Funestine and Other Adventures in Romancia

by Brian Stableford

  “One evening, I was in the garden of the palace; Algée was walking there with one of her maids. The sound of her voice extracted me from the profound reverie in which I was plunged. I lent an ear involuntarily. I did not know that I was the subject of a conversation that I ought never to have heard. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I shall depart without Ulibec knowing that I regret him; leave me the consolation of imagining that I’m mistaken about his sentiments; I need his indifference to expel him from my heart; don’t remind me of anything that might maintain a weakness over which I’m ready to triumph. I owe it to my repose and my glory. Let’s go.’ she continued, ‘it’s time to retire.’ I saw her go back into her apartment, and I remained in a disturbance that did not permit me to determine whether I ought to praise or complain of fortune.

  “Ufebor had only made a semblance of approving of the marriage of the Princess of Camor in order to deceive his master and the King of Ichionie. Blinded by ambition and seduced by amour, he meditated the most horrible perfidy. He commenced by forming difficulties that delayed Algée’s departure; he quibbled over every article of the treaty, which he had agreed the day before. It was only possible for him to do that by making unreasonable propositions that he even would have been sorry to obtain. Cimure became impatient; his complaints were ignored, and it came to an open rupture; troops were raised; there was a battle; nothing was decided.

  “I confess that, less submissive to my destiny since I knew that I was not hated, I sought out the King of Ichionie in order to dispute Algée with him; that was a lover’s extravagance. He was then as unhappy as me. I met him; we commenced a combat that might perhaps only have finished with the death of one or other of us. Heavy cavalry surrounded me. Cimure, persuaded that I had only attacked him by virtue of a sentiment of glory, generously took me out of their hands and sent me back.

  “My disgrace followed that evolution closely. Ufebor had betrayed me, my presence reproached him for his crime; one hates those one persecutes unjustly. Perhaps, enlightened by amour, he had even penetrated my sentiments for Algée. Whatever the cause of his malice was, he told the King of Camor, with a feigned mildness, that he was in despair at accusing me, but that a faithful minister listened neither to blood nor amity when it was a matter of the life of his sovereign. ‘Ulibec,’ he added, ‘forgetting what he owes you and what he owes to himself, is conspiring with your enemies against your person.’

  “Then he produced letters that I was supposed to have written to Cimure, containing a conspiracy so detailed that that feeble prince, who only saw through his favorite’s eyes, believed that he recognized my handwriting and condemned me without hearing me. His tenderness for his sister saved me from the shame of torture; he had hidden nothing from her and he told her about my crime. Algée dared not justify me, but, convinced of my innocence, she wrote me the note I mentioned to you.

  “A few days later, Ufebor repudiated his wife, under the pretext that she was the sister of an outlaw; she was relegated to the mountains of Camor among primitive people; she lived there deprived of everything, without any help save what she found in the charity of those barbarians, more humane than her husband.

  “The success of so many crimes was only an encouragement to the last. Ufebor had loved Algée for a long time. Too clever to declare himself inappropriately, he had hidden his passion under the deceitful appearances of attachment and respect. The princess was the refuge of unfortunates; she saw with pleasure that at the first word she said in their favor, Ufebor hastened to put an end to their troubles; she did not know that his apparent virtues were real crimes. He only changed his conduct when he believed that he could count on the measures he had taken. What horrible measures they were!

  “The King of Camor had scarcely entered his fortieth year, but pleasures, luxury and idleness had aged him prematurely. Enclosed in his palace, he languished in the arms of his mistresses. His body and mind were weakening every day. Ufebor, profiting from his lack of application, had rendered himself master of all the affairs of the realm, but by virtue of a refined politics he affected to fatigue him with the boring detail of the slightest minutiae. ‘How one has to complain of being king,’ he said one day to his favorite, ‘if one can only reign at the expense of his repose! Deliver me of a weight that is crushing me and driving me to despair. I have put all my authority in your hands, I am ready also to give you my crown. I want you,’ he continued, ‘in order to cement the rights that I am ceding to you, to share those of my sister. Reign together, and henceforth, both of you, only see me in order to talk to me about fêtes or amusements,’

  “He refused so many favors with a feigned modesty, but the king told him that he wanted to be obeyed for the last time, and signed orders to assemble the estates, who alone could authorize his abdication and name a successor.

