"On the contrary, I think I shall go to bed early," said Moreno. "We shall hear nothing to-night in this distant quarter. And in the morning there will be the news, or no news at all. The Chief will let us know."
The great Contraras, very upright and vigorous for his age, was shown into Mademoiselle Delmonte"s sitting-room. She sprang up eagerly at his entrance.
"I am so glad you have come. You are a little late, are you not?
Luncheon will be served in a few moments."
He could see she was very restless, and her cheeks were pale; there was a strange, almost unnatural brilliance in her dark eyes. Her voice was jerky.
He took both her hands in his and pressed them tenderly. "You are not afraid, Valerie?"
He was a fanatic, bold, brutal, and ruthless in his fanaticism, ready to sacrifice anything and everybody to the one absorbing idea. But at the sight of those pale cheeks, that quivering mouth, a momentary regret a.s.sailed him. He was a father, and this beautiful young woman was young enough to be his daughter.
"We ought to have had a man for this job," he said, speaking a little hoa.r.s.ely. "But you know you chose it yourself; you would not even have another a.s.sociated with you."
"I know." She tried to laugh lightly, but there was a quaver in the laugh. "I do not regret. I am not really afraid. But I suppose every soldier on his first battlefield has inward tremors that he cannot repress. I am a soldier of the Revolution, and to-night is my first battlefield."
"And you feel those tremors, eh?"
"Just a little, although I blush for them. But don"t let us think of this. Ah, here comes lunch." They sat down to the meal. She was a very abstemious woman, and rarely partook of stimulants. But, in honour of Contraras" visit, she had ordered a bottle of champagne. Under its exhilarating influence, her jangled nerves readjusted themselves, and she became her natural self. The colour returned to her cheeks.
She raised her gla.s.s and nodded to her guest.
"To the new world, born upon the ruins of the old."
"Amen to that wish!" cried Contraras fervently, as he drank his wine in one long draught.
There was a long pause, which she broke abruptly. "I think I have told you I made my will in London last year."
Contraras nodded. "Yes, you told me that."
"But I did not tell you the details. I have left all my money in the hands of the Public Trustee, to divide amongst certain charities. As private fortunes go, it is a fair one--but what a small sum to go to the alleviation of this vast amount of human misery!"
"You could not have made a better use of it," said Contraras appreciatively.
"To you, my dear friend, I have left twenty thousand pounds to devote to whatever purpose you think fit. Of course you will apply that money to the spreading of the propaganda."
"I much appreciate your kind thought, my dear Valerie; it is just like you. But may the day be far distant when--"
She raised her hand. "We will speak no more of that, please. I wonder what will be the result of to-night?"
"Success!" cried Contraras confidently. "Success!"
A few minutes later he rose to go.
"The d.u.c.h.ess will call for you in her carriage. Once arrived at the Palace, keep under her wing for some time, so as to avoid suspicion.
Then seize your time and opportunity. Would you like me to come round and see you before you start? But I shall look out for you at the Palace."
For a moment she did not answer him, she was pursuing the train of her own thoughts.
"I never told you I had my fortune told by a gipsy when I was sixteen.
Would you like to know what she predicted?"
"If you wish," replied Contraras politely. He had no respect for gipsies or their prophecies.
"Ah, I see it won"t interest you. I don"t think you believe much in the spiritual side of existence. Still, I will tell it; it will not take a moment. Up to the present, it has come remarkably true. This gipsy, she was a very old woman, predicted that I should have a very hard life for some years, then would come some years of great good fortune, and then--equally great tribulation."
Contraras smiled. "My dear child, she probably predicted precisely the same things hundreds of times to her clients. The veil of the future is not to be lifted by a wandering beggar-woman."
"Of course, I knew you would not be impressed, or perhaps you just say it to cheer me."
She had forgotten his question--should he come and see her again before she started for the Palace? He repeated it.
"No, my good friend, I would rather not. If all goes well, we shall meet again often. If not, we will say good-bye here. A thousand thanks for your friendship and kindness."
Could fanaticism go further? She was thanking this hardened old schemer for his friendship and kindness--friendship and kindness that were ready to sacrifice her at any moment for his own ends.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
Moreno had declared to Violet Hargrave that he proposed to go to bed early, and wait till to-morrow for the news.
When he spoke that had been his original intention. But, as the evening drew on, he began to feel a certain restlessness stirring in him.
Certain things were about to happen, or, as he hoped, to be frustrated.
He could hardly compose himself to sleep under the unusual circ.u.mstances. He would go out, and form one of the undistinguished crowd that cl.u.s.tered round the Palace gates. If anything dramatic happened, he could not fail to be aware of it. The news would spread like wildfire.
On his arrival, he caught sight of a woman closely veiled standing close beside him. He recognised her at once. It was evident that Mrs Hargrave could no more endure to stay indoors than he could.
He moved up a few paces and spoke to her in English, practically their native tongue.
"The same sudden impulse seized both of us," he whispered. "Well, it is a very orderly crowd. I don"t think we shall be pushed or knocked about. We shall enjoy the sight of the grandees arriving. By the way, it is a pity we were not sent an invitation, then we could have seen it from the inside."
Violet Hargrave whispered back. "I simply couldn"t stay indoors. My nerves seem on edge to-night."
"Mine are a bit out of time, too," answered Moreno in a low voice.
And, while they were waiting, Moreno indulged in several philosophical reflections.
A curious and not ill-natured crowd was gathered round the Palace, something like the throng that gathers round a wedding. There was no harm in these good-humoured, laughing persons, mainly of the lower order. They were not envious of the people who went inside, these men in Court costume, these women of another world, daintily attired. They discussed and admired the good looks of the men, the exquisite costumes of the women.
If the Court Chamberlain had suddenly appeared, and in the name of their Majesties, bade them enter the Royal precincts in a spirit of perfect equality with the other guests, they would have been very embarra.s.sed and, save for a few adventurous spirits, have declined the invitation.
They would have felt out of place.
From what causes arose this antagonism amongst the clever extremists of the proletariat toward the more fortunate ones of the earth?
Moreno was puzzled to find a solution. Envy perhaps was the contributing cause. And yet the ordinary man who dines at a common eating-house is not always envious of the man who eats a sumptuous luncheon at the Ritz or Carlton. The middle-cla.s.s prosperous professional man does not always gnash his teeth when he thinks of a n.o.bleman, possibly his client, who has a rent roll of a hundred thousand a year.
Moreno was very just. There was a time when he had had to fare very frugally, and he had not complained. Things had improved. When the fancy took him, he would indulge in a good dinner, a bottle of champagne, and an excellent cigar. Was he hurting the toiling millions very much if he occasionally indulged in these luxuries? Were the few fortunate ones of the earth, and after all they were very few, hurting him if they indulged in them every day?
Night was slowly settling over the city. Far away from this scene of revel and display, some thousands of humble workers had eaten their frugal suppers, and were preparing for bed. If all the money that was to be spent upon this function had been shared between them, would they have been much the richer? Champagne, excellent cigars, and good dinners could not be given to every creature on G.o.d"s earth. That was an inexorable economic law, which no revolutionist could alter.