His heart beat high; he occupied at that moment a position no man in all the world had ever occupied before;—he was the centre of a drama such as had never before been enacted,—he had the greatest move to play on the chess-board of life that could possibly be desired;—and the greatest chance to prove himself the Man he was, that had ever been given to one of his quality. His brain whirled,—his pulses throbbed,— his eyes rested on Lotys with a passionate longing; something of the god-like as well as the heroic warmed his soul,—for Danger and Death stood as intimately close to him as Safety and Victory! What a strange, what a marvellous card he held in the game of life!—and yet one false move might mean ruin and annihilation! As in a dream he saw the members of the Committee go up, one by one, to Sergius Thord, who, as each laid their open papers before him, declared their contents. When Paul Zouche's paper was declared he was found to have drawn Carl Perousse, whereat he smiled grimly; and retired to his seat, walking rather unsteadily. Max Graub had drawn a blank,—so had Axel Regor,—so had Louis Valdor and many others.

At last it came to Leroy's turn, and as he walked up to the platform and ascended it, there was a look on his face which attracted the instant attention of all present. His eyes were singularly bright,—his lithe handsome figure seemed taller and more erect,—he bore himself with a proud, even grand air,—and Lotys, moved at last from her chill and melancholy apathy, gazed at him as he approached, with eyes in which a profound sadness was mingled with the dark tenderness of many passionate thoughts and dreams. He laid down his paper before Thord, who, taking it up read aloud:

"Our friend and comrade, Pasquin Leroy, has received the Red Cross Signal."

Then pausing before uttering his next words he raised his voice a little, so that he might be heard by everyone in the room, and added slowly:

"To Pasquin Leroy, Fate gives—the King!"

A low murmur of deep applause ran through the room. Max Graub and Axel Regor sprang up with a kind of smothered cry, but Leroy stood immovable. Instead of returning to his seat as the others had done, he remained standing on the platform in front of the Committee table, between Lotys and Sergius Thord. A strange smile rested on his lips,— his attitude was inexplicable. Surveying all the men's faces which were grouped before him in a kind of chiaro-oscuro, he studied them for a moment, and then turned his head towards Thord.

"Sergius,—so far, I have served you well! Destiny has now chosen me out for even a greater service! May I speak a few words?"

Thord assented,—but a sudden sense of inquietude stirred in him as he saw that Lotys had half risen, that her lips quivered, and that great tears stood in her eyes.

"She grieves!" he thought, sullenly, in his strange and confused way of balancing justice and injustice—"She grieves that the worthless life of the King she saved, is now to be taken by a righteous hand!"

Meanwhile Leroy faced the assembly.

"Comrades!" he said; "This is the first time I have assisted in the work of your Day of Fate,—the first time I have recognised how entirely Providence moves with you and for you in the ruling of your destinies! And because it is the first time, our Chief permits me to address you with the same fraternal liberty which was allowed to me on the night I became enrolled among you, as one of you! Since then, I have done my best to serve you—" here he was interrupted by applause —"and so far as it has been humanly possible, I have endeavoured to carry out your views and desires because,—though many of them spring from pure idealism, and are, I fear, impossible of realisation in this world,—they contain the seed of much useful and necessary reform in many institutions of this country. I have—as I promised you—shaken the stronghold of Carl Perousse;"—again the applause broke out, none the less earnest because it was restrained. "I have destroyed the press-power and prestige of that knavish Jew-speculator in false news, David Jost; and wherever the wishes of this Society could be fulfilled, I have honestly sought to fulfil them. On this night, of all nights in the year, I should like to feel, and to know, that you acknowledge me as your true comrade and faithful friend!"

At this, the whole of the company gave vent to an outburst of cheering.

"Do you doubt our love, that you ask of it?—or our gratitude that you seek to have it expressed?" said Thord, leaning forward to clasp his hand;—"Surely you know you have given new life and impetus to our work!—and that you have gained fresh triumph for our Cause!"

Leroy smiled,—but though returning his grasp cordially, he said nothing to him in person by way of reply, evidently preferring rather to address the whole community than one, even though that one was his acknowledged Chief.

"I thank you all!" he said in response to the acclamations around him. "I thank you for so heartily acknowledging me as your fellow-worker! I thank you for giving me your confidence and employing my services! Tonight—the most important night of my destiny—Fate has determined that I shall perform the greatest task of all you have ever allotted to me; and that with swiftness and sureness in the business I shall kill the King! He is my marked victim! I am his chosen assassin!" Here interrupting himself with a bright smile, he said: "Will someone restrain my two friends, Max Graub and Axel Regor from springing out of their seats? They are both extremely envious of the task which has been allotted to me!—both are disappointed that it did not fall to them to perform,—but I am not in the humour for arguing so nice a point of honour with them just now!"

A laugh went round the company, and the two delinquents thus called to order, and who had really been seeking in quite a wild and aimless way, to scramble out of their seats and make for the platform, resumed their places with heads bent low, lest those around them should see the deadly pallor of their countenances. Leroy resumed.

"I rejoice, friends and comrades, that I have been elected to the high task of removing from the Throne one who has long been unworthy of it! —one who has wasted his opportunities both in youth and middle-age,— and who, by his own fault in a great measure, has lost much of the love and confidence of his people! I am glad and proud to be the one chosen to put an end to the career of a monarch whose vices and follies—which might have suited a gambler and profligate—are entirely unbecoming to the Sovereign Ruler of a great Realm! I shall have no fear in carrying out my appointed duty to the letter! I here declare my acceptance of whatever punishment may be visited on one who removes from life a King who brings kingliness into contempt! And,—as our Chief, Sergius Thord, suggested to-night,—I shall be swift and sure in the business!—there shall be no delay!"

Here, as he spoke he drew a pistol from his pocket and turned the muzzle towards himself,—at which unexpected action there was a hasty movement of surprise, terror and confusion among the company.

"Gentlemen all! Friends! Brothers!—as you have been,—and are to me,— by the binding of our compact in the name of Lotys! It is the determination of destiny,—as it is your desire,—that I should kill the King! You have resolved upon it. You are sure that his death will benefit the country. You have decided not to take into consideration any of his possible good qualities, or to pity any of the probable sorrows and difficulties besetting him in the uneasy position he is compelled to occupy. You are quite certain among yourselves, that somehow or other his removal will bring about that ideal condition of society which many philosophers have written of, and which many reformers have desired, but which has till now, proved itself incapable of being realised. The King's death, you think, will better all existing conditions, and you wish me to fulfil not only the call of destiny, but your own desire. Be it so! I am ready to obey! I will kill the King at once!—here and now! I am the King!"



CHAPTER XXIX

THE COMRADE OF HIS FOES

This bold declaration, boldly spoken, had the startling effect of a sudden and sharp flash of lightning in dense darkness. Amazement and utter stupefaction held every man for the moment paralysed. Had a volcano suddenly opened beneath their feet and belched forth its floods of fire and lava, it could not have rendered them more helplessly stricken and speechless.

"I am the King!"

The words appeared to blaze on the air before them,—like the handwriting on the wall at Belshazzar's feast. The King! He,—their friend, their advocate, he—Pasquin Leroy,—the most obedient, the most daring and energetic of all the workers in their Cause—he—even he— was the King! Was it,—could it be possible! Their eyes—all riveted in fearful fascination upon him as he stood before them wholly at their mercy, but cool, dauntless, and smilingly ready to die,—had the wild uncomprehending stare of delirium;—the silence in the room was intense, breathless and terrible. Suddenly, like a lion roused, Sergius Thord, with a half-savage movement, sprang forward and seized him roughly by the arm.

"You,—you are the King?" he said; "You,—Pasquin Leroy?" and struggling for breath, his words almost choked him. "You! Enemy in the guise of friend! You have fooled us! You have deceived us—you—!"

"Take care, Sergius!" said the monarch smiling, as he gently disengaged himself from the fierce hand that clutched him; "This pistol is loaded,—not to shoot you with!—but myself!—at your command! It would be unfortunate if it went off and killed the wrong man by accident!"

