die, but mylife will always be one long remembrance of to-day. I shall live into-day always. To-morrows are for happier women, John. And yet I amwicked to say that. I would not change my lot with any other. For have Inot my memories? And I will learn to have my hopes. And whenever thatblessed day of release may come to me, I will bring my heart to you asit is to-day, my king!'

  Rallywood looked into the beautiful tear-dimmed eyes. He was too wise tosay that he had spoilt her life, that had it been possible to set thewrong right by any sacrifice he would have done so. Of this he saidnothing. He only kissed her.

  'Next to living to be with you, darling, I am in love with dying foryou, Valerie!'

  The silence grew again between them, the best and saddest silence uponearth--the silence of all's said.

  'And yet, John, I have one thing left to live for. I will live to seeyour name stand where it should. For men like you are only understoodand honoured--afterwards,' she said presently.

  Another man might have disclaimed al
l praise. Rallywood, who believed hedeserved none, kept silence. He knew that to deny would be to wound. Andhe was fain to say to her a thing which was hard to say and hard tohear. But he was looking out into the troubled future, and his anxietyfor her grew bitter upon him. So he nerved himself to the greatestsacrifice of all. And Valerie's next words gave him the opening hedesired.

  'Your sword----' she began.

  'Is broken.'

  'No, no! Anthony brought another to Count Sagan, not yours. Yours wasnot the sword of a traitor! That also I will keep.'

  'Unziar--I thank him. And Valerie, listen! When they condemned me therewas one vote in my favour. You can guess whose.'

  'Anthony's?'

  'Yes, Valerie, and he loves you, and I will not blame--I wish--I wouldask----'

  Valerie's glance met his. She understood.

  'No,' she said; 'I will thank him, and like him dearly and pray for him,but not that--no, not ever that!'

  A quiet knock on the door.

  'And now it is good-bye.'