A sweet smile shone in her eyes.
“He could not make me unhappy!” she said. “He would not try! He loves me, and he will always love me!”
“But, suppose,” persisted the Professor— “Just for the sake of argument — suppose he had deceived you?”
With a low cry she sprang up.
“Impossible!” she exclaimed; “He is truth itself! He could not deceive anyone!”
“Come and sit down again,” said Von Glauben tranquilly; “It is disturbing to my mind to see you standing there pronouncing your faith in the integrity of man! No male creature deserves such implicit trust, and whenever a woman gives it, she invariably finds out her mistake!”
But Gloria stood still, The rich colour had faded from her cheeks — her eyes were dilated with alarm, and her breath came and went quickly.
“You must explain,” she said hurriedly; “You must tell me what you mean by suggesting such a wicked thought to me as that my husband could deceive me! It is not right or kind of you, — it is cruel!”
The Professor scrambled up hastily out of his sandy nook, and approaching her, took her hand very gently and respectfully in his own and kissed it.
“My dear — my princess — I was wrong! Forgive me!” he murmured, and there was a little tremor in his voice; “But can you not understand the possibility of a man loving a woman very much, and yet deceiving her for her good?”
“It could never be for her good,” said Gloria firmly; “It would not be for mine! No lie ever lasts!”
Von Glauben looked at her with a sense of reverence and something like awe. The after-glow of the sinking sun was burning low down upon the sea, and turning it to fiery crimson, and as she stood bathed in its splendour, the white rocks towering above her, and the golden sands sparkling at her feet, she appeared like some newly descended angel expressing the very truth of Heaven itself in her own presence on earth. As they stood thus, the sudden boom of a single cannon echoed clear across the waves.
“There goes the King!” said Von Glauben; “Majesty departs for the present, having so far satisfied his curiosity! That gun is the signal. Child!” — and turning towards her again, he took both her hands in his, and spoke with emphatic gravity and kindness— “Remember that I am your friend always! Whatever chances to you, do not forget that you may command my service and devotion till death! In this strange life, we never know from day to day what may happen to us, for constant change is the law of Nature and the universe, — but after all, there is something in the soul of a true man which does not change with the elements, — and that is — loyalty to a sworn faith! In my heart, I have sworn an oath of fealty to you, my beautiful little princess of the sea! — and it is a vow that shall never be broken! Do you understand? And will you remember?”
Her large dark blue eyes looked trustingly into his.
“Indeed, I will never forget!” she said, with a touch of wistfulness in her accents; “But I do not know why you should be anxious for me — there is nothing to fear for my happiness. I have all the love I care for in the world!”
“And long may you keep it!” said the Professor earnestly; “Come! It will soon be time for me to leave you, and I must see Réné before I go. If you follow my advice, you will say nothing to him of having met the King — not for the present, at any rate.”
She agreed to this, though with some little hesitation, — then they ascended the cliff, and walking by way of the pine-wood through which the King had come, arrived at Ronsard’s house, to find the old man quite alone, and peacefully engaged in tying up the roses and jessamine on the pillars of his verandah. His worn face lighted up with animation and tenderness as Gloria approached him and threw her arms around his neck, and to her he related the incident of the King and Queen’s unexpected visit, as a sort of accidental, uninteresting, and wholly unimportant occurrence. The Queen, he said, was very beautiful; but too cold in her manner, though she had certainly taken much interest in seeing the house and garden.
“It was just as well you were absent, child,” he added— “Royalty brings an atmosphere with it which is not wholesome. A king never knows what it is to be an honest man!”
“Those are your old, discarded theories, Ronsard!” said Von Glauben, shaking his head;— “You said you would never return to them!”