His indomitable courage was irresistible; and Thord, relaxing his grasp, fell back in something like awe. And then the spell of horror and amazement that had struck the rest of the assemblage dumb, broke all at once into a sort of wild-beast clamour. Every man 'rushed' for the platform—and Max Graub and Axel Regor, taking swift and conscious possession of their true personalities as Professor von Glauben and Sir Roger de Launay, fought silently and determinedly to keep back the crowding hands that threatened instant violence to the person of their Royal master.

A complete hubbub and confusion reigned;—cries of "Traitor!" and "Spy!" were hurled from one voice to another; but before a single member of the Committee could reach the spot where stood the undaunted Sovereign whom they had so lately idolised as their friend and helper, and whom they were now ready to tear to pieces, Lotys flung herself in front of him, while at the same moment she snatched the pistol he held from his hand, and fired it harmlessly into the air. The loud report— the flash of fire,—startled all the men, who gaped upon her, thunderstruck.

"Through me!" she cried, her blue eyes flashing glorious menace; "Through me your shots! Through me your daggers! On me your destroying hands! Through my body alone shall you reach this King! Stand back all of you! What would you do? King or commoner, he is your comrade and associate! Sovereign or servant, he is the bravest man among you! Touch him who dare! Remember your Vow of Fealty!"

Transfigured into an almost sublime beauty by the fervour of her emotion, she looked the supreme incarnation of inspired womanhood, and the infuriated men fell back, dismayed and completely overwhelmed by the strong conviction of her words, and the amazing situation in which they found themselves.

It was true!—he, the King,—whom they had accepted and known as Pasquin Leroy,—was verily their own comrade! He had proved himself a thousand times their friend and helper!—they had sworn to defend him at the cost of their own lives, if need be,—to shelter and protect him in all circumstances, and to accept all the consequences of whatever danger he might run in the performance of his duty. His duty now,— according to the fatal drawing of lots,—was that he should kill the King; and he had declared himself ready to fulfil the task by killing himself! But—as he was their comrade—they were bound in honour to guard his life!

These bewildering and maddening thoughts coursed like fire through the brain of Sergius Thord,—the while his eyes, grown suddenly dark and bloodshot, rested wonderingly on the tall upright figure of the monarch, standing quietly face to face with the blood-thirsty Revolutionary Committee, entirely unmoved by their fierce and lowering looks, and on Lotys, white, beautiful and breathless, kneeling at his feet! A crushing sense of impotence and failure rushed over his soul like a storm wave,—his brain grew thick with the hurrying confusion, and a great cry, like that of a wounded animal, broke from his lips.

"My God! My God! All my life's work lost—in a single moment!"

The King heard. Gently, and with careful courtesy, raising Lotys from the position in which she had thrown herself to guard him from attack for the second time, he pressed her hands tenderly in his own.

"Trust me!" he whispered; "Have no fear! Not a man among them will touch me now!"

With a slight gesture he signed her back to the chair she had previously occupied. She sank into it, trembling from head to foot, but her eyes feverishly brilliant and watchful, were widely open and alert, ready to note the least movement or look that indicated further danger. Then the King addressed himself to Thord.

"Sergius, I am entirely in your hands! I wait your word of command! You are armed,—all my companions here are armed also! But Lotys has deprived me of the only weapon I possessed,—though there are plenty more in the room to be had on loan. What say you? Shall I kill the King? Or will you?"

Thord was silent. A strong shudder shook his frame. The King laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Friend!" he said in a low voice; "Believe me, I am your friend more than ever!—you never had, and never will have a truer one than I! All your life's work lost, you say? Nay, not so! It is gained! You conquered the People before I knew you,—and now you have conquered the People's King!"

Slowly Thord raised his great, dark, passionate eyes, clouded black with thoughts which could find no adequate expression. The look in them went straight to the monarch's heart. Baffled ambition,—the hunger of greatness,—the desire to do something that should raise his soul above such common ruck of human emmets as make of the earth the merest ant- hill whereon to eat and breed and die;—all this pent-up emotion swam luminously in the fierce bright orbs, which like mirrors, reflected the picture of the troubled mind within. The suppressed power of the man, who, apart from his confused notions of 'liberty, equality, and fraternity' could resort to the sternest and most self-endangering measures for destroying what he considered the abuses of the law, had moved the King, while disguised as Pasquin Leroy, to the profoundest admiration for his bold character;—but perhaps he was never more moved than at this supreme moment, when, hopelessly entangled in a net of most unexpected weaving, the redoubtable Socialist had to confess himself vanquished by the simple friendship and service of the very monarchy he sought to destroy.

"Sergius," said the King again,—"Trust me! Trust me as your Sovereign, with the same trust that you gave to me as your comrade, Pasquin! For I am still your comrade, remember! Nothing can undo the oath that binds me to you and to the People! I have not become one of you to betray you; but to serve you! Our present position is certainly a strange one!—for by the tenets you hold, we should be sworn opponents, instead of, as we are, sworn friends! Political agitators would have set us one against the other for their own selfish ends; as matters stand, we are united in the People's Cause; and I may perhaps do you more good living than dead! Give me a chance to serve you even better than I have done as yet! Still,—if you judge my death would be an advantage to the country,—you have but to say the word! I have sworn,—and I am ready to carry out the full accomplishment of my vow! Do you understand? You are, by the rules of this Committee my Chief!—there are no kings here; and I am good soldier enough to obey orders! It is for you to speak!— straightly, plainly, and at once,—to the Committee,—and to me!"

"Before God, you are brave!" muttered Thord, gazing at him in reluctant admiration. "So brave, that it is almost impossible to believe that you can be a King!"

He smiled.

"Speak! Speak, my friend!" he urged; "Our comrades are watching our conference like famished tigers! Give them food!"

Thus adjured, Thord advanced, and confronted the murmuring, gesticulating crowd of men, some of whom were wrathfully expostulating with Johan Zegota, because he declined to unlock the door of the room and let them out, till he had received his Chief's commands to do so. Others were grouped round Paul Zouche, who had sat apparently stricken immovable in his chair ever since the King had declared his identity; and others showed themselves somewhat inclined to 'hustle' Sir Roger de Launay and Professor von Glauben, who guarded the approach to the platform like sentinels,—though they were discreet enough to show no weapons of defence.

"Comrades!"

The rich, deep voice of their leader thrilled through the room, and brought them all to silence and attention.

"Comrades!" said Thord slowly,—his accents vibrating with the deepest emotion. "I desire and command you all to be satisfied that no wrong has been done to you! I ask you all to understand, fully and surely, that no wrong is intended to you! The man whom we have loved,—the man who has served us faithfully as Pasquin Leroy,—is still the same man, though the King! Rank cannot alter his proved friendship and service,— nor kingship break his bond! He is one of us,—signed and sealed in the blood of Lotys;—and as one of us he must, and will remain! Have I spoken truly?" he added, turning to the King, "or is there more that I should say?"

Before any reply could be given a hubbub of voices cried:—

"Explain! Confess! Bind him to his oath!"

Whereat the King, stepping forward a pace or two, confronted his would- be doubters and detractors with a dauntless composure.

"Explain? Confess? Friends, I will do both! but for binding me to my oath, there is no need,—for it is too strong a compact of faith and friendship ever to be broken! Would you have me remind you of your Vow of Fealty pronounced so solemnly this evening? Did you not swear that 'Whosoever among us this night shall draw the Red Cross Signal which destines him to take from life a life proved unworthy, shall be to us a sacred person, and an object of defence and continued protection'? As Pasquin Leroy, this vow applied to me,—as King, I ask no better or stronger pledge of loyalty!"

All eyes were fixed upon him as he spoke. For some moments there was a dead silence.

