"More fools they!" said Von Glauben gruffly; "Love is a mere illusion, which is generally destroyed by one simple ceremony--Marriage!"
Prince Humphry smiled.
"You have never tried the cure, Professor," he said, "But I daresay you have suffered from the disease! Will you walk with me?"
Von Glauben bowed a respectful a.s.sent; and the Prince, with a kindly nod of dismissal to De Launay, went on his way, the Professor by his side. Sir Roger watched them as they disappeared, and saw, that at the furthest end of the alley, when they were well out of ear-shot, they appeared to engage in very close and confidential conversation.
"I wonder," he mused, "I wonder what it all means? Von Glauben is evidently mixed up in some affair that he wishes to keep secret from the King. Can it concern Prince Humphry? And The Islands! What can Von Glauben want over there?"
His brief meditation was interrupted by a soft voice calling.
"Roger!"
He started, and at once advanced to meet the approaching intruder, his sister, Teresa de Launay, a pretty brunette, with dark sparkling eyes, one of the favourite ladies of honour in attendance on the Queen.
"What were you dreaming about?" she asked, as he came near, "And what is the Prince doing with old Von Glauben?"
"Two questions at once, Teresa!" he said, stooping his tall head to kiss her; "I cannot possibly answer both in a breath! But answer me just one--What are you here for?"
"To summon _you_!" she answered. "The Queen desires you to wait upon her immediately."
She fixed her bright eyes upon him as she spoke, and an involuntary sigh escaped her, as she noted the touch of pallor that came on his face at her words.
"Where is her Majesty?" he asked.
"Here--close at hand--in the arbour. She spied you at a distance through the trees, and sent me to fetch you."
"You had best return to her at once, and say that I am coming."
His sister looked at him again, and hesitated--he gave a slight, vexed gesture of impatience, whereupon she hurried away, with flying footsteps as light as those of a fabled sylph of the woodlands. He watched her go, and for a moment an expression came into his eyes of intense suffering--the look of a n.o.ble dog who is suddenly struck undeservedly by an unkind master.
"She sends for me!" he muttered; "What for? To amuse herself by reading every thought of my life with her cold eyes? Why can she not leave me alone?"
He walked on then, with a quiet, even pace, and presently reaching the end of the alley, came out on a soft stretch of greensward facing a small ornamental lake and fountain. Here grew tall rushes, bamboos and flag-flowers--here, too, on the quiet lake floated water-lilies, white and pink, opening their starry hearts to the glory of the morning sun. A quaintly shaped, rustic arbour covered with jasmine, faced the pool, and here sat the Queen alone and unattended, save by Teresa de Launay, who drew a little apart as her brother, Sir Roger, approached, and respectfully bent his head in the Royal presence. For quite a minute he stood thus in dumb attention, his eyes lowered, while the Queen glanced at him with a curious expression, half of doubt, half of commiseration.
Suddenly, as if moved by a quick impulse, she rose--a stately, exquisite figure, looking even more beautiful in her simple morning robe of white cashmere and lace, than in all the glory of her Court attire,--and extended her hand. Humbly and reverentially he bent over it, and kissed the great jewel sparkling like a star on the central finger. As he then raised his eyes to her face she smiled;--that smile of hers, so dazzling, so sweet, and yet so cold, had sent many men to their deaths, though she knew it not.
"I see very little of you, Sir Roger," she said slowly, "notwithstanding your close attendance on my lord the King. Yet I know I can command your service!"
"Madam," murmured De Launay, "my life----"
"Oh, no," she rejoined quickly, "not your life! Your life, like mine, belongs to the King and the country. You must give all, or not at all!"
"Madam, I do give all!" he answered, with a look in his eyes of mingled pain and pa.s.sion; "No man can give more!"
She surveyed him with a little meditative, almost amused air.
"You have strong feelings, Sir Roger," she said; "I wonder what it is like--to _feel_?"
"If I may dare to say so, Madam, I should wish you to experience the sensation," he returned somewhat bitterly; "Sometimes we awaken to emotions too late--sometimes we never awaken. But I think it is wisest to experience the nature of a storm, in order to appreciate the value of a calm!"
"You think so?" She smiled indulgently. "Storm and calm are to me alike!
I am affected by neither. Life is so exceedingly trivial an affair, and is so soon over, that I have never been able to understand why people should ever trouble themselves about anything in it."
"You may not always be lacking in this comprehension, Madam," said Sir Roger, with a certain harshness in his tone, yet with the deepest respect in his manner; "I take it that life and the world are but a preparation for something greater, and that we shall be forced to learn our lessons in this preparatory school before we leave it, whether we like it or no!"
The slight smile still lingered on her beautiful mouth,--she pulled a spray of jasmine down from the trailing cl.u.s.ters around her, and set it carelessly among the folds of her lace. Sir Roger watched her with moody eyes. Could he have followed his own inclination, he would have s.n.a.t.c.hed the flower from her dress and kissed it, in a kind of fierce defiance before her very eyes. But what would be the result of such an act?
