Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli

by Marie Corelli

  Gloria was happy, — and her happiness made her doubly beautiful. Clad in her usual attire of white homespun, with her rich hair falling unbound over her shoulders in girl-fashion, and just kept back by a band of white coral, she looked like a young goddess of the sea; her lustrous, starlike eyes gazed up into the tender responsive ones of the handsome stripling she had so trustfully wedded, and not a shadow of doubt or fear darkened the heaven of her confidence. She did not know how beautiful she was, — she did not realise that her body was like one of the unfettered, graceful and perfectly-proportioned figures of women left to our wondering reverence by the Greek sculptors, — she had never thought about herself at all, not even to compare her fair brilliancy of skin with the bronzed, weather-beaten faces of the fisher-folk among whom she dwelt. Resting her delicate classic head against the encircling arm of her lover and lord, her beauty seemed almost unearthly in its pure transparency of feature, outlined by the silver glimmer of the moonbeams; and the young man by her side, with his handsome dark head, tall figure and distinguished bearing, looked the fitting mate for her fair, blossoming womanhood. No two lovers were ever more ideally matched in physical perfection; and as they moved slowly to and fro on the soft dark grass, brushing the dewy scent from hanging rose-boughs that pushed out inviting tufts of white and pink bloom here and there from the surrounding foliage, they would have served many a poet for some sweet idyll, or romance in rhyme, which should hold in its stanzas the magic of immortality. Yet there was a shade of uneasiness in the minds of both, — Prince Humphry was more silent than usual, and seemed absorbed in thought; and Gloria, looking timidly up from time to time at the dark poetic face of her ‘sailor’ lover, felt with a woman’s quick instinct that something was troubling him, and remorsefully concluded that she was to blame, — that he had heard of her having been seen by the King, and that he was evidently vexed by it. He had arrived that evening suddenly and unexpectedly; for she and her ‘little father,’ as she called Réné Ronsard, had just begun their frugal supper, when the Crown Prince’s yacht swept into the bay and dropped anchor. Half an hour later he, the much-beloved ‘junior officer’ in the Crown Prince’s service had appeared at the cottage door, greatly to their delight, for they did not expect to see him so soon. They had supped together, and then Ronsard himself had gone to superintend a meeting at a small social club he had started for the amusement of the fisher-folk, wisely leaving the young wedded lovers to themselves. And they had for a long time been very quiet, save for such little words of love as came into tune with the interchange of caresses, — and after a pause of anxious inward thought, Gloria ventured on a timid query.

  “Dearest, — are you very angry with me?”

  He started, — and stopping in his walk, turned the fair face up between his two hands, as one might lift a rose on its stem, and kissed it tenderly.

  “Angry? How can I ever be angry with you, Sweet? Besides what cause have I for anger?”

  “I thought, perhaps—” murmured Gloria, “that if the Professor told you what I did yesterday, — when the King came—”

  “He did tell me;” and the Prince still gazed down on that heavenly beauty which was the light of the world to him. “He told me that you sang; — and that your golden voice was a musical magnet which drew his Majesty to your feet! I am not surprised, — it was only natural! But I could have wished it had not happened just yet; however, it has happened, and we must make the best of it!”

  “It was my fault,” said the girl penitently;— “I had the fancy to sing; and I would sing, though the good Professor told me not to do so!”

  The Prince was silent. He was bracing his mind to the inevitable. He had determined that on this very night Gloria should know the truth. For he was instinctively certain that if he went abroad, as his father wished him to do, some means would be taken to remove her altogether from the country before his return; and his idea was to tell her all, and make her accompany him on his travels. As his wife, she was bound to obey him, he argued within himself; she should, she must go with him! Unconsciously Gloria’s next words supplied him with an opening to the subject.

  “Why did you never tell me that the Professor was in the King’s service?” she asked. “He seemed to know him quite well, — indeed, almost as a friend!”

  “He is the King’s physician,” answered the Prince abruptly; “And, therefore, he is very greatly in the King’s confidence.”