This silence was presently broken by a murmur of conflicting wonder, impatience and uncertainty,—deepening as it ran,—and then,—as the full situation became more and more apparent, coupled with the smiling and heroic calm of the monarch who had thus placed himself voluntarily in the hands of his sworn enemies, all their struggling passions were suddenly merged in one great wave of natural and human admiration for a brave man and a burst of impetuous cheering broke impulsively from every lip. Once started, the infection caught on like a fever,—and again and yet again the excited Revolutionists cheered 'for the King!'— till they made the room echo.

The tumult was extraordinary. Lotys sat silent, with clasped hands, her eyes dilated with feverish watchfulness and excitement,—the tempest of emotion in her own poor tortured soul, being of such a character which no words, no tears, no exclamations could possibly relieve. The memory of her interview with the King in his own Palace flashed across her like a scene limned in fire. She had no power to think—she was simply stunned and overwhelmed,—and held only one idea in her mind, and that was to save him at all costs, even at the sacrifice of her own life. Thord, carried away from his very self by the force of such a 'Revolution' as he had never planned or anticipated, stood more in the attitude of one who was trying to think, rather than of one who was thinking.

"For the King!" cried Johan Zegota, suddenly giving vent to the feelings he had long kept in check,—feelings which had made him a greater admirer of the so-called "Pasquin Leroy" than of Thord himself;—"For our sworn comrade, the King!"

Again the cheers broke out, to be redoubled in intensity when Louis Valdor added his voice to the rest and exclaimed:

"For the first real King I have ever known!"

Then the excitement rose to its zenith,—and amidst the tempest of applause, the King himself stood quiet, watching the turbulence with the thoughtful eyes of a student who seeks to unravel some difficult problem. Raising his hand gently, he, by this gesture created immediate silence,—and so, in this hush remained for an instant, leaning slightly against the Committee Table, draped as it was in its funereal black,—the lights at either end of it, and the red lamp in its centre flinging an unearthly radiance on his fine composed features. Long, long afterwards, his faithful servants, Sir Roger de Launay and Heinrich von Glauben retained a mental picture of him in that attitude,—the dauntless smile upon his lips,—the dreamful look in his eyes,—resting, as it seemed against a prepared funeral-bier, with the watch-lights burning for burial,—and the face of Lotys, pale as a marble mask, yet wearing an expression of mingled triumph and agony, shining near him like a star amid the gloom, while the tall form of Sergius Thord in the background loomed large,—a shadow of impending evil.

After a pause, he spoke.

"Comrades! I thank you for the expressed renewal of your trust in me. In my heart and soul, as a man, I am one of you and with you;—even though fate has made me a king! You demand an explanation—a confession. You shall have both! When I enrolled myself as a member of your Committee, I did so in all honesty and honour,—wishing to discover the object of your Cause, and prepared to aid it if I found it worthy. When I sealed my compact with you in the blood of Lotys, the Angel of our Covenant,"—here the cheering again broke out,—and Lotys, turning aside, endeavoured to restrain the tears that threatened to fall;—then, as silence was restored, he resumed;—"When as I say, I did this,—you will remember that on being asked of my origin and country, I answered that I was a slave. I spoke truly! There is no greater slave in all the length and breadth of the world than a king! Bound by the chains of convention and custom, he is coerced more violently than any prisoner,—his lightest word is misunderstood—his smallest action is misconstrued,—his very looks are made the subject of comment—and whether he walks or stands,—sits to give wearisome audience, or lies down to forget his sorrows in sleep, he should assuredly be an object of the deepest pity and consideration, instead of being as he often is, a target for the arrows of slander,—a pivot round which to move the wheel of social evil and misrule! The name of Freedom sounds sweet in your ears, my friends!—how sweet it is—how dear it is, we all know! You are ready to fight for it—to die for it! Then remember, all of you, that it is a glory utterly unknown to a king! Were he to take sword in hand and do battle for it unto the death, he could never obtain it;—he might win it for his country, but never for himself! Nothing so glorious as Liberty!—you cry! True!—but kings are prisoners from the moment they ascend thrones! And you never set them free, save in the way you suggested this evening;" and he smiled, "which way is still open to you—and—to me! But while you take time to consider whether I shall or shall not fulfil the duty which the drawing of lots on this Day of Fate has assigned to me,—whether you, on your parts, will or will not maintain the Vow of Fealty which we all have sworn together,—I will freely declare to you the motives which led me to depart from the conventional rule and formality of a merely 'Royal' existence, and to become as a Man among men,—for once at least in the history of modern sovereigns!"

He paused,—every eye was fixed upon him; and the stillness was so intense that the lightest breath might be heard.

"I came to the Throne three years ago," he resumed, "and I accepted its responsibilities with reluctance. As Heir-Apparent, you all know, or think you know, my career; for some of you have very freely expressed your convictions concerning it! It was discreditable,—according to the opinions formed and expressed by this Committee. No doubt it was! Let any man among you occupy my place;—and be surrounded by the same temptations,—and then comport himself wisely—if he can! Such an one would need to be either god or hero; and I profess to be neither. But I do not wish to palliate or deny the errors of the past. The present is my concern,—the present time, and the present People. Great changes are fermenting in the world; and of these changes, especially of those directly affecting our own country, I became actively conscious, shortly after I ascended the Throne. I heard of disaffections,— disloyalties; I gathered that the Ministry were suspected of personal self-aggrandisement. I learned that a disastrous policy was on foot respecting National Education—in which priestcraft would be given every advantage, and Jesuitry obtain undue influence over the minds of the rising generation. I heard,—I studied,—and finding that I could get no true answer on any point at issue from anyone of my supposed 'reliable' ministers, I resolved to discover things for myself. I found out that the disaffected portion of the metropolis was chiefly under the influence of Sergius Thord—and accordingly I placed myself in his way, and became enrolled among you as 'Pasquin Leroy'; his sworn associate. I am his sworn associate still! I am proud that he should call me friend;—and even as we have worked already for the People, so we will work still—together!"

No restraint could have availed to check the wild plaudits that broke out afresh at these words. Still thoughtfully and with grave kindness contemplating all the eager and excited faces upturned to him, the King went on.

"You know nearly all the rest. As Pasquin Leroy, I discovered all the shameful speculations with the public money, carried on by Carl Perousse,—and found that so far, at any rate, your accusations against him were founded in fact. At the first threatening suspicion of possible condemnation the Marquis de Lutera resigned,—thus evidencing his guilty participation in the intended plunder. A false statement printed by David Jost, stating that I,—the King,—had revoked my decision concerning the refusal of land to the Jesuits, caused me to announce the truth of my own action myself, in the rival newspaper. Of my excommunication from the Church it is unnecessary to speak; a man is not injured in God's sight by that merely earthly ban. Among other things"—and he smiled,—"I found myself curiously possessed of a taste for literature!—and proved, that whereas some few monarchs of my acquaintance cannot be quite sure of their spelling, I could, at a pinch, make myself fairly well understood by the general public, as a skilled writer of polemics against myself!—as well as against the Secretary of State. This, so far as I personally am concerned, has been the humorous side of my little drama of disguise!—for sometimes I have had serious thoughts of appearing as a rival to our friend, Paul Zouche, in the lists of literary Fame!"

A murmur of wondering laughter ran round the room,—and all heads were turned to one corner, as the King, with the kindly smile still lighting up his eyes and lips, called:

"Zouche, are you there? Do you hear me?"

Zouche did hear. He had been sitting in a state of semi-stupor all the evening,—his chaotic mind utterly confused and bewildered by the events which had taken place;—but now, on being called, his usual audacious and irrepressible spirit came to his aid, and he answered:

"O King, I hear! O King, your Majesty would make the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak! And if there is anything to be done to me for abominating you, O King, who had the impudence to offer me a hundred gold pieces a year for my poems, I, O King, will submit to the utmost terrors of the law!"

A burst of laughter long and loud, relieved the pent-up feelings of the company. The King laughed as heartily as the rest, and over the brooding features of Thord himself came the shadow of a smile.

"We will settle our accounts together later on, Zouche!" said the monarch gaily; "Meanwhile, I beg you to continue your harmless abomination of me at your leisure!"

