Part 21 (2/2)
The Queen paused once or twice to look around her; she was vaguely touched and charmed by the still beauty of the scene.
”It is very lovely!” she said, more to herself than to any of her companions; ”The world must have looked something like this in the first days of creation,--so unspoilt and fresh and simple!”
The Countess Amabil, walking with Sir Walter Langton, glanced coquettishly at her cavalier and smiled.
”It is idyllic!” she said;--”A sort of Arcadia without Corydon or Phyllis! Do all the inhabitants go to sleep or disappear in the daytime, I wonder?”
”Not all, I imagine,” replied Sir Walter; ”For here comes one, though, judging from the slowness of his walk, he is in no haste to welcome his King!”
The personage he spoke of was indeed approaching, and all the members of the Royal party watched his advance with considerable curiosity. He was tall and upright in bearing, but as he came nearer he was seen to be a man of great age, with a countenance on which sorrow and suffering had left their indelible traces. There were furrows on that face which tears had hollowed out for their swifter flowing, and the high intellectual brow bore lines and wrinkles of anxiety and pain, which were the soul's pen-marks of a tragic history. He was attired in simple fisherman's garb of rough blue homespun, and when he was within a few paces of the King, he raised his cap from his curly silver hair with an old-world grace and deferential courtesy. Sir Roger de Launay went forward to meet him and to explain the situation.
”His Majesty the King,” he said, ”has wished to make a surprise visit to his people of The Islands,--and he is here in person with the Queen. Can you oblige him with an escort to the princ.i.p.al places of interest?”
The old man looked at him with a touch of amus.e.m.e.nt and derision.
”There are no places here of interest to a King,” he said; ”Unless a poor man's house may serve for his curious comment! I am not his Majesty's subject--but I live under his protection and his laws,--and I am willing to offer him a welcome, since there is no one else to do so!”
He spoke with a refined and cultured accent, and in his look and bearing evinced the breeding of a gentleman.
”And your name?” asked Sir Roger courteously.
”My name is Rene Ronsard,” he replied. ”I was s.h.i.+pwrecked on this coast years ago. Finding myself cast here by the will of G.o.d, here I have remained!”
As he said this, Sir Roger remembered what he had casually heard at times about the 'life-philosopher' who had built for himself a dwelling on The Islands out of the timbers of wrecked vessels. This must surely be the man! Delighted at having thus come upon the very person most likely to provide some sort of diversion for their Majesties, and requesting Ronsard to wait at a distance for a moment, he hastened back to the King and explained the position. Whereupon the monarch at once advanced with alacrity, and as he approached the venerable personage who had offered him the only hospitality he was likely to receive in this part of his realm, he extended his hand with a frank and kindly cordiality. Rene Ronsard accepted it with a slight but not over-obsequious salutation.
”We owe you our thanks,” said the King, ”for receiving us thus readily, and without notice; which is surely the truest form of hospitable kindness! That we are strangers here is entirely our own fault, due to our own neglect of our Island subjects; and it is for this that we have sought to know something of the place privately, before visiting it with such public ceremonial and state as it deserves. We shall be indebted to you greatly if you will lend us your aid in this intention.”
”Your Majesty is welcome to my service in whatever way it can be of use to you,” replied Ronsard slowly; ”As you see, I am an old man and poor--I have lived here for well-nigh thirty years, making as little demand as possible upon the resources of either rough Nature or smooth civilization to provide me with sustenance. There is poor attraction for a king in such a simple home as mine!”
”More than all men living, a king has cause to love simplicity,”
returned the monarch, as with his swift and keen glance he noted the old man's proud figure, fine worn features, and clear, though deeply-sunken eyes;--”for the glittering shows of ceremony are chiefly irksome to those who have to suffer their daily monotony. Let me present you to the Queen--she will thank you as I do, for your kindly consent to play the part of host to us to-day.”
”Nay,”--murmured Ronsard--”No thanks--no thanks!” Then, as the King said a few words to his fair Consort, and she received the old man's respectful salutation in the cold, grave way which was her custom, he raised his eyes to her face, and started back with an involuntary exclamation.
”By Heaven!” he said suddenly and bluntly, ”I never thought to see any woman's beauty that could compare with that of my Gloria!”
He spoke more to himself than to any listener, but the King hearing his words, was immediately on the alert, and when the whole Royal party moved on again, he, walking in a gracious and kindly way by the old man's side, and skilfully keeping up the conversation at first on mere generalities, said presently:--
”And that name of Gloria;--may I ask you who it is that bears so strange an appellation?”
Ronsard looked at him somewhat doubtingly.
”Your Majesty considers it strange? Had you ever seen her, you would think it the only fitting name for her,” he answered,--”For she is surely the most glorious thing G.o.d ever made!”
”Your wife--or daughter?” gently hinted the King.
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