"No. Pardon me, my friend! Not rash. Merely honest. That is all! He is a very honest young man indeed. It is unfortunate that he is so; a ploughman may be honest if he likes, but a prince--never!"
De Launay was silent.
"I will now destroy a world"--continued Von Glauben, "Kings, emperors, popes, councillors and common folk, can all perish incontinently,--as--being myself for the present the free agent of the Deity concerned in the matter,--I have something else to do than to look after them,"--and he took up the gla.s.s vessel containing the animalculae he had been watching, and cast it with its contents into a small stove burning dimly at one end of the apartment,--"Gone are their ambitions and confabulations for ever! How easy for the Creator to do the same thing with us, Roger! Let us not talk of any special danger for the King or for any man, seeing that we are all on the edge of an eternal volcano!"
De Launay stood absorbed for a moment, as if in deep thought. Then rousing himself abruptly he said:--
"You will not see the King, and speak with him before to-morrow night?"
"Why should I?" queried the Professor. "His wish is a command which I must obey. Besides, my good Roger, all the arguments in the world will not turn a man from having his own way if he has once made up his own mind. Advice from me on the present matter would be merely taken as an impertinence. Moreover I have no advice to give,--I rather approve of the plan!"
Sir Roger looked at him; and noting the humorous twinkle in his eyes smiled, though somewhat gravely.
"I hope, with you, that the experiment may only prove an amusing one,"
he said--"But life is not always a farce!"
"Not always, but often! When it is not a farce it is a tragedy. And such a tragedy! My G.o.d! Horrible--monstrous--cruel beyond conception, and enough to make one believe in h.e.l.l and doubt Heaven!"
He spoke pa.s.sionately, in a voice vibrating with strong emotion. De Launay glanced at him wonderingly, but did not speak.
"When you see tender young children tortured by disease," he went on,--"Fair and gentle women made the victims of outrage and brutality--strong men killed in their thousands to gain a little additional gold, an extra slice of empire,--then you see the tragic, the inexplicable, the crazy cruelty of putting into us this little pulse called Life. But I try not to think of this--it is no use thinking!"
He paused,--then in his usual quiet tone said:
"To-morrow night, then, my friend?"
"To-morrow night," rejoined De Launay,--"Unless you receive further instructions from the King."
At that moment the clear call of a trumpet echoing across the battlements of the palace denoted the hour for changing the sentry.
"Sunset already!" said Von Glauben, walking to the window and throwing back the heavy curtain which partially shaded it, "And yonder is Prince Humphry"s yacht on its homeward way."
De Launay came and stood beside him, looking out. Before them the sea glistened with a thousand tints of l.u.s.trous opal in the light of the sinking sun, which, surrounded by mountainous heights of orange and purple cloud, began to touch the water-line with a thousand arrowy darts of flame. The white-sailed vessel on which their eyes were fixed, came curtseying over the waves through a perfect arch of splendid colour, like a fairy or phantom ship evoked from a poet"s dream.
"Absent all day, as he has been," said De Launay, "his Royal Highness is punctual to the promised hour of his return."
"He is, as I told you, honest;" said Von Glauben, "and it is possible his honesty will be his misfortune."
De Launay muttered something inaudible in answer, and turned to leave the apartment.
Von Glauben looked at him with an affectionate solicitude.
"What a lucky thing it is you never married, Roger! Otherwise you would now be going to tell your wife all about the King"s plans! Then she, sweet creature, would go to confession,--and her confessor would tell a bishop,--and a bishop would tell a cardinal,--and a cardinal would tell a confidential monsignor,--and the confidential monsignor would tell the Supreme Pontiff,--and so all the world would be ringing with the news started by one little pretty wagging tongue of a woman!"
A faint flush coloured De Launay"s bronzed cheek, but he laughed.
"True! I am glad I have never married. I am still more glad--of circ.u.mstances"--he paused,--then went on, "which have so chanced to me that I shall never marry." He paused again--then added--"I must be gone, Von Glauben! I have to meet Prince Humphry at the quay with a message from his Majesty."
"Surely," said the Professor, opening his eyes very wide, "The Prince is not to be included in our adventure?"
"By no means!" replied De Launay,--"But the King is not pleased with his son"s frequent absences from Court, and desires to speak with him on the matter."
Von Glauben looked grave.