  He walked on, still keeping his arm round her, and seemed not to see the half-frightened glance she gave him.

  “The King’s physician!” she echoed;— “He does not seem a great person at all, — he is quite a simple old German man!”

  Her lover smiled.

  “To be physician to the King, my Gloria, is not a very wonderful honour! It merely implies that the man so chosen is perhaps the ablest fencer with sickness and death; the greatness is in the simple old German himself, not in the King’s preference. Von Glauben is a good man.”

  “I know it;” said Gloria gently; “He is good, — and very kind. He said he would always be my friend, — but he was very strange in his manner yesterday, and almost I was vexed with him. Do you know what he said? He asked me what I should do if you — my husband, had deceived me? Can you imagine such a thing?”

  Now was the supreme moment. With a violently beating heart the Prince halted, and putting both arms round her waist, drew her up to him in such a way that their eyes looked close into each other’s, and their lips were within kissing touch.

  “Yes, my sweetest one! I can imagine such a thing! Such a thing is possible! Consider it to be true! Consider that I have deceived you!”

  She did not move from his clasp, but into her large, lovely trusting eyes came a look of grief and terror, and her face grew ashy pale.

  “In what way?” she whispered faintly; “Tell me! I — I — cannot believe it!”

  “Gloria, — Gloria! My love, my darling! Do not tremble so! Do not fear! I have not deceived you in any evil way, — what I have done was for your good and mine; but now — now there is no longer any need of deception, — you may, and shall know all the truth, my wife, my dearest in the world! You shall know me as I truly am at last!”

  She moved restlessly in his strong clasp, — she was trembling from head to foot, as if her blood was suddenly chilled.

  “As you truly are!” she echoed, with pale lips— “Are you not then what I have believed you to be?”

  And she made an effort to withdraw herself entirely from his embrace. But he held her fast.

  “I am your husband, Gloria!” he said, “and you are my wife! Nothing can alter that; nothing can change our love or disunite our lives. But I am not the poor naval officer I have represented myself to be! — though I am glad I adopted such a disguise, because by its aid I wooed and won your love! I am not in the service of the Crown Prince, — except in so far as I serve my own needs! Why, how you tremble!” — and he held her closer— “Do not be afraid, my darling! Lift up your eyes and look at me with your own sweet trusting look, — do not turn away from me, because instead of being the Prince’s servant, I am the Prince himself!”

  “The Prince!” And with a cry of utter desolation, Gloria wrenched herself out of his arms, and stood apart, looking at him in wild alarm and bewilderment. “The Prince! You — you! — my husband! You, — the King’s son! And you have married me! — oh, how cruel of you! — how cruel! — how cruel!”

  Covering her face with her hands, she broke into a low sobbing, — and the Prince, cut to the heart by her distress, caught her again in his arms.

  “Hush, Gloria!” he said, with an accent of authority, though his own voice was tremulous; “You must not grieve like this! You will break my heart! Do you not understand? Do you not see that all my life is bound up in you? — that I give it to you to do what you will with? — that I care nothing for rank, state or throne without you? — that I will let all the world go rather than lose you? Gloria, do not weep so! — do n
ot weep! Every tear of yours is a pang to me! What does it matter whether I am prince or commoner? I love you! — we love each other! — we are one in the sight of Heaven!”

  He held her passionately in his arms, kissing the soft clusters of hair that fell against his breast, and whispering all the tenderest words of endearment he could think of to console and soothe her anguish. By degrees she grew calmer, and her sobs gradually ceased. Dashing the tears from her eyes, she looked up, — her face white as marble.

  “You must not tell Ronsard!” she said in faint tones that shook with fear; “He would kill you!”

  The Prince smiled indulgently; his only thought was for her, and so long as he could dry her tears, Ronsard’s rage or pleasure was nothing to him.

