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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:42:54 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:42:54 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/13776-0.txt b/13776-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd057ca --- /dev/null +++ b/13776-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6206 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13776 *** + +ONE DAY + +A SEQUEL TO "THREE WEEKS" + +ANONYMOUS + + +Original Publication Date 1909, by The Macaulay Company + + +NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY 1912 + + + +THE SCHILLING PRESS NEW YORK + + + + +FOREWORD TO MY AMERICAN FRIENDS + + +Now after spending some very pleasant weeks in your interesting country, +I feel sure that this book will find many sympathetic readers in +America. Quite naturally it will be discussed; some, doubtless, will +censure it--and unjustly; others will believe with me that the tale +teaches a great moral lesson. + +Born as the Boy was born, the end which Fate forced upon him, to me, was +inevitable. Each word and act of the three weeks of his parents' +love-idyl must reflect in the character and life of the child. Little by +little the baby King grew before my mental vision until I saw at last +there was no escape from his importunity and I allowed the insistent +Boy--masterful even from his inception--to shape himself at his own +sweet will. Thus he became the hero of my study. + +This is not a book for children or fools--but for men and women who can +grasp the underlying principle of morality which has been uppermost in +my mind as I wrote. Those who can see beyond the outburst of +passion--the overmastering belief in the power of love to justify all +things, which the Boy inherited so naturally from his Queen mother--will +understand the forces against which the young Prince must needs fight a +losing battle. The transgression was unavoidable to one whose very +conception was beyond the law--the punishment was equally inevitable. + +In fairness to this book of mine--and to me--the great moral lesson I +have endeavored to teach must be considered in its entirety, and no +single episode be construed as the book's sole aim. The verdict on my +two years' work rests with you, dear Reader, but at least you may be +sure that I have only tried to show that those who sow the wind shall +reap the whirlwind. + +--THE AUTHOR. + + + + +ONE DAY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Prince tore the missive fiercely from its envelope, and scowled at +the mocking glint of the royal crown so heavily embossed at the top of +the paper. What a toy it was, he thought, to cost so much, and +eventually to mean so little! Roughly translated, the letter ran as +follows: + +"Your Royal Highness will be gratified to learn that at last a +satisfactory alliance has been arranged between the Princess Elodie of +Austria and your royal self. It is the desire of both courts and +councils that the marriage shall be solemnized on the fifteenth of the +May following your twenty-first birthday, at which time the coronation +ceremony takes place that is to place the crown of the kingdom upon the +head of the son of our beloved and ever-to-be-regretted Imperatorskoye. +The Court and Council extend greetings and congratulations upon the not +far distant approach of both auspicious events to your Royal Highness, +which cannot fail to afford the utmost satisfaction in every detail to +the ever-beautiful-and-never-to-be-sufficiently beloved Prince Paul. + +"Imperator-to-be, we salute thee. We kiss thy feet." + +The letter was sealed with the royal crest and signed by the Regent--the +Boy's uncle--the Grand Duke Peter, his mother's brother, who had been +his guardian and protector almost from his birth. The young prince knew +that his uncle loved him, knew that the Grand Duke desired nothing on +earth so much as the happiness of his beloved sister's only son--and yet +at this crisis of the Boy's life, even his uncle was as powerless to +help as was Paul Verdayne, the Englishman. + +"The Princess Elodie!" he grumbled. "Who the devil is this Princess +Elodie, anyway? Austrian blood has no particular charm for me! They +might at least have told me something a little more definite about the +woman they have picked out to be the mother of my children. A man +usually likes to look an animal over before he purchases!" + +Known to London society as Monsieur Zalenska, the Prince had come up to +town with the Verdaynes, and was apparently enjoying to the utmost the +frivolities of London life. + +At a fashionable garden party he sat alone, in a seclusion he had long +sought and had finally managed to secure, behind a hedge of hawthorn +where none but lovers, and men and women troubled as he was troubled, +cared to conceal themselves. + +The letter, long-expected and dreaded, had finally crossed the continent +to his hand. It was only the written confirmation of the sentence Fate +had pronounced upon him, even as it had pronounced similar sentences +upon princes and potentates since the beginning of thrones and kingdoms. + +While the Prince--or Paul Zalenska, as I will now call him--sat in his +brooding brown study, clutching the imperial letter tightly in his young +hand, his attention was arrested by the sound of voices on the other +side of the hawthorn hedge. + +He listened idly, at first, to what seemed to be a one-sided +conversation, in a dull, emotionless feminine voice--a discourse on +fashion, society chit-chat, and hopeless nonentities, interspersed with +bits of gossip. Could women never talk about anything else? he thought +impatiently. + +But his displeasure did not seem to affect the course of things at all. +The voice, completely unconscious of the aversion it aroused in the +invisible listener, continued its dreary, expressionless monotone. + +"What makes you so silent, Opal? You haven't said a word to-day that you +didn't absolutely have to say. If all American girls are as dreamy as +you, I wonder why our English lords are so irresistibly attracted across +the water when in search of brides!" + +And then the Boy on the other side of the hedge felt his sluggish pulse +quicken, and almost started to his feet, impelled by a sudden thrill of +delight; for another voice had spoken--a voice of such infinite charm +and sweetness and vitality, yet with languorous suggestion of emotional +heights and depths, that he felt a vague sense of disappointment when +the magnetic notes finally died away. + +"Brides?" the voice echoed, with a lilt of girlish laughter running +through the words. "You mean '_bribes_,' don't you? For I assure you, +dear cousin, it is the metallic clink of American gold, and nothing +else, that lures your great men over the sea. As for my silence, _ma +belle_, I have been uncommunicative because there really seemed nothing +at all worth saying. I can't accustom myself to small-talk--I can't even +listen to it patiently. I always feel a wild impulse to fly far, far +away, where I can close my ears to it all and listen to my own thoughts. +I'm sorry if I disappoint you, Alice--I seem to disappoint everybody +that I would like to please--but I assure you, laugh at my dreams as you +may, to me my dream-life is far more attractive and beautiful than what +you term Life. Forgive me if I hurt you, cousin. I'm peculiarly +constituted, perhaps, but I don't like this twaddle, and I can't help +it! Everything in England is so beautiful, and yet its society seems +so--so hopelessly unsatisfactory to one who longs to _live!_" + +"To live, Opal? We are not dead, surely! What do you mean by life?" + +And so her name was Opal! How curiously the name suited the voice! The +Boy, as he listened, felt that no other name could possibly have +matched that voice--the opal, that glorious gem in which all the fires +of the sun, the iridescent glories of the rainbow, and the cold +brilliance of ice and frost and snow seemed to blend and crystallize. +All this, and more, was in that mysteriously fascinating voice. + +"To live, Alice?" echoed the voice again. "To live? Why, to live is to +_feel!_--to feel every emotion of which the human soul is capable, to +rise to the heights of love, and knowledge, and power; to sink--if need +be--to the deepest depths of despair, but, at all costs, at all hazards, +to _live!_--to experience in one's own nature all the reality and +fullness of the deathless emotions of life!" + +The voice sank almost to the softness of a whisper, yet even then was +vibrant, alive, intense. + +"Ah, Alice, from my childhood up, I have dreamed of life and longed for +it. What life really is, each must decide for himself, must he not? +Some, they say, sleep their way through a dreamless existence, and +never, never wake to realities. Alice, I have sometimes wondered if that +was to be my fate, have wondered and wondered until I have cried out in +real terror at the hideous prospect! Surely Fate could not be so cruel +as to implant such a desperate desire in a soul that never was to know +its fulfilment. Could it, Alice? Tell me, _could_ it?" + +The Boy held his breath now. + +Who was this girl, anyhow, who seemed to express his own thoughts as +accurately as he himself could have done? He was bored no longer. He was +roused, stirred, awakened--and intensely interested. It was as though +the voice of his own soul spoke to him in a dream. + +The cold, lifeless voice now chimed in again. In his impatience the Boy +clenched his fists and shut his teeth together hard. Why didn't she keep +still? He didn't want to miss a single note he might have caught of the +voice--that other! Why did this nonentity--for one didn't have to see +her to be sure that she was that--have to interrupt and rob him of his +pleasure? + +"I don't understand you, Opal," she was saying. (Of course she didn't, +thought the Boy--how could she?) "I am sure that I live. And yet I have +never felt that way--thank goodness! It's vulgar to feel too deeply, +Mamma used to say, and as I have grown older, I can see that she was +right. The best people never show any excess of emotion. That is for +tragedy queens, operatic stars, and--the women we do not talk about! +Ladies cultivate repose!" + +("Repose!--_mon Dieu!_" thought Paul, behind the hedge. He wished that +she would!) + +"And yet, Alice, you are--married!" + +"Married?--of course!--why not?" and the eavesdropper fancied he could +see the wide-open gaze of well-bred English surprise that accompanied +the words. "One has to marry, of course. That is what we are created +for. But one doesn't make a fuss about it. It's only a custom--a +ceremony--and doesn't change existence much for most women, if they +choose sensibly. Of course there is always the chance of a +_mésalliance_! A woman has to risk that." + +"And you don't--love?" + +The Boy was struck by a note that was almost horror in the opaline voice +so near him. + +"Love? Why, Opal, of course we do! It's easy to love, you know, when a +man is decent and half-way good to one. I am sure I think a great deal +of Algernon; but I dare say I should have thought as much of any other +man I had happened to marry. That is a wife's duty!" + +"_Duty!_--and you call that love?" The horror in the tones had now +changed to scorn. + +"You have strange ideas of life, Opal. I should be afraid to indulge +them if I were you--really I should! You have lived so much in books +that you seem to have a very garbled idea of the world. Fiction is apt +to be much of a fairy tale, a crazy exaggeration of what living really +consists of!" + +"_Afraid?_ Why should I be afraid? I am an American girl, remember, and +Americans are afraid of nothing--nothing! Come, cousin, tell to me, if +you can, why I should be afraid." + +"Oh, I don't know! really I don't!" There was a troubled, perplexed note +in the English voice now. "Such notions are apt to get girls into +trouble, and lead them to some unhappy fate. Too much 'life'--as you +call it--must mean suffering, and sorrow, and many tears--and maybe, +_sin_!" + +There was a shocked note in the voice of the young English matron as +she added the last word, and her voice sank to a whisper. But Paul +Zalenska heard, and smiled. + +"Suffering, and sorrow, and many tears," repeated the American girl, +musingly, "and maybe--sin!" Then she went on, firmly, "Very well, +Alice, give me the suffering and sorrow, and many tears--and the sin, +too, if it must be, for we are all sinners of greater or less +degree--but at any rate, give me life! My life may still be far off in +the future, but when the time comes, I shall certainly know, and--I +shall _live_!" + +"You are a peculiar girl, Opal, and--we don't say those things in +England." + +"No, you don't say those things, you cold English women! You do not even +_feel_ them! As for sin, Alice, to my mind there can be no worse sin +under heaven than you commit when you give yourself to a man whom you do +not love better than you could possibly love any other. Oh, it is a +sin--it _must_ be--to sell yourself like that! It's no wonder, I think, +that your husbands are so often driven to 'the women we do not talk +about' for--consolation!" + +"Opal! Opal! hush! What _are_ you saying? You really--but see! isn't +that Algernon crossing the terrace? He is probably looking for us." + +"And like a dutiful English wife, you mustn't fail to obey, I suppose! +Lead the way, cousin mine, and I'll promise to follow you with due +dignity and decorum." + +And the rustle of silken skirts heralded the departure of the ladies +away from the hedge and beyond Paul's hearing. + +Then he too started at an eager, restless pace for the centre of the +crowd. He had quite forgotten the future so carefully arranged for him, +and was off in hot pursuit of--what? He did not know! He only knew that +he had heard a voice, and--he followed! + +As he rejoined the guests, he looked with awakened interest into every +face, listened with eager intensity to every voice. But all in vain. It +did not occur to him that he might easily learn from his hostess the +identity of her American guest; and even if the thought had presented +itself to him, he would never have acted upon it. The experience was +his alone, and he would have been unwilling to share it with any one. + +He was no longer bored as earlier in the afternoon, and he carried the +assurance of enthusiasm and interest in his every glance and motion. +People smiled at the solitary figure, and whispered that he must have +lost Verdayne. But for once in his life, the Boy was not looking for his +friend. + +But neither did he find the voice! + +Usually among the first to depart on such occasions as these, this time +he remained until almost all the crowd had made their adieux. And it was +with a keen sense of disappointment that he at last entered his carriage +for the home of the Verdaynes. He was hearing again and again in the +words of the voice, as it echoed through his very soul, "When my time +comes, I shall certainly know, and I shall--_live!_" + +The letter in his pocket no longer scorched the flesh beneath. He had +forgotten its very existence, nor did he once think of the Princess +Elodie of Austria. What had happened to him? + +Had he fallen in love with a--voice? + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was May at Verdayne Place, and May at Verdayne Place was altogether +different from May in any other part of the world. The skies were of a +far deeper and richer blue; the flowers reached a higher state of +fragrant and rainbow-hued perfection; the sun shining through the green +of the trees was tempered to just the right degree of shine and shadow. +To an Englishman, home is the beginning and the end of the world, and +Paul Verdayne was a typical Englishman. + +To be sure, it had not always been so, but Paul had outlived his +vagabond days and had become thoroughly domesticated; yet there had been +a time in his youth when the wandering spirit had filled his soul, when +the love of adventure had lent wings to his feet, and the glory of +romance had lured him to the lights and shadows of other skies than +these. But Verdayne was older now, very much older! He had lived his +life, he said, and settled down! + +In the shade of the tall trees of the park, two men were drinking in the +beauties of the season, in all the glory and splendor of its +ever-changing, yet ever-enduring loveliness. One of them was past forty, +the ripeness of middle age and the general air of a well-spent, +well-directed, and fully-developed life lending to his face and form an +unusual distinction--even in that land of distinguished men. His +companion was a boy of twenty, straight and tall and proud, carrying +himself with the regal grace of a Greek god. He was a strong, handsome, +healthy, well-built, and well-instructed boy, a boy at whom any one who +looked once would be sure to look the second time, even though he could +not tell exactly wherein the peculiar charm lay. Both men were fair of +hair and blue-eyed, with clear, clean skins and well-bred English faces, +and the critical observer could scarcely fail to notice how curiously +they resembled each other. Indeed, the younger of the pair might easily +have been the replica of the elder's youth. + +When they spoke, however, the illusion of resemblance disappeared. In +the voice of the Boy was a certain vibrant note that was entirely +lacking in the deeper tones of the man--not an accent, nor yet an +inflection, but still a quality that lent a subtle suggestion of foreign +shores. It was an expressive voice, neither languorous nor unduly +forceful, but strangely magnetic, and adorably rich and full, and +musical, thrilling its hearers with its suggestion of latent physical +and spiritual force. + +On the afternoon of which I write, those two were facing a crisis that +made them blind to everything of lesser import. Paul Verdayne--the man +--realized this to the full. His companion--the Boy--was dimly but just +as acutely conscious of it. The question had come at last--the question +that Paul Verdayne had been dreading for years. + +"Uncle Paul," the Boy was saying, "what relation are you to me? You are +not really my uncle, though I have been taught to call you so after this +quaint English fashion of yours. I know it is something of a secret, but +I know no more! We are closer comrades, it seems to me--you and I--than +any others in all the world. We always understand each other, somehow, +almost without words--is it not so? I even bear your name, and I am +proud of it, because it is yours. But why must there be so much mystery +about our real relationship? Won't you tell me just what I am to you?" + +The question, long-looked-for as it was, found the elder man all +unprepared. Is any one ever ready for any dire calamity, however +certainly expected? He paced up and down under the tall trees of the +park and for a time did not answer. Then he paused and laid his hand +upon the shoulder of the Boy with a tenderness of touch that proved +better than any words how close was the bond between them. + +"Tell you what you are to me! I could never, never do that! You are +everything to me, everything!" + +The Boy made a motion as if to speak, but the man forestalled him. + +"We're jolly good friends, aren't we--the very best of companions? In +all the world there is no man, woman or child that is half so near and +dear to me as you. Men don't usually talk about these things to one +another, you know, Boy; but, though I am a bachelor, you see, I feel +toward you as most men feel toward their sons. What does the mere +defining of the relationship matter? Could we possibly be any more to +each other than we are?" + +Paul Verdayne seated himself on a little knoll beneath the shade of a +giant oak. The Boy looked at him with the wistfulness of an infinite +question in his gaze. + +"No, no, Boy! Some time, perhaps--yes, certainly--you shall know all, +all! But that time has not yet come, and for the present it is best that +things should rest as they are. Trust us, Boy--trust me--and be +patient!" + +"Patient!" The Boy laughed a full, ringing laugh, as he threw himself on +the grass at his companion's feet. "I have never learned the word! Could +you be patient, Uncle Paul, when youth was all on fire in your heart, +with your own life shrouded in mystery? Could you, I say, be patient +then?" + +Verdayne laughed indulgently as his strong fingers stroked the Boy's +brown curls. + +"Perhaps not, Boy, perhaps not! But it is for you," he continued, "for +you, Boy, to make the best of that life of yours, which you are pleased +to think clouded in such tantalizing mystery. It is for you to develop +every God-given faculty of your being that all of us that love you may +have the happiness of seeing you perform wisely and well the mission +upon which you have been sent to this kingdom of yours to accomplish. +Boy! every true man is a king in the might of his manhood, but upon you +is bestowed a double portion of that universal royalty. This is a +throne-worshipping world we are living in, Paul, and it means even more +than you can realize to be a prince of the blood!" + +The Boy looked around the park apprehensively. What if someone heard? +For this straight young sapling, who was only the "Boy" to Paul +Verdayne, was to the world at large an heir to a throne, a king who had +been left in infancy the sole ruler of his kingdom. + +His visits to Verdayne Place were _incognito_. He did like to throw +aside the purple now and then and be the real live boy he was at heart. +He did enjoy to the full his occasional opportunities, unhampered by +the trappings and obligations of royalty. + +"A prince of the blood!" he echoed scornfully. "Bah!