"There will be some little trouble there," he said, with a half sigh--"Ach! Who knows! Perhaps some great trouble!"
"Heaven forbid!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sir Roger,--"We live in times of peace. We want no dissension with either the King or the people. Till to-morrow night then?"
"Till to-morrow night!" responded Von Glauben, whereupon Sir Roger with a brief word of farewell, strode away.
Left to himself, the Professor still stood at his window watching the approach of the Prince"s yacht, which came towards the sh.o.r.e with such swift and stately motion through the portals of the sunset, over the sparkling water.
"Unfortunate Humphry!" he muttered,--"What a secret he has entrusted me with! And yet why do I call him unfortunate? There should be nothing to regret--and yet--! Well! The mischief was done before poor Heinrich von Glauben was consulted; and if poor Heinrich were G.o.d and the Devil rolled into one strange Eternal Monster, he could not have prevented it!
What is done, can never be undone!"
CHAPTER V
"IF I LOVED YOU!"
A singular pomp is sometimes a.s.sociated with the announcement that my Lord Pedigree, or Mister n.o.body has "had the honour of dining" with their Majesties the King and Queen. Outsiders read the thrilling line with awe and envy,--and many of them are foolish enough to wish that they also were Lords Pedigree or Misters n.o.body. As a matter of sad and sober fact, however, a dinner with royal personages is an extremely dull affair. "Do not speak unless you are spoken to," is a rule which, however excellent and necessary in Court etiquette, is apt to utterly quench conversation, and render the brightest spirits dull and inert.
The silent and solemn movements of the Court flunkeys,--the painful att.i.tudes of those who are _not_ "spoken to"; the eager yet laboured smiles of those who _are_ "spoken to ";--the melancholy efforts at gaiety--the dread of trespa.s.sing on tabooed subjects--these things tend to make all but the most independent and unfettered minds shrink from such an ordeal as the "honour" of dining with kings. It must, however, be conceded that the kings themselves are fully aware of the tediousness of their dinner parties, and would lighten the boredom if they could; but etiquette forbids. The particular monarch whose humours are the subject of this "plain unvarnished" history would have liked nothing better than to be allowed to dine in simplicity and peace without his conversation being noted, and without having a flunkey at hand to watch every morsel of food go into his mouth. He would have liked to eat freely, talk freely, and conduct himself generally with the ease of a private gentleman.
All this being denied to him, he hated the dinner-hour as ardently as he hated receiving illuminated addresses, and the freedom of cities. Yet all things costly and beautiful were combined to make his royal table a picture which would have pleased the eyes and taste of a Marguerite de Valois. On the evening of the day on which he had determined, as he had said to himself, to "begin to reign," it looked more than usually attractive. Some trifling chance had made the floral decorations more tasteful--some amiable humour of the providence which rules daily events, had ordained that two or three of the prettiest Court ladies should be present;--Prince Humphry and his two brothers, Rupert and Cyprian, were at table,--and though conversation was slow and scant, the picturesqueness of the scene was not destroyed by silence. The apartment which was used as a private dining-room when their Majesties had no guests save the members of their own household, was in itself a gem of art and architecture,--it had been designed and painted from floor to ceiling by one of the most famous of the dead and gone masters, and its broad windows opened out on a white marble loggia fronting the ocean, where festoons of flowers clambered and hung, in natural tufts and trails of foliage and blossom, mingling their sweet odours with the fresh scent of the sea. Amid all the glow and delicacy of colour, the crowning perfection of the perfect environment was the Queen-Consort, lovelier in her middle-age than most women in their teens. An exquisite figure of stateliness and dignity, robed in such hues and adorned with such jewels as best suited her statuesque beauty, and attended by ladies of whose more youthful charms she was never envious, having indeed no cause for envy, she was a living defiance to the ravages of time, and graced her royal husband"s dinner-table with the same indifferent ease as she graced his throne, unchanging in the dazzling light of her physical faultlessness. He, looking at her with mingled impatience and sadness, almost wished she would grow older in appearance with her years, and lose that perfect skin, white as alabaster,--that glittering but cold luminance of eye. For experience had taught him the worthlessness of beauty unaccompanied by tenderness, and fair faces had no longer the first attraction for him. His eldest son, Prince Humphry, bore a strong resemblance to himself,--he was tall and slim, with a fine face, and a well-built muscular figure; the other two younger princes, Rupert and Cyprian, aged respectively eighteen and sixteen, were like their mother,--beautiful in form and feature, but as indifferent to all tenderness of thought and sentiment as they were full of splendid health and vigour. And, despite the fact that the composition and surroundings of his household were, to all outward appearances, as satisfactory as a man in his position could expect them to be, the King was intellectually and spiritually aware of the emptiness of the sh.e.l.l he called "home."