  “Assured in that direction, Ufebor no longer doubted the success of his enterprise. All his master’s subjects were his creatures. It was then that, ceasing to constrain himself with Algée, he had the boldness to speak of amour. Indignant at his insolence, she replied to him with a haughtiness capable of disconcerting anyone but Ufebor, who, naturally proud and believing himself to be sovereign already, said without emotion that she could choose between the throne and exile.

  “A discourse so extraordinary gave birth to suspicions that she wanted to fathom. The greatest crimes are the least impenetrable; their execution requires confiding in too many people for the secret not to be exposed. A mysterious gesture, a word let slip or a simple step all serve to betray them, and interest or remorse almost always creates infidels Algée learned the danger that threatened her; she ran to the king, who refused to see her. Her courage did not abandon her at such a delicate conjuncture; her virtue had made her friends, her prudence put them to work.

  “The estates were opened. The king came to support his favorite, the princess followed him. He said in a few words that, his health no longer permitting him to apply himself to the government of his realm, he would abdicate the crown in favor of Ufebor, on condition that she married Ufebor and ruled conjointly with him. Ufebor, taking the floor, opposed his master’s speech weakly. The princess, speaking in her turn, begged the king not to abandon people by whom he was adored. ‘You can,’ she said, ‘obtain relief from skillful and virtuous men who will only have your glory and the god of your subjects in view. With regard to Ufebor, he has made a culpable usage of your favor for too long; it is time to unveil his artifices and punish his crimes.’

  “Ufebor quivered with anger; he stood up and tried to interrupt. The silence and indignation of the assembly astonished him; he read his defeat even in the eyes of his friends. He was troubled, and went pale; he trembled, and that coward, who had aspired two days earlier to the hand of Algée, embraced her knees in order to beg for the mercy of his life. Justice had closed her soul to pity. He was accused, convicted of the most odious crimes, stripped of his charges and thrown into the depths of the sea.

  “The imbecile King of Camor, witness to an event so unexpected, marked neither surprise nor sadness. The crown was offered to his sister; she refused to accept it, but she took care to establish councils to decide great affairs, and to reform the abuses that had been introduced under a violent minister. Her moderation was admired; she was heaped with praise; the estates separated.

  “That,” Ulibec continued, “is what Docility told me, “And that, my father, is where my deplorable story concludes, Algée is happy; it is a consolation for me to know that, but I sense that, in spite of my innocence, she will never recall me; she has doubtless married Cimure; she knows that I adore her, but she will be the victim of her scruples. I shall not see her again. Die, unfortunate Ulibec, there is no longer Algée for you.”

  Docility had only quit him to test him; she came back. Virtue was charmed by her return, and begged her not to abandon him again.

  While the two immortals were occupied in consoling him, they heard a courier asking loudly for the cabin of Ulibec, to whom, he said, he ha
d to render a letter from the Queen of Camor,

  “From Algée!” cried Ulibec. “Gods! Is she still thinking of me?”

  “Yes, Sire,” said the courier, presenting him, on his knees, with papers that he took from his bosom. They contained the following:

  Algée, Queen of Camor, to the virtuous Ulibec.

  Justice is the first duty of sovereigns; I render it to your innocence; come back, Ulibec; your persecutors are dead. Algée reigns; you know that she loves merit and Virtue.

  All that a tender and passionate soul can experience of delight and rapture, Ulibec felt on reading that letter. “Algée has not forgotten me,” he said, with transport. “Algée loves virtue. What do I not owe you, my father? You have saved mine from shipwreck; without you, I would no longer be worthy to appear before the Queen of Camor.”