--what is that? +Merely an accident of birth!" + +"No, not an accident, Paul! Nothing in the world ever is that. Every +fragment of life has its completing part somewhere, given its place in +the scheme of the universe by intricate design--always by _design!_ As +for the duties of your kingdom, my Prince, it is not like you to take +them so lightly." + +"I know! I know! Yet everybody might have been born a prince. It is far +more to be a man!" + +"True enough, Boy! yet everybody might not have been born to your +position. Only you could have been given the heritage that is yours! My +Boy, yours is a mission, a responsibility, from the Creator of Life +Himself. Everybody can follow--but only God's chosen few can lead! And +you--oh, Boy! yours is a birthright above that of all other princes--if +you only knew!" + +The young prince looked wistfully upward into the eyes of the elder man. + +"Tell me, Uncle Paul! Dmitry always speaks of my birth with a reverence +and awe quite out of proportion to its possible consequence--poor old +man. And once even the Grand Duke Peter spoke of my 'divine origin' +though he could not be coaxed or wheedled into committing his wise self +any further. Now you, yourself the most reserved and secretive of +individuals when it pleases you to be so, have just been surprised into +something of the same expression. Do you wonder that I long to unravel +the mystery that you are all so determined to keep from me? I can learn +nothing at home--absolutely nothing! They glorify my mother--God bless +her memory! Everyone worships her! But they never speak of you, and they +are silent, too, about my father. They simply won't tell me a thing +about him, so I don't imagine that he could have been a very good king! +_Was_ he, Uncle Paul? Did you know him?" + +"I never knew the king, Boy!--never even saw him!" + +"But you must have heard--" + +"Nothing, Boy, that I can tell you--absolutely nothing!" + +Verdayne had risen again and was once more pacing back and forth under +the trees, as was his wont when troubled with painful memories. + +"But my mother--you knew _her_!" + +"Yes, yes--I knew your mother!" + +"Tell me about her!" + +A dull, hopeless agony came into the eyes of the older man. And so his +Gethsemane had come to him again! Every life has this garden to pass +through--some, alas! again and yet again! And Paul Verdayne had thought +that he had long since drained his cup of misery to the dregs. He knew +better now. + +"Yes, I will tell you of your mother, Boy," he said, and there was a +strained, guarded note in his voice which his companion's quick ear did +not fail to catch. "But you must be patient if you wish to hear what +little there is, after all, that I can tell you. You must remember, my +Boy, that it is a long time since your mother--died--and men of my age +sometimes--forget!" + +"I will remember," the Boy said, gently. + +But as he looked up into the face of his friend, something in his heart +told him that Paul Verdayne did _not_ forget! And somehow the older man +felt confident that the Boy knew, and was strangely comforted by the +silent sympathy between them which both felt, but neither could express. + +"Your mother, Boy, was the noblest and most beautiful woman that ever +graced a throne. Everyone who knew her must have said that! You are very +like her, Paul--not in appearance, a mistake of Fate to be everlastingly +deplored, but in spirit you are her living counterpart. Ah! you have a +great example to live up to, Boy, in attempting to follow her footsteps! +There was never a queen like her--never!" + +The young prince followed with the deepest absorption the words of the +man who had known his mother, hanging upon the story with the breathless +interest of a child in some fairy tale. + +"She knew life as it is given few women to know it. She was not more +than thirty-five, I think, when you were born, but she had crowded into +those years more knowledge of the world, in all its myriad phases, than +others seem to absorb during their allotted three score and ten. And her +knowledge was not of the world alone, but of the heart. She was full of +ideals of advancement, of growth, of doing and being something worthy +the greatest endeavor, exerting every hope and ambition to the utmost +for the future splendor of her kingdom--your kingdom now. How she loved +you!--what splendid achievements she expected of you! how she prayed +that you might be grand, and great, and true!" + +"Did you always know her?" + +"Always?--no. Only for three weeks, Boy!" + +"Three weeks!--three little weeks! How strange, then, that you should +have learned so much about her in that short space of time! She must +indeed have made a strong impression upon you!" + +"Impression, you say? Boy, all that I am or ever expect to become--all +that I know or ever expect to learn--all that I have done or ever expect +to accomplish--I owe to your mother. She was the one inspiration of my +life. Until I knew her, I was a nonentity. It was she who awakened +me--who taught me how to live! Three weeks! Child! child!--" + +He caught himself sharply and bit his lip, forcing back the impetuous +words he had not meant to say. The silence of years still shrouded those +mysterious three weeks, and the time had not yet come when that silence +could be broken. What had he said? What possessed the Boy to-day to +cling so persistently to this hitherto forbidden subject? + +"Where did you meet her, Uncle?" + +"At Lucerne!" + +"Lucerne!" echoed the Boy, his blue eyes growing dreamy with musing. +"That says nothing to me--nothing! and yet--you will laugh at me, I +know, but I sometimes get the most tantalizing impression that I +remember my mother. It is absurd, of course--I suppose I could not +possibly remember her--and yet there is such a haunting, vague sense of +close-clinging arms, of an intensely white and tender face bending over +me--sometimes in the radiance of day and again in the soft shadows of +night, but always, always alight with love--of kisses, soft and warm, +and yet often tearful--and of black, lustrous hair, over which there +always seems to shine a halo--a very coronet of triumphant motherhood." + +Verdayne's lips moved, but no sound came from them to voice the +passionate cry in his heart, "My Queen, my Queen!" + +"I suppose it is only a curious dream! It must be, of course! But it is +a very real vision to me, and I would not part with it for the world. +Uncle, do you know, I can never look upon the pictured face of a Madonna +without being forcibly reminded of this vision of my mother--the mother +I can see only in dreams!" + +Verdayne found it growing harder and harder for him to speak. + +"I do not think that strange, Boy. Others would not understand it, but I +do. She was so intensely a mother that the spirit of the great Holy +Mother must have been at all times hovering closely about her! Her +deepest desires centred about her son. You were the embodiment of the +greatest, sweetest joys--if not the only real joys--of her strangely +unhappy life, and her whole thought, her one hope, was for you. In your +soul must live all the unrealized hopes and crucified ideals of the +woman who, always every inch a queen, was never more truly regal than in +the supreme hour that crowned her your mother." + +"And am I like her, Uncle Paul? Am I really like her?" + +"So much so, Boy, that she sometimes seems to live again in you. Like +her, you believe so thoroughly in the goodness and greatness of a +God--in the beauty and glory of the world fraught with lessons of life +and death--in the omnipotence of Fate--in the truth and power and +grandeur of overmastering love. You believe in the past, in all the +dreams and legends of the Long Ago still relived in the Now, in the +capabilities of the human mind, the kingship of the soul. Your voice is +hers, every tone and cadence is as her own voice repeating her own +words. Be glad, Paul, that you are like your mother, and hope that with +the power to think her thoughts and dream lier dreams, you may also have +the power to love as she loved, and, if need be, die her death!" + +"But you think the same thoughts, Uncle Paul. You believe all I +believe!" + +"Because she taught me, Paul--because she taught me! I slept the sleep +of the blind and deaf and soulless until her touch woke my soul into +being. You have always been alive to the joy of the world and the beauty +of living. Your soul was born with your body and lived purposefully from +the very beginning of things. You were born for a purpose and that +purpose showed itself even in infancy." + +A silence fell between the two men. A long time they sat in that +sympathetic communion, each busy with his own thoughts. The older Paul +was lost in memories of the past, for his life lay all behind him--the +younger Paul was indulging in many dreams of a roseate future, for his +life was all ahead of him. + +It was a friendship that the world often wondered about--this strange +intimacy between Paul Verdayne, the famous Member of Parliament, and the +young man from abroad who called himself Paul Zalenska. None knew +exactly where Monsieur Zalenska came from, and as they had long ago +learned the futility of questioning either of the men about personal +affairs, had at last reconciled themselves to never finding out. +Everyone suspected that the Boy was a scion of rank--and some went so +far as to say of royalty, but beyond the fact that every May he came +with his faithful, foreign-looking attendant to Verdayne Place and spent +the summer months with the Verdayne family, nothing definite was +actually known. His elderly attendant certainly spoke some beastly +foreign jargon and went by the equally beastly foreign name of Vasili. +He was known to worship his young master and to attend him with the most +marked servility, but he was never questioned, and had he been, would +certainly have told no tales. + +The parents of Paul Verdayne--Sir Charles and Lady Henrietta--were very +fond of their young guest, and made much of his annual visits. As for +Paul himself, he never seemed to be perfectly happy anywhere if the +young fellow were out of his sight. + +He had made himself very much distinguished, had this Paul Verdayne. He +had found out how to get the most out of his life and accomplish the +utmost good for himself and his England with the natural endowments of +his energetic and ambitious personality. He had become a famous orator, +a noted statesman, a man of brain as well as brawn. People were glad to +listen when he talked. He inspired them with the idea--so nearly extinct +in this day and age of the world--that life after all was very much +worth the living. He stirred languid pulses with a dormant enthusiasm. +He roused torpid brains to thought. He had ideas and had also a way of +making other people share those ideas. England was proud of Paul +Verdayne, as she had good reason to be. And he was only forty-three +years old even now. What might he not accomplish in the future for the +land to which he devoted all his talents, his tireless, well-directed +activities? + +He had given himself up so thoroughly to political interests that he had +not taken time to marry. This was a great disappointment to his mother, +Lady Henrietta, who had set her heart upon welcoming a daughter-in-law +and a houseful of merry, romping grandchildren before the sun of her +life had gone down forever. It was also a secret source of +disappointment to certain younger feminine hearts as well, who in the +days of his youth, and even in the ripeness of later years, had regarded +Paul Verdayne with eyes that found him good to look upon. But the young +politician had never been a woman's man. He was chivalrous, of course, +as all well-bred Englishmen are, but he kept himself as aloof from all +society as politeness would permit, and the attack of the most +skillfully aimed glances fell harmless, even unheeded, upon his +impenetrable armor. He might have married wherever he had willed, but +Society and her fair votaries sighed and smiled in vain, and finally +decided to leave him alone, to Verdayne's infinite relief. + +As for the Boy, he was always, as I have said, a mystery, always a topic +for the consideration of the gossips. Every year since he was a little +fellow six years old he had come to Verdayne Place for the summer; at +first, accompanied by his nurse, Anna, and a silver-haired servant, +curiously named Dmitry. Later the nurse had ceased to be a necessity, +and the old servant had been replaced by Vasili, a younger, but no less +devoted attendant. As the Boy grew older, he had learned to hunt and +took long rides with his then youthful host across the wide stretch of +English country that made up the Verdayne estates and those of the +neighboring gentry. Often they cruised about in distant waters, for the +young fellow from his earliest years shared with the elder an absorbing +love of nature in all her varied and glorious forms; and in February, +always in February, Verdayne found time to steal away from England for a +brief visit to that far-off country in the south of Europe from which +the Boy came. Many remembered that Verdayne, like an uncle of his, Lord +Hubert Aldringham, had been much given to foreign travel in his younger +days and had made many friends and acquaintances among the nobility and +royalty of other lands, and although it was strange, they thought it was +not at all improbable that the lad was connected with some one of those +great families across the Channel. + +As for Paul and the Boy, they knew not what people thought or said, and +cared still less. There was too strong a bond of _camaraderie_ between +them to be disturbed by the murmurings of a wind that could blow neither +of them good or ill. + +And the Boy was now twenty years of age. + +Suddenly Paul Zalenska broke their long silence. + +"Do you know, Uncle, I sometimes have a queer feeling of fear that my +father must have done something terrible in his life--something to make +strong men shrink and shudder at the thought--something--_criminal_! Oh, +I dare not think of that!" he went on hastily. "I dare not--I dare not! +I think the knowledge of it would drive me mad!" + +His voice sank to a half-whisper and there was a note of horror in his +words. + +"But, what a king he must have been!--what a miserable apology for all +that royalty should be by every law, human or divine! Why isn't his name +heralded over the length and breadth of the kingdom in paeans of praise? +Why isn't the whole world talking of his valor, his beneficence, his +statesmanship? What is a king created a king for, if not to make +history?" + +He fought silently for a moment to regain his self-control, forcing the +hideous idea from him and at last speaking with an air of finality +beyond his years. + +"No, I won't think of it! May the King of the world endow me with the +strength of the gods and the wisdom of the ancient seers, that I may +make up by my efficiency for all my father's deplorable lack, and become +all that my mother meant me to be when she gave me to the world!" + +He stretched out his arms in a passionate appeal to Heaven, and Paul +Verdayne, looking up at him, realized as he had never before that the +Boy certainly had within him the stuff of which kings should be made. + +The Boy was not going to disappoint him. He was going to justify the +high hopes cherished for him so long. He was going to be a man after his +mother's own heart. + +"Uncle," went on the Boy, wrought up to a high pitch of emotion, and +throwing himself down again at Verdayne's feet, "I feel with Louis XVI, +'I am too young to reign!' Why haven't I ever had a father to teach and +train me in the way I should go? Every boy needs a good father, princes +most of all, so much more is expected of us poor royal devils than of +more ordinary and more fortunate mortals! I know I shouldn' be +complaining like this--certainly not to you, Uncle Paul, who have been +all most fathers are to most boys! But there are times, you know, when +you persist in keeping me at arm's length as you keep everyone else! +When you put up that sign, 'Thus far and no further!' I feel myself +almost a stranger! Won't you let me come nearer? Won't you take down +that barrier between us and let me have a father--at least, in name? I'm +tired of calling you 'Uncle' who uncle never was and never could be! +You're far more of a father--really you are! Let me call you in name +what you have always been in spirit. Let me say 'Father Paul!' I like +the sound of it, don't you? 'Father Paul!'--'Father Paul!'" + +Paul Verdayne felt every drop of blood leave his face. He felt as if the +Boy had inadvertently laid a cold hand upon his naked heart, chilling, +paralyzing its every beat. What did he mean? The Boy was just then +looking thoughtfully at the setting sun and did not see the change that +his words called into his companion's face--thank heaven for that!