Another laugh went round, and then the King resuming his speech continued:

"I have played two parts at once,—Revolutionist and King! But both parts are after all but two sides of the same nature. When I first came among you, I bade you all look at me well,—I asked you to note the resemblance I bore to the ruling Sovereign. I called myself 'the living copy of the man I most despise.' That was quite true! For there is no one I despise more utterly than myself,—when I think what I might have done with my million opportunities, and how much time I have wasted! You all scrutinised me closely;—and I did not flinch! You all accepted my service,—and I have served you well! I have noted every one of your desires. Where possible, I have sought to fulfil them. Every accusation you have brought against the Ministry has been sifted to the bottom, and proved down to the hilt. My publicly-proclaimed decision to nominate Carl Perousse as Premier was merely thrown out as a test to try the temper and quality of the nation. That test has answered its purpose well! But there is no need for fear,—Carl Perousse will never be nominated to anything but disgrace! All his schemes are in my hand, —I hold complete documentary proofs of his dishonesty and guilt; and the very day which you have chosen as that on which to appeal to the King against the choice of him as Prime Minister, will see him denounced by myself in person to the Government."

A storm of applause greeted this welcome announcement. For a moment all the men went mad with excitement, shouting, stamping and singing,— while again and yet again the cry: 'For the King!' echoed round and round in tempestuous cheering.

Sergius Thord gazed blankly at the Scene with a strange sense of being the dreaming witness of some marvellous drama enacted altogether away from the earth. He could hot yet bring himself to realise that by such a simple method as the independent working of one individual intelligence, all his own followers had been swept round to loyalty and love for a monarch, whom previously, though without knowing him, they had hated—and sworn to destroy! Yet, in very truth, all the hatreds and envys,—all the slanders and cruelties of the members of the human race towards each other, spring from ignorance; and when disaffected persons hate a king, they do so mostly because they do not know him, and because they can form no true opinion of his qualities or the various difficulties of his position. If the Anarchist, bent on the destruction of some person in authority, only had the culture and knowledge to recognise how much that person already suffers, by being in all probability forced to fulfil duties for which he has no heart or mind, he would stay his murderous hand, and pity rather than condemn. For the removal of one ruler only means the installation of another,— and the wild and often gifted souls of reformers, stumbling through darkness after some great Ideal which resolves itself into a shadow and delusion the nearer one approaches to it, need to be tenderly dealt with from the standpoint of plainest simplicity and truth,—so that they may feel the sympathetic touch of human love and care emanating from those very quarters which they seek to assail. This had been the self-imposed mission of the King who had played the part of 'Pasquin Leroy';—and thus, fearing nothing, doubting nothing, and relying simply on his own strength, discretion, and determination, he had gained a moral victory over the passions of his secret foes such as he had never himself anticipated. When silence was again restored, he proceeded:

"The various suggestions made in my presence during the time I have been a member of this Committee, will all be carried out. The present Government will naturally oppose every measure,—but I,—backed by such supporters as I have now won,—will elect a new Government—a new Ministry. When I began this bloodless campaign of my own, the present Ministry were on the edge of war. Determined to provoke hostilities with a peaceful Power, they were ready even with arms and ammunition, manufactured by a 'Company,' of which Perousse was the director and chief shareholder! Contracts for army supplies were being secretly tendered; and one was already secretly accepted and arranged for,—in which Carl Perousse and the Marquis de Lutera were to derive enormous interest;—the head of the concern being David Jost. This plan was concocted with devilish ingenuity,—for, if the war had actually broken out, the supplies of our army would have been of the worst possible kind, in order to give the best possible profit to the contractors; and Jost, with his newspaper influence, would have satisfied the public mind by printing constant reiterations of the completeness and excellence of the supplies, and the entire contentment and jubilation of the men! But I awoke to my responsibilities in time to checkmate this move. I forbade the provocation intended;—I stopped the war. In this matter at least—much loss of life, much heavy expenditure, and much ill-will among other nations has been happily spared to us. For the rest,—everything you have been working for shall be granted,—if you yourselves will help me to realise your own plans! I want you in your thousands!—ay, in your tens of thousands! I want you all on my side! With you,—the representatives of the otherwise unvoiced People, —I will enforce all the measures which you have discussed before me, showing good and adequate reason why they should be carried. The taxes you complain of shall be instantly removed;—and for the more speedy replenishment of the National Exchequer, I gladly resign one half my revenues from all sources whatsoever for the space of five years; or longer, if considered desirable. But I want your aid! Will you all stand by me?"

A mighty shout answered him.

"To the death!"

He turned to Thord.

"Sergius," he said, "my task is finished—my confession made! The next Order of this meeting must come from you!"

Thord looked at him amazedly.

"From me? Are you not the King?"

"Only so long as the People desire it!" replied the monarch gently; "And are you not the representative of the People?"

Thord's chest heaved. Burning tears stood in his eyes. The strangeness of the situation—the deliberate coolness and resolve with which this sovereign ruler of a powerful kingdom laid his life trustingly in his hands, was too much for his nerve.

"Lotys!" he said huskily; "Lotys!"

She rose at once and came to him, moving ghostlike in her white draperies, her eyes shining—her lips tremulous.

"Lotys," he said, "The King is in our hands! You saved his life once— will you save it again?"

She raised her bent head, and the old courageous light flashed in her face, transfiguring its every feature.

"It is not for me to save!" she replied in clear firm tones; "It is for you—and for all of us,—to defend!"

A ringing cheer answered her. Sergius Thord slowly advanced, and as he did so, the King, seeing his movement frankly held out his hand. For a moment the Socialist Chief hesitated—then suddenly yielding to his overpowering impulse, caught that hand and raised his dark eyes full to the monarch's face.

"You have conquered me!" he said, "But only by your qualities as a man —not by your authority as a king! You have won my honour—my respect— my gratitude—my friendship—and with these, so long as you are faithful to our Cause, take my allegiance! More I cannot say—more I will not promise!"

"I need no more!" responded the King cheerily, enclosing his hand in a warm clasp. "We are friends and fellow-workers, Sergius!—we can never be rivals!"

As he spoke, his glance fell on Lotys. She shrank from the swift passion of his gaze,—and her eyelids drooped half-swooningly over the bright star-windows of her own too ardent soul. Abruptly turning from both her and Thord, the King again addressed the company:

"One word more, my friends! It is arranged that you, with all your thousands of the People are to convene together in one great multitude, and march to the Palace to demand justice from the King. There is now no need to do this,—for the King himself is one of you!—the King only lives and reigns that justice in all respects may be done! I will therefore ask you to change your plan;—and instead of marching to the Palace, march with me to the House of Government. You would have demanded justice from the King; the King himself will go with you to demand justice for the People!"

A wild shout answered him; and he knew as he looked on the faces of his hearers that he had them all in his power as the servants of his will.

"And now, gentlemen," he proceeded; "I should perhaps make some excuses for my two friends, known to you as Max Graub and Axel Regor. I told you I would be responsible for their conduct, and, so far as they have been permitted to go, they have behaved well! I must, however, in justice to them, assure you that whereas I became a member of your Committee gladly, they followed my example reluctantly, and only out of fidelity and obedience to me. They have lived in the shadow of the Throne,—and have learned to pity,—and I think,—to love its occupant! Because they know,—as you have never known,—the heavy burden which a king puts on with his crown! They have, however, in their way, served you under my orders, and under my orders will continue to serve you still. Max Graub, or, to give him his right name, Heinrich von Glauben, has a high reputation in this country for his learning, apart from his position as Household Physician to our Court; —Axel Regor is my very good friend Sir Roger de Launay, who is amiable enough to support the monotony of his duty as one of my equerries in waiting. Now you know us as we are! But after all, nothing is changed, save our names and the titles we bear; we are the same men, the same friends, the same comrades!—and so I trust we shall remain!"

