Part 2 (1/2)
Suppose they misunderstand me?--What matter!--Let the nation rise against me an' it will, so that I may, before I die, prove myself worthy of the mere gift of manhood! To-day”--and, rising from his chair, he advanced a step or two and faced the sea and sky with an unconscious gesture of invocation; ”To-day shall be the first day of my real monarchy! To-day I begin to reign! The past is past,--for eighteen long years as prince and heir to the throne I trifled away my time among the follies of the hour, and laughed at the easy purchase I could make of the a.s.sumed 'honour' of men and women; and I enjoyed the liberty and license of my position. Since then, for three years I have been the prisoner of my Parliament,--but now--now, and for the rest of the time granted to me on earth, I will live my life in the belief that its riddle must surely meet with G.o.d's own explanation. To me it has become evident that the laws of Nature make for Truth and Justice; while the laws of man are framed on deception and injustice. The two sets of laws contend one against the other, and the finite, after foolish and vain struggle, succ.u.mbs to the infinite,--better therefore, to begin with the infinite Order than strive with the finite Chaos! I, a mere earthly sovereign, rank myself on the side of the Infinite,--and will work for Truth and Justice with the revolving of Its giant wheel! My people have seen me crowned,--but my real Coronation is to-day--when I crown myself with my own resolve!”
His eyes flashed in the suns.h.i.+ne;--a rose shook its pink petals on the ground at his feet. In one of the many pleasure-boats skimming across the sea, a man was singing; and the words he sang floated distinctly along on the landward wind.
”Let me be thine, O love, But for an hour! I yield my heart and soul Into thy power,--Let me be thine, O Love of mine, But for an hour!”
The King listened, and a faint shadow darkened the proud light on his face.
”'But for an hour!'” he said half aloud--”Yes,--it would be enough! No woman's love lasts longer!”
CHAPTER III
A NATION OR A CHURCH?
An approaching step echoing on the marble terrace warned him that he was no longer alone. He reseated himself at his writing-table, and feigned to be deeply engrossed in perusing various doc.u.ments, but a ready smile greeted the intruder as soon as he perceived who it was,--one Sir Roger de Launay, his favourite equerry and intimate personal friend.
”Time's up, is it, Roger?” he queried lightly,--then as the equerry bowed in respectful silence--”And yet I have scarcely glanced at these papers! All the same, I have not been idle--I have been thinking.”
Sir Roger de Launay, a tall handsome man, with an indefinable air of mingled good-nature and la.s.situde about him which suggested the possibility of his politely urging even Death itself not to be so much of a bore about its business, smiled doubtfully. ”Is it a wise procedure, Sir?” he enquired--”Conducive to comfort I mean?”
The King laughed.
”No--I cannot say that it is! But thought is a tonic which sometimes restores a man's enfeebled self-respect. I was beginning to lose that particular condition of health and sanity, Roger!--my self-respect was becoming a flaccid muscle--a withering nerve;--but a little thought-exercise has convinced me that my mental sinews are yet on the whole strong!”
Sir Roger offered no reply. His eyes expressed a certain languid wonderment; but duty being paramount with him, and his immediate errand being to remind his sovereign of an appointment then about due, he began to collect the writing materials scattered about on the table and put them together for convenient removal. The smile on the King's face deepened as he watched him.
”You do not answer me, De Launay,”--he resumed, ”You think perhaps that I am talking in parables, and that my mind has been persuaded into a metaphysical and rambling condition by an hour's contemplation of the sunlight on the sea! But come now!--have you not yourself felt a longing to break loose from the trammels of conventional routine,--to be set free from the slavery of answering another's beck and call,--to be something more than my attendant and friend----”
”Sir, more than your friend I have never desired to be!” said Sir Roger, simply.
The King extended his hand with impulsive quickness, and Sir Roger as he clasped it, bent low and touched it with his lips. There was no parasitical homage in the act, for De Launay loved his sovereign with a love little known at courts; loyally, faithfully, and without a particle of self-seeking. He had long recognized the n.o.bility, truth and courage which graced and tempered the disposition of the master he served, and knew him to be one, if not the only, monarch in the world likely to confer some lasting benefit on his people by his reign.
”I tell you,” pursued the King, ”that there is something in the mortal composition of every man which is beyond mortality, something which clamours to be heard, and seen, and proved. We may call it conscience, intellect, spirit or soul, and attribute its existence, to G.o.d, as a spark of the Divine Essence, but whatever it is, it is in every one of us; and there comes a moment in life when it must flame out, or be quenched forever. That moment has come to me, Roger,--that something in me must have its way!”
”Your Majesty no doubt desires the impossible!”--said Sir Roger with a smile, ”All men do,--even kings!”
”'Even kings!'” echoed the monarch--”You may well say 'even' kings! What are kings? Simply the most wronged and miserable men on earth! I do not myself put in a special claim for pity. My realm is small, and my people are, for aught I can learn or am told of them, contented. But other sovereigns who are my friends and neighbours, live, as it were, under the dagger's point,--with dynamite at their feet and pistols at their heads,--all for no fault of their own, but for the faults of a system which they did not formulate. Conspirators on the threshold--poison in the air,--as in Russia, for example!--where is the joy or the pride of being a King nowadays?”
”Talking of poison,” said Sir Roger blandly, as he placed the last doc.u.ment of those he had collected, neatly in a leather case and strapped it--”Your Majesty may perhaps feel inclined to defer giving the promised audience to Monsignor Del Fords of the Society of Jesus?”
”By Heaven, I had forgotten him!” and the King rose. ”This is what you came to remind me of, Roger? He is here?”
De Launay bowed an a.s.sent.
”Well! We have kept a messenger of Mother Church waiting our pleasure,--and not for the first time in the annals of history! But why do you a.s.sociate his name with poison?”
”Really, Sir, the connection is inexplicable,--unless it be the memory of a religious lesson-book given to me in my childhood. It was an ill.u.s.trated treasure, and one picture showed me the Almighty in the character of an old gentleman seated placidly on a cloud, smiling;--while on the earth below, a priest, exactly resembling this Del Fortis, poured a spoonful of something,--poison--or it might have been boiling lead--down the throat of a heretic. I remember it impressed me very much with the goodness of G.o.d.”
He maintained a whimsical gravity as he spoke, and the King laughed.
”De Launay, you are incorrigible! Come!--we will go within and see this Del Fortis, and you shall remain present during the audience. That will give you a chance to improve your present impression of him.