--but +what _could_ he mean? + +"You can call yourself my 'Father Confessor,' you know, if you entertain +any scruples as to the propriety of a staid old bachelor's fathering a +stray young cub like me--that will make it all right, surely! You will +let me, won't you? In all the world there is no one so close to me as +you, and such dreams as I may happily bring to fulfillment will be, more +than you know, because of your guidance, your inspiration. You are the +father of my spirit, whoever may have been the father of my flesh! Let +it be hereafter, then, not 'Uncle,' but 'Father Paul'!" + +And the older man, rising and standing by the Boy, threw his arm around +the young shoulders, and gazing far off to the distant west, felt +himself shaken by a strange emotion as he answered, "Yes, Boy, hereafter +let it be 'Father Paul!'" + +And as the sun travelled faster and faster toward the line of its +crossing between the worlds of night and day, its rays reflected a new +radiance upon the faces of the two men who sat in the silent shadows of +the park, feeling themselves drawn more closely together than ever +before, thinking, thinking, thinking-in the eyes of the man a great +memory, in the eyes of the Boy a great longing for life! + + * * * * * + +The two friends ran up to London for the theatre that night, to see a +famous actor in a popular play, but neither was much interested in the +performance. Something had kindled in the heart of the man a reminiscent +fire and the Boy was thinking his own thoughts and listening, ever +listening. + +"I'm several kinds of a fool," he thought, "but I'd like to hear that +voice again and get a glimpse of the face that goes with it. I dare say +she is anything but attractive in the flesh--if she is really in the +flesh at all, which I am beginning to doubt--so I should be disenchanted +if I were to see her, I suppose. But I'd like to _know_!" Yet, after +all, he could not comprehend how such a voice could accompany an +unattractive face. The spirit that animated those tones must needs light +up the most ordinary countenance with character, if not with beauty, he +thought; but he saw no face in the vast audience to which he cared to +assign it. No, _she_ wasn't there. He was sure of that. + +But as they left the building and stood upon the pavement, awaiting +their carriage, his blood mounted to his face, dyeing it crimson. In the +sudden silence that mysteriously falls on even vast crowds, sometimes, +he heard that voice again! + +It was only a snatch of mischievous laughter from a brougham just being +driven away from the curb, but it was unmistakably _the_ voice. Had the +Boy been alone he would have followed the brougham and solved the +mystery then and there. + +The laugh rang out again on the summer evening air. It was like a lilt +of fairies' merriment in the moonlit revels of Far Away! It was the note +of a siren's song, calling, calling the hearts and souls of men! It +was--But the Boy stopped and shook himself free from the "sentimental +rot" he was indulging in. + +He turned with a question on his lips, but Verdane had noticed nothing +and the Boy did not speak. + +Still that laugh thrilled and mocked him all the way to Berkeley Square +and lured him on and on through the night's mysterious dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +In the drawing room of her mansion on Grosvenor Square, Lady Alice +Mordaunt was pouring tea, and talking as usual the same trifling +commonplaces that had on a previous occasion excited her cousin's +disdain. Opposite her sat her mother, Lady Fletcher, a perfect model of +the well-bred English matron, while Opal Ledoux, in the daintiest and +fluffiest of summer costumes, was curled up like a kitten in a corner of +the window-seat, apparently engrossed in a book, but in reality watching +the passers-by. + +From her childhood up she had lived in a Castle of Dreams, which she had +peopled with the sort of men and women that suited her own fanciful +romantic ideas, and where she herself was supposed to lie asleep until +her ideal knight, the Prince Charming of the story, came across land +and sea to storm the Castle and wake her with a kiss. + +It was made up of moonbeams and rays of sunshine and +rainbow-gleams--this dream--woven by fairy fingers into so fragile a +cobweb that it seemed absurd to think it could stand the winds and +torrents of Grown-Up Land; but Opal, in spite of her eighteen years, was +still awaiting the coming of her ideal knight, though the stage setting +of the drama, and her picture of just how the Prince Charming of her +dreams was to look, and what he would say, had changed materially with +the passing of the years. + +If sometimes she wove strange lines of tragedy throughout the dreams, +out of the threads of shadow that flitted across the sunshine of her +life, she did not reject them. She felt they belonged there and did not +shrink, even when her young face paled at the curious self-pity the +passing of the thought invoked. + +Hers was a strange mixture, made up of an unusual intermingling of many +bloods. Born in New Orleans, of a father who was a direct descendant of +the early French settlers of Louisiana, and of a Creole mother, who +might have traced her ancestry back to one of the old grandees of Spain, +she yet clung with a jealous affection to the land of her birth and +called herself defiantly "a thorough-bred American!" Her mother had died +in giving her birth, and her father, while she was still too young to +remember, had married a fair Englishwoman who had tried hard to be a +mother to the strange little creature whose blood leaped and danced +within her veins with all the fire and romance of foreign suns. Gay and +pleasure-mad as she usually appeared, there was always the shadow of a +heartache in her eye, and one felt the possibility of a tragedy in her +nature. In fact one felt intuitively sorry--almost afraid--for her lest +her daring, adventurous spirit should lead her too close to the +precipice along the rocky pathway of life. + +She was thinking many strange thoughts as she sat looking out of the +window. Her English cousins, related to her only through her stepmother, +yet called kin for courtesy's sake, had given up trying to understand +her complexities, as she had likewise given up trying to explain +herself. If they were pleased forever to consider her in the light of a +conundrum, she thought, why--let them! + +After a while the ladies at the tea-table began to chat in more +confidential tones. Opal was not too oblivious to her surroundings to +notice, nor to grasp the fact that they were discussing her, but that +knowledge did not interest her. She was so used to being considered a +curiosity that it had ceased to have any special concern for her. She +only hoped that they would sometime succeed in understanding her better +than she had yet learned to understand herself. It might have interested +her, however, had she overheard this particular conversation, for it +shed a great light upon certain shades of character she had discovered +in herself and often wondered about, but had never had explained to her. + +But she did not hear. + +"I am greatly concerned about Opal," Lady Alice was saying. "She is the +most difficult creature, Mamma--you've no idea how peculiar--with the +most dangerous, positively _immoral_ ideas. I do wish she were safely +married, for then--well, there is really no knowing what might happen to +a girl who thinks and talks as she does. I used to think it might be a +sort of American pose--put on for startling effect, you know--but I +begin to think she actually means it!" + +"Yes, she means it," replied Lady Fletcher, lowering her voice +discreetly, till it was little more than a whisper. "She has always had +just such notions. It gives Amy a great deal of trouble and worry to +keep her straight. You know--or perhaps you didn't know, for we don't +talk of these things often, especially when they are in one's +family--but there is a bad strain in her blood and they are always +looking for it to crop out somewhere. Her mother married happily--and +escaped the curse--but for several generations back the women of her +family have been of peculiar temperament and--they've usually gone wrong +sometime in their lives. It seems to be in the blood. They can't help +it. Mr. Ledoux told Amy all about it at the time of their marriage, and +that is the reason they have tried to keep Opal as secluded as possible +from the usual free-and-easy associations of American girls, and are so +anxious to marry her off wisely." + +"And speedily," put in Alice--"the sooner the better!" + +"Yes, yes--speedily!" + +Lady Fletcher gave an uneasy glance in Opal's direction before she +continued. + +"You are too young to have heard the story, Alice, but her +grandmother--a black-eyed Spanish lady of high rank--was made quite +unpleasantly notorious by her associations with a brother of Lady +Henrietta Verdayne. He was an unprincipled roué--this Lord Hubert +Aldringham--a libertine who openly boasted of the conquests he had made +abroad. Being appointed to many foreign posts in the diplomatic service, +he was naturally on intimate terms with people of rank and royalty. They +say he was very fascinating, with the devil's own eye, and ten times as +devilish a heart--" + +"Why, Mamma!" + +Alice was shocked. + +"I am only repeating what they said, child," apologized the elder woman +meekly. "Women will be fools, you know, over a handsome face and a +tender voice--some women, I mean--and that's what Opal has to fight +against." + +"Poor Opal," murmured Alice, "I did not know!" + +"Some even go so far as to say--" + +Again Lady Fletcher looked up apprehensively, but Opal was still +absorbed in her dreams. + +"To say--what, Mother?" + +"Well, of course it's only talk--nobody can actually _know,_ I suppose, +and I wouldn't, of course, be quoted as saying anything for the world, +dear knows; but they say that it is more than probable that Opal's +mother was ... _Lord Hubert's own daughter!"_ + +"Oh, Mother! If it is true--if it _could_ be true--what a fight for +her!" + +"Yes, and the worst of it is with Opal, she won't fight. She has been +rigidly trained in the principles of virtue and propriety from her very +birth, and yet she horrifies every one at times by shocking ideas--that +no one knows where she gets, nor, worse yet, where they may lead!" + +"But she is good, Mother. She has the noblest ideas of charity and +kindness and altruism, of the advancement of all that's good and true in +the world, of the attainment of knowledge, of the beauties and +consolation of religion. It's fine to hear her talk when she's +inspired--not a bit preachy, you know--she's certainly far enough from +that--but more like reading some beautiful poem you can but half +understand, or listening to music that makes you wish you were better, +whether you take in its full meaning or not." + +This was a long speech for Lady Alice. Her mother looked at her in +amazement. There certainly must be something out of the ordinary in this +peculiar American cousin to wake Alice from her customary languor. + +Alice smiled at her mother's surprise. + +"Strange, isn't it, Mother?" she asked, half ashamed of her unusual +enthusiasm. "But it's true. She'd help some good man to be a power in +the world. I feel it so often when she talks. I didn't know women ever +thought such things as she does. I-I-I believe we can trust her, Mother, +to steer clear of everything!" + +"I hope so, Alice; I am sure I hope so, but--I don't know. I am afraid +it was a mistake to keep her so much alone. It gives her more unreal +ideas of life than actual contact with the world would have done." + +Opal Ledoux left the window and sauntered down the long drawing-room +toward the table where the speakers were sitting. + +"What are you talking about?--me?" + +The cousins were surprised and showed it by blushing guiltily. + +Opal laughed merrily. + +"Dreary subject for a dreary day! I hope you found it more interesting +than I have!" And she stretched her small figure to its utmost height, +which was not a bit above five foot, and shrugged her shoulders lazily. + +"What are you reading, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher, in an effort to +change the subject, looking with some interest at the volume that the +girl carried. + +"Don't ask me--all twaddle and moonshine! I ought not to waste my +valuable time with such trash. There isn't a real character in the book, +not one. When I write a book, and I presume I shall some time, if I live +long enough, I shall put people into it who have real flesh and blood in +them and who do startling things. But I'll have to live it all first!" + +"Live the startling things, Opal? God forbid!" + +"Surely! Why not?" + +And Opal dropped listlessly into a chair, tossed the offending book on a +table, and taking a cup of tea from the hand of her cousin, began to sip +it with an air of languid indifference, which sat strangely on her +youthful, almost childlike figure. + +"By the way, Alice," she asked carelessly, "who was the young man who +stared at us so rudely last night as we drove away from the theatre?" + +"I saw no young man staring, Opal. Where was he?" + +"Why, he stood on the pavement, waiting, I suppose, for his carriage, +and as we drove away he looked at me as though he thought I had no right +to live, and still less to laugh--I believe I was laughing--and as we +turned the corner I peeped back through the curtain, and he still stood +there in the full glare of the light, staring. It's impolite, +cousins--_very! Gentlemen_ don't stare at girls in America!" + +"What did he look like, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher. + +"Like a Greek god!" answered the girl, without a second's hesitation. + +"What!" + +Both women gasped, simultaneously. They were dismayed. + +"Oh, don't be shocked! He had the full panoply of society war-paint on. +He was certainly properly clothed, but as to his being in his right +mind, I have my doubts--serious doubts! He stared!" + +"I hope you didn't stare at him, Opal!" + +"Well, I did! What could he expect? And I laughed at him, too! But I +don't believe he saw me at all, more's the pity. I am quite sure he +would have fallen in love with me if he had!" + +"Opal!" + +Opal was thoroughly enjoying herself now. She did enjoy shocking people +who were so delightfully shockable! + +"Why, _'Opal'?"_ and her mimicry was irresistible. "Don't you think I'm +a bit lovable, cousin?--not a bit? You discourage me! I'm doomed to be a +spinster, I suppose! Ah, me! And I'd far rather be the spinster's cat! +Cats aren't worried about the conventions and all that sort of thing. +Happy animals! While we poor two-footed ones they call human--only we +aren't really more than half so--have to keep our claws well hidden and +purr hypocritically, no matter how roughly the world rubs our fur the +wrong way, nor how wild we are to scratch and spit and bristle! Wouldn't +you like to be a cat, Alice?" + +"Goodness, child! What an idea! I am very well contented, Opal, with +the sphere of life into which I have been placed!" + +"Happy, happy Alice! May that state of mind endure forever! But come! +Haven't you an idea, either of you, who my Knight of the Stare can be?" + +"You didn't describe him, Opal." + +Opal opened her eyes in wide surprise. + +"Didn't I? Why, I thought I did, graphically! A Greek god, dressed _en +règle_. What more do you want? I am sure anyone ought to recognize him +by that." + +Her listeners looked at her in real consternation, which she was quick +to see. Her eyes danced. + +"Well, if you insist upon details, I can supply a few, I guess, if I +try. I am really dying of curiosity to know who he is and why he stared. +Of course I didn't look at him very closely. It wouldn't have +been--er--what do you call it?--proper. And of course I could not see +clearly at night, anyway. But I did notice he was about six feet tall. +Imagine me, poor little me, looking up to six feet! With broad +shoulders; an athletic, muscular figure, like a young Hercules; a +well-shaped head, like Apollo's, covered with curls of fair hair; a +smooth, clear skin, with the tint of the rose in his cheek that deepened +to blood-red when his blue eyes, in which the skies of all the world +seemed to be mirrored, stared with an expression like that of a man upon +whom the splendor of some glorious Paradise was just dawning. He looked +like an Englishman, yet something in his attitude and general appearance +made me think that he was not. His hands--" + +"Opal! Opal! What do you mean? How could you see so much of a young man +in so short a time? And at night, too?" + +Opal pouted. + +"You wanted a detailed description. I was trying to give it to you. As I +told you at the start, I couldn't see much. But anyway, he stared!" + +"And I dare say he wasn't the only one who stared!" put in Lady Alice in +dry tones of reprehension. "I can't imagine who it could be, can you, +mother?" + +"Not unless it was that strange young Monsieur Zalenska--_Paul_ +Zalenska, I believe he calls himself--Paul Verdayne's guest. I rather +think, from the description, that it must have been he!" + +"Zalenska? What a name! I wonder if he won't let me call him 'Paul!'" +said the incorrigible Opal, musingly. "I shall ask him the first time I +see him. Paul's a pretty name! I like that--but I'll never, never be +able to twist my tongue around the other. He'd get out of hearing before +I could call him and that would never do at all! But 'Monsieur,' you +say? Why 'Monsieur'? He certainly doesn't look at all like a Frenchman!" + +"No one knows what he is, Opal; nor who. That is, no one but the +Verdaynes. He has always made a mystery of himself." + +Opal clapped her small hands childishly. + +"Charming! My ideal knight in the flesh! But how shall I attract him?" + +She knitted her brows and pondered as seriously as though the fate of +nations depended upon her decision. + +"Shall I send him my card, Alice, and ask him to call? Or would it be +better to make an appointment with him for the Park? Perhaps a +'personal' in the _News_ would answer my purpose--do you think he reads +the _News_, or would the _Times_ be better? Come, cousins, what do you +think? I am so young, you know! Please advise me." + +She clasped her hands in a charming gesture of helpless appeal and the +ladies looked at one another in horrified silence. What unheard of thing +would this impossible girl propose next! They would be thankful when +they saw her once more safely embarked for the "land of the free," and +out from under their chaperonage, they hoped, forever. They realized +that she was quite beyond their restraining powers. Had she no sense of +decency at all? + +The door opened, callers were announced, and the day was saved. + +Opal straightened up, put on what she called her "best dignity" and +comported herself in so very well-bred and amiable a manner that her +cousins quite forgave all her past delinquencies and smiled approval +upon the charming courtesy she extended to their guests. She could be +_such_ a lady when she would! No one could resist her! And yet they felt +themselves sitting upon the crater of a volcano liable to erupt at any +moment. One never felt quite safe with Opal. + +But, much to their surprise and relief, everything went beautifully, and +the guests departed, delighted with Lady Alice's "charming American +cousin, so sweet, so dainty, so witty, so brilliant, and altogether +lovely--really quite a dear, you know!" + +But for all that, Lady Alice Mordaunt and Lady Fletcher were far from +feeling easy over their guest, and ardently wished that the girl's +father would cut short his visit to France and return to take her back +with him to America. And while these two worthy ladies worried and +fretted, Opal Ledoux laughed and dreamed. + +And in a big mansion over in Berkeley Square Monsieur Paul Zalenska +wondered--and listened. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was a whole two weeks after the Boy's experience at the theatre, and +though the echoes of that mysterious voice still rang through all his +dreams at night, and most of his waking hours, he had not heard its lilt +again. + +Paul Verdayne smiled to himself to note the youngster's sudden interest +in society. He had not--strange as it may seem--been told a word of the +experience, but he was not curious. He certainly knew the world, if +anyone knew it, and though he was sure he recognized the symptoms, he +had too much tact to ask, "Who is the girl?" + +"Let the Boy have his little secrets," he thought, remembering his own +callow days. "They will do him good." + +And though the Boy felt an undue sense of guilt, he continued to keep +his lips closed and his eyes and ears open, though it often seemed so +utterly useless to do so. Sometimes he wondered if he had dropped to +sleep, there behind the hawthorn hedge that afternoon, and dreamed it +all. + +Verdayne and the Boy were sitting at luncheon at the Savoy. Sir Charles +and Lady Henrietta had gone down to Verdayne Place for a week, and the +two men were spending most of their time away from the lonely house in +Berkeley Square. + +That day they were discussing the Boy's matrimonial prospects as +proposed by the Grand Duke Peter--indeed, they were usually discussing +them. The Boy had written, signifying his acceptance and approval of the +arrangements as made. Nothing else was expected of him for the present, +but his nature had not ceased its revolt against the decree of Fate, and +Paul Verdayne shared his feeling of repugnance to the utmost. Perhaps +Verdayne felt it even more acutely than the young Prince himself, for he +knew so much better all that the Boy was sacrificing. But he also knew, +as did the poor royal victim himself, that it was inevitable. + +"I don't wonder at the court escapades that occasionally scandalize all +Europe," said the Boy. "I don't wonder at all! The real wonder is that +more of the poor slaves to royalty do not snap the chains that bind +them, and bolt for freedom. It would be like me,--very like me!" + +And Verdayne could say nothing. He knew of more reasons than one why it +would be very like the Boy to do such a thing, and he sighed as he +thought that some time, perhaps, he might do it. And yet he could not +blame him! + +"Father Paul," went on the Boy, his thoughts taking a new turn, "you are +a bachelor--a hopeless old bachelor--and you have never told me why. Of +course there's a woman or two in it! We have talked about everything +else under the sun, I think--you and I--but, curiously enough, we have +never talked of love! Yet I feel sure that you believe in it. Don't you, +Father Paul? Come now, confess! I am in a mood for sentiment to-day, and +I want to hear what drove you to a life of single blessedness--what made +my romantic old pal such a confirmed old celibate! I don't believe that +you object to matrimony on general principles. Tell me your love-story, +please, Father Paul." + +"What makes you so certain that I have had one, Boy?" + +"Oh, I don't know just why, but I am certain! It's there in your lips +when you smile, in your eyes when you are moved, in your voice when you +allow yourself to become reminiscent. You are full of memories that you +have never spoken of to me. And now, Father Paul--now is the accepted +time!" + +For a moment Verdayne was nonplussed. What could he reply? There was +only one love-story in his life, and that one would end only with his +own existence, but he could not tell that story to the Boy--yet! +Suddenly, however, an old, half-forgotten memory flashed across his +mind. Of course he had a love-story. He would tell the Boy the story of +Isabella Waring. + +So, as they sat together over their coffee and cigarettes, Verdayne told +his young guest about the Curate's daughter, who had all unconsciously +wielded such an influence over the events of his past life. He told of +the girl's kindness to him when he had broken his collarbone; of her +assistance so freely offered to his mother; of her jolly, lively +spirits, her amiable disposition and general gay good-fellowship; and +then of the unlucky kiss that had aroused the suspicion and august +displeasure of Lady Henrietta, and had sent her erring son a wanderer +over the face of Europe--to forget! + +He painted his sadness at leaving home--and Isabella--in pathetic +colors. Indeed, he became quite affecting when he pictured his parting +with Isabella, and when in repeating his parting words, he managed to +get just the right suspicion of a tremble into his voice, he really felt +quite proud of his ability as a story-teller. + +The Boy was plainly touched. + +"What foolishness to think that such a love as yours could be cured +merely by sending you abroad!" he said. + +"Just what I thought, Boy--utter folly!" + +"Of course it didn't cure you, Father Paul. You didn't learn to forget, +did you? Oh, it was cruel to send you away when you loved her like +that! I didn't think it of Aunt Henrietta--I didn't indeed!" + +"Oh, you mustn't blame mother, Boy. She meant it for the best, just as +your Uncle Peter now means it for the best for you and yours. She +thought I would forget." + +"Was she very, very beautiful, Father Paul? But of course she was, if +_you_ loved her!" + +"She was pretty, Boy--at least I thought so." + +"Big or little?" + +"Tall--very tall." + +"I like tall, magnificent women. There's something majestic about them. +I hope the Princess Elodie"--and the Boy made a wry face--"will be +quite six foot tall. I could never love a woman small either in body or +mind. I am sure I should have liked your Isabella, Father Paul. Majestic +women of majestic minds for me, for there you have the royal stamp of +nature that makes some women born to the purple. Yes, I am sure I should +have liked Isabella. Tell me more." + +Paul Verdayne smiled. He should hardly have considered Isabella Waring +in any degree "majestic"--but he did not say so. + +"She was charmingly healthy and robust--athletic, you know, and all +that--with light fluffy hair. I believe she used to wear it in a net. +Blue eyes, of course--thoroughly English, you know--and a fine comrade. +Liked everything that I liked, as most girls at that age didn't, +naturally. Of course, mother couldn't appreciate her. She wasn't her +style at all. And she naturally thought--mother did, I mean--that when +she sent me away 'for my health'"--the Boy smiled--"that I'd forget all +about her." + +Verdayne began to think he wasn't telling it well after all. He looked +out of the window. It was getting hard to meet the frank look in the +Boy's blue eyes. + +"Forget!" and there was a fine scorn in the tones of the young +enthusiast. "But you didn't! you didn't! I'm sure you didn't!" + +The romantic story appealed strongly to the Boy's mood. + +"But why didn't you marry her when you came back, Father Paul? Did she +die?" + +"No, she didn't die. She is still living, I believe." + +"Then why didn't you marry her, Father Paul? Did they still oppose it? +Surely when you came home and they saw you had not forgotten, it was +different. Tell me how it was when you came home." + +And Paul Verdayne, in a voice he tried his best to make very sad and +heart-broken, replied with downcast eyes, "When I came home, Boy, I +found Isabella Waring ready to marry a curate, and happy over the +prospect of an early wedding. So, you see, my share in her life was +over." + +The Boy's face fell. He had not anticipated this ending to the romance. +How could any woman ever have proved faithless to his Father Paul! And +how could he, poor man, still keep his firm, dauntless belief in the +goodness and truth of human nature after so bitter an experience as +this! It shocked his sense of right and justice--this story. He wished +he had not asked to hear it. + +"Thank you for telling me, Father Paul. It was kind of you to open your +past life to me like this, and very unkind of me to ask what I should +have known would cost you such pain to tell. I am truly sorry for it +all, Father Paul. Thank you again--and forgive me!" + +"It's a relief to open one's heart, sometimes, to one who can +sympathize," replied Verdayne, with a deep sigh. But he felt like a +miserable hypocrite. + +Poor Isabella Waring! He had hardly given her a passing thought in +twenty years. And now he had vilified her to help himself out of a tight +corner. Well, she was always a good sort. She wouldn't mind being +used--or even misused--to help out her "old pal" this way. Still it made +him feel mean, and he was glad when the Boy dropped the subject and +turned again to his own difficulties. + +But the mind of the young prince was restive, that day. Nothing held his +attention long. It seemed, like his eye, to be roving hither and +thither, seeking something it never could find. + +"You have been to America, Father Paul, haven't you?" he asked. + +America? Yes, Verdayne had been to America. It was in America that he +had passed one season of keenest anguish. He had good reason to remember +it--such good reason that in all their wanderings about the world he had +never seen fit to take the Boy there. + +But something had aroused the young fellow's passing interest, and now +nothing would satisfy him save that he must hear all about America; and +so, for a full hour, as best he could, Verdayne described the country of +the far West as he remembered it. + +"Nothing in America appealed to me so strongly as the gigantic +prairies," he said at last. "You were so deeply moved by our trip to +Africa, Boy, that you must remember the impression of vastness and +infinity the great desert made upon us. Well, in the glorious West of +America it is as if the desert had sprung to life, and from every grain +of sand had been born a blade of grass, waving and fluttering with the +joy of new birth. Oh, it is truly wonderful, Paul! Once I went there +with the soil of my heart scorched as dry and lifeless as the burning +sands of Sahara, but in that revelation of a new creation, some pulse +within me sprang mysteriously into being again. It could never be the +same heart that it once was, but it would now know the semblance of a +new existence. And I took up the burden of life again--albeit a strange, +new life--and came home to fight it out. The prairies did all that for +me, Boy!" He paused for a moment, and then spoke in a sadder tone. "It +was soon after that, Paul, that I first found you." + +Paul Zalenska thought that he understood. That, of course, was after +Isabella Waring had wrecked his life. Cruel, heartless Isabella! He had +never even heard her name before to-day, but he hated her, wherever she +might be! + +"There is a legend they tell out there that is very pretty and +appropriate," went on Verdayne, dreamily. "They say that when the +Creator made the world, He had indiscriminately strewn continents and +valleys, mountains and seas, islands and lakes, until He came to the +western part of America, and despite His omnipotence, was puzzled to +know what new glories He could possibly contrive for this corner of the +earth. Something majestic and mighty it must be, He thought, and yet of +an altogether different beauty from that in the rest of the +universe--something individual, distinctive. The seas still overflowed +the land, as they had through past eternities, awaiting His touch to +call into form and being the elements still sleeping beneath the +water--the living representation of His thought. Suddenly stretching out +His rod, He bade the waters recede--and they did so, leaving a vast +extent of grassy land where the majestic waves had so lately rolled and +tossed. And it is said that the land retains to this day the memory of +the sea it then was, while the grasses wave with a subtle suggestion of +the ocean's ebb and flow beneath the influence of a wind that is like no +other wind in the world so much as an ocean breeze; while the gulls, +having so well learned their course, fly back and forth as they did +before the mystic change from water into earth. Indeed, the first +impression one receives of the prairie is that of a vast sea of growing +vegetation!" + +The Boy's eyes sparkled. This was the fanciful Father Paul that he +loved best of all. + +"Some time we must go there, Father Paul. Is it not so?" + +"Yes, Boy, some time!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Rebellious thoughts were flitting through the brain of Paul Zalenska as +he rode forth the next morning, tender and fanciful ones, too, as he +watched the sun's kisses fall on leaf and flower and tree, drying with +their soft, insistent warmth the tears left by the dew of night, and +wooing all Nature to awake--to look up with glorious smiles, for the +world, after all, is beautiful and full of love and laughter. + +Why should _not_ Paul be happy? Was he not twenty, and handsome, and +rich, and popular, and destined for great things? Was there a want in +the world that he could not easily have satisfied, had he so desired? +And was he not officially betrothed to the Princess Elodie of Austria-- + +"Damn the Princess Elodie!" he thought, with more emphasis than +reverence, and he rode along silently, slowly, a frown clouding his +fresh, boyish brow, face to face with the prose of the existence he +would fain have had all romance and poetry. + +It had all been arranged for him by well-meaning minds--minds that could +never see how the blessing they had intended to bestow might by any +chance become a curse. + +The Boy came of age in February next--February nineteenth--but it had +been the strongly expressed wish of his mother that his coronation +should not take place until May. + +For was it not in May that she had met her Paul? + +She had felt, from the birth of the young Prince, a presentiment of her +own early death, and had formed many plans and voiced many preferences +for his future. No one knew what personal reasons the Imperatorskoye had +for the wish, but she had so definitely and unmistakably made the desire +known to all her councillors that none dreamed of disobeying the mandate +of their deceased and ever-to-be-lamented Queen. Her slightest wish had +always been to them an Unassailable law. + +So the coronation ceremonies were to take place in the May following the +Prince's birthday, and the Regent had arranged that the marriage should +also be celebrated at that time. Of course, the Boy had acquiesced. He +saw no reason to put it off any longer. It was always best to swallow +your bitterest pill first, he thought, and get the worst over and the +taste out of your mouth as soon as possible. + +Until that eventful time, the Prince was free to go where he pleased, +and to do whatever he wished. He had insisted upon this liberty, and the +Regent, finding him in all other respects so amenable to his leading, +gladly made the concession. This left him a year--that is, nearly a +year, for it was June now--of care-free bachelorhood; a year for one, +who was yet only a dreamy boy, to acquire the proper spirit for a happy +bridegroom; a year of Father Paul! + +He rode along aimlessly for a short distance, scarcely guiding his +horse, and only responding to the greetings of acquaintances he chanced +to meet with absent-minded, though still irreproachable, courtesy. He +was hardly thinking at all, now--at least consciously. He was simply +glad to be alive, as Youth is glad--in spite of any possible, or +impossible, environment. + +Suddenly his eyes fell upon a feminine rider some paces in advance, who +seemed to attract much attention, of which she was--apparently +--delightfully unconscious. Paul marked the faultless proportions of her +horse. + +"What a magnificent animal!" he thought. Then, under his breath, he +added, "and what a stunning rider!" + +She was only a girl--about eighteen or nineteen, he should judge by her +figure and the girlish poise of her small head--but she certainly knew +how to ride. She sat her horse as though a part of him, and controlled +his every motion as she would her own. + +"Just that way might she manage a man," Paul thought, and then laughed +aloud at the absurdity of the thought. For he had never seen the girl +before. + +Paul admired a good horsewoman--they are so pitifully few. And he +followed her, at a safe distance, with an interest unaccountable, even +to him. Finally she drew rein before one of the houses facing the Row, +dismounted, and throwing the train of her habit gracefully over her arm, +walked to the door with a brisk step. Paul instantly likened her to a +bird, so lightly tripping over the walk that her feet scarcely seemed to +touch the ground. She was a wee thing--certainly not more than five foot +tall--and _petite_, almost to an extreme. The Boy had expressed a +preference, only a few days before, for tall, magnificent women. Now he +suddenly discovered that the woman for a man to love should by all means +be short and small. He wondered why it had never occurred to him in that +light before, and thought of Jacques' question about Rosalind, "What +stature is she of?" and Orlando's reply, "As high as my heart!" + +The girl who had aroused this train of thought had reached the big stone +steps by this time, and suddenly turning to look over her shoulder, just +as he passed the gate, met his gaze squarely. Gad! what eyes those +were!--full of mystery and magnetism, and--possibilities! + +For an instant their eyes clung together in that strange mingling of +glances that sometimes holds even utter strangers spell-bound by its +compelling force. + +Then she turned and entered the house, and Paul rode on. + +But that glance went with him. It tormented him, troubled him, perplexed +him. He felt a mad desire to turn back, to follow her into that house, +and compel her to meet his eyes again. Did she know the power of her own +eyes? Did she know a look like that had almost the force of a caress? + +He told himself that they were the most beautiful eyes that he had ever +seen--and yet he could not have told the color of them to save his soul. +He began to wonder about that. It vexed him that he could not remember. + +"Eyes!" he thought, "those are not eyes! They are living magnets, +drawing a fellow on and on, and he never stops to think what color they +are--nor _care!_" + +And then he pulled himself up sharply, and declared himself a madman +for raving on the street in broad daylight over the mere accidental +meeting with a pair of pretty eyes. He--the uncrowned king of a +to-be-glorious throne! He--the affianced husband of the Princess Elodie +of--Hell! He refused to think of it! And again the horse he rode and the +Park trees heard a bit of Paul Zalenska's English profanity that should +have made them hide in shame over the depravity of youth. + +But the strangest thing of all was that the Boy, for the nonce, was not +thinking of--nor listening for--the voice! + +He turned as he reached the end of the Row and rode slowly back. But the +horses and groom had already gone from the gate. And inwardly cursing +his slowness, he started on a trot for Berkeley Square. + +He was not very far from the Verdayne house, when, turning a sudden +corner, he came upon the girl again, riding at a leisurely pace in the +opposite direction. Startled by his unexpected appearance, she glanced +back over her shoulder as she passed, surprising him--and perhaps +herself, too, for girls do that sometimes--by a ringing and tantalizing +laugh! + +That laugh! Wonder upon wonders, it was _the voice_! + +It was she--Opal! + +He wheeled his horse sharply, but swift as he was, she was yet swifter +and was far down the street before he was fairly started in pursuit. His +one desire of the moment was to catch and conquer the sprite that +tempted him. + +Her veil fluttered out behind her on the breeze, like a signal of +no-surrender, and once--only once--she looked back over her shoulder. +She was too far ahead for him to catch the glint of her eye, but he +heard the echo of that laugh--that voice--and it spurred him on and on. + +Suddenly, by some turn known only to herself, she eluded him and escaped +beyond his vision--and beyond his reach. He halted his panting horse at +the crossing of several streets, and swore again. But though he looked +searchingly in every possible direction, there was no trace of the +fugitive to be seen. It was as though the earth had opened and +swallowed horse and rider in one greedy gulp. + +Baffled and more disappointed than he cared to own, Paul rode slowly +back to Berkeley Square, his heart bounding with the excitement of the +chase and yet thoroughly vexed over his failure, at himself, his horse, +the girl. + +At the house he found letters from the Regent awaiting him, recalling to +him his position and its unwelcome responsibilities. One of them +enclosed a full-length photograph of his future bride. + +Fate had certainly been kind to him by granting his one expressed wish. +The Princess Elodie was what he had desired, "quite six-foot tall." Yet +he pushed the portrait aside with an impatient gesture, and before his +mental vision rose a little figure tripping up the steps, with a +backward glance that still seemed to pierce his very soul. + +He was not thinking, as he certainly should have been, of the Princess +Elodie! And he had not even noticed whether she had any eyes or not! + +He looked again at the picture of the Austrian princess, lying face +upward upon the pile of letters. With disgust and loathing he swept the +offending portrait into a drawer, and summoning Vasili, began to make a +hasty toilet. + +Vasili had never seen his young master in such bad humor. He was +unpardonably late for luncheon, but that would not disturb him, surely +not to such an extent as this! + +He was greatly disturbed by something. There was no denying that. + +He had found the voice, but-- + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was the next morning at the breakfast table that Paul Zalenska, +listlessly looking over the "Society Notes" in the _Times_, came upon +this significant notice: + + "Mr. Gilbert Ledoux and daughter, Miss Opal Ledoux, of New Orleans, + accompanied by Henri, Count de Roannes, of Paris, have taken + passage on the Lusitania, which sails for New York on July 3rd." + +It was _she_, of course!