The cheering broke out again, and Sir Roger de Launay, who was quite as overwhelmed with astonishment at the courage and coolness of his Royal master as any Revolutionist present, joined in it with a will, as did Von Glauben.

"One favour I have to ask of you," proceeded the King, "and it is this: If you exempt me to-night from killing the King;" and he smiled,—"you must also exempt all the members of the Revolutionary Committee from any similar task allotted to them by having drawn the fatal Signal! Our friend, Zouche, for instance, has drawn the name of Carl Perousse. Now I want Zouche for better work than that of killing a rascal!"

Loud cheers answered him, and Zouche rising from his place advanced a little.

"Majesty!" he cried, "You are right! I hand your Majesty's intended Premier over to you with the greatest, pleasure in the world! Apart from the fact of your being the King, I am compelled to admit that you have common sense!"

Laughter and cheers resounded through the room again, and the King quietly turning round, extinguished the red lamp on the table. The thirteenth light was quenched; the Day of Fate was ended. As the ominous crimson flare sank out, a sudden silence prevailed, and the King fixed his eyes on Lotys.

"From you, Madame, must come my final exoneration! If you still condemn me as a King, I shall be indeed unfortunate! If you still think well of me as a man, I shall be proud! I have to thank you, not only for my life, but for having helped me to make that life valuable! As Pasquin Leroy, I have sought to serve you,—as King, I seek to serve you still!"

The silence continued. Every man present watched the visible emotion which swept every vestige of colour from the face of Lotys, and made her eyes so feverishly bright. Every man gazed at her as she rose from her chair and came forward a little to the front of the platform. It was with a strong effort that she raised her eyes to those of the King, and in that one glance between them, the lightning flash of a resistless love tore the veil of secrecy from their souls. But she spoke out bravely.

"I thank your Majesty!" she said; "I thank you for all you have done for us as our comrade and associate,—for all you will yet do for us as our comrade and associate still! It is better to be a brave man than a weak King—but it is best to be a strong man and a strong king both together! You have disproved the thoughts I had of you as King! You have ratified—" here she paused, while the colour suddenly sprang to her cheeks, and her breath came pantingly and quick,—"and strengthened the thoughts I had of you as our Pasquin!" Her eyes softened with tears, though she smiled. "We have believed in you; we believe in you still! All is as it was,—save in the one thing new,—that where we were banded together against the King, we are now united for, and with the King!"

These words were all that were needed to reawaken and confirm the enthusiasm of the Revolutionists, whose 'revolutionary' measures were now accepted and sworn to by the Crowned Head of the Realm. Thereupon, they gave themselves up to the wildest cheering.

"Comrades!" cried Paul Zouche, in the midst of the uproar; "There is one point you seem to have missed! The King,—God bless him!—doesn't see it,—Thord, glowering like an owl in his ivy-bush of hair, doesn't see it! It is only left to me to perceive the chief result of this evening's disclosures!"

All the men laughed.

"What is it, Zouche?" demanded Louis Valdor.

"Ay! What is it?" echoed Zegota.

"Speak, Zouche!" said the King; "Whatever strange conclusion your poetic brain discovers, doubt not but that we shall accept it,—from !"

"Accept it? I should think so!" cried Zouche; "You are bound to accept it whether you like it or not; there is no other way out of it!"

"Well, what is it?" repeated Zegota impatiently; "Declare it!"

"It is this;" said Zouche, "Simply this,—that, with the King as our comrade and associate, the Revolutionary Committee is no use! It is finished! There can be no longer a Revolutionary Committee!"

"That is true!" said the King; "It may henceforth be known as a new Parliament!"

Cheer after cheer echoed through the crowded room, and while the noise was at its height a knocking was heard outside and Sholto, the hunchback father of Pequita, demanded admittance. Zegota unlocked the door, and in a few minutes the situation was explained to the astonished landlord of the Revolutionary Committee quarters. Overwhelmed at the news, and full of gratitude for the kindness shown to his child, which he now knew had emanated from the King in person, he would have knelt to kiss the Royal hand, had not the monarch prevented him.

"No, my good Sholto!" he said gently; "Enough of such humility wearies me in the monotonous routine of Court life; and were it not for custom and prejudice, I would suffer no self-respecting man to abase himself before me, simply because my profession is that of King! Tell Pequita that I would not look at her, or applaud her dancing the other night, because I wished her to hate the King and to love Pasquin!—but now you must ask her for me, to love them both!"

Sholto bowed low, profoundly overcome. Was this the King against whom they had all been in league?—this simple, unaffected man, who seemed so much at home and at one with them all? Amazed and bewildered, he, by general invitation, mixed with the rest of the men, for each of whom the King had a kind and appreciative word, or a fresh pledge of his good faith and intention towards them and the reforms they sought to effect. Von Glauben was surrounded by a group of those among whom he had made himself popular; and a hundred eager questions were asked of both him and De Launay, who were ready enough to eulogise the daring of their Royal master, and the determination with which he had resolved on making his secret foes his open friends.

"After all," said Zegota deprecatingly, "it is not so much the King whom we were against, as the Government."

"Ah! You forget, no doubt," said Von Glauben, "that the King—any King— is usually a Dummy in the hands of Government, unless, as in the present instance, he chooses to become a living Personality for himself!"

"The King has created an autocracy!" said Louis Valdor; "and it will last for his lifetime. But after——!"

"After him,—if his eldest son, Prince Humphry, comes to the Throne,— the autocracy will be continued;" said Von Glauben decisively; "For he is a young man who is singularly fond of having his own way!"

The conversation now became general; and the big, bare, common room assumed in a few minutes almost the aspect of a Royal levee. This was curious enough,—and furnished food for meditation to Professor von Glauben, who was considerably excited by the dramatic denouement of the Day of Fate,—a climax for which neither he nor Sir Roger had been in the least prepared. He said something of it to Sir Roger who was watching Lotys.

"You look at the woman," he said; "I look at the man! Do you think this drama is finished?"

"Not yet!" answered De Launay curtly; "Nor is the danger over!"

The hum of talk continued; and the good feeling of friendship and unity of the assemblage was intensified with every cordial handshake. When the time came to break up, someone suggested that a carriage should be sent for to convey the King and his two companions to the Palace. Whereat the monarch laughed aloud and right joyously.

"By my faith!" he exclaimed; "You, my friends, would actually pamper me already, by offering me a luxury which you yourselves do not propose to enjoy! Ah, my friends, here comes in the mischief of the monarchical system! What of your 'Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity'? Do I ask to have anything different to yourselves? Can I not walk, even as you do? Have I not walked to, and from these meetings often? And even so, I purpose to walk now! If you are true Revolutionists—as I am—do not reverse your own theories! You complain,—and justly,—that a king is over-flattered; do not then flatter him yourselves by insisting on such convenience for him as he does not even demand at your hands!"

"You take us too literally, Sir," said Louis Valdor; "Even Revolutionists owe respect to their chief!"

"Sergius Thord is your Chief, my friend!" replied the monarch; "And, from a Revolutionary point of view, mine! But you have never thought of sending him anywhere in a carriage! Ah!—what children we are! What slaves of convention! 'Liberty, Equality and Fraternity' have been the ideals of ages;—yet despite them, we are always ready to follow a Leader,—and form ourselves into one body under a Head!"

"Provided the Head has brains in it!" said Zouche. "But otherwise—"

"You cut it off!" laughed the monarch—"and quite right too!"

They now began to separate. The hunchback Sholto explained that it was long after midnight, and that he had already put out all the lights in the basement.

Whereupon the King, turning to Sergius Thord said: "Farewell for the moment, Sergius! Come to me at the Palace with the whole plan of the meeting you are now organising; I shall hold myself ready to fall in with your plans! Gather your thousands, and—leave the rest to me!"

Thord clasped his extended hand,—and was moved by a curious instinct to bend down low over it after the fashion of a courtier, but restrained himself almost by force. The men began to move; one after the other bade good-night to the King—then to Thord, and last to Lotys, who, drawing on her cloak, prepared to leave also.

