Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli

by Marie Corelli

  “Then do you not regret that she is married, and no longer yours to cherish entirely?”

  “No, I regret nothing!” answered Ronsard; “For I am old and must soon die. I shall leave her in good and safe hands.”

  The King looked at him thoughtfully, and seemed about to ask another question, then suddenly changing his mind, he turned to his Consort and said a few words to her in a low tone, whereupon as if in obedience to a command, she rose, and with all the gracious charm which she could always exert if she so pleased, she enquired of Ronsard if he would permit them to see something of the interior of his house.

  “Madam,” replied Ronsard, with some embarrassment; “All I have is at your service, but it is only a poor place.”

  “No place is poor that has peace in it,” returned the Queen, with one of those rare smiles of hers, which so swiftly subjugated the hearts of men. “Will you lead the way?”

  Thus persuaded, Réné Ronsard could only bow a respectful assent, and obey the request, which from Royalty was tantamount to a command. Signing to the other members of the party, who had stood till now at a little distance, the Queen bade them all accompany her.

  “The King will stay here till we return,” she said, “And Sir Roger will stay with him!”

  With these words, and a flashing glance at De Launay, she stepped across the lawn, followed by her ladies-in-waiting, with Sir Walter Langton and the other gentlemen; and in another moment the brilliant little group had disappeared behind the trailing roses and clematis, which hung in profusion from the oaken projections of the wide verandah round Ronsard’s picturesque dwelling. Standing still for a moment, with Sir Roger a pace behind him, the King watched them enter the house — then quickly turning round on his heel, faced his equerry with a broad smile.

  “Now, De Launay,” he said, “let us find Von Glauben!”

  Sir Roger started with surprise, and not a little apprehension.

  “Von Glauben, Sir?”

  “Yes — Von Glauben! He is here! I saw his face two minutes ago, peering through those trees!” And he pointed down a shadowy path, dark with the intertwisted gloom of untrained pine-boughs. “I am not dreaming, nor am I accustomed to imagine spectres! I am on the track of a mystery, Roger! There is a beautiful girl here named Gloria. The beautiful girl is married — possibly to a jealous husband, for she is apparently hidden away from all likely admirers, including myself! Now suppose Von Glauben is that husband!”

  He broke off and laughed. Sir Roger de Launay laughed with him; the idea was too irresistibly droll. But the King was bent on mischief, and determined to lose no time in compassing it.

  “Come along!” he said. “If this tangled path holds a secret, it shall be discovered before we are many minutes older! I am confident I saw Von Glauben; and what he can be doing here passes my comprehension! Follow me, Roger! If our worthy Professor has a wife, and his wife is beautiful, we will pardon him for keeping her existence a secret from us so long!”

  He laughed again; and turning into the path he had previously indicated, began walking down it rapidly, Sir Roger following closely, and revolving in his own perplexed mind the scene of the morning, when Von Glauben had expressed such a strong desire to get away to The Islands, and had admitted that there was “a lady in the case.”

  “Really, it is most extraordinary!” he thought. “The King no sooner decides to break through conventional forms, than all things seem loosened from their moorings! A week ago, we were all apparently fixed in our orbits of exact routine and work — the King most fixed of all — but now, who can say what may happen next!”

  At that moment the monarch turned round.

  “This path seems interminable, Roger,” he said; “It gets darker, closer and narrower. It thickens, in fact, like, the mystery we are probing!”

  Sir Roger glanced about him. A straight band of trees hemmed them in on either side, and the daylight filtered through their stems pallidly, while, as the King had said, there seemed to be no end to the path they were following. They walked on swiftly, however, exchanging no further word, when suddenly an unexpected sound came sweeping up through the heavy branches. It was the rush and roar of the sea, — a surging, natural psalmody that filled the air, and quivered through the trees with the measured beat of an almost human chorus.

  “This must be another way to the shore,” said the King, coming to a standstill; “And there must be rocks or caverns near. Hark how the waves thunder and reverberate through some deep hollow!”