--who else could it be? Surely there could not +be more than one Opal in America! + +"Father Paul, I notice that the Lusitania is to sail for America on the +third of July. Can't we make it?" + +Verdayne smiled quietly at the suddenness of the proposal, but was not +unduly surprised. He remembered many unaccountable impulses of his own +when his life was young and his blood was hot. He remembered too with a +tender gratitude how his father had humored him and--was he not "Father +Paul"? + +"I see no reason why not, Boy." + +"You see, I have already lost a whole month out of my one free year. I +am unwilling to waste a single hour of it, Father Paul--wouldn't you be? +And we _must_ see America together, you and I, before I go back +to--prison!" + +"Certainly, Boy, certainly. My time is yours--when you want it, and +where you want it, the whole year through!" + +"I know that, Father Paul, and--I thank you!" + +It was more difficult to arrange matters with Lady Henrietta. She was +not so young as she once was and she still adored her son, as only the +mother of but one child can adore, and could not bear the idea of having +him away from her. Old and steady as he had now become, he was still her +boy, the idol of her heart. Yet she felt, as her son did, that the Boy +was entitled to the few months of liberty left him, and she did not +greatly object, though there was a wistful look in her eyes as they +rested on her son that told how keenly she felt every separation from +him. + +As for Sir Charles, he had not lost the knowing twinkle of the eye. +Moreover, he knew far better than his wife how real was the claim their +young guest had upon their son. And he bade them go with a hearty grasp +of the hand and a bluff Godspeed. + +So it was settled that Verdayne and the Boy, attended only by Vasili, +were to sail for America on the third of July, and passage was +immediately secured on the Lusitania. + + * * * * * + +On the morning of the day appointed, Paul Zalenska from an upper deck +watched the party he had been awaiting, as they mounted the gang-plank. + +Gilbert Ledoux he scarcely noticed. The Count de Roannes, too, +interested him no longer when, with a hasty glance, he had assured +himself that the Frenchman was as old as Ledoux and not the gay young +dandy in Opal's train that he had feared to find him. + +He had eyes alone for the girl, and he watched her closely as she +tripped up the gang-plank, clinging to her father's arm and chattering +gayly in that voice he so well remembered. + +She was not so small at close range as she had appeared at a distance, +but possessed an exquisite roundness of figure and softness of outline +well in proportion to the shortness of her stature. + +He had been proud of his kingship--very proud of his royal blood and his +mission to his little kingdom. But of late he had known some rebellious +thoughts, quite foreign to his mental habit. + +And to-day, as he looked at Opal Ledoux, he thought, "After all, how +much of a real man can I ever be? What am I but a petty pawn on the +chessboard of the world, moved hither and yon, to gain or to lose, by +the finger of Fate!" + +As Opal Ledoux passed him, she met his glance, and slightly flushed by +the _rencontre_, looked back over her shoulder at him and--smiled! And +_such_ a smile! She passed on, leaving him tingling in every fibre with +the thrill of it. + +It was Fate. He had felt it from the very first, and now he was sure of +it. + +How would it end? How _could_ it end? + +Paul Zalenska was very young--oh, very young, indeed! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next day Verdayne and his young companion were introduced to Mr. +Ledoux and his guest. + +Gilbert Ledoux, a reserved man evidently descended from generations of +thinking people, was apparently worried, for his face bore unmistakable +signs of some mental disturbance. Paul Zalenska was struck by the +haunted expression of what must naturally have been a grave countenance. +It was not guilt, for he had not the face of a man pursued by +conscience, but it certainly was fear--a real fear. And Paul wondered. + +As for the Count de Roannes, the Boy dismissed him at once as unworthy +of further consideration. He was brilliantly, even artificially +polished--glaringly ultra-fashionable, ostentatiously polite and suave. +In the lines of his bestial face he bore the records of a lifetime's +profligacy and the black tales of habitual self-indulgence. Paul hated +him instinctively and wondered how a man of Ledoux's unmistakable +refinement could tolerate him for a moment. + +It was not until the middle of the following afternoon that Opal Ledoux +appeared on deck, when her father, with an air of pride, mingled with a +certain curious element of timidity, presented to her in due form both +the Englishman and his friend. + +The eyes of the two young people flashed a recognition that the lips of +each tacitly denied as they responded conventionally to the +introduction. + +Paul noticed that the shadow of her father's uneasiness was reflected +upon her in a somewhat lesser but all too evident degree. And again he +wondered. + +A few moments of desultory conversation that was of no interest to +Paul--and then the Count proposed a game of _écarté_, to which Verdayne +and Ledoux assented readily enough. + +But not so our Boy! + +_Ecarté!_ Bah! When did a boy of twenty ever want to play cards within +sound of the rustle of a petticoat?--and _such_ a petticoat! + +When the elderly gallant noted the attitude of the young fellow he cast +a quick glance of suspicion at Opal. He would have withdrawn his +proposal had he been able to find any plausible excuse. But it was too +late. And with an inward invective on his own blundering, he followed +the other gentlemen to the smoking-room. + +And Paul and Opal were at last face to face--and alone! + +He turned as the sound of the retreating steps died away and looked long +and searchingly into her face. If the girl intended to ignore their +former meeting, he thought, he would at once put that idea beyond all +question. She bore his scrutiny with no apparent embarrassment. She was +an American girl, and as she would have expressed it, she was "game!" + +"Well?" she said at last, questioningly. + +"Yes," he responded, "well--well, indeed, _at last_!" + +She bowed mockingly. + +"And," he went on, "I have been searching for you a long time, Opal!" + +He had not intended to say that, but having said it, he would not take +it back. + +Then she remembered that she had said that she would call him "Paul" the +first time she met him, and she smiled. + +"Searching for me? I don't understand." + +"Of course not! Neither do I! Why should we? The best things in life are +the things we don't--and can't--understand. Is it not so?" + +"Perhaps!" doubtfully. She had never thought of it in just that light +before, but it might be true. It was human nature to be attracted by +mystery. "But you have been looking for me, you say! Since when?--our +race?" And her laugh rang out on the air with its old mocking rhythm. + +And the Boy felt his blood tingle again at the memory of it. + +"But what did you say, Monsieur Zalenska--pardon me--Paul, I mean," and +she laughed again, "what did you say as you rode home again?" + +The Boy shook his head with affected contrition. + +"Unfit to tell a lady!" he said. + +And the girl laughed again, pleased by his frankness. + +"Vowed eternal vengeance upon my luckless head, I suppose!" + +"Oh, not so bad as that, I think," said Paul, pretending to reflect upon +the matter--"I am sure it was not quite so bad as that!" + +"It would hardly have done, would it, to vow what you were not at all +sure you would ever be able to fulfil? Take my advice, and never bank a +_sou_ upon the move of any woman!" + +"You're not a woman," he laughed in her eyes; "you're just an +abbreviation!" + +But Opal was not one whit sensitive upon the subject of her height. Not +she! + +"Well, some abbreviations are more effective than the words they stand +for," she retorted. "I shall cling to the flattering hope that such may +be my attraction to the reader whose 'only books are woman's looks!'" + +"But why did you run away?" + +"Just--because!" Then, after a pause, "Why did you follow?" + +"I don't know, do you? Just--because, I suppose!" + +And then they both laughed again. + +"But I know why you ran. You were afraid!" said Paul. + +Her eyes flashed and there was a fine scorn in her tones. + +"Afraid--of what, pray?" + +"Of being caught--too easily! Come, now--weren't you?" + +"I wouldn't contradict you for the world, Paul." + +She lingered over his name with a cadence in her tone that made it +almost a caress. It thrilled him again as it had from the beginning. + +"But I'll forgive you for running away from me, since I am so fortunate +as to be with you now where you can't possibly run very far! Strange, +isn't it, how Fate has thrown us together?" + +"Very!" + +There was a dry sarcasm in the tones, and a mockery in the glance, that +told him she was not blind to his manoeuvres. Their eyes met and they +laughed again. Truly, life just then was exceedingly pleasant for the +two on the deck of the Lusitania. + +"But I was looking for you before that, Opal--long before that--weeks!" + +The girl was truly surprised now and turned to him wonderingly. Then, +without question, he told her of his overhearing her at the garden +party--what a long time ago it seemed!--and his desire, ever since, to +meet her. + +He told her, too, of his hearing her laugh at the theatre that night; +but the girl was silent, and said not a word of having seen him there. +Confidences were all right for a man, she thought, but a girl did well +to keep some things to herself. + +He did not say that he was deliberately following her to America, but +the girl had her own ideas upon the subject and smiled to herself at the +lively development of affairs since that tiresome garden party she had +found so unbearable. Here was an adventure after her own heart. + +And yet Opal Ledoux had much on her mind just then. The Boy had read the +signs upon her face correctly. She was troubled. + +For a long time they sat together, and looking far out over the vast +expanse of dancing blueness, they spoke of life--and the living of it. +And both knew so little of either! + +It was a strange talk for the first one--so subtly intimate, with its +flashes of personality and freedom from conventions, that it seemed like +a meeting of old friends, rather than of strangers. Some intimacies are +like the oak, long and steady of growth; others spring to full maturity +in an hour's time. And these two had bridged the space of years in a few +moments of converse. They understood each other so well. + +This same idea occurred to them simultaneously, as she looked up at him +with eyes glowing with a quick appreciation of some well-expressed and +worthy thought. Something within him stirred to sudden life--something +that no one else had ever reached. + +He looked into her eyes and thought he had never looked into the eyes of +a woman before. She smiled--and he was sure it was the first time he had +ever seen a woman smile! + +"I am wild to be at home again," she was saying, "fairly crazy for +America! How I love her big, broad, majestic acres--the splendid sweep +of her meadows--the massive grandeur of her mountain peaks--the glory of +her open skies! You too, I believe, are a wanderer on strange seas. You +can hardly fail to understand my longing for the homeland!" + +"I do understand, Opal. I am on my first visit to your country. Tell me +of her--her institutions, her people! Believe me, I am greatly +interested!" + +And he was--in _her_! Nothing else counted at that moment. But the girl +did not understand that--then! + +For half an hour, perhaps, she lost herself in an eloquent eulogy of +America, while the Boy sat and watched her, catching the import of but +little that she said, it must be confessed, but drinking in every detail +of her expressive countenance, her flashing, lustrous eyes, her red, +impulsive lips and rounded form, and her white, slender hands, always +employed in the expression of a thought or as the outlet for some +passing emotion. He caught himself watching for the occasional glimpses +of her small white teeth between the rose of her lips. He saw in her +eyes the violet sparks of smouldering fires, kindled by the volcanic +heart sometimes throbbing and threatening so close to the surface. When +the eruption came!--Fascinated he watched the rise and sweep of her +white arm. Every line and curve of her body was full of suggestion of +the ardent and restless and impulsive temperament with which nature had +so lavishly endowed her. She was alive with feeling--alive to the +finger-tips with the joy of life, the fullness of a deep, emotional +nature. + +It occurred to Paul that nature had purposely left her body so small, +albeit so beautifully rounded, that it might devote all its powers to +the building therein of a magnificent, flaming soul--that her inner +nature might always triumph. But Opal had never been especially +conscious of a soul--scarcely of a body. She had not yet found herself. + +Paul's emotions were in such chaotic rebellion that the thunder of his +heart-beats mingled with the pulse hammering through his brain and made +him for the first time in his life curiously deaf to his own thoughts. + +As she met his eye, expressing more than he realized of the storm +within, her own fell with a sudden sense of apprehension. She rose and +looked far out over the restless waves with a sudden flush on her +dimpled cheek, a subtle excitement in her rapid words. + +"As for our men, Paul, they are only human beings, but mighty with that +strength of physique and perfect development of mind that makes for +power. They are men of dauntless purpose. They are men of pure thoughts +and lofty ideals. They know what they want and bend every ambition and +energy to its attainment. Of course I speak of the average American--the +_type_! The normal American is a born fighter. Yes, that is the key-note +of American supremacy! We never give up! never! In my country, what men +want, they get!" + +She raised her hand in a quaint, expressive gesture, and the loose +sleeve fell back, leaving her white arm bare. He sprang to his feet, his +eyes glowing. + +"And in my country, what men want, they _take_!" he responded +fiercely--almost brutally and without a second's warning Paul threw his +arms about her and crushed her against his breast. He pressed his lips +mercilessly upon her own, holding them in a kiss that seemed to Opal +would never end. + +"How--how dare you!" she gasped, when at last she escaped his grasp and +faced him in the fury of outraged girlhood. "I--I--hate you!" + +"Dare? When one loves one dares anything!" was his husky response. "I +shall have had my kiss and you can never forget that! Never! never!" + +And Paul's voice grew exultant. + +Opal had heard of the brutality, the barbarism of passion, but her life +had flowed along conventional channels as peacefully as a quiet river. +She had longed to believe in the fury of love--in that irresistible +attraction between men and women. It appealed to her as it naturally +appeals to all women who are alive with the intensity of life. But she +had _seen_ nothing of it. + +Now she looked living Passion in the face for the first time, and was +appalled--half frightened, half fascinated--by the revelation. That kiss +seemed to scorch her lips with a fire she had never dreamed of. With +the universal instinct of shamed womanhood, she pressed her handkerchief +to her lips, rubbing fiercely at the soiled spot. He divined her thought +and laughed, with a note of exultation that stirred her Southern blood. + +In defiance she raised her eyes and searched his face, seeking some +solution of the mystery of her own heart's strange, rebellious +throbbing. What could it mean? + +Paul took another step toward her, his face softening to tenderness. + +"What is it, Opal?" he breathed. + +"I was--trying--to understand you." + +"I don't understand myself sometimes--certainly not to-day!" + +"I thought you were a gentleman!" + +(I wonder if Eve didn't say that to Adam in the garden!) + +"I have been accustomed to entertain that same idea myself," he said, +"but, after all, what is it to be a gentleman? All men can be gentle +when they get what they want. That's no test of gentility. It takes +circumstances outside the normal to prove man's civilization. When his +desires meet with opposition the brute comes to the surface--that's +all." + +Another rush of passion lighted his eyes and sought its reflection in +hers. Opal turned and fled. + + * * * * * + +In the seclusion of her stateroom Opal faced herself resolutely. A +sensation of outrage mingled with a strange sense of guilt. Her +resentment seemed to blend with something resembling a strange, fierce +joy. She tried to fight it down, but it would not be conquered. + +Why was he so handsome, so brilliant, this strange foreign fellow whom +she felt intuitively to be more than he claimed to be? What was the +secret of his power that even in the face of this open insult she could +not be as angry as she knew she should have been? + +She looked in the mirror apprehensively. No, there was no sign of that +terrible kiss. And yet she felt as though all the world must have seen +had they looked at her--felt that she was branded forever by the burning +touch of his lips! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It was not until the dinner hour on the following day that Paul and Opal +met again. One does not require an excuse for keeping to one's stateroom +during an ocean voyage--especially during the first few days--and the +girl, though in excellent health and a capital sailor, kept herself +secluded. + +She wanted to understand herself and to understand this stranger who was +yet no stranger. For a girl who had looked upon life as she had she felt +woefully unsophisticated. But the Boy? He was certainly not a man of the +world, who through years of lurid experience had learned to look upon +all women as his legitimate quarry. If he had been that sort, she told +herself, she would have been on her guard instinctively from the very +first. But she knew he was too young for that--far too young--- and his +eyes were frank and clear and open, with no dark secrets behind their +curtained lids. But what was he--and who? + +When the day was far spent, she knew that she was no nearer a solution +than she had been at dawn, so she resolved to join the group at table +and put behind her the futile labor of self-examination. She would not, +of course, deign to show any leniency toward the offender--indeed not! +She would not vouchsafe one unnecessary word for his edification. + +But she took elaborate care with her toilet, selected her most becoming +gown and drove her maid into a frenzy by her variations of taste and +temper. + +It was truly a very bewitching Opal who finally descended to the _salon_ +and joined the party of four masculine incapables who had spent the day +in vain search for amusement. Paul Zalenska rose hastily at her entrance +and though she made many attempts to avoid his gaze she was forced at +last to meet it. The electric spark of understanding flashed from eye to +eye, and both thrilled in answer to its magnetic call. In the glance +that passed between them was lurking the memory of a kiss. + +Opal blushed faintly. How dare he remember! Why, his very eyes echoed +that triumphant laugh she could not forget. She stole another glance at +him. Perhaps she had misjudged him--but-- + +She turned to respond to the greeting of her father and the other two +gentlemen, and soon found herself seated at the table opposite the Boy +she had so recently vowed to shun. Well, she needn't talk to him, that +was one consolation. Yet she caught herself almost involuntarily +listening for what he would say at this or that turn of the conversation +and paying strict--though veiled--attention to his words. + +It was a strange dinner. No one felt at ease. The air was charged with +something that all felt too tangibly oppressive, yet none could define, +save the two--who would not. + + * * * * * + +For Paul the evening was a dismal failure. Try as he would, he could not +catch Opal's eye again, nor secure more than the most meagre replies +even to his direct questions. She was too French to be actually +impolite, but she interposed between them those barriers only a woman +can raise. She knew that Paul was mad for a word with her; she knew that +she was tormenting and tantalizing him almost beyond endurance; she felt +his impatience in every nerve of her, with that mysterious sixth sense +some women are endowed with, and she