  Suddenly, by virtue of a return of suspicion ordinary to those who love, he fell back into his first anxieties, he doubted his good fortune, he feared that of Cimure.

  “Please,” he said to the courier, “tell me what Algée is doing; I am informed of everything that preceded the assembly of the states; commence our story with the disgrace of Ufebor.”

  The man, whom the queen had ordered to hide nothing from Ulibec, satisfied him in these terms:

  “After the discovery and the punishment of Ufebor’s crimes, calm and order was reestablished in all parts of the realm. The princess, who had reserved the dispensation of mercy to herself, employed clemency toward the culpable; the repose of the state cost no one’s blood. The king, adopting sentiments worthy of him, devoted himself to affairs again; he assisted in the councils and wanted, he said, to put himself at the head of his troops; in brief, he commenced to reign. That change had no consequences; drawn away by his penchant or his weakness, he died. We learned of his death almost immediately after learning of his malady. The people, ever extreme, proclaimed loudly that it was the effect of a slow poison that Ufebor had given him. Whatever it was, he was given a magnificent funeral. The princess was carried to the throne by the wishes of the entire nation. Her wisdom and bounty extend everywhere; she is loved, she is respected. Fortunate are people who can love and respect their masters!

  “Your sister was the first object of the queen’s attention; but, Sire, she believed that she ought not appear at the court yet; she has retired to a city that is in your passage; you can see her there when you return.

  “Cimure is not yet married. The greatest lord of Ichionie came to compliment the queen on her accession to the crown. That was only a pretext; the marriage of Algée with the prince was the true motive for that embassy. Times had changed; she told him without any detour that she would have obeyed her brother because she was then a subject, but that, the Princess of Camor having become Queen, could not dispose of her person without the consent of her people, who would be poorly repaid for their zeal and fidelity by submission to foreign domination. ‘Monsieur Ambassador,’ she added, ‘that obstacle does not diminish my esteem for your master; I beg you to assure him of that, and to tell him that I count on living with him in good intelligence.’

  “However, in order not to neglect anything, the queen has put herself in a state to anticipate the consequences of that refusal. All was tranquil when she made me depart in order to find you; I have found you, Sire, and I praise the gods for the success of my voyage. I will not stop to repeat to you everything that is being said in Camor, that is not my mission; but I can assure you whatever the queen’s designs are in regard to you, they will be obeyed blindly.”

  Scarcely had he finished speaking than Virtue, quitting the form of the old man, appeared in all her charms. Docility embraced her; Ulibec prostrated himself and adored her.

  “Come,” she said to him, “I want to present you myself to the Queen of Camor.”

  They arrived. Algée received Ulibec as a sovereign should—which is to say, without showing too much urgency and without affecting too much coldness. Amour, arrested by the presence of Virtue, retained all decorum, but he lost none of his rights.

  As soon as she had assured the happiness of those illustrious lovers, Virtue asked Docility to accompany her, and returned to Funestine. Let us say in a few words what had happened in the Palace of Eventualities.

  The princess was occupied in trying to protect herself from the pursuits of the fly fay when Clair-obscur came to introduce Imagination to her. She received them as she received all those who came to render her a visit—which is to say, without looking at either one of them. “Either deliver me from this importunate fly,” she said brusquely to the genius, “or I shall throw myself out of the window.”

  He was afraid that she might keep her word, and made a few attempts to catch her so maladroit that they cost the impatient princess, who threw everything at his head that came to hand, a few bruises. Imagination could not help smiling, but, seeing that the quarrel was becoming heated she made a sign to Clair-obscur to withdraw.

  “It’s necessary to confess,” he said, as he left, “that she’s a nasty little creature.”