Love was lacking; his beautiful wife was the ice-wall against which all waves of feeling froze as they fell into the stillness of death. His sons had been born as the foals of a racing stud might be born,--merely to continue the line of blood and succession. They were not the dear offspring of pa.s.sion or of tenderness. The coldness of their mother"s nature was strongly engendered in them, and so far they had never shown any particular affection for their parents. The princes Rupert and Cyprian thought of nothing all day but sports and games of skill; they studied serious tasks unwillingly, and found their position as sons of the reigning monarch, irksome, and even ridiculous. They had caught the infection of that diseased idea which in various exaggerated forms is tending to become more or less universal, and to work great mischief to nations,--namely, that "sport" is more important than policy, and that all matters relating to "sport," are more worth attention than wisdom in government. Of patriotism, or love of country they had none; and laughed to scorn the grand old traditions and sentiments of national glory and honour, which had formerly inspired the poets of their land to many a wild and beautiful chant of battle or of victory. How to pa.s.s the day--how best to amuse themselves--this was their first thought on waking every morning,--football, cricket, tennis and wrestling formed their chief subjects of conversation; and though they had professors and tutors of the most qualified and certificated ability, they made no secret of their utter contempt for all learning and literature. They were fine young animals; but did less with the brains bestowed upon them than the working bee who makes provision of honey for the winter, or the swallow that builds its nest under warmly sheltered eaves.
Prince Humphry, however, was of a different nature. From a shy, somewhat unmanageable boy, he had developed into a quiet, dreamy youth, fond of books, music, and romantic surroundings. He avoided the company of his brothers whenever it was possible; their loud voices, boisterous spirits and perpetual chatter concerning the champions of this or that race or match, bored him infinitely, and he was at no pains to disguise his boredom. During the last year he seemed to have grown up suddenly into full manhood,--he had begun to a.s.sert his privileges as Heir-Apparent, and to enjoy the freedom his position allowed him. Yet the manner of his enjoyment was somewhat singular for a young man who formed a central figure in the circle of the land"s Royalty,--he cared nothing at all for the amus.e.m.e.nts and dissipations of the time; he merely showed an abnormal love of solitude, which was highly unflattering to fashionable society. It was on this subject that the King had decided to speak with him,--and he watched him with closer attention than usual on this particular evening when his habit of absenting himself all day in his yacht had again excited comment. It was easy to see that the Prince had been annoyed by the message Sir Roger de Launay had conveyed to him on his arrival home,--a message to the effect that, as soon as dinner was concluded, he was required to attend his Majesty in private; and all through the stately and formal repast, his evident irritation and impatience cast a shadow of vague embarra.s.sment over the royal party,--with the exception of the princes Rupert and Cyprian, who were never embarra.s.sed by anything, and who were more apt to be amused than disquieted by the vexation of others. Welcome relief was at last given by the serving of coffee,--and the Queen and all her ladies adjourned to their own apartments. With their departure the rest of the circle soon dispersed, there being no special guests present; and at a sign from De Launay, Prince Humphry reluctantly followed his father into a small private smoking-room adjacent to the open loggia, where the equerry, bowing low, left the two together.
For a moment the King kept silence, while he chose a cigar from the silver box on the table. Then, lighting it, he handed the box courteously to his son.
"Will you smoke, Humphry?"
"Thanks, Sir,--no."
The King seated himself; Prince Humphry remained standing.
"You had a favourable wind for your expedition today;" said the monarch at last, beginning to smoke placidly--"I observe that The Islands appear to have won special notice from you. What is the attraction? The climate or the scenery?"
The Prince was silent.
"I like fine scenery myself,--" continued the King--"I also like a change of air. But variation in both is always desirable,--and for this, it is unwise to go to the same place every day!"
Still the Prince said nothing. His father looked up and studied his face attentively, but could guess nothing from its enigmatical expression.
"You seem tongue-tied, Humphry!" he said--"Come, sit down! Let us talk this out. Can you not trust me, your father, as a friend?"