rejoiced in her power to make him +suffer. He deserved to suffer, she said. Perhaps he'd have some idea of +the proper respect due the next girl he met! These foreigners! _Mon +Dieu_! She'd teach him that American girls were a little different from +the kind they had in his country, where "what men want, they take," as +he had said. What kind of heathen was he? + +And she watched him surreptitiously from under her long lashes with a +curious gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. She had always known she had +this power over men, but she had never cared quite so much about using +it before and had been more annoyed than gratified by the effect her +personality had had upon her masculine world. + +So she smiled at the Count, she laughed with the Count and made eyes +most shamelessly at the disgusting old gallant till something in his +face warned her that she had reached a point beyond which even her +audacity dared not go. + +Heavens! how the old monster would _devour_ a woman, she thought, with a +thrill of disgust. There were awful things in his face! + +And the Boy glared at de Roannes with unspeakable profanity in his eyes, +while the girl laughed to herself and enjoyed it all as girls do enjoy +that sort of thing. + +It was delightful, this game of speaking eyes and lips. + + "Oh, the little more, and how much it is! + And the little less, and what worlds away!" + +But it was, as she could dimly see, a game that might prove exceedingly +dangerous to play, and the Count had spoiled it all, anyway. And a +curious flutter in her heart, as she watched the Boy take his punishment +with as good grace as possible, pled for his pardon until she finally +desisted and bade the little company good night. + +At her departure the men took a turn at bridge, but none of them seemed +to care much for the cards that night and the Boy soon broke away. He +was about to withdraw to his stateroom in chagrin when quite +unexpectedly he found Opal standing by the rail, wrapped in a long +cloak. She was gazing far out toward the distant horizon, the light of +strange, puzzling thoughts in the depths of her eyes. She did not notice +him until he stood by her side, when she turned and faced him defiantly. + +"Opal," he said, "there was one poet of life and love whom we did not +quote in our little discussion to-night. Do you remember Tennyson's +words, + + "'A man had given all earthly bliss + And all his worldly worth for this, + To waste his whole heart in one kiss + Upon her perfect lips?' + +Let them plead for me the pardon I know no better way to sue for--or +explain!" + +The girl was silent. That little flutter in her heart was pleading for +him, but her head was still rebellious, and she knew not which would +triumph. She put one white finger on her lip, and wondered what to say +to him. She would not look into his eyes--they bothered her quite beyond +all reason--so she looked at the deck instead, as though hoping to find +some rule of conduct there. + +"I am sorry, Opal," went on the pleading tones, "that is, sorry that it +offended you. I can't be sorry that I did it--yet!" + +After a moment of serious reflection, she looked up at him sternly. + +"It was a very rude thing to do, Paul! No one ever--" + +"Don't you suppose I know that, Opal? Did you think that I thought--" + +"How was I to know what you thought, Paul? You didn't know me!" + +"Oh, but I do. Better than you know yourself!" + +She looked up at him quickly, a startled expression in her soft, +lustrous eyes. + +"I--almost--believe you do--Paul." + +"Opal!" He paused. She was tempting him again. Didn't she know it? + +"Opal, can't--won't you believe in me? Don't you feel that you know +me?" + +"I'm not sure that I do--even yet--after--that! Oh, Paul, are you sure +that you know yourself?" + +"No, not sure, but I'm beginning to!" + +She made no reply. After a moment, he said softly, "You haven't said +that you forgive me, yet, Opal! I know there is no plausible excuse for +me, but--listen! I couldn't help it--I truly couldn't! You simply must +forgive me!" + +"Couldn't help it?"--Oh, the scorn of her reply. "If there had been any +man in you at all, you could have helped it!" + +"No, Opal, you don't understand! It is because I _am_ a man that I +couldn't help it. It doesn't strike you that way now, I know, but--some +day you will see it!" + +And suddenly she did see it. And she reached out her hand to him, and +whispered, "Then let's forget all about it. I am willing to--if you +will!" + +Forget? He would not promise that. He did not wish to forget! And she +looked so pretty and provoking as she said it, that he wanted to--! But +he only took her hand, and looked his gratitude into her eyes. + +The Count de Roannes came unexpectedly and unobserved upon the climax of +the little scene, and read into it more significance than it really had. +It was not strange, perhaps, that to him this meeting should savour of +clandestine relations and that he should impute to it false motives and +impulses. The Count prided himself upon his tact, and was therefore very +careful to use the most idiomatic English in his conversation. But at +this sudden discovery--for he had not imagined that the acquaintance had +gone beyond his own discernment--he felt the English language quite +inadequate to the occasion, and muttered something under his breath that +sounded remarkably like "_Tison d'enfer!_" as he turned on his heel and +made for his stateroom. + +And the Boy, unconscious and indifferent to all this by-play, had only +time to press to his lips the little hand she had surrendered to him +before the crowd was upon them. + +But the waves were singing a Te Deum in his ears, and the skies were +bluer in the moonlight than ever sea-skies were before. Paul felt, with +a thrill of joy, that he was looking far off into the vaster spaces of +life, with their broader, grander possibilities. He felt that he was +wiser, nobler, stronger--nearer his ideal of what a brave man should be. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +When two are young, and at sea, and in love, and the world is beautiful +and bright, it is joyous and wonderful to drift thoughtlessly with the +tide, and rise and fall with the waves. Thus Paul Zalenska and Opal +Ledoux spent that most delightful of voyages on the Lusitania. They were +not often alone. They did not need to be. Their intimacy had at one +bound reached that point when every word and movement teemed with tender +significance and suggestion. Their first note had reached such a high +measure that all the succeeding days followed at concert pitch. It was a +voyage of discovery. Each day brought forth revelations of some new +trait of character--each unfolding that particular something which the +other had always admired. + +And so their intimacy grew. + +Paul Verdayne saw and smiled. He was glad to see the Boy enjoying +himself. He knew his chances for that sort of thing were all too +pathetically few. + +Mr. Ledoux looked on, troubled and perplexed, but he saw no chance, and +indeed no real reason, for interfering. + +The Count de Roannes was irritated, at times even provoked, but he kept +his thoughts to himself, hiding his annoyance, and his secret explosions +of "_Au diable!_" beneath his usual urbanity. + +There was nothing on the surface to indicate more than the customary +familiarity of young people thrown together for a time, and yet no one +could fail to realize the undercurrent of emotion below the gaiety of +the daily ripple of amusement and pleasurable excitement and converse. + +They read together, they exchanged experiences of travel, they discussed +literature, music, art and the stage, with the enthusiastic partisanship +of zealous youth. They talked of life, with its shade and shadow, its +heights and depths of meaning, and altogether became very well +acquainted. Each day anew, they discovered an unusual congeniality in +thoughts and opinions. They shared in a large measure the same exalted +outlook upon life--the same lofty ambitions and dreams. + +And the more Paul learned of the character of this strange girl, the +more he felt that she was the one woman in the world for him. To be +sure, he had known that, subconsciously, the first time he had heard her +voice. Now he knew it by force of reason as well, and he cursed the fate +that denied him the right to declare himself her lover and claim her +before the world. + +One thing that impressed Paul about the girl was the generous charity +with which she viewed the frailties of human nature, her sincere pity +for all forms of human weakness and defeat, her utter freedom from petty +malice or spite. Rail at life and its hypocrisies, as she often did, she +yet felt the tragedy in its pitiful short-comings, and looked with the +eye of real compassion upon its sins and its sinners, condoning as far +as possible the fault she must have in her very heart abhorred. + +"We all make mistakes," she would say, when someone retailed a bit of +scandal. "No human being is perfect, nor within a thousand miles of +perfection. What right then have we to condemn any fellow-creature for +his sins, when we break just as important laws in some other direction? +It's common hypocrisy to say, 'We never could have done this terrible +thing!' and draw our mantle of self-righteousness closely about us lest +it become contaminated. Perhaps we couldn't! Why? Because our +temptations do not happen to lie in that particular direction, that's +all! But we are all law-breakers; not one keeps the Ten Commandments to +the letter--not one! Attack us on our own weak point and see how quickly +we run up the flag of surrender--and perhaps the poor sinner we denounce +for his guilt would scorn just as bitterly to give in to the weakness +that gets the best of us. _Sin is sin_, and one defect is as hideous as +another. He who breaks one part of the code of morality and +righteousness is as guilty--just exactly as guilty--as he who breaks +another. Isn't the first commandment as binding as the other nine? And +how many of us do not break that every day we live?" + +And there was the whole creed of Opal Ledoux. + +But as intimate as she and the Boy had become, they yet knew +comparatively little of each other's lives. + +Opal guessed that the Boy was of rank, and bound to some definite course +of action for political reasons. This much she had gained from odds and +ends of conversation. But beyond that, she had no idea who he was, nor +whence he came. She would not have been a woman had she not been +curious--and as I have said before, Opal Ledoux was, every inch of her +five feet, a woman--but she never allowed herself to wax inquisitive. + +As for the Boy, he knew there was some evil hovering with threatening +wings over the sunshine of the girl's young life--some shadow she tried +to forget, but could not put aside--and he grew to associate this shadow +with the continued presence of the French Count, and his intimate air of +authority. Paul knew not why he should thus connect these two, but +nevertheless the impression grew that in some way de Roannes exercised a +sinister influence over the life of the girl he loved. + +He hated the Count. He resented every look that those dissolute eyes +flashed at the girl, and he noticed many. He saw Opal wince sometimes, +and then turn pale. Yet she did not resent the offense. + +But Paul did. + +"Such a look from a man like that is the grossest insult to any woman," +he thought, writhing in secret rage. "How can she permit it? If she were +my--my _sister_, I'd shoot him if he once dared to turn his damned eyes +in her direction!" + +And thus matters stood throughout the brief voyage. Paul and Opal, +though conscious of the double barrier between them, tried to forget its +existence for the moment, and, at intervals, succeeded admirably. + +For were they not in the spring-time of youth, and in love? + +And Paul Zalenska talked to this girl as he had never talked to anyone +before--not even Paul Verdayne! + +She brought out the latent best in him. She developed in him a quickness +of perception, a depth of thought and emotion, a facility of speech +which he had never known. She stimulated every faculty, and gave him new +incentive--a new and firmer resolve to aspire and fight for all that he +held dear. + +"I always feel," he said to Opal, once, "as though my soul stood always +at attention, awaiting the inevitable command of Fate! All Nature seems +to tell me at times that there is a purpose in my living, a work for me +to do, and I feel so thoroughly _alive_--so ready to listen to the call +of duty--and to obey!" + +"A dreamer!" she laughed, "as wild a dreamer as I!" + +"Why not?" he returned. "All great deeds are born of dreams! It was a +dreamer who found this America you are so loyal to! And who knows but +that I too may find my world?" + +"And a fatalist, too!" + +"Why, of course! Everyone is, to a greater or a less extent, though +most dare not admit it!" + +"But yesterday you said--what _did_ you say, Paul, about the power of +the human will over environment and fate?" + +"I don't remember. That was yesterday. I'm not the same to-day, at all. +And to-morrow I may be quite different." + +"Behold the consistency of man. But Fate, Paul--what makes Fate? I have +always been taught to believe that the world is what we make it!" + +"And it is true, too, that in a way we may make the world what we will, +each creating it anew for himself, after his own pattern--but after all, +Opal, that is Fate. For what we _are_, we put into these worlds of ours, +and what we are is what our ancestors have made us--and that is what I +understand by destiny." + +"Ah, Paul, you have so many noble theories of life." + +His boyish face grew troubled and perplexed. + +"I _thought_ I had, Opal--till I knew you! Now I do not know! Fate seems +to have taken a hand in the game and my theories are cast aside like +worthless cards. I begin to see more clearly that we cannot always +choose our paths." + +"Can one ever, Paul?" + +"Perhaps not! Once I believed implicitly in the omnipotence of the human +will to make life just what one wished. Now"--and he searched her +eyes--"I know better." + +"Unlucky Opal, to cross your path!" she sighed. "Are you superstitious, +Paul? Do you know that opals bring bad luck to those who come beneath +the spell of their influence?" + +"I'll risk the bad luck, Opal!" + +And she smiled. + +And he thought as he looked at her, how well she understood him! What an +inspiration would her love have brought to such a life as he meant his +to be! What a Récamier or du Barry she would have made, with her +_piquante_, captivating face, her dark, lustrous, compelling eyes, her +significant gestures, which despite many wayward words and phrases, +expressed only lofty and majestic thoughts! Her whole regal little +body, with its irresistible power and charm, was so far beyond most +women! She was life and truth and ambition incarnate! She was the spirit +of dreams and the breath of idealism and the very soul of love and +longing. + +Would she feel insulted, he wondered, had she known he had dared to +compare her, even in his own thoughts, with a king's mistress? He meant +no insult--far from it! But would she have understood it had she known? + +Paul fancied that she would. + +"They may not have been moral, those women," he thought, "that is, what +the world calls 'moral' in the present day, but they possessed power, +marvellous power, over men and kingdoms. Opal Ledoux was created to +exert power--her very breath is full of force and vitality!" + +"Yes," he repeated aloud after due deliberation, "I'll risk the bad luck +if you'll be good tome!" + +"Am I not?" + +"Not always." + +"Well, I will be to-day. See! I have a new book--a sad little +love-tale, they say--just the thing for two to read at sea," and with a +heightened color she began to read. + +She had pulled her deck-chair forward, until she sat in a flood of +sunshine, and the bright rays, falling on her mass of rich brown hair, +heightened all the little glints of red-gold till they looked like +living bits of flame. Oh the vitality of that hair! the intense glow of +those eyes in whose depths the flame-like glitter was reflected as the +voice, too, caught fire from the fervid lines! + +Soon the passion and charm of the poem cast its spell over them both as +they followed the fate of the unhappy lovers through the heart-ache of +their evanescent dream. + +Their eyes met with a quick thrill of understanding. + +"It is--Fate, again," Paul whispered. "Read on, Opal!" + +She read and again they looked, and again they understood. + +"I cannot read any more of it," she faltered, a real fear in her voice. +"Let us put it away." + +"No, no!" he pleaded. "It's true--too true. Read on, please, dear!" + +"I cannot, Paul. It is too sad!" + +"Then let me read it, Opal, and you can listen!" + +And he took the book gently from her hand, and read until the sun was +smiling its farewell to the laughing waters. + + * * * * * + +That evening a strong wind was playing havoc with the waves, and the +fury of the maddened spray was beating a fierce accompaniment to their +hearts. + +"How I love the wind," said Opal. "More than all else in Nature I love +it, I think, whatever its mood may be. I never knew why--probably +because I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is +tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and +wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and +passionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of +the wind!" + +"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count, +drily. "It might be disastrous!" + +"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind +hope, Count de Roannes." + +And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved! + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her +stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face +appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her. + +"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!" + +"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded. + +She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally. + +"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night." + +"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated. + +"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone--really alone--and this is our +last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part--perhaps forever--who +knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!" + +His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response. + +"Well--perhaps!" she said. + +"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you +afraid?" + +"Afraid?--I dare anything--to-night!" + +"Then come!" + +"I will--if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him +a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!" + +Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come. + +And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the +deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his +beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware. + +"Well, ... I'm here," she said. + +"I see you are, Opal and--thank you." + +He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked +at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood! + +"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed. + +"No, I'm not; I am--angry!" + +"With me?" + +"No!--not you." + +"Whom, then?" + +"With--myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously. + +Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you +are so sorry?" + +"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd +have some self-respect!" + +Paul looked at her deliberately, taking in every little detail of her +appearance, his eyes full of admiration. Then he added, with an air of +finality, "But _I_ respect you!" + +She softened, and laid her hand on his arm. Paul instantly took +possession of it. + +"Do you really?" she asked, searching his face, almost wistfully. "A +girl who will do ...what I am doing to-night!" + +"But what _are_ you doing, Opal?" he asked in the most innocent +surprise. "Merely keeping a wakeful man company beneath the stars!" + +"Is that ...all?" + +"All ..._now!