“Aye!” rejoined Ronsard;— “I have tried to put away all my old thoughts and dreams for her sake” — and his gaze rested lovingly on Gloria as, standing on tiptoe to reach a down-drooping rose, she gathered it and fastened it in her bosom. “There should only be peace and contentment where she dwells! But sometimes my life’s long rebellion against sham and injustice stirs in my blood, and I long to pull down the ignorant people’s idols of wood and straw, and set up men in place of dummies!”
“A Mumbo-Jumbo of some kind has always been necessary in the world, my friend,” said the Professor calmly; “Either in the shape of a deity or a king. A wood and straw Nonentity is better than an incarnated fleshly Selfishness. Will you give me supper before I leave?”
Ronsard smiled a cheery assent, and Gloria preceding them, and singing in a low tone to herself as she went, they all entered the house together.
Meanwhile, the Royal yacht was scudding back to the mainland over crisp waters on the wings of a soft breeze, with a bright moon flying through fleecy clouds above, and silvering the foam-crests of the waves below. There was music on board, — the King and Queen dined with their guests, — and laughter and gay converse intermingled with the sound of song. They talked of their day’s experience — of the beauty of The Islands — of Ronsard, — his quaint house and quainter self, — so different to the persons with whom they associated in their own exclusive and brilliant Court ‘set,’ and the pretty Countess Amabil flirting harmlessly with Sir Walter Langton, suggested that a ‘Flower Feast’ or Carnival should be held during the summer, for the surprise and benefit of the Islanders, who had never yet seen a Royal pageant of pleasure on their shores.
But Sir Roger de Launay, ever watching the Queen, saw that she was very pale, and more silent even than was her usual habit, and that her eyes every now and again rested on the King, with something of wonder, as well as fear.
CHAPTER XIII. — SECRET SERVICE
In one of the ultra-fashionable quarters of the brilliant and overcrowded metropolis which formed the nucleus and centre of everything notable or progressive in the King’s dominions, there stood a large and aggressively-handsome house, over-decorated both outside and in, and implying in its general appearance vulgarity, no less than wealth. These two things go together very much nowadays; in fact one scarcely ever sees them apart. The fair, southern city of the sea was not behind other modern cities in luxury and self-aggrandisement, and there were certain members of the population who made it their business to show all they were worth in their domestic and home surroundings. One of the most flagrant money-exhibitors of this kind was a certain Jew named David Jost. Jost was the sole proprietor of the most influential newspaper in the kingdom, and the largest shareholder in three other newspaper companies, all apparently differing in party views, but all in reality working into the same hands, and for the same ends. Jost and his companies virtually governed the Press; and what was euphoniously termed ‘public opinion’ was the opinion of Jost. Should anything by chance happen to get into his own special journal, or into any of the other journals connected with Jost, which Jost did not approve of, or which might be damaging to Jost’s social or financial interests, the editor in charge was severely censured; if the fault occurred again he was promptly dismissed. ‘Public opinion’ had to be formed on Jost’s humour; otherwise it was no opinion at all. A few other newspapers led a precarious existence in offering a daily feeble opposition to Jost; but they had not cash enough to carry on the quarrel. Jost secured all the advertisers, and as a natural consequence of this, could well afford to be the ‘voice of the people’ ad libitum. He was immensely wealthy, openly vicious, and utterly unscrupulous; and
made brilliant speculative ‘deals’ in the unsuspecting natures of those who were led, by that bland and cheery demeanour which is generally associated with a large paunch, to consider him a ‘good fellow’ with his ‘heart in the right place.’ With regard to this last assertion, it may be doubted whether he had a heart at all, in any place, right or wrong. He was certainly not given to sentiment. He had married for money, and his wife had died in a mad-house. He was now anxious to marry again for position; and while looking round the market for a sufficiently perfect person of high-breeding, he patronized the theatre largely, and ‘protected’ several ballet-girls and actresses. Everyone knew that his life was black with villainy and intrigue of the most shameless kind, yet everyone swore that he was a good man. Such is the value of a limitless money-bag!