  “He would kill you!” repeated Gloria, with wide open tear-wet eyes; “He hates all kings, in his heart! — and if he knew that you — you — my husband, — were what you say you are; — if he thought you had married me under a disguise, only to leave me and never to want me any more — —”

  “Gloria, Gloria!” cried the Prince, in despair; “Why will you say such things! Never to want you any more! I want you all my life, and every moment of that life! Gloria, you must listen to me — you must not turn from me at the very time I need you most! Are you not brave? Are you not true? Do you not love me?”

  With a pathetic gesture she stretched out her hands to him.

  “Oh, yes, I love you!” she said; “I love you with all my heart! But you have deceived me! — my dearest, you have deceived me! And if you had only told me the truth, I would never, — for your own sake, — have married you!”

  “I know that!” said the Prince; “And that is why I determined to win you under the mask of poverty! Now listen, my Princess and my Queen! — for you are both! I want all your help — all your love — all your trust! Do not be afraid of Ronsard; he will, he can do nothing to harm me! You are my wife, Gloria, — you have promised before God to obey me! I claim your obedience!”

  She stood silent, looking at him, — pale and fair as an ivory statue of Psyche, seen against the dark background of the heavily-branched trees. Her mind was stunned and confused; she had not yet grasped the full consciousness of her position, — but as he spoke, the old primitive lessons of faith, steadfastness of purpose, and unwavering love and trust in God, which her adopted father had instilled into her from childhood, rose and asserted their sway over her startled, but unspoilt soul.

  “You need not claim it!” she said, slowly; “It is yours always! I shall do whatever you tell me, even if you command me to die for your sake!”

  With a swift impulsive action, full of grace and spirit, he dropped on one knee and kissed her hand.

  “And so I pledge my faith to my Queen!” he said joyously. “Gloria! my ‘Glory-of-the-Sea’! — you will forgive me for having in this one thing misled you? Think of me as your sailor lover still! — it is a much harder thing to be a king’s son than a simple, independent seafarer! Pity me for my position, and help me to make it endurable! Come now with me down to that rocky nook on the shore where I first saw you, — and I will tell you exactly how everything stands, — and how I trust to your love for me and your courage, to clear away all the difficulties before us. You do not love me less?”

  “I could not love you less!” she replied slowly; “but I cannot think of you as quite the same!”

  A shadow of pain darkened his face.

  “Gloria,” he said sadly; “If your love was as great as mine you would forgive!”

  She stood a moment wavering and uncertain; their eyes were riveted on each other in a strange spiritual attraction — her soft lips were a little relaxed from their gravity as she steadfastly regarded him. She was embarrassed, conscious, and very pale; but he drank in gratefully the wonder and shy worship of those pure eyes, — and waited. Suddenly she sprang to him and closed her arms about his neck, kissing him with simple and loving tenderness.

  “I do forgive! Oh, I do forgive!” she murmured; “Because I love you, my darling — because I love you! Whatever you wish I will do for your love’s sake — believe me! — but I am frightened just now! — it is as if I did not know you — as if someone had taken you suddenly a long way off! Give me a little time to recover my courage! — and to know” — here a faint smile trembled on her beautiful curved mouth— “to know, — and to feel, — that you are still my own! — even though the world may try to part you from me! — still my very own!”

  The warmth of passionate feeling in her face flushed it into a rose-glow that spread from chin to brow, — and clasping her to his breast, he gave her the speechless answer that love inscribes on eyes and lips, — then, keeping his arm tenderly about her, he led her gently into the path through the pinewood, which wound down to their favourite haunt by the sea.