  Sir Roger listened, and heard the boom of water rolling in and rolling out again, with the regularity and rhythm of an organ swell, but he caught an echo of something else besides, which piqued his curiosity and provoked him to a touch of unusual excitement, — it was the sweet and apparently quickly suppressed sound of a woman’s laughter. He glanced at his Royal master, and saw at once that he, too, had sharp ears for that silvery cadence of mirth, for his eyes flashed into a smile.

  “On, Roger,” he said softly; “We are close on the heels of the problem!”

  But they had only pressed forward a few steps when they were again brought to a sudden pause. A voice, whose gruffly mellow accents were familiar to both of them, was speaking within evidently close range, and the King, with a warning look, motioned De Launay back a pace or two, himself withdrawing a little into the shadow of the trees.

  “Ach! Do not sing, my princess!” said the voice; “For if you open your rosy mouth of music, all the birds of the air, and all the little fishes of the sea will come to listen! And, who knows! Someone more dangerous than either a bird or a fish may listen also!”

  The King grasped De Launay by the arm.

  “Was I not right?” he whispered. “There is no mistaking Von Glauben’s accent!”

  Sir Roger looked, as he felt, utterly bewildered. In his own mind he felt it very difficult to associate the Professor with a love affair. Yet things certainly seemed pointing to some entanglement of the sort. Suddenly the King held up an admonitory finger.

  “Listen!” he said.

  Another voice spoke, rich and clear, and sweet as honey.

  “Why should I not sing?” and there was a thrill of merriment in the delicious accents. “You are so afraid of everything to-day! Why? Why should I stay here with nothing to do? Because you tell me the King is visiting The Islands. What does that matter? What do I care for the King? He is nothing to me!”

  “You would be something, perhaps, to him if he saw you,” replied the guttural voice of Von Glauben. “It is safer to be out of his way. You are a very wilful princess this afternoon! You must remember your husband is jealous!”

  The King started.

  “Her husband! What the devil does Von Glauben know about her husband!”

  De Launay was dumb. A nameless fear and dismay began to possess him.

  “My husband!” And the sweet voice laughed out again. “It would be strange indeed for a poor sailor to be jealous of a king!”

  “If the poor sailor had a beautiful wife he worshipped, and the King should admire the wife, he might have cause to be jealous!” replied Von Glauben; “And with some ladies, a poor sailor would stand no chance against a king! Why are you so rebellious, my princess, to-day? Have I not brought a letter from your beloved which plainly asks you to keep out of the sight of the King? Have I not been an hour with you here, reading the most beautiful poetry of Heine?”

  “That is why I want to sing,” said the sweet voice, with a touch of wilfulness in its tone. “Listen! I will give you a reading of Heine in music!” And suddenly, rich and clear as a bell, a golden cadence of notes rang out with the words:

  “Ah, Hast thou forgotten, That I possessed thy heart?”

  The King sprang lightly out of his hiding-place, and with De Launay moved on slowly and cautiously through the trees.

  “Ach, mein Gott!” they heard Von Glauben exclaim— “That is a bird-call which will float on wings to the ears of the King!”

  A soft laugh ripp
led on the air.

  “Dear friend and master, why are you so afraid?” asked the caressing woman’s voice again;— “We are quite hidden away from the Royal visitors, — and though you have been peeping at the King through the trees, and though you know he is actually in our garden, he will never find his way here! This is quite a secret little study and schoolroom, where you have taught me so much! — yes — so much! — and I am very grateful! And whenever you come to see me you teach me something more — you are always good and kind! — and I would not anger you for the world! But what is the good of knowing and feeling beautiful things, if I may not express them?”

  “You do express them, — in yourself, — in your own existence and appearance!” said the Professor gruffly; “but that is a physiological accident which I do not expect you to understand!”

  There was a moment’s silence. Then came a slight movement, as of quick feet clambering among loose pebbles, and the voice rang out again.