It was very late in the evening of the day following that on which the King had paid his unexpected visit to The Islands, — and David Jost had just returned from a comic opera-house, where he had supped in private with two or three painted heroines of the footlights. He was in an excellent humour with himself. He had sprung a mine on the public; and a carefully-concocted rumour of war with a foreign power had sent up certain stocks and shares in which he had considerable interest. He smiled, as he thought of the general uneasiness he was creating by a few headlines in his newspaper; and he enjoyed to the full the tranquil sense of having flung a bone of discord between two nations, in order to watch them from his arm-chair fighting like dogs for it tooth and claw, till one or the other gave in.
“Lutera will have to thank me for this,” he said to himself; “And he will owe me both a place and a title!”
He sat down at his desk in his warm and luxuriously-furnished study, — turned over a few letters, and then glanced up at the clock. Its hands pointed to within a few minutes of midnight. Taking up a copy of his own newspaper, he frowned slightly, as he saw that a certain leading article in favour of the Jesuit settlement in the country had not appeared.
“Crowded out, I suppose, for want of space,” he said; “I must see that it goes in to-morrow. These Jesuits know a thing or two; and they are not going to plank down a thousand pounds for nothing. They have paid for their advertisement, and they must have it. They ought to have had it to-day. Lutera must warn the King that it will not do to offend the Church. There’s a lot of loose cash lying idle in the Vatican, — we may as well have some of it! His Majesty has acted most unwisely in refusing to grant the religious Orders the land they want. He must be persuaded to yield it to them by degrees, — in exchange of course for plenty of cash down, without loss of dignity!”
At that moment the door-bell rang softly, as if it were pulled with extreme caution. A servant answered it, and at once came to his master’s room.
“A gentleman to see you, sir, on business,” he said.
Jost looked up.
“On business? At this time of night? Say I cannot see him — tell him to come again to-morrow!”
The servant withdrew, only to return again with a more urgent statement.
“The gentleman says he must see you, sir; he comes from the Premier.”
“From the Premier?”
“Yes, sir; his business is urgent, he says, and private. He sent in his card, sir.”
Here he handed over the card in question, a small, unobtrusive bit of pasteboard, laid in solitary grandeur on a very large silver salver.
David Jost took it up, and scanned it with some curiosity. “‘Pasquin Leroy’! H’m! Don’t know the name at all. ‘Urgent business; bear private credentials from the Marquis de Lutera’!” He paused again, considering, — then turned to the waiting attendant. “Show him in.”.
“Yes, sir!”
Another moment and Pasquin Leroy entered, — but it was an altogether different Pasquin Leroy to the one that had recently enrolled himself as an associate of Sergius Thord’s Revolutionary Committee. That particular Pasquin had seemed somewhat of a dreamer and a visionary, with a peculiar and striking resemblance to the King; this Pasquin Leroy had all the alertness and sharpness common to a practised journalist, press-reporter or commercial traveller. Moreover, his countenance, adorned with a black mustache, and small pointed beard, wore a cold and concentrated air of business — and he confronted the Jew millionaire without the slightest embarrassment or apology for having broken in upon his seclusion at so unseasonable an hour. He used a pince-nez, and was constantly putting it to his eyes, as though troubled with short-sightedness.
“I presume your matter cannot wait, sir,” said Jost, surveying him coolly, without rising from his seat,— “but if it can—”
“It cannot!” returned Leroy, bluntly.
Jost stared.
“So! You come from the Marquis de Lutera?”
“I do.”
“Your credentials?”
Leroy stepped close up to him, and with a sudden movement, which was somewhat startling, held up his right hand.
“This signet is, I believe, familiar to you, — and it will be enough to prove that I come on confidential business which cannot be trusted to writing!”