  Left alone, Imagination said softly that a bad temper is a frightful thing in a young person. Funestine was intolerant of remonstrations; she wanted to respond arrogantly, but, retained by an invisible power, she stopped, her eyes attached to Imagination, whose majestic and flattering aspect caused her emotions that she had not yet experienced. The fay perceived that, and in order to finish winning her, she laid in wait for the cruel fly, which was continuing to pester her; she seized it, and immediately immolated it.

  “Eh! Who are you?” demanded Funestine, in a tone of surprise and gratitude. “You give me advice that doesn’t revolt me; you render me attentive, sensible, and begin by rendering me a service that I shall never forget. What god sent you to my aid? Are you not one yourself?”

  “I’m Imagination,” she said. “I’ve come to ask for your amity, and to offer you everything that depends on mine.”

  “You’re Imagination?” the princess replied, with chagrin. “You’re not my friend, then, and I can never be yours. My fate is to be bizarre and unhappy; I commenced by being prejudiced in your favor without loving you, when I knew who you are. I’m ugly; I only have sad ideas; I can’t have others; don’t aggravate the woes I suffer by means of the image of those I will suffer in future. I’m only too ingenious in tormenting myself.

  “The greatest good that could happen to me is that of not thinking, or not feeling anything; let me, if possible, forget that I horrify others as much as I horrify myself; take the charm of your illusions elsewhere; their sweetness isn’t made for an unfortunate who dreads everything and ought not to hope for anything. Born the daughter of a great king, the sight of me rendered him barbaric and he exposed me to wild beasts. Why didn’t Clair-obscur leave me to be devoured?

  “Clair-obscur, out of cruel pity, snatched me from death. He strives to correct the influence that persecutes me, but his cares and his power are futile; nothing can vanquish the malignity; the gods have exhausted all their anger on me. I’m unjust, nasty, intractable; everything displeases me, everything irritates me. Formosa, for whom I’m destined, is the object of my hatred and I’m the object of his. The sumptuousness of this palace importunes me; I’ve filled it with my extravagances; every instant of my life is a new disgrace. ‘Everything afflicts me, harms me and conspires to harm me.’66

  “That sincere confession of my faults astonishes you; it astonishes me too. Why have I made it to you, since it will only render me more unhappy? The deceptive calm that has suspended my violence will soon dissipate and augment it. Yes, I sense more sharply than ever that I’m hateful; to complete my woes, I sense that I can’t do anything to cease to be. Flee, Imagination, and if it’s true that you’re sensible to the pains of Funestine, send her, for pity’s sake, death or stupidity.”

  Imagination was touched by a discourse that gave evidence less of fury than sorrow. “No,” she said to her, wiping away her tears, “you’re not as unfortunate as you think; cease to fea
r me and to despair. Instead of accusing the gods of injustice you should render them thanks. Calm down and don’t interrupt me. You have intelligence; that gift alone is worth as much as all of those you lack. Begin to make use of it. Moderate the impetuosity that makes your torment and that of others. Remember, in order to reduce your regrets, that the beauty whose privation puts you in such an ill humor, is a chimera that depends on hazard or opinion. Cease to regard as the sovereign good an advantage that you could not have given yourself and that you could not conserve. But tell me, Funestine, in what does the beauty consist that is the object of all your desires? Confess that you place it entirely in a certain arrangement of the features, in I know not what glamour that struck you in Imaé? You don’t have a more distinct idea of it.

  “Emerge from error. There is another beauty more precious and more desirable, which one can acquire, and which one never loses. It is inside you; work to develop it; it allows itself to be found when one looks for it; it loves to communicate itself; nothing is necessary to fix it but mildness and simplicity. It elevates the sentiments, it perfects the talents and puts them into the light; it makes the justice of the mind extend to the rectitude of the heart. I can only show you the road that leads to its temple, Virtue will open the sanctuary to you, if you follow her advice; expect everything from the gods and from yourself; I can’t reveal the future to you, but I can promise to occupy you with agreeable objects and to direct your views to what can flatter you, as far as they can extend.”