_" + +They stood silently for a minute, hand still in hand, looking far out +over the moonlit waters, each conscious of the trend of the other's +thoughts--the beating of the other's heart. The deck was deserted by all +save their two selves--they two alone in the big starlit universe. At +last she spoke. + +"This is interesting, isn't it?" + +"Of course!--holding your hand!" + +She snatched it from him. "I forgot you had it," she said. + +"Forget again!" + +"No, I won't!... Is it always interesting?... holding a girl's hand?" + +"It depends upon the girl, I suppose! I was enjoying it immensely just +then." + +He took her hand again. + +And again that perilously sweet silence fell between them. + +At last, "Promise me, Paul!" she said. + +"I will--what is it?" + +"Promise me to forget anything I may say or do to-night ... not to think +hard of me, however rashly I may act! I'm not accountable, really! I'm +liable to say ...anything! I feel it in my blood!" + +"I understand, Opal! See! the winds are boisterous and unruly enough. +You may be as rash and reckless as you will!" + +Suddenly the wind blew her against his breast. The perfume of her hair, +and all the delicious nearness of her, intoxicated him. He laughed a +soft, caressing little lover-laugh, and raising her face to his, kissed +her lips easily, naturally, as though he had the right. She struggled, +helplessly, as he held her closely to him, and would not let her go. + +"You are a--" She bit her lip, and choked back the offensive word. + +"A--what? Say it, Opal!" + +"A--a--_brute_! There! let me go!" + +But he only held her closer and laughed again softly, till she +whispered, "I didn't--quite--_mean_ that, you know!" + +"Of course you didn't!" + +She drew away from him and pointed her finger at him accusingly, her +eyes full of reproof. + +"But--you _said_ you wouldn't! You promised!" + +"Wouldn't what?" + +"Wouldn't do--what you did--again!" + +"Did I?" insinuatingly. + +"How dare you ask that? You----" + +"'Brute' again? Quite like old married folk!" + +"Old married folk? They never kiss!" + +"Don't they?" + +"Not each other!... other people's husbands or wives!" + +"Is that it?" + +"Surely---- + + 'Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, + He would have written sonnets all his life?' + +O no! not he!" + +"I'm learning many new things, Opal! Let's play we're married, then--to +someone else!" + +"But--haven't you any conscience at all?" + +"Conscience?--what a question! Of course I have!" + +"You certainly aren't using it to-night!" + +"I'm too busy! Kiss me!" + +"The very idea!" + +"Please!" + +"Certainly not!" + +"Then let me kiss you!" + +_"No!!!"_ + +"Why not?--Don't you like to be loved?" + +And his arms closed around her, and his lips found hers again, and held +them. + +At last, "Silly Boy!" + +"Why?" + +"Oh! to make such a terrible fuss about something he doesn't really +want, and will be sorry he has after he gets it!" + +And Paul asked her wickedly, what foolish boy she was talking about now? +_He_ knew what he really wanted--always--and was not sorry when he had +it. Not he! He was sorry only for the good things he had let slip, never +for those he had taken! + +"But--do let me go, Paul! I don't belong to you!" + +"Yes you do--for a little while!" He held her close. + +Belong to him! How she thrilled at the thought! Was this what it meant +to be--loved? And _did_ she belong to him--if only, as he said, for a +little while? She certainly didn't belong to herself! Whatever this +madness that had suddenly taken possession of her, it was stronger than +herself. She couldn't control it--she didn't even want to! At all +events, she was _living_ to-night! Her blood was rushing madly through +her body. She was deliciously, thoroughly alive! + +"Paul!--are you listening?" + +"Yes, dear!" the answer strangely muffled. + +And then she purred in his ear, all the time caressing his cheek with +her small white fingers: "You see, Paul, I knew I had made some sort of +impression upon you. I must have done so or you wouldn't have--done +that! But any girl can make an impression on shipboard, and an affair at +sea is always so--evanescent, that no one expects it to last more than +a week. I don't want to make such a transitory impression upon you, +Paul. I wanted you to remember me longer. I wanted--oh, I wanted to give +you something to remember that was just a little bit different than +other girls had given you--some distinct impression that must linger +with you--always--always! I'm not like other women! Do you see, Paul? It +was all sheer vanity. I wanted you to remember!" + +"And did you think I could forget?" + +"Of course! All men forget a kiss as soon as their lips cease tingling!" + +Paul laughed. "Wise girl! Who taught you so much? Come, confess!" + +"Oh, I've known _you_ a whole week, Paul, and you----" + +But their lips met again and the sentence was never finished. + +At last she put her hands on each side of his face and looked up into +his eyes. + +"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Paul?" + +"Of course not!" + +"Of course you are!" + +"You misunderstood me!--I said _'Not'_! But why? Are you ashamed of +me?" + +"I ought to be, oughtn't I? But--I don't believe you can help it!" + +His lips crushed hers again, fiercely. "I can't, Opal--I can't!" + +She turned away her head, but he buried his face in her neck, kissing +the soft flesh again and again. + +"Such a slip of a girl!" Paul murmured in her ear, when he again found +his voice. "Such a tiny, little girl! I am almost afraid you will vanish +if I don't hold you tight!" + +Opal was thoroughly aroused now--no longer merely passive--quite +satisfactorily responsive. + +"I won't, Paul! I won't! But hold me closer, closer! Crush this terrible +ache out of my heart if you can, Paul!" + +There were tears in her voice. He clasped her to him and felt her heart +throbbing out its pain against its own, as he whispered, "Opal, am I a +brute?" + +"N-o-o-o-o!" A pause. At last, "Let me go now, Paul! This is sheer +insanity!" + +But he made no move to release her until she looked up into his eyes in +an agony of appeal, and pleaded, "Please, Paul!" + +"Are you sure you want to go?" + +"No, I'm not sure of that, but I'm quite sure that I _ought_ to go! I +must! I must!" + +And Paul released her. Where was this madness carrying them? Was he +acting the part of the man he meant to be, or of a cad--an unprincipled +bounder? He did not know. He only knew he wanted to kiss her--_kiss_ +her.... + +She turned on him in a sudden flash of indignation. "Why have you such +power over me?" she demanded. + +"What power over you, Opal!" + +"What's the use of dodging the truth, you professor of honesty? You make +me do things we both know I'll be sorry for all the rest of my life. +_Why_ do you do it?" + +Her eyes blazed with a real anger that made her _piquante_ face more +alluring than ever to the eyes of the infatuated Boy who watched her. He +was fighting desperately for self-control, but if she should look at +him as she had looked sometimes--! + +"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew I was capable of +being foolish--wicked, perhaps--for a _grande passion_. I could forgive +myself that, I think! But for a mere caprice--a _penchant_ like this! +Oh, Paul! what can you think of me?" + +His voice was hoarse--heavy with emotion. + +"Think of you, Opal? I am sure you must know what I think. I've never +had an opportunity to tell you--in so many words--but you must have seen +what I have certainly taken no pains to conceal. Shall I try to tell +you, Opal?" + +"No, no! I don't want to hear a word--not a word! Do you understand? I +forbid you!" + +Paul bowed deferentially. She laughed nervously at the humility in his +obeisance. + +"Don't be ridiculous!" she commanded. "This is growing too melodramatic, +and I hate a scene. But, really, Paul, you mustn't--simply mustn't! +There are reasons--conditions--and--you must not tell me, and I must +not, _will_ not listen!" + +"I mustn't make love to you, you mean?" + +"I mean ... just that!" + +"Why not?" + +"Never mind the 'why.' There are plenty of good and sufficient reasons +that I might give if I chose, but--I don't choose! The only reason that +you need to know is--that I forbid you!" + +She turned away with that regal air of hers that made one forget her +child-like stature. + +"Are you going, Opal?" + +"Yes!--what did I come out here for? I can't remember. Do you know?" + +"To wish me good-night, of course! And you haven't done it!" + +She looked back over her shoulder, a mocking laugh in those inscrutable +eyes. Then she turned and held out both hands to him. + +"Good-night, Paul, good-night!... You seem able to do as you please with +me, in spite of--everything--and I just want to stay in your arms +forever--forever ..." + +Paul caught her to him, and their lips melted in a clinging kiss. + +At last she drew away from his embrace. + +"The glitter of the moonlight and the music of the wind-maddened waves +must have gone to my brain!" She laughed merrily, pulled his face down +to hers for a last swift kiss, and ran from him before he could detain +her. + + * * * * * + +The next morning they met for a brief moment alone. + +Opal shook hands with the Boy in her most perfunctory manner. + +Paul, after a moment's silent contemplation of her troubled face, bent +over her, saying, "Have I offended you, Opal? Are you angry with me?" + +She opened her eyes wide and asked with the utmost innocence "For what?" + +Paul was disconcerted. "Last night!" he said faintly. + +She colored, painfully. + +"No, Paul, listen! I don't blame you a bit!--not a bit! A man would be a +downright fool not to take--what he wanted---- But if you want to +be--friends with me, you'll just forget all about--last night--or at any +rate, ignore it, and never refer to it again." + +He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it for the briefest +possible instant. + +And then their _tête-à -tête_ was interrupted, and they sat down for +their last breakfast at sea. + +Opal Ledoux was not visible again until the Lusitania docked in New +York, when she waved her _companion de voyage_ a smiling but none the +less reluctant _au revoir_! + +But Paul was too far away to see the tears in her eyes, and only +remembered the smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +New York's majestic greatness and ceaseless, tireless activity speedily +engrossed the Boy and opened his eager eyes to a wider horizon than he +had yet known. There was a new influence in the whir and hum of this +metropolis of the Western world that set the wheels of thought to a more +rapid motion, and keyed his soul to its highest tension. + +It was not until his first letter from the homeland had come across the +waters that he paused to wonder what the new factor in his life meant +for his future. He had not allowed his reason to assert itself until the +force of circumstances demanded that he look his soul in the face, and +learn whither he was drifting. Paul was no coward, but he quailed before +the ominous clouds that threatened the happiness of himself and the girl +he loved. + +For now he knew that he loved Opal Ledoux. It was Fate. He had guessed +it at the first sound of her voice; he had felt it at the first glance +of her eye; and he had known it beyond the peradventure of a doubt at +the first touch of her lips. + +Yet this letter from his kingdom was full of suggestions of duties to be +done, of responsibilities to be assumed, of good still to be brought out +of much that was petty and low, and of helpless, miserable human beings +who were so soon to be dependent upon him. + +"I will make my people happy," he thought. "Happiness is the birthright +of every man--be he peasant or monarch." And then the thought came to +him, how could he ever succeed in making them truly happy, when he +himself had so sorely missed the way! There was only one thing to do, he +knew that--both for Opal's sake and for his own--and that was to go far +away, and never see the face again that had bewitched him so. + +Perhaps, if he did this, he might forget the experience that was, after +all, only an episode in a man's life and--other men forget! He might +learn to be calmly happy and contented with his Princess. It was only +natural for a young man to make love to a pretty girl, he thought, and +why should he be any exception? He had taken the good the gods provided, +as any live man would--now he could go his way, as other men did, +and--forget! Why not? And yet the mere thought of it cast such a gloom +over his spirits that he knew in his heart his philosophic attempt to +deceive himself was futile and vain. He might run away, of +course--though it was hardly like him to do that--but he would scarcely +be able to forget. + +And then Verdayne joined him with an open note in his hand--a formal +invitation from Gilbert Ledoux for them to dine with him in his Fifth +Avenue house on the following evening. He wished his family to meet the +friends who had so pleasantly attracted himself and his daughter on +shipboard. + +Was it strange how speedily the Boy's resolutions vanished? Run away! +Not he! + +"Accept the invitation, Father Paul, by all means!" + + * * * * * + +It was a cordial party in which Paul Verdayne and his young companion +found themselves on the following evening--a simple family gathering, +graciously presided over by Opal's stepmother. + +Gilbert Ledoux's wife was one of those fashion-plate women who strike +one as too artificial to be considered as more than half human. You +wonder if they have also a false set of emotions to replace those they +wore out in their youth--_c'est à dire_ if they ever had any! Paul +smiled at the thought that Mr. Ledoux need have no anxiety over the +virtue of his second wife--whatever merry dance the first might have led +him! + +Opal was not present when the gentlemen were announced, and the bevy of +aunts and uncles and cousins were expressing much impatience for her +presence--which Paul Zalenska echoed fervently in his heart. It was +truly pleasant--this warm blood-interest of kinship. He liked the +American clannishness, and he sighed to think of the utter lack of +family affection in his own life. + +The drawing-room, where they were received, was furnished in good taste, +the Boy thought. The French touch was very prominent--the blend of color +seemed to speak to him of Opal. Yes, he liked the room. The effect grew +on one with the charm of the real home atmosphere that a dwelling place +should have. But he wasn't so much interested in that, after all! In +fact, it was rather unsatisfactory--without Opal! These people were +_her_ people and, of course, of more than ordinary interest to him on +her account, but still-- + +And at last, when the Boy was beginning to acknowledge himself slightly +bored, and to resent the familiar footing on which he could see the +Count de Roannes already stood in the family circle, Opal entered, and +the gloomy, wearisome atmosphere seemed suddenly flooded with sunlight. + +She came in from the street, unconventionally removing her hat and +gloves as she entered. + +"Where have you been so long, Opal?" asked Mrs. Ledoux, with +considerable anxiety. + +"At the Colony Club, _ma mère_--I read a paper!" + +"_Mon Dieu!_" put in the Count, in an amused tone. "On what subject?" + +"On 'The Modern Ethical Viewpoint,' _Comte_," she answered, nodding her +little head sagely. "It was very convincing! In fact, I exploded a bomb +in the camp that will give them all something sensational to talk about +till--till--the next scandal!" + +The Count gave a low chuckle of appreciation, while Mr. Ledoux asked, +seriously, "But to what purpose, daughter?" + +"Why, papa, don't you know? I had to teach Mrs. Stuyvesant Moore, Mrs. +Sanford Wyckoff, and several other old ladies how to be good!" + +And in the general laugh that followed, she added, under her breath, +"Oh, the irony of life!" + +Paul watched her in a fever of boyish jealousy as she passed through the +family circle, bestowing her kisses left and right with impartial favor. +She made the rounds slowly, conscientiously, and then, with an air of +supreme indifference, moved to the Boy's side. + +He leaned over her. + +"Where are my kisses?" he asked softly. + +She clasped her hands behind her back, child-fashion, and looked up at +him, a coquettish daring in her eyes. + +"Where did you put them last?" she demanded. + +"You ought to know!" + +"True--I ought. But, as a matter of fact, I haven't the slightest idea. +It depends altogether upon what girl you saw last." + +"If you think that of me----" + +"What else can I think? Our first meeting did not leave much room for +conjecture. And, of course----" + +"Opal! You have just time to dress for dinner! And the Count is very +anxious to see the new orchid, you know!" + +There was a suggestion of reproof in Mrs. Ledoux's voice. The girl's +face clouded as she turned away in response to the summons. But she +threw the Boy a challenge over her shoulder--a hint of that mischief +that always seemed to lurk in the corner of her eye. + +Paul bit his lip. He was not a boy to be played with, as Opal Ledoux +would find out. And he sulked in a corner, refusing to be conciliated, +until at last she re-entered the room, leaning on the Count's +"venerable" arm. She had doubtless been showing him the orchid. Humph! +What did that old reprobate know--or care--about orchids? + + "A primrose by the river's brim, + A yellow primrose was to him, + And nothing more." + +As the evening passed, there came to the Boy no further opportunity to +speak to Opal alone. She not only avoided him herself, but the entire +party seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to keep him from her. It +roused all the fight in his Slavic blood, and he determined not to be +outwitted by any such high-handed proceeding. He crossed the room and +boldly broke into the conversation of the group in which she stood. + +"Miss Ledoux," he said, "pardon me, but as we are about to leave, I +must remind you of your promise to show me the new orchid. I am very +fond of orchids. May I not see it now?" + +Opal had made no such promise, but as she looked up at him with an +instinctive denial, she met his eyes with an expression in their depths +she dared not battle. There was no knowing what this impetuous Boy might +say or do, if goaded too far. + +"Please pardon my forgetfulness," she said, with a propitiating smile, +as she took his arm. "We will go and see it." + +And the Boy smiled. He had not found his opportunity--he had made one! + +With a malicious smile on his thin, wicked lips the Count de Roannes +watched them as they moved across the room toward the conservatory--this +pair so finely matched that all must needs admire. + +It was rather amusing in _les enfants_, he told Ledoux, this "_Paul et +Virginie_" episode. Somewhat _bourgeois_, of course--but harmless, he +hoped. This with an expressive sneer. But--_mon Dieu!_--and there was a +sinister gleam in his evil eyes--it mustn't go too far! The girl was a +captivating little witch--the old father winced at the significance in +the tone--and she must have her fling! He rather admired her the more +for her _diablerie_--but she must be careful! + +But he need not have feared to-night. Paul Zalenska's triumph was +short-lived. When once inside the conservatory, the girl turned and +faced him, indignantly. + +"What an utterly shameless thing to do!" she exclaimed. + +"Why?" he demanded. "You were not treating me with due respect and +'self-preservation is the first law of nature,' you know. I am so little +accustomed to being--snubbed, that I don't take it a bit kindly!" + +"I did not snub you," she said, "at least, not intentionally. But of +course my friends have prior claims on my time and attention. I can't +put them aside for a mere stranger." + +"A stranger?" he echoed. "Then you mean----" + +"I mean what?" + +"To ignore our former--acquaintance--altogether?" + +"I do mean just that! One has many desperate flirtations on board ship, +but one isn't in any way bound to remember them. It is not +always--convenient. You may have foolishly remembered. I +have--forgotten!" + +"You have not forgotten. I say you have not, Opal." + +"We use surnames in society, Monsieur Zalenska?" + +"Opal!" appealingly. + +"Why such emotion, Monsieur?" mockingly. + +The Boy was taken aback for a moment, but he met her eyes bravely. + +"Why? Because I love you, Opal, and in your heart you know it!" + +"Why?" + +"Why do I love you? Because I can't help it! Who knows, really, why +anything happens or does not happen in this topsy-turvy world?" + +The girl looked at him steadily for a moment, and then spoke +indifferently, almost lightly. + +"Have you looked at the orchid you wished so much to see, Monsieur +Zalenska? Mamma is very proud of it!" + +"Opal!" + +But she went on, heedless of his interruption, "Because, if you haven't, +you must look at it hastily--you have wasted some time quite foolishly +already--and I have promised to join the Count in a few moments, and--" + +"Very well. I understand, Opal!" Paul stiffened. "I will relieve you of +my presence. But don't think you will always escape so easily because I +yield now. You have not meant all you have said to me to-night, and I +know it as well as you do. You have tried to play with me--" + +"I beg your pardon!" + +"You knew the tiger was in my blood--you couldn't help but know it!