Part 65 (2/2)
Jost stared, then laughed aloud.
”Denounce the King! You are bold! But you make up your sum with the wrong numerals this time! The King holds the complete list of your speculations in his hand,--he has got them through the agency of the Revolutionary Committee, to which your stockbroker's confidential clerk belongs! You fool! All your schemes--all your 'companies' are known to him root and branch--and you say you will 'denounce' him! If you do, it will be a real comedy!--the case of a thief denouncing the officer who has caught him red-handed in the act of thieving!”
With this parting shot, he made a violent exit. Perousse left alone, dismissed him, with all other hara.s.sments from his mind; for being entirely without a conscience, he had very little care as to the results of the King's reported intentions. He was preparing a brilliant speech, which he intended to deliver if occasion demanded; and on his own coolness, mendacity and pluck, he staked his future.
”If I fail,” he said to himself; ”I will go to the United States, and end by becoming President! There are many such plans open to a man of resources!”
During the ensuing few days there were some extra gaieties at the Palace,--and the King and Queen were seen daily in public. Everywhere, they were greeted with frantic outbursts of cheering, and the recent riotous outbreaks seemed altogether forgotten. The Opera was crowded nightly, and undeterred by the fear of any fresh manifestations of popular discontent, their Majesties were again present. This time the King was the first to lead off the applause that hailed Pequita's dancing. And how her little feet flew!--how her eyes sparkled with rapture--how the dark curls tossed, and the cherry lips smiled! To her the King remained Pasquin!--a kind of monarch in a fairy tale, who scattered benefits at a touch, and suns.h.i.+ne with a glance, and who deserved all the love and loyalty of every subject in the kingdom! But she had never had any idea of 'Revolution,' poor child!--save such a revolving of chance and circ.u.mstance as should enable her father to live in comfort, without anxiety for his latter days. And perhaps at the bottom of all political or religious fanaticism we should find an equally simple root of cause for the effect.
The day at last came when Sergius Thord held his mighty 'ma.s.s meeting,'
convened in the Cathedral square,--all ready for marching orders. No interference was offered either from soldiery or police; and the people came pouring up from every quarter of the city in their thousands and tens of thousands. By noon, the tall lace-like spire of the Cathedral towered above a vast sea of human heads, which from a distance looked like swarming bees; and as the bells struck the hour, Thord, mounting the steps of a monument erected to certain heroes who had long ago fallen in battle, was greeted with a roar of acclamation like the thunder of heaven's own artillery. But even while the mult.i.tude still shouted and cheered, the sight of another figure, which quietly ascended to the same position, caused a sudden hush,--a gradually deepening silence of amazement and awe,--and then finally swift recognition.
”The King!” cried a voice.
”Pasquin Leroy!” shouted another, who was answered by yells and shrieks of derision.
”The King!” was again the cry. And as the vast crowd circled round and round, its million eyes wonderingly upturned, Sergius Thord suddenly lifted his cap and waved it:
”Ay! The King!” His voice rang over the heads of the people with a rich thrill of command. ”The King, who here declares himself the friend of our Cause! The King, who is with us to-day of his own will, at his own request, by his own choice!--without escort,--unarmed--defenceless! The King! The King who has resolved to go with us, and demand justice for his overtaxed and suffering subjects! The King, who is one with us!--who seeks no greater kingliness than that of being loved and trusted by his People!”
The surprise of this announcement was so truly overpowering, that for the moment the mighty ma.s.s of men stood inert; then,--as the situation flashed upon them, such a thunder of cheering broke out as seemed to make the very earth rock and the houses in the square tremble. The King himself, standing by Thord, grew pale as he heard it, and his eyes were suffused with something like tears.
”By Heaven!” he murmured; ”The love of this people is worth having!”
”Did you ever doubt it?” queried Thord slowly, eyeing him with a touch of wonder not unmixed with jealousy; ”There is only one power which keeps a king on his throne--the confidence of the nation! You had nearly lost that! For though there is nothing so easy to win, there is nothing so easy to lose!”
”True!” said the monarch, his eyes still resting tenderly on the excited mult.i.tude below him. ”I have deserved little at the people's hands--but perhaps--when I am gone--” he paused abruptly, then with a smile added--”Give us our marching orders, Sergius!”
Thord obeyed,--and very soon, under his command, the huge mult.i.tude arranged itself in blocks, or regiments, perfectly organised in different companies, and entirely prepared to keep order. Dividing into equal lines they made way quickly and with enthusiasm as they perceived the King's charger, which, richly caparisoned, had been brought for his Majesty at Thord's own earnest request.
When all was ready, the King sprang into the saddle, and gathering the reins in one hand, sat for a moment bare-headed, the people surging round him with repeated outbursts of applause. Without a weapon,--without a single man of his own household to bear him company,--without any armed escort,--he remained there enthroned;--the centre,--not of 'society,'--but of the People, who gathered round him as their visible Head, with as much shouting and enthusiasm and wors.h.i.+p, as if he had, in his own person, made the conquest, single-handed, of a hundred nations! Never, in his most gorgeous apparel,--never, even when robed and crowned in state, had he looked so n.o.ble; never had he seemed so worthy of the highest honour, reverence and admiration, as now! At a signal from Thord, who led the way on foot, the thousands of the city began to march to the House of Government, all gathering round one princ.i.p.al figure, that of their King. A group of workmen const.i.tuted themselves his body-guard, protecting his proudly-stepping charger from so much as a stone that might startle it or check its progress, and thus--liberated from the protection of flunkeys and flatterers,--the monarch, surrounded by his true subjects advanced together as one Body, to challenge and overthrow a fraudulent Ministry, whose measures had been drawn up and pa.s.sed, not for the good of the country, but for the financial advantage and protection of themselves.
Never was such a wondrous sight seen, as that almost interminable procession through the broad thoroughfares of the city, headed by a Socialist, and centred by a King! No Royal ceremonial, overburdened with sn.o.bbish conventionalities and hypocritical parade, ever presented so splendid and imposing a sight as that concentrated ma.s.s of the actual people,--the working muscle and sinew of the land's common weal, marching in steady and triumphant order,--surging like the billows of the sea around that brave s.h.i.+p, their Sovereign, cheering him to the echo, and waving around him the flags of the country, while he, still bare-headed, rode dauntless in their midst looking every inch a king!--more kingly indeed than he had ever seemed, and more established in the affections of his subjects than any living monarch of the time.
So was he brought with ceaseless acclamation to the Government House, where, as all knew, he purposed denouncing Carl Perousse;--and thus did he a.s.sert in his own person that a king, supported by a nation, is more powerful than any government built up by mere party agency!
And even so, at his best and bravest, two women looked upon him and loved him! One, from the outskirts of the great crowd where, shrouded close in her veil, she waited tremblingly near the Government buildings, and saw him alight from his charger, and enter there, amid the wild shoutings of the populace,--the other, from a high window in the Royal Palace, where she leaned watching the crowd,--the sunlight catching the diamonds at her breast and sparkling in her proud cold eyes. And over the whole city rang the continuous and exultant cry:
”The King! The King!”
And perhaps only one soul, prophetic in instinct, foresaw any terror in the triumph!--only one voice, low and tremulous and weighted with tears and prayers, murmured:
”Ah, dear G.o.d! Would he were not a King!”
CHAPTER x.x.xI
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