Merely a little contemptuous lifting of the delicate brows--a slight frown on the fair forehead, and a calm gesture of dismissal. No more--no more than this; for just as she could not be moved to love, neither could she be moved to anger. The words of an old song rang in his ears:--
She laughs at the thought of love-- Pain she scorns, and sorrow she sets aside-- My heart she values less than her broidered glove, She would smile if I died!
"You are a man, Sir Roger de Launay," she said after a pause, "And man-like, you propound any theory which at the moment happens to fit your own particular humour. I am, however, entirely of your opinion that this life is only a term of preparation, and with this conviction I desire to have as little to do with its vile and ugly side as I can. It is possible to accept with grat.i.tude the beautiful things of Nature, and reject the rest, is it not?"
"As you ask me the question point-blank, Madam, I say it is possible,--it can be done,--and you do it. But it is wrong!"
She raised her languid eyelids, showing no offence.
"Wrong?"
"Wrong, Madam!" repeated Sir Roger bluntly; "It is wrong to shut from your sight, from your heart, from your soul the ugly side of Nature;--to shut your ears to the wants--the pains--the tortures--the screams--the tears, and groans of humanity! Oh, Madam, the ugly side has a strange beauty of its own that you dream not of! G.o.d makes ugliness as he makes beauty; G.o.d created the volcano belching forth fire and molten lava, as He created the simple stream bordered with meadow flowers! Why should you reject the ugly, the fierce, the rebellious side of things? Rather take it into your gracious thoughts and prayers, Madam, and help to make it beautiful!"
He spoke with a force which surprised himself--he was carried away by a pa.s.sion that seemed almost outside his own ident.i.ty. She looked at him curiously.
"Does the King teach you to speak thus to me?" she asked.
De Launay started,--the hot colour mounting to his cheeks and brow.
"Madam!"
"Nay, no excuse! I understand! It is your own thought; but a thought which is no doubt suddenly inspired by the King"s actions," she went on tranquilly; "You are in his confidence. He is adopting new measures of domestic policy, in which, perchance, I may or may not be included--as it suits my pleasure! Who knows!" Again the little musing smile crossed her countenance. "It is of the King I wish to speak to you."
She glanced around her, and saw that her lady-in-waiting, Teresa de Launay, had discreetly wandered by herself to the edge of the water-lily pool, and was bending over it, a graceful, pensive figure in the near distance, within call, but certainly not within hearing.
"You are in his confidence," she repeated, drawing a step nearer to him, "and--so am I! You will not disclose his movements--nor shall I! But you are his close attendant and friend,--I am merely--his wife! I make you responsible for his safety!"
"Madam, I pray you pardon me!" exclaimed De Launay; "His Majesty has a will of his own,--and his sacred life is not in my hands. I will defend him to the utmost limit of human possibility,--but if he voluntarily runs into danger, and disregards all warning, I, as his poor servant, am not to blame!"
Her eyes, brilliant and full of a compelling magnetism, dwelt upon him steadfastly.
"I repeat my command," she said deliberately, "I make you responsible!
You are a strong man and a brave one. If the King is rash, it is the duty of his servants to defend him from the consequences of his rashness; particularly if that rashness leads him into danger for a n.o.ble purpose. Should any mischance befall him, let me never see your face again! Die yourself, rather than let your King die!"
As she spoke these words she motioned him away with a grand gesture of dismissal, and he retired back from her presence in a kind of stunned amazement. Never before in all the days of her social sway as Crown-Princess, had she ever condescended to speak to him on any matter of confidence,--never during her three years of sovereignty as Queen-Consort had she apparently taken note, or cared to know any of the affairs connected with the King, her husband. The mere fact that now her interest was roused, moved De Launay to speechless wonderment. He hardly dared raise his eyes to look at her, as she turned from him and went slowly, with her usual noiseless, floating grace of movement, towards the water-lily pool, there to rejoin her attendant, Teresa de Launay, who at the same time advanced to meet her Royal mistress. A moment more, and Queen and lady of honour had disappeared together, and De Launay was left alone. A little bird, swinging on a branch above his head, piped a few tender notes to the green leaves and the sunlit sky, but beyond this, and the measured plash of the fountain, no sound disturbed the stillness of the garden.
"Upon my word, Roger de Launay," he said bitterly to himself, "you are an a.s.s sufficiently weighted with burdens! The love of a Queen, and the life of a King are enough for one man"s mind to carry with any degree of safety! If it were not for the King, I think I should leave this country and seek some other service--but I owe him much,--if only by reason of my own heart"s folly!"
Impatient with himself, he strode away, straight across the lawn and back to the palace. Here he noticed just the slightest atmosphere of uneasiness among some of the retainers of the Royal household,--a vague impression of flurry and confusion. Through various pa.s.sages and corridors, attendants and pages were either running about with extra haste, or else strolling to and fro with extra slowness. As he turned into one of the ante-chambers, he suddenly confronted a tall, military-looking personage in plain civilian attire, whom he at once recognized as the Chief of the Police.
"Ah, Bernhoff!" he said lightly, "any storms brewing?"