  “There! Now I am in my rocky throne! Do you remember — Ah, no! — you know nothing about it, — but I will tell you the story! It was here, in this very place, that my husband first saw me!”

  “Ach so!” murmured Von Glauben. “It is an excellent place to make a first appearance! Eve herself could not have chosen more picturesque surroundings to make a conquest of Adam!”

  Apparently his mild sarcasm fell on unheeding ears.

  “He was walking slowly all alone on the shore,” went on the voice, dropping into a more plaintive and tender tone; “The sun had sunk, and one little star was sparkling in the sky. He looked up at the star — and—”

  “Then he saw a woman’s eye,” interpolated Von Glauben; “Which is always more attractive to weak man than an impossible-to-visit planet! What does Shakespeare say of women’s eyes?

  ‘Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

  Having some business, do entreat her eyes

  To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

  What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

  The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,

  As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven

  Would through the airy regions stream so bright,

  That birds would sing and think it were not night!’”

  “Ach! That is so!”

  As the final words left his lips, a rich note of melody stirred the air, and a song in which words and music seemed thoroughly welded together, rose vibratingly up to the quiet sky:

  “Here by the sea,

  My Love found me!

  Seagulls over the waves were swinging;

  Mermaids down in their caves were singing,

  And one little star in the rosy sky

  Sparkled above like an angel’s eye!

  My Love found me,

  And I and he

  Plighted our troth eternally!

  Oh day of splendour,

  And self-surrender!

  The day when my Love found me!

  Here, by the sea,

  My King crown’d me!

  Wild ocean sang for my Coronation,

  With the jubilant voice of a mighty nation! —

  ‘Mid the towering rocks he set my throne,

  And made me forever and ever his own!

  My King crown’d me,

  And I and he

  Are one till the world shall cease to be!

  Oh sweet love story!

  Oh night of glory!

  The night when my King crown’d me!”

  No language could ever describe the marvellous sweetness of the voice that sung these lines; it was so full of exquisite triumph, tenderness and passion, that it seemed more supernatural than human. When the song ceased, a great wave dashed on the shore, like a closing organ chord, and Von Glauben spoke.

  “There! You wanted your own way, my princess, and you have had it! You have sung like one of the seraphim; — do not be surprised if mortals are drawn to listen. Sst! What is that?”

  There was a pause. The King had inadvertently cracked a twig on one of the pine-boughs he was holding back in an endeavour to see the speakers. But he now boldly pushed on, beckoning De Launay to follow close, and in another minute had emerged on a small sandy plateau, which led, by means of an ascending path, to a rocky eminence, encircled by huge boulders and rocky pinnacles, which somewhat resembled peaks of white coral, — and here, on a height above him, — with the afternoon sun-glow bathing her in its full mellow radiance, sat a visibly enthroned goddess of the landscape, — a girl, or rather a perfect woman, more beautiful than any he had ever seen, or even imagined. He stared up at her in dazzled wonder, half blinded by the brightness of the sun and her almost equally blinding loveliness.

  “Gloria!” he exclaimed breathlessly, hardly conscious of his own utterance; “You are Gloria!”

  The fair vision rose, and came swiftly forward with an astonished look in her bright deep eyes.

  “Yes!” she said, “I am Gloria!”

  CHAPTER XII. — A SEA PRINCESS

  Scarcely had she thus declared herself, when the Bismarckian head and shoulders of Von Glauben appeared above the protecting boulders; and moving with deliberate caution, the rest of his body came slowly after, till he stood fully declared in an attitude of military ‘attention.’ He showed neither alarm nor confusion at seeing the King; on the contrary, the fixed, wooden expression of his countenance betokened some deeply-seated mental obstinacy, and he faced his Royal master with the utmost composure, lifting the slouched hat he wore with his usual stiff and soldierly dignity, though carefully avoiding the amazed stare of his friend, Sir Roger de Launay.

  The King glanced him up and down with a smiling air of amused curiosity.