"I will see you safely down the stairs," said the King smilingly, to her. "It is not the first time I have done so! How now, Zouche?"

Paul Zouche stood before him, his eyes full of a strange mingled pathos and scorn.

"I have to thank your Majesty," he said slowly, "for something I do not in the least value,—Fame! It has come too late! Had it been my portion three years ago, the woman I loved would have been proud of me, and I should have been happy! She is dead now—and nothing matters!"

The King was silent. There was something both solemn and pitiful about this wreck of manhood which was still kept alive by the fire of genius.

"With one word you might have saved me—and her!" he went on. "When you came to the Throne,—and all the wretched versifiers in the kingdom were scribbling twaddle in the way of 'Coronation odes' and medleys, I wrote 'The Song of Freedom' for your glory! All the people of the land know that song now!—but you might have known it then! For now it is too late!—too late to call her back;—too late to give me peace!"

He paused;—then—without another word—turned, and went out.

"Poor Zouche!" said the King gently; "I accept his reproach and understand it! He is right! The recognition of his genius is one of the thousand chances I have missed! But, as God lives, I will miss no more!"

A great quietude fell on the house as the Revolutionary Committee dispersed. The last to leave was the King, his two friends, and Lotys. Lotys declined all escort somewhat imperatively, refusing to allow Sergius Thord to see her to her own home.

"I must be alone!" she said; "Do you not understand! I want to think—I want to realise our change of position. I cannot talk to you, Sergius, —no—not till to-morrow—you must let me be!"

He drew back, chilled and hurt by her tone, but forbore to press his company on her. With another farewell to the King, he stood at the top of the long dark winding stair watching the group descend,—first Von Glauben, next De Launay,—thirdly, the King,—and lastly, Lotys.

"Good-night!" he called, as her white robes vanished in the gloom.

"Good-night!" she answered tremulously, as she disappeared.

And he, returning to the empty room, stared vacantly at the table draped with black, and the funeral urn set upon it,—stared at the empty chairs and bare walls, and listened as it were, to the midnight silence,—realising that he as Chief of the Revolutionary Committee, was no longer a chief but a servant!—and that the power he sought— that power which he had endeavoured to attain in order that he might make of Lotys, as he had said, 'a queen among women!' was only to be won through,—the King! The King knew all his secret plans and his aims,—he held the clue to the whole network of his Revolutionary organisation,—and the only chance he now had of ever arriving at the highest goal of his ambition was in the King's hands! Thus was he,— Socialist and Revolutionist,—made subject to the Throne; the very rules he had drawn up for himself and his Committee making it impossible that he could be otherwise than loyal, to a monarch who was at the same time his comrade!

Meanwhile, in the thick darkness of the hall below, while Von Glauben and De Launay were groping their way to the door which was cautiously held open by Sholto, Lotys, moving with hesitating steps down the stairs, felt rather than saw a head turned back upon her,—a flash of eyes in the darkness, and heard her name breathed softly:

"Lotys!"

She grew dizzy and uncertain of her footing; she could not answer. Suddenly a strong arm caught her,—she was drawn into a close, fierce, jealous clasp; warm lips caressed her hair, her brow, her eyes; and a voice whispered in her ear:

"You love me, Lotys! You love me! Hush!—do not deny it—you cannot deny it!—you know it, as I know it!—you have told me you love me! You love me, my Love! You love me!"

Another moment—and the King passed quietly out of the door with a bland 'Good-night' to Sholto, and joining his two companions, raised his hat to Lotys with a courteous salutation.

"Good-night, Madame!"

She stood in the doorway, shuddering violently from head to foot,— watching his tall figure disappear in the shadows of the street. Then stretching out her hands blindly, she gave a faint cry, and murmuring something inarticulate to the alarmed Sholto, fell senseless at his feet.



CHAPTER XXX

KING AND SOCIALIST

To many persons of the servile or flunkey habit, the idea that a king should ever comport himself as an ordinary,—or extraordinary,—man, seems more or less preposterous; while to conceive him as endowed with dash, spirit, and a love of adventure is judged almost as absurd and impossible. The only potentate that ever appears, in legendary lore, to have indulged himself to his heart's content in the sport of adopting a disguise and going about unrecognised among his subjects, is the witty and delightful hero of the 'Arabian Nights' Entertainment,' Caliph Haroun Alraschid, who, as Tennyson describes him, had

"Deep eyes, laughter-stirred With merriment of kingly pride; Sole star of all that place and time, I saw him in his golden prime. The good Haroun Alraschid!"

We accept Haroun; and acknowledge him to have been wise in the purport of his wanderings through the streets of the city,—gaining new experience with every hour, and studying the needs and complaints of his people for himself;—but if we should be told of a modern monarch doing likewise in our own day, we should mount on the stiff hobby-horse of our ridiculous conventionality, and accuse him of having brought the dignity of the Throne into contempt. Yet nothing perhaps can be more contemptible than a monarch who is too surrounded by flunkeyism to be a Man,—and, on the other hand, nothing could be more beneficial than the feeling that perhaps a monarch may be so much of a man after all that no one can be quite certain as to his whereabouts. It would be well if some rowdy 'clubs' could be restrained by the idea that the Sovereign of the Realm might step in unexpectedly,—or if the 'slums' could scarcely be able to tell when he might not be among their inmates, disguised as one of them, studying and knowing more in a day than his ministers would tell him in several years. It is generally admitted that no man is fit for a profession till he has thoroughly mastered its possibilities,—yet it is not too much to declare that in the profession of Sovereignty the few who practise it, have mastered it to so little purpose, that they are almost entirely blind to the singular advantages which they might obtain, not only for themselves, but for the entire world, if they chose to put forth their own individuality, and, instead of wasting their time on the scheming and self-seeking sections of Society, elected to try their powers on the working and trade communities of the nation. But throughout all history, the various careers of kings and emperors contain instructive lessons of Lost Opportunity. Allowing for the differences of climate and temperament, it may be taken for granted that no people of any country are constitutionally able to rise above a certain height of enthusiasm; and that when the high-water mark is reached, their enthusiasm cools, and a reaction invariably sets in. For this cause a monarch should never rely too much on the plaudits of the mob in a time of conquest, or public festival of jubilation. He should look upon such acclamation as the mere rising of a wave, which must in due time sink again,—and if he would know his people thoroughly, he should study that same shouting mob, not when it is affected by hysteria, but during its everyday level condition of stubborn and patient toil. So will he perhaps be able to lay his finger on the sore places of life, and to find out where the seed of mischief is planted, before it begins to grow. But he must give an individual interest to such work; no information must be obtained or given through this person or that person,—for the old maxim that 'if you want anything done, do it yourself' applies to kings as well as to all other classes of men.

That the old adage had been amply practised by one king at least, was soon known throughout the capital of the country over which the monarch here written of held dominion. Somehow, and by some means or other, the story oozed out bit by bit and in guarded whispers, that the King had 'trapped' Carl Perousse, as well as several other defaulting ministers,—and that, strange and incredible as it appeared, he himself was the very 'Pasquin Leroy' whose political polemics had created such a stir. Once started, the rumour flew;—some disbelieved it;—others listened, with ears stretched wide, greedy for more detail,—but presently the scattered threads of gossip became woven into a consecutive web of certainty so far as one point, at least, was concerned,—and this was, that the King would personally address his Parliament during the ensuing week on matters of national safety and importance. Such an announcement was altogether unprecedented, and excited the whole country's attention. Plenty of discussion there was, as to whether the King had any right to so address the members of the Government,—and some oracular journals were of the opinion that he was acting in an 'unconstitutional manner.' On the other hand, it was discovered and proved that there was no actual law forbidding the Sovereign to speak when any question of urgency appeared to call for his expressed opinion.

