by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER XXIV
HIS ILLYRIAN MAJESTY FERDINAND THE TWELTFH
His Majesty had not arrived, and the dinner was spoiling.
"No news of the King?" I asked, keeping well in the background, for Ihad no wish for Mrs. Arbuthnot to observe my condition prematurely.
"Nevil said in his telegram that he would be here about a quarter pastseven, and it is now five minutes past nine," said Mrs. Arbuthnottearfully.
"Five-and-twenty minutes to nine, _mon enfant_, according toGreenwich," said I, as reassuringly as the circumstances permitted."Your clock is wrong by half an hour. But there has been a badaccident at Blankhampton. Would they come by Blankhampton? If theydid, that would be bound to delay them."
"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "If anything has happened to the King!And oh, Sonia dear, how late you are!" she added reproachfully. "I wasgetting so horribly nervous about you. And you not here to present meor anything! But now you've come it is all right. Just be a dear andhave a look at the table before you go up to dress."
The Princess, however, had scarcely had time to yield to Mrs.Arbuthnot's suggestion, and I was in the act of walking upstairs in astate of uncomfortable anxiety in regard to the operation of changingmy clothes, when from the vicinity of the hall door there came thesounds of fresh arrivals. I hurried to it, to be greeted immediatelyby the voice of Fitz.
"Rather late," he said with that air of languor which afflicted him ongreat occasions. "Line blocked at Blankhampton. Devil of a smash.Tiresome cross-country journey, but we've turned up at last."
"Safe and sound, I hope?"
"Right as rain."
As we walked together down the front steps to the open door of the carthat stood at the bottom in the darkness, I was conscious that my pulsewas a thought too rapid for a tacit subscriber to the theory ofdemocracy. I held the door while an enormous figure of a mandisengaged himself slowly, and not without difficulty, from theinterior.
I made a somewhat lower bow than the Englishman in general permitshimself. A smiling and subtle visage, at once handsome and venerable,was promptly turned upon me, and I found myself exchanging a cordialand powerful grip of the hand.
Ferdinand the Twelfth ascended the front steps in the charge of hisson-in-law, while I held the door for the second occupant of the car toalight. I made an obeisance only a shade less in depth than the one Ihad bestowed upon the Sovereign. Baron von Schalk was small anddapper, with a face full of intelligence and not unlike that of a birdof prey. As we exchanged bows, it seemed that every line of it, andthere were many, was eloquent of power.
"I hope the journey has not tired his Majesty?" I ventured to say. "Itmust have been very tedious."
Baron von Schalk smiled passively, made a deep guttural noise andanswered in very tolerable English, "On the contrary, most interesting.The King never tires himself."
At the top of the steps, framed in a glow of soft light from within,were Mrs. Arbuthnot and the Princess. Standing side by side, theyappeared to be vying with one another in the depth and grace of theircurtseys. No sooner had the King ascended to them than he took a handof each in his own and led them into the hall, as though they had beena pair of his small grandchildren. There was a spontaneity about theaction which was charming.
Half an hour later we were assembled in the drawing-room. The Kingpromptly offered his arm to his hostess, and led the way in thedirection of her unfortunate meal. His daughter placed her hand verylightly upon the arm of the Chancellor, directing an arch look over hershoulder at me as she did so, as if she would say, "There is no helpfor it!"
Fitz and I, walking side by side, brought up the rear of theprocession. The Man of Destiny had a very fell visage.
"What have you done to your arm?" he asked.
"Got smashed up in a taxi this afternoon."
"Where?"
"Oxford Street, I believe."
"What were you doing there?"
"The Princess had important business in town, and I went with her."
"Important business in town! She never said a word to me about it.Was she in the accident too?"
"Yes, but luckily she didn't get a scratch. And of course this is onlya slight superficial wound."
The slight superficial wound did its best to contradict me by throbbingvilely.
Ferdinand the Twelfth sat on the right of his hostess, his Chancelloron her left. It is the due, I think, of our recent and temporarilyimported culinary artist, lately in the service of a nobleman, to saythat he had done extremely well in trying circumstances. There is nosauce like hunger, of course, but it was observed that the King ateheartily, and, although verging upon the statutory term of human life,seemed not one penny the worse for his long and trying journey.