  “So this is how you pursue your scientific studies, Professor!” he said lightly; “Well!” — and he turned his eyes, full of admiration, on the beautiful creature who stood silently confronting him with all that perfect ease which expresses a well-balanced mind,— “Wisdom is often symbolised to us as a marble goddess, — but when Pallas Athene takes so fair a shape of flesh and blood as this, who shall blame even a veteran philosopher for sitting at her feet in worship!”

  “Pardon me, Sir,” returned Von Glauben calmly; “There is no goddess of Wisdom here, so please you, but only a very simple and unworldly young woman. She is—” Here he hesitated a moment, then went on— “She is merely the adopted child of a fisherman living on these Islands.”

  “I am aware of that!” said the King still smiling. “Réné Ronsard is his name. He is my host to-day; and he has told me something of her. But, certes, he did not mention that you had adopted her also!”

  Von Glauben flushed vexedly.

  “Sir,” he stammered, “I could explain—”

  “Another time!” interrupted the King, with a touch of asperity. “Meanwhile, present your — your pupil in the poesy of Heine, — to me!”

  Thus commanded, the Professor, casting a vexed glance at De Launay, who did not in the least comprehend his distress, went to the girl, who during their brief conversation had stood quietly looking from one to the other with an expression of half-amused disdain on her lovely features.

  “Gloria,” he began reluctantly — then whispering in her ear, he muttered— “I told you your voice would do mischief, and it has done it!” Then aloud— “Gloria, — this — this is the King!”

  She smiled, but did not change her erect and easy attitude.

  “The King is welcome!” she said simply.

  She had evidently no intention of saluting the monarch; and Sir Roger de Launay gazed at her in mingled surprise and admiration. She was certainly wonderfully beautiful. Her complexion had the soft clear transparency of a pink sea-shell — her eyes, large and lustrous, were as densely blue as the dark azure in the depths of a wave, — and her hair, of a warm bronze chestnut, caught back with a single band of red coral, seemed to have gathered in its rich curling clusters all the deepest tints of autumn leaves flecked with a golden
touch of the sun. Her figure, clad in a straight garment of rough white homespun, was the model of perfect womanhood. She stood a little above the medium height, her fair head poised proudly on regal shoulders, while the curve of the full bosom would have baffled the sculptural genius of a Phidias. The whole exquisite outline of her person was the expressed essence of beauty, from the lightest wave of her hair, down to her slender ankles and small feet; and the look that irradiated her noble features was that of child-like happiness and repose, — the untired expression of one who had never known any other life than the innocent enjoyment bestowed upon her by God and divine Nature. Beautiful as his Queen-Consort was and always had been, the King was forced to admit to himself that here was a woman far more beautiful, — and as he looked upon her critically, he saw that there was a light and splendour about her which only the happiness of Love can give. Her whole aspect was as of one uplifted into a finer atmosphere than that of earth, — she seemed to exhale purity from herself, as a rose exhales perfume, and her undisturbed serenity and dignity, when made aware of the Royal presence, were evidently not the outcome of ill-breeding or discourtesy, but of mere self-respect and independence. He approached her with a strange hesitation, which for him was quite a new experience.

  “I am glad I have been fortunate enough to meet you!” he said gently;— “Some kindly fate guided my steps down the path which brought me to this part of the shore, else I might have gone away without seeing you!”

  “That would have been no loss to your Majesty,” answered Gloria calmly;— “For to see me, is of no use to anyone!”

  “Would your husband say so?” hazarded the King with a smile.

  Her eyes flashed.

  “My husband would say what is right,” she replied. “He would know better how to talk to you than I do!”

  He had insensibly drawn nearer to her as he spoke; meanwhile Von Glauben, with a disconsolate air, had joined Sir Roger de Launay, who, by an enquiring look and anxious uplifting of his eyebrows, dumbly asked what was to be the upshot of this affair, — only to receive a dismal shake of the head in reply.