Part 18 (1/2)
”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!