Jost gazed at the flashing sapphire on the stranger’s hand with a sense of deadly apprehension. He recognised the Premier’s ring well enough; and he also knew that it would never have been sent to him in this mysterious way unless the matter in question was almost too desperate for whispering within four walls. An uneasy sensation affected him; he pulled at his collar, looked round the room as though in search of inspiration, and then finally bringing his small, swine-like eyes to bear on the neat soldierly figure before him, he said with a careless air:
“You probably bring news for the Press affecting the present policy?”
“That remains to be seen!” replied Leroy imperturbably; “From a perfectly impartial standpoint, I should imagine that the present policy may have to alter considerably!”
Jost recoiled.
“Impossible! It cannot be altered!” he said roughly, — then suddenly recollecting himself, he assumed his usual indolent equanimity, and rising slowly, went to a side door in the room and threw it open.
“Step in here,” he said; “We can talk without fear of interruption. Will you smoke?”
“With pleasure!” replied Leroy, accepting a cigar from the case Jost extended — then glancing with a slight smile at the broad, squat Jewish countenance which had, in the last couple of minutes, lost something of its habitual redness, he added— “I am glad you are disposed to discuss matters with me in a friendly, as well as in a confidential way. It is possible my news may not be altogether agreeable to you; — but of course you would be more willing to suffer personally, than to jeopardise the honour of Ministers.”
He uttered the last sentence more as a question than a statement.
Jost shifted one foot against the other uneasily.
“I am not so sure of that,” he said after a pause, during which he had drawn himself up, and had endeavoured to look conscientious; “You see I have the public to consider! Ministers may fall; statesmen may be thrown out of office; but the Press is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever!”
“Except when a great Editor changes his opinions,” said Leroy tranquilly,— “Which is, of course, always a point of reason and conscience, as well as of — advantage! In the present case I think — but — shall we not enter the sanctum of which you have so obligingly opened the door? We can scarcely be too private when the King’s name is in question!”
Jost opened his furtive eyes in amazement.
“The King? What the devil has he to do with anything but his women and his amusements?”
A very close observer might have seen a curious expression flicker over Pasquin Leroy’s face at these words, — an expression half of laughter, half of scorn, — but it was slight and evanescent, and his reply was frigidly courteous.
“I really cannot inform you; but I am afraid his Majesty is departing somewhat from his customary routine! He is, in fact, taking an active, instead of a pas
sive part in national affairs.”
“Then he must be warned off the ground!” said Jost irritably; “He is a Constitutional monarch, and must obey the laws of the Constitution.”
“Precisely!” And Leroy looked carefully at the end of his cigar; “But at present he appears to have an idea that the laws of the Constitution are being tampered with by certain other kings; — for example, — the kings of finance!”
Jost muttered a half-inaudible oath.
“Come this way,” he said impatiently;— “Bad news is best soon over!”
Leroy gave a careless nod of acquiescence, — then glancing round the room, up at the clock, and down again to Jost’s desk, strewn with letters and documents of every description, he smiled a little to himself, and followed the all-powerful editor into the smaller adjoining apartment. The door closed behind them both, and Jost turned the key in the lock from within.
For a long time all was very silent. Jost’s valet and confidential servant, sleepy and tired, waited in the hall to let his master’s visitor out, — and hearing no sound, ventured to look into the study now and then, — but to no purpose. He knew the sanctity of that inner chamber beyond; he knew that when the Premier came to see the great Jost, — as he often did, — it was in that mysterious further room that business was transacted, and that it was as much as his place was worth to venture even to knock at the door. So, yawning heavily, he dozed on his bench in the hall, — woke with a start and dozed again, — while the clock slowly ticked away the minutes till with a dull clang the hour struck One. Then on again went the steady and wearisome tick-tick of the pendulum, for a quarter of an hour, half an hour, — and three-quarters, — till the utterly fatigued valet was about to knock down a few walking-sticks and umbrellas, and make a general noise of reminder to his master as to how the time was going, when, to his great relief, he heard the inner door open at last, and the voice of the mysterious visitor ring out in clear, precise accents.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli Page 542