While this affair was being contested and argued, a considerable sensation was created by the news that the Marquis de Lutera had suddenly left the country,—ostensibly for his health, which, everyone was assured, had completely broken down. People shook their heads ominously, and wondered when the King would give M. Perousse the task of forming a new Ministry,—while they watched with deepening interest the progress of the various Government debates, which were carried on in the usual way, following the lines laid down by the absent Premier, Marquis de Lutera. Carl Perousse, confronted by a thousand difficulties, maintained his usual equable and audacious attitude, scouting with scorn the rumour that the Socialist writer, 'Pasquin Leroy' was merely a disguise adopted by the King himself,—and he was as cool and imperturbable as ever when one morning David Jost succeeded in finding him at home, and obtaining an audience.

"It was the King!" burst out Jost, as soon as he found himself alone with his ally; "It was the King himself who wore Lutera's signet, and came to me disguised so well that his own father would not have known him! The King himself, I say! And I told him everything!"

"More fool you!" returned Perousse quietly; "However, fools generally have to pay the price of their folly!"

"And knaves!" said Jost furiously; "But there is a power which cannot be controlled, even by kings or statesmen—and that is—the pen!"

"And do you think you can use the pen?" queried Perousse indolently; "Excellent Shylock, you know you cannot! You can pay others to use it for you! That is all!"

"I can make short work of you at any rate!" said Jost, his little eyes sparkling with rage; "For I see plainly enough now that even if our plans had succeeded, you would have left me in the lurch!"

"Of course!" smiled Perousse; "Are you so simple in the world's ways as not to be able to realise that such Jew pressmen as you are only made for the use of politicians? We drop you, when we have done with you! Go to London, Jost! Start a paper there! It is the very place for you! Get a Cardinal to back you up, with funds to be used for the 'conversion' of England! Or give a hundred thousand pounds to a hospital! You can become naturalised as an Englishman if you like; any country does for a Jew! And you will be a power of the realm in no time! They manage these sort of things capitally there!"

"By God!" said Jost; "I could kill you!"

"What for?" demanded Perousse; "Because you think I am going to be proved a political fraud? Wait and see! If the King denounces me, I am prepared to denounce the King!"

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 harassments 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 sunshine 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 circumstance 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 'mass 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 multitude 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 mass 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 multitude 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 multitude 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 worship, 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 noble; 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 principal figure, that of their King. A group of workmen constituted 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 passed, 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 snobbish conventionalities and hypocritical parade, ever presented so splendid and imposing a sight as that concentrated mass 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 ship, 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 assert 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 God! Would he were not a King!"



CHAPTER XXXI

A VOTE FOR LOVE

Next day it was known through the length and breadth of the city that the King, so long judged as a political Dummy, had proved himself a living, acting authority. Every journal in city and province led off its news under the one chief heading,—'The King's Speech.' The King had spoken;—and with no uncertain voice. Cool, brilliant in wording, concise in statement,—cuttingly correct in facts, convincing in argument, his unexpected denouncement of Carl Perousse, and the Perousse 'majority,' swept the Government off their feet by its daring courage, and still more daring veracity. Documentary evidence of the dishonourable speculations with the public money which had been so freely indulged in by the Secretary of State, aided and abetted by the Premier, was handed by the King in person to the authorities whose business it was to examine such proofs,—the dishonourable measures used to retain the 'majority' were fully exposed, and the whole House stood thunderstruck and mentally paralysed, under the straight accusation and merciless condemnation launched at their own lax tolerance of such iniquitous practices, by their reigning monarch. With perfect dignity and impressive calm, the King quietly demanded whether M. Carl Perousse would be pleased to explain his actions? Whether he had anything to say in response to the charges brought against him? To this last query, after a dead silence, during which every eye was fixed on the defaulting Minister, who, in the course of the Royal speech had seen every bulwark of his own intended defence torn away from him, Perousse, with an ashy white countenance answered:

"Nothing!"

And the silence around him continued; a silence more expressive than any outspoken word of scorn.

But more surprises were in store for the Ministry, which found itself thus suddenly overthrown. The King announced the marriage of his son, the Crown Prince, to 'a daughter of the People'! Boldly, and with an ardent passion of truth lighting up every feature of his handsome countenance, he stated this overwhelming piece of news in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, adding, that in consequence of the step taken,—a step which he did not himself in any way regret,—the Crown Prince asked to be allowed to resign the Throne in favour of his brother Rupert.

"Unless," continued his Majesty, "the Nation should be proved ready to accept the wife he has chosen. It is needless to add that my son has married without my consent, and this is the reason of his present absence from the country. If the Nation accepts his wife, he will return to the Nation; if not, I am bound to say, knowing his mind, that there is nothing to be done, but to declare Prince Rupert Heir to the Throne. This, however, I personally desire may be left to the consideration and vote of the people!"

And when the House rose on that astonishing afternoon, they knew they were no longer a House,—they knew the Government was entirely overthrown, and that there would be a new Ministry and a General Election. They had to realise also, that their 'Bills' for imposing fresh taxes on the people were mere waste paper,—and they heard likewise with redoubled amazement that the King had decided to resign half his revenues for the space of five years, to assist the deficit in the National Exchequer.

At the conclusion of the whole unprecedented scene, they saw the King received, as it were, into the arms of a frenzied crowd, numbering many tens of thousands, which spread round all the Government buildings, and poured itself in thick streams through every street and thoroughfare, and they had to accept the fact that their 'majority' was reduced to a minority so infinitesimal, amid the greater wave of popular resolve, that it was not worth counting.

Carl Perousse, leaving the House by a private door of egress, shamed, disgraced and crestfallen as he was, dared not trust the very sight of himself to such an overwhelming multitude, and managed by lucky chance to escape unobserved. He was assisted in this manoeuvre by General Bernhoff. The Chief of the Police perceived him slinking cautiously along the side-wall of an alley where the crowd had not penetrated, and helped him into a passing cab that he might be driven rapidly and safely to his home.

"You will no doubt excuse me"—said the General with a slight smile— "for not having acted more rigorously in the matter of the suspected 'Pasquin Leroy'! I am afraid I should never have summed up sufficient impudence to ask the King to sign a warrant against himself!"

Perousse muttered an inarticulate oath by way of reply. He realised fully that the game for him was lost. His speech of defence, so carefully prepared had been useless, for he could not have uttered it in the face of the damnatory evidence against him pronounced by the King, and verified by his own public actions. Yet his audacity had not, in the main, deserted him. He knew that, owing to his proved defalcations and fraudulent use of the public money, his own property would be confiscated to the Crown,—but he had always kept himself well prepared for emergencies, and had invested in foreign securities under various assumed names. Turning his attention to America, he felt pretty sure he could do something there,—but so far as his own country was concerned, he submitted to the inevitable, feeling that his day was done.

"The Jew is always triumphant!" he said, as he opened Jost's newspaper next morning, and read a full account of the proceedings in the House, described with all the 'colour' and gush of Jost's most melodramatic reporter. "There is no doubt a 'leader' on my 'unhappy position' as a fallen, but once trusted Minister!"

He was right; there was! A gravely-reproachful, sternly-commiserating 'leader,' wherein the apparently impeccable and highly conscientious writer 'deplored' the laxity of those who supported M. Carl Perousse in his 'regrettable' scheme of self-aggrandisement.

"The rascal!" ejaculated Perousse, as he read. "If I ever get a fresh start in the United States or South Africa, I'll put him on a gridiron, and roast him to slow music!"

Meanwhile the whole country went mad over the King. No man was ever so idolised; no man was ever made the centre of more hero-worship. In all the excitement of a General Election, the wave of loyalty rose to its extremest height, and no candidate that was not ready to follow the lines of reform laid down by the monarch, had a ghost of a chance of being returned as a deputy. With the abolition of the tax on bread, the popular jubilation increased; bonfires were lit on every hill,—rockets flared up star-like from every rocky point upon the coast, and the Nation gave itself entirely up to joy.