  The moonlight had now increased in brilliancy, and illumined the landscape with all the opulence, splendour and superabundance of radiance common to the south, — the air was soft and balmy, and one great white cloud floating lazily under the silver orb, moved slowly to the centre of the heavens, — the violet-blue of night falling around it like an imperial robe of state. The two youthful figures passed under the pine-boughs, which closed over them odorously in dark arches of shadow, and wended their slow way down to the seashore, from whence they could see the Royal yacht lying at anchor, every tapering line of her fair proportions distinctly outlined against the sky, and all her masts shining as if they had been washed with silver dew; and the Heir-Apparent to a throne was, — for once in the history of Heir-Apparents, — happy — happy in knowing that he was loved as princes seldom or never are loved, — not for his power, not for his rank, but simply for himself alone, by one of the most beautiful women in the world, who, — if she knew neither the ways of a Court, nor the wiles of fashion, — had something better than either of these, — the sanctity of truth and the strength of innocence.

  Réné Ronsard, coming back from his pleasurable duties as host and chairman to his fishermen-friends, found the cottage deserted, and smiled, as he sat himself down in the porch to smoke, and to wait for the lover’s return.

  “What a thing it is to be young!” he sighed, as he gazed meditatively at the still beauty of the night around him;— “To be young, — and in love with the right person! Hours go like moments — the grass is never damp — the air is never cold — there is never time enough to give all the kisses that are waiting to be given; and life is so beautiful, that we are almost able to understand why God created the universe! The rapture passes very quickly, unfortunately — with some people; — but if I ever prayed for anything — which I do not — I should pray that it might remain with Gloria! It surely cannot offend the Supreme Being who is responsible for our existence, to see one woman happy out of all the tortured millions of them! One exception to the universal rule would not make much difference! The law that the strong should prey on the weak, nearly always prevails, — but it is possible to hope and believe that on rare occasions the strong may be magnanimous!”

  He smoked on placidly, considering various points of philosophic meditation, and by and by fell into a gentle doze. The doze deepened into a dream which grew sombre and terrible, — and in it he thought he saw himself standing bareheaded on a raised platform above surging millions of people who all shouted with one terrific uproar of unison— “Regicide! Regicide!” He looked down upon his hands, and saw them red with blood! — he looked up to the heavens, and they were flushed with the same ominous hue. Blood! — blood! — the blood of kings, — the dust of thrones! — and he, the cause! Choked and tormented with a parching thirst, it seemed in the dream that he tried to speak, — and with all his force he cried out— “For her sake I did it! For her sake!” But the clamour of the crowd drowned his voice, — and then it was as if the coldness of death crept slowly over him, — slowly and cruelly, as though his whole body were being enclosed within an iceberg, — and he saw Gloria, the child of his love and care, laid out before h
im dead, — but robed and crowned like a queen, and placed on a great golden bier of state, with purple velvet falling about her, and tall candles blazing at her head and feet. And voices sang in his ears— “Gloria! Gloria in excelsis Deo!” — mingling with the muffled chanting of priests at some distant altar; and he thought he made an attempt to touch the royal velvet pall that draped her beautiful lifeless body, when he was roughly thrust back by armed men with swords and bayonets who asked him “What do you here? Are you not her murderer?” — and he cried out wildly “No, no! Never could I have harmed the child of my love! Never could I hurt a hair of her head, or cause her an hour’s sorrow! She is all I had in the world! — I loved her! — I loved her! Let me see her! — let me touch her! — let me kiss her once again!” And then the scene suddenly changed, — and it was found that Gloria was not dead at all, but walking peacefully alone in a garden of flowers, with lilies crowning her, and all the sunshine about her; and that the golden bier of state had changed into a ship at sea which was floating, floating westward bearing some great message to a far country, and that all was well for him and his darling. The troubled vision cleared from his brain, and his sleep grew calmer; he breathed more easily, and flitting glimpses of fair scenes passed before his dreaming eyes, — scenes in some peaceful and beautiful world, where never a shadow of sorrow or trouble darkened the quiet contentment of happy and innocent lives. He smiled in his sleep, and heaved a deep sigh of pleasure, — and so, gently awoke, to feel a light touch on his shoulder, and to see Gloria standing before him. A smile was on her face, — the fragrance of the woodlands and the sea clung about her garments, — she held a few roses in her hand, and there was something in her whole appearance that struck him as new, commanding, and more than ever beautiful.