He spoke English with an agreeable fluency. Not only did he know thiscountry very well indeed, but we gathered that he was accustomed tofind it pleasant. Seen across a dinner-table it was clear that hisportraits had not in the least exaggerated his natural picturesqueness.It was a noble, leonine head, a thing of power and virility, framedwith a mane of white hair. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but deep-seeingand almost uncomfortably direct and penetrating in their gaze; yetwhere one might have expected calculation and cold detachment there wasan impenetrable veil of kindliness which served to obscure theelemental forces which must have lurked beneath.
There were tomatoes among the _hors-d'oeuvres_, and there were tomatoesin the soup. When the Victor of Rodova made a significant departurefrom the custom of our land by smacking his lips and astonishing theimpassive Parkins by saying, "Make my compliments to de _chef_ upon his_consomme_; I will haf more," his hostess hoisted the ensign of therose, and her Royal Highness beamed upon her.
"There, Irene! what did I not tell you, my child?" she exclaimedtriumphantly.
"Oliver has a devil of a twist upon him, evidently," murmured theson-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth, in an aside to his host of suchdeplorable banality that an apology is offered for its appearance inthese pages. "I wish it would choke the old swine."
"On the contrary, he seems a quite kindly and paternal old gentleman."
"Ha, you don't know him!"
I admitted that I did not and that I looked forward to our betteracquaintance.
The hostess and her humble coadjutor in the things of this life felt itto be a supreme moment in the progress of the feast when the royal lipswere brought to the brink of the paternal madeira which had reached usso opportunely, if so illicitly, from Doughty Bridge, Yorks. But oursuspense was resolved at once. The Victor of Rodova raised his glassto his hostess with the most benignant glance in the world, and for thesecond time Mrs. Arbuthnot hoisted the ensign of the rose.
Certainly the royal expansion had a charm that was all its own. Beingcalled for the first time to my present exalted plane of socialintercourse, I had had no opportunity of observing anything quite likeit, other than in the manners of Fitz and his wife which had provedsuch a scandal to our neighbourhood. But the Victor of Rodova was sospontaneous in his actions and so unstudied in his gestures, and heappeared to wear his heart on his sleeve with such a childlikefacility, that to one nurtured in our insular mode of self-repressionit was as good as a play to be in his company.
One thing was clear. From the first it was plain that Mrs. Arbuthnothad achieved a great personal triumph. And in the particularcircumstances of the case I am constrained to append the courtier-likephrase, "nor was it to be wondered at." Speaking out of a moderatelyfull knowledge of the subject in all its chameleon-like range ofvicissitude, from grave to gay, from lively to severe, in gowns byWorth, in frocks by Paquin, in costumes by Redfern, in nondescriptcreations by "the woman who makes things for Mama," I had never seenthe subject in question keyed up to quite this degree of allure. Mrs.Arbuthnot was magnificent.
The King beamed upon her and she beamed upon the King. More than oncehe pledged her in the paternal madeira; and before the modest feast hadrun its course Fitz gave me a stealthy kick on the
shin.
"Tell her to keep her door locked to-night," he said in one of hissinister asides.
The bluntness of the words was most uncomfortable, but there was noreason to doubt their sincerity. It was a piece of advice at which oneso incorrigibly _bourgeois_ as its recipient might have taken offence.That he did not do so should be counted to him, upon due reflection, asthe expression of some remote strain of a more azure tint!
"I know the King's majesty only too well," said the son-in-law ofFerdinand the Twelfth.
When the ladies had left us, the King talked in the friendliest mannerand always with that engaging simplicity that was so unstudied and socharming. He was curious to know what I had done to my arm, and when Itold him he inquired minutely as to the nature of the wound, and gaveme advice as to its treatment. This piece of consideration recalledthe magazine article I had lately studied. Here seemed a practicalillustration of the fact that in a literal sense he was the father ofhis people.