All the long dormant sentiment of the multitude was roused to a fever- heat by the story of Prince Humphry's marriage, and he too, next to his father, became a veritable hero of romance in the eyes of the people, for whom Love, and all pertaining to love-matters form the most interesting part of life. Following his announcement in the House, the King issued a 'manifesto,' setting forth the facts of his son's union with 'One Gloria Ronsard, of The Islands,' and requesting the vote of the people for, or against, the Prince as Heir-Apparent to the Throne.

The result of this bold and candid reliance on the Nation was one which could never have been foreseen by so-called 'diplomatic' statesmen, who are accustomed to juggle with simple facts, and who strive to cover up and conceal the too distinct plainness of truth. An electric thrill of chivalrous enthusiasm pulsated through the entire country; and the unanimous vote of the people was returned to the King in entire favour of the Crown Prince and his chosen bride. Perhaps no one was more astonished at this than the King himself. He had been prepared for considerable friction; he had been quite sure of opposition on the part of 'Society,' but, Society, moved for once from its usual selfishness by the boldness and daring of a heroic king, had ranked itself entirely on his side, and was ready and even anxious to accept in Prince Humphry a new kind of 'Cophetua,' even if he had chosen to wed a beggar-maid! And it so chanced that there were many persons who had seen Gloria,— and among these was Sergius Thord, He had not only seen her, but known her;—he had studied her character and qualities,—and was aware that she possessed one of the most pure and beautiful of womanly souls;—and though taken by surprise at the discovery that the young 'sailor' she had wedded was no other than the Crown Prince, yet, after the experience he had personally gone through with one 'Pasquin Leroy,' he could scarcely feel that any news, even of the most wonderful kind, was so wonderful after all! So that, as soon as he learned the truth, he brought all his enormous 'following' into unanimity as regarded the Prince's romantic love-story; and ere long there was not one in the metropolis at least, who did not consider the marriage a good thing, and likely to weld even more closely together the harmonious relationship between people and Throne.

And so it chanced, that even while the General Election was still going on all over the country, an incessant popular clamour was made for the instant return of the Prince to his native land. The papers teemed with suggestions as to the 'welcoming home' of the young hero of romance and his bride, and Professor von Glauben, mentally giddy with the whirl of events, was nevertheless triumphantly elated.

"Now that you know everything," he said to Sir Roger de Launay, "I hope you are satisfied! My 'jam-pot' that you spoke of, has turned out to be a special Sweetmeat for the whole nation!"

"I am very much surprised, I confess!" said Sir Roger slowly; "I should hardly have thought such a love-story possible in these modern days. And I should certainly never have given the nation credit for so much sentiment!"

"A nation is always sentimental!" declared the Professor; "What does a Government exist for? Merely to keep national sentiment in order. Ministers know well enough, that despite the various 'Bills' brought in for material advantage and improvement, they have always to deal with the imaginative aspiration of the populace, rather than their conception of logic. For truly, the masses have no logic at all; they will not stop to count the cost of an Army, but they will shout themselves hoarse at the sight of the Flag! The Flag is the Sentiment; the Army is the Fact. The King has secured all the votes of the nation on a question of Sentiment only,—but there is this pleasant scientific 'fact underlying the sentiment,—Gloria is fit to be the mother of kings! And that is what I will not say of any royally-born woman I know!"

Sir Roger was silent.

"Consider our present Queen as a mother only!" he went on; "Beautiful and impassive as a snow-peak with the snow shining upon it! What of her sons? The Crown Prince is the best of them,—but he has only been saved from inherited mischief by his love for Gloria. The other two boys, Rupert and Cyprian, will probably be selfish libertines!"

Sir Roger opened his eyes in astonishment.

"Why do you say that?" he asked; "They are harmless lads enough! Cricket and football are enough to make them happy."

"For the present, no doubt!" agreed Von Glauben; "But it sometimes happens that the young human animal who expends all his brains on kicking a football, is quite likely to expend another sort of force when he grows up, in morally kicking other things! At least, that is how I regard it. The over-cultivation of physical strength leads to mental callousness and brutality. These are scientific points which require discussion,—not with you,—but with a scientist. Nothing should be overdone. Too much enervation and lack of athleticism leads to moral deterioration certainly,—but so does too much 'sport' as they call it. There is a happy medium to be obtained on both sides, but human beings generally miss it. Prince Humphry, born of a beautiful, introspective, selfish—yes, I repeat it!—selfish mother, would, if he had married a hard-natured, cold and conventional wife, probably have been the most indifferent, casual, and careless sovereign that ever reigned; but, united as he is to a trusting, warm-hearted, loving, womanly woman like Gloria, he will probably make himself the idol of the Nation."

"Not more so than his father is!" said Sir Roger, with a smile.

"Ach so! That would be difficult, I grant you!" agreed the Professor; "As I told you, Roger, at the beginning of this drama in which we have both played our little parts; no harm ever came undeservedly to a brave man with a good conscience!"

"True! And no harm has come to the King—as yet!" said Sir Roger thoughtfully. "But I sometimes fear one man——!"

"Sergius Thord?" suggested Von Glauben; "To speak honestly, so do I! But I watch him—I watch him closely! He loves Lotys, as a tiger loves its mate,—and if he should ever suspect——!"

"Hush!" said Roger quickly; "Do not speak of it! I assure you I am always on guard!"

"Good! So am I! But Thord is too busy just now climbing the hill to look either backward or aside. When he reaches the summit, it is possible he may see the whole landscape at a glance!"

"He will reach the summit very soon!" said De Launay; "His election as deputy for the city, is certain. From the moment he announced himself as candidate, there has been no opposition."

"He will be returned by an overwhelming majority," said the Professor; "And he will gain all the power he has been working for. Also, with the power, he will obtain all the difficulty, responsibility, disappointment and bitterness. Power is a dangerous possession, unless it is accompanied by a cool head; and in that our friend Sergius Thord is lacking. He is a creature of impulse—and a savage creature too!—a half-educated genius,—than which nothing in the shape of humanity is more desperately difficult to manage!"

"Lotys can manage him!" said Sir Roger.

"That depends!" And the Professor rubbed his nose irritably. "Women are excellent diplomatists up to a certain point, but their limit is reached when they fall in love! Passion and enthusiasm transform them into quite as absurd fools as—men!"

Sir Roger smiled, and changed the subject.

But in a few days, what had been foreshadowed in their conversation came true. One of the chief results of the General Election was the triumphal return of Sergius Thord as Deputy for the Metropolis by an enormous majority; and in the evening of the day on which the polling was declared, great crowds assembled beneath the windows of his house, —that house so long known as the quarters of the Revolutionary Committee,—roaring themselves hoarse with acclamation. He was, of course, called out before them to speak,—and he yielded to the clamorous demand, as perforce he was bound to do, but strangely enough, with extreme reluctance.

A certain vague weariness depressed his spirits; his undisputed election as one of the most important Government-representatives of the people, lacked the savour of the triumph he had expected;—and like all those who have worked for years to win a coveted post and succeed at last in winning it, he was filled with the fatal satiety of accomplishment. Power,—temporal power,—was after all not so great as it had seemed! He had climbed—he had striven; but all the joy was contained in the climbing and the striving. Now that he had gained his point there seemed nothing left to prick afresh his flagging ambition. Nevertheless, he succeeded in addressing his enthusiastic followers and worshippers with something of his old fervour and fire,—sufficiently well, at any rate, to satisfy them, and send them off with renewed shouts of exultation, expressive of their continued reliance on his courage and ability. But, when left alone at last, his heart suddenly failed him.

"What is the use of it!" he thought wearily; "True, I now represent the city,—I lead its opinions—I am its mouth-piece for the State,—and the wrongs and injuries done to the million are mine to bring before the Government; and my business it will be to force remedial measures for the same. But what then? There will be, there must be, constant discussion, argument, contradiction,—for there are always conflicting opinions in every aspect of human affairs,—and it will be my work to put down all contradiction,—all opposition,—and to carry the People's Cause with a firm hand. Yet—after all, if I succeed, it will be the King's doing,—not mine! To him I partly owe my present power; the power I had before, was all my own!"