"You must show it to me to-morrow," he said. "And I will give you someointment I always carry, made by my own chemist to my own prescription.Schalk laughs at my chemistry, but that's because he's jealous. I willapply it for you, and in three days you will see the difference. Whatare you laughing at, Schalk?"
"A man may laugh at his thoughts, sir, may he not?" said Schalk, with adour smile.
"Not in the presence of the little father, Schalk, unless he sharesthem with the little father. What are you laughing at? But there,since you bungled that treaty with the wily Teuton your thoughts arenot of much consequence. You know I don't care a doit for yourthoughts, Schalk, since you went to Berlin. The thoughts of Schalk,forsooth! The wine is with you, you rascal. Remember that in Englandit is not considered to be good breeding to get drunk before your King."
"In Illyria, sir, that is always held to be impossible," said Schalk.
Ferdinand the Twelfth indulged in a guffaw.
"Good for you, impious one! Nay, fill up your glass before you passit, and keep out your long nose, else our English friends will think wehave no manners in Illyria."
When it pleases a monarch to unbend, the laughter his sallies evoke mayseem overmuch for his wit. But it is an excellent custom to laughheartily at the humour of kings. Ferdinand the Twelfth, in spite ofhis long journey, was in a very gracious mood and indulged us with manysallies at the expense of his Chancellor. Baron von Schalk, however,was well able to defend himself. It must be allowed, I think, that theroyal wit was neither very refined nor very courteous. Rough andprimitive, it had something of a Gargantuan savour. But his owndeep-voiced appreciation of it was a perpetual feast. He also told oneor two stories of a true Rabelaisian cast. They were told with animmense gusto, and he led the laughter himself with a whole-heartednesswhich was quite Homeric. Before the bottle the Victor of Rodova wasmagnificent company. It was impossible not to respond to hisunaffected, if extremely catholic, good-humour.
When we joined the ladies we found them playing a game of patience.The Father of his People immediately carried a chair to the side ofMrs. Arbuthnot, sat beside her and offered pertinent help in thearrangement of her cards. "But this game is only fit for people likeSchalk," he declared. "Britch is the game we play in Illyria."
Interpreting such a remark as being in the nature of a command, thehostess swept her cards together, and imperiously ordered her spouse toget the bridge markers.
"How shall we play, sir?" said Mrs. Arbuthnot.
"Togezzer, madame, you and I," said the King, with an air of homage,"_if_ you please. I can see you play well."
"Oh, sir!" said Madame, for the third time hoisting the ensign of therose. "How can you possibly know that?"
"Infallible signs, milady," said the King, laughing. "Trust an oldsoldier to read the signs. First, your ears, if I may say so. Theyhave shape and position, just like my own. That means a well-balancedmind. And that dainty head, _c'est magnifique_! What intellect behindthat forehead! Now give me your hand--the left one."
Milady gave the King a much bejewelled paw.
"Ouf!" said he, "what ambition! You will never hesitate to call _sansatout_. The heart-line is very good, also. There will be no otherpartner for Ferdinand. Schalk can have whom he pleases."
It pleased Baron von Schalk to choose her Royal Highness, and a veryinteresting game began.
"We must take care, milady," said Ferdinand the Twelfth, "we simplechildren of nature. I expect they will cheat us horribly. Schalk hasvery little in the way of a conscience, and nothing delights Sonia somuch as to overreach a confiding parent."
As he spoke it pleased this simple child of nature to revoke in a veryflagrant and palpable manner.
"No diamonds, partner?" said Mrs. Arbuthnot.
"None whatever," said the King, blandly. "I think a small deuce willtake that trick, eh, Schalk?"
"So it appears, sir," said the long-suffering Chancellor.
I was led aside by the son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth.
"If you watch this game, old son," said he, "you will gain an insightinto the monarchical basis of the constitution of Illyria. Let uswatch what the plausible old ruffian does with the nine of diamonds."
Happily the game was not being played for money. But it wascharacteristic of the Illyrian ruler, that in even the simple matter ofa game at cards he was incapable of conducting it other than in amanner peculiarly his own.