--and +yet you deliberately awakened him!" She gave him a startled glance, her +eyes appealing for mercy, but he went on relentlessly. "Yes, after the +manner of women since the world began, you lured him on and on! Is it my +fault--or yours--if he devour us both?" + +Paul Verdayne, strangely restless and ill at ease, was passing beneath +the window and thus became an involuntary listener to these mad words +from the lips of his young friend. + +Straightway there rose to his mental vision a picture--never very far +removed--a picture of a luxurious room in a distant Swiss hotel, the +foremost figure in which was the slender form of a royally fascinating +woman, reclining with reckless abandon upon a magnificent tiger skin, +stretched before the fire. He saw her lavishing her caresses upon the +inanimate head. He heard her purr once more in the vibrant, appealing +tones so like the Boy's. + +The stately Englishman passed his hand over his eyes to shut out the +maddening vision, with its ever-fresh pangs of poignant anguish, its +persistent, unconquered and unconquerable despair! + +"God help the Boy!" he prayed, as he strolled on into the solitude of +the moonlit night. "No one else can! It is the call of the blood--the +relentless lure of his heritage! From it there is no escape, as against +it there is no appeal. It is the mad blood of youth, quickened and +intensified in the flame of inherited desire. I cannot save him!" + +And then, with a sudden flood of tender, passionate, sacred memories, he +added in his heart, + +"And I would not, if I could!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Paul Verdayne had many acquaintances and friends in New York, and much +against their inclination he and the Boy soon found themselves absorbed +in the whirl of frivolities. They were not very favorably impressed. It +was all too extravagant for their Old World tastes--not too magnificent, +for they both loved splendor--but it shouted its cost too loudly in +their ears, and grated on their nerves and shocked their aesthetic +sense. + +The Boy was a favorite everywhere, even more so, perhaps, than in +London. American society saw no mystery about him, and would not have +cared if it had. If his face seemed somewhat familiar, as it often had +to Opal Ledoux, no one puzzled his brains over it or searched the +magazines to place it. New York accepted him, as it accepts all +distinguished foreigners who have no craving for the limelight of +publicity, for his face value, and enjoyed him thoroughly. Women petted +him, because he was so witty and chivalrous and entertaining, and always +as exquisitely well-groomed as any belle among them; men were attracted +to him because he had ideas and knew how to express them. He was worth +talking to and worth listening to. He had formed opinions of his own +upon most subjects. He had thought for himself and had the courage of +his convictions, and Americans like that. + +Naturally enough, before many days, at a fashionable ball at the Plaza +he came into contact with Opal Ledoux again. + +It was a new experience, this, to see the girl he loved surrounded by +the admiration and attention of other men. In his own infatuation he had +not realized that most men would be affected by her as he was, would +experience the same maddening impulses--the same longing--the same +thirst for possession of her. Now the fact came home to him with the +force of an electric shock. He could not endure the burning glances of +admiration that he saw constantly directed toward her. What right had +other men to devour her with their eyes? + +He hastened to meet her. She greeted him politely but coldly, expressing +some perfunctory regret when he asked for a dance, and showing him that +her card was already filled. And then her partner claimed her, and she +went away on his arm, smiling up into his face in a way she had that +drove men wild for her. "The wicked little witch!" Paul thought. "Would +she make eyes at every man like that? Dare she?" + +A moment after, he heard her name, and instantly was all attention. The +two men just behind him were discussing her rather freely--far too +freely for the time and the place--and the girl, in Paul's estimation. +He listened eagerly. + +"Bold little devil, that Ledoux girl!" said one. "God! how she is +playing her little game to-night! They say she is going to marry that +old French Count, de Roannes! That's the fellow over there, watching her +with the cat's eyes. I guess he thinks she means to have her fling +first--and I guess she thinks so too! As usual, it's the spectator who +sees the best of the game. What a curious girl she is--a living +paradox!" + +"How's that?" + +"Spanish, you know. Ought to have black hair instead of red--black eyes +instead of--well, chestnut about expresses the color of hers. I call +them witch's eyes, they're so full of fire and--the devil!" + +"She's French, too, isn't she? That accounts for the eyes. The _beauté +du diable_, hers is! Couldn't she make a heaven for a man if she +would--or a hell?" + +"Yes, it's in her! She's doomed, you know! Her grandmothers before her +were bad women--regular witches, they say, with a good, big streak of +yellow. Couldn't keep their heads on their shoulders--couldn't be +faithful to any one man. Don't know as they tried!" + +"I'll bet they made it interesting for the fellow while it did last, +anyway! But this one will never be happy. She has a tragedy in her face, +if ever a woman had. But she's a man's woman, all right, and she'd make +life worth living if a fellow had any red blood in him. She's one of +those women who are born for nothing else in the world but to love, and +be loved. Can't you shoot the Count?" + +"The Count!--Hell! He won't be considered at all after a little! She'll +find plenty of men glad to wake the devil in her--just to keep her from +yawning! But she's not very tractable even now, though her sins all lie +ahead of her! She's altogether too cool on the surface for her make-up, +but--well, full of suggestion, and one feels a volcano surging and +steaming just below the mask she wears, and has an insane desire to wake +it up! That kind of woman simply can't help it." + +A third voice broke in on the conversation--an older voice--the voice of +a man who had lived and observed much. + +"I saw her often as a child," he said, "a perilously wilful child, +determined upon her own way, and possessed of her own fancies about +this, that, and the other, which were seldom, if ever, the ideas of +anyone else. There was always plenty of excitement where she was--always +that same disturbing air! Even with her pigtails and pinafores, one +could see the woman in her eyes. But she was a provoking little +creature, always dreaming of impossible romances. Her father had his +hands full." + +"As her husband will have, poor devil! If he's man enough to hold her, +all right. If he is not," with a significant shrug of the shoulders, +"it's his own lookout!" + +"That old French _roué_ hold her? You're dreaming! She won't be faithful +to him a week--if he has a handsome valet, or a half-way manly groom! +How could she?" And they laughed coarsely. + +The Boy gave them a look that should have annihilated all three, but +they weren't noticing the Boy. He could have throttled them! How dared +such lips as these pollute his darling's name! And yet these were +society men--they could dance with her, clasp her to them, and look into +those "witch eyes"--oh, the ignominy of it! + +He looked across at Opal. How beautiful she was in her pale green gown, +her white shoulders and arms glistening beneath the electric light with +the sheen of polished marble, her red-brown hair glowing with its fiery +lure, while even across the room her eyes sparkled like diamonds, +lighting up her whole face. She was certainly enjoying herself--this +Circe who had tempted him across the seas. She seemed possessed of the +very spirit of mischief--and Paul forgot himself. + +The orchestra was playing a Strauss waltz--it fired his blood. He walked +across the room with his masterful, authoritative air--the manner of a +man born to command. "Miss Ledoux," he said, and the crowd around her +instinctively made way for him, "this is our waltz, I believe!" and +whirled her away before she could answer. + +Ah! it was delicious, that waltz! In perfect rhythm they clung together, +gliding about the polished floor, her bare shoulder pressing his arm, +her head with its bewildering perfume so near his lips, their hearts +throbbing fiercely in the ecstasy of their nearness--which was Love. + +Oh to go on forever! forever! + +The sweet cadence of the music died away, and they looked into each +other's eyes, startled. + +"You seem to be acquiring the habit," she pouted, but her lips quivered, +and in response he whispered in her ear, "Whose waltz was it, +sweetheart?" + +"I don't know, Paul--nor care!" + +That was enough. + +They left the room together. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In a secluded corner adjoining the ballroom, Paul and Opal stood hand in +hand, conscious only of being together, while their two hearts beat a +tumultuous acknowledgment of that =world-old= power whose name, in +whatever guise it comes to us, is Love! + +"I said I wouldn't, Paul!" at last she said. + +"Wouldn't what?" + +"See you again--like this!" + +Paul smiled tenderly. + +"My darling," he whispered, "what enchantment have you cast over me that +all my resolutions to give you up fade away at the first glimpse of your +face? I resolve to be brave and remember my duty--until I see you--and +then I forget everything but you--I want nothing but you!" + +"What do you want with me, Paul?" + +"Opal!" he cried impetuously. "After seeing these gay Lotharios making +eyes at you all the evening, can you ask me that? I want to take you +away and hide you from every other man's sight--that's what I want! It +drives me crazy to see them look at you that way! But you have such a +way of keeping a fellow at arm's length when you want to," he went on, +ruefully, "in spite of the magic call of your whole tempting +personality. You know '_Die Walküre_,' don't you?--but of course you do. +If I believed in the theory of reincarnation, I should feel sure that +you were Brünhilde herself, surrounded by the wall of fire!" + +"I wish I were! I wish every woman had some such infallible way of +_proving_ every man who seeks her!" + +"You have, Opal! You have your own womanly instincts--every woman's +impassable wall of fire, if she will only hide behind them. _You_ could +never love unworthily!" + +"But, Paul, don't you know? Haven't they told you? I shall probably +marry the Count de Roannes!" + +Paul was astounded. + +"Opal! No! No! Not that, surely not that! I heard it, yes--a moment ago. +But I could not believe it. The idea was too horrible. It could not be +true!" + +"But it is true, Paul! It is all too true!" + +"It is a crime," he fairly groaned. + +She shrank from him. "Don't say that, Paul!" + +"But you know it is true! Opal, just think! If you give your sweet self +to him--and that is all you can give him, as you and I know--if you give +yourself to him, I say, I--I shall go mad!" + +"Yet women have loved him," she began, bravely, attempting to defend +herself. "Women--some kinds of women--really love him now. He has a +power of--compelling--love--even yet!" + +"And such women," Paul cried hoarsely, "are more to be honored than you +if you consent to become his property with no love in your heart! Don't +plead extenuating circumstances. There can be no extenuating +circumstances in all the world for such a thing." + +She winced as though he had struck her, for she knew in her heart that +what he said was true, brutally true. The Boy was only voicing her own +sentiments--the theory to which she had always so firmly clung. + +As Paul paused, a sudden realization of his own future overwhelmed him +and locked his lips. He smiled sadly. Who was he that he should talk +like that? Was not he, too, pleading extenuating circumstances? True, he +was a man and she was a woman, and the world has two distinct +standards--but--no less than she--he was selling himself for gain. + +"Paul, Paul! I'm afraid you don't understand! It isn't _money_. Surely +you don't think that! It isn't money--it is honor--_honor_, do you hear? +My dead mother's honor, and my father's breaking heart!" + +The secret was out, at last. This, then, was the shadow that had cast +its gloom over the family ever since he had come in contact with them. +It was even worse than he had thought. That she--the lovely Opal--should +have to sacrifice her own honor to save her mother's! + +Honor! honor! how many crimes are committed in thy name! + +"Tell me about it," he said sympathetically. + +And she told him, sparing herself details, as far as possible, of the +storm of scandal about to burst upon the family--a storm from which only +the sacrifice of herself could save the family name of Ledoux, and her +mother's memory. It might, or might not, be true, but the Count de +Roannes claimed to be able--and ready--to bring proof. And, if it were +true, she was not a Ledoux at all, and her father was not her father at +all, except in name. No breath of ill-fame had ever reached her mother's +name before. They had thought she had happily escaped the curse of her +mother before her. But the Count claimed to know, and--well, he wanted +her--Opal--and, of course, it _was_ possible, and of course he would do +anything to protect the good name of his wife, if Opal became his wife, +and---- + +"So, you see, Paul--in the end, I shall have to--submit!" + +She had not told it at all well, she thought, but Paul little cared how +the story was told. + +"I do not see it that way at all, Opal. It seems to me--well, +diabolical, and may God help you, dear girl, when you, with your +high-keyed sensitive nature, first wake to the infamy of it! I have no +right to interfere--no right at all. Not even my love for you, which is +stronger than myself, gives me that right. For I am betrothed! I tell +you this because I see where my folly has led us. There is only one +thing to do. We must part--and at once. I am sorry"--then he thought of +that first meeting on board the liner, "no, I am _not_ sorry we met! I +shall never be that! But I am going to be a man. I am going to do my +duty. Help me, Opal--help me!" + +It was the old appeal of the man to the helpmeet God had created for +him, and the woman in her responded. + +"Paul, I will!" and her little fingers closed over his. + +"Of course he loves you--in his way, but----" + +"Don't, Paul, don't! He has never once pretended that--he has been too +wise." + +"He will break your spirit, dear--it's his nature. And then he will +break your heart!" + +She raised her head, defiantly. + +"Break my spirit, Paul? He could not. And as for my heart--that will +never be his to break!" + +Their eyes met with the old understanding that needs no words. Then she +pointed to the heavens. + +"See the stars, Paul, smiling down so calmly. How can they when hearts +are aching? When I was a child, I loved the stars. I fancied, too, that +they loved me, and I would run out under their watchful eyes, singing +for very joy, sure they were guiding my life and that some day I would +be happy, gloriously happy. Somehow, Paul, I always expected to be +happy--always!--till now! Now the stars seem to mock me. I must have +been born under a baleful conjunction, I guess. Oh, I told you, Paul, +that Opals were unlucky. I warned you--didn't I warn you? I may have +tempted you, too, but--I didn't mean to do it!" + +"Bless your dear heart, girl, you weren't to blame!" + +"But you said--that night--about the tiger----" + +"Forgive me, Opal, I was not myself. I was--excited. I didn't mean +that." + +After a moment, she said, musingly, "It is just as I said, Paul. I was +born to go to the devil, so it is well--well for you, I mean--and +perhaps for me--that you and I cannot marry." He shook his head, but she +went on, unheeding. "Paul, if I am destined to be a disgrace to +someone--and they say I am--I'd rather bring reproach upon his name than +on yours!" + +"But why marry at all, if you feel like that? Why, it's--it's damnable!" + +"Don't you see, Paul, I am foreordained to evil--marked a bad woman from +the cradle! Marriage is the only salvation, you know, for girls with my +inheritance. It's the sanctuary that keeps a woman good and 'happy ever +after.'" + +"It would be more apt, in my opinion, to drive one to forbidden wine! A +marriage like that, I mean--for one like you." + +"But at least a married woman has a _name_--whatever she may do. +She's--protected. She isn't----" + +But Paul would hear no more. + +"Opal, _we_ were made for each other from the beginning--surely we were. +Some imp has slipped into the scheme of things somewhere and turned it +upside down." + +He paused. She looked up searchingly into his eyes. + +"Paul, do you love me?" + +"Yes, dearest!" + +"Are you sure?" + +"As sure as I am of my own existence! With all my heart, Opal--with all +my soul!" + +"Then we mustn't see each other any more!" + +"Not any more. You are right, Opal, not any more!" + +"But what shall we do, Paul? We shall be sure to meet often. You expect +to stay the summer through, do you not? And we are not going to New +Orleans for several weeks yet--and then?" + +"We are going West, Father Paul and I--out on the prairies to rough it +for a while. We were going before long, anyway, and a few weeks sooner +or later won't make any difference. And then--home, back over the sea +again, to face life, to work, to try to be--strong, I suppose." + +Paul paused and looked at her passionately. + +"Why are you so alluring to-night, Opal?" + +Her whole body quivered, caught fire from the flame in his eyes. What +was there about this man that made her always so conscious she was a +woman? Why could she never be calm in his presence, but was always so +fated to _feel, feel, feel!_ + +Her voice trembled as she looked up at him and answered, "Am I wicked, +Paul? I wanted to be happy to-night--just for to-night! I wanted to +forget the fate that was staring me so relentlessly in the face. But--I +couldn't, Paul!" + +Then she glanced through the curtains into the ballroom and shuddered. + +"The Count is looking for me," she said. The Boy winced, and she went on +rapidly, excitedly. "We must part. As well now as any time, I suppose, +since it has to be. But first, Paul, let me say it once--just once--_I +love you!_" + +He snatched her to him--God! that any one else should ever have the +right! + +"And I--worship you, Opal! Even that seems a weak word, to-night. +But--you understand, don't you? I didn't know at sea whether it was love +or what it was that had seized me as nothing ever had before. But I know +now! And listen, Opal--this isn't a vow, nor anything of that kind--but +I feel that I want to say it. I shall always love you just this +way--always--I feel it, I know it!--as long as I live! Will you +remember, darling?--remember--everything?" + +"Yes--yes! And you, Paul?" + +"Till death!" And his lips held hers, regardless of ten thousand Counts +and their claims upon her caresses. + +And they clung together again in the anguish of parting that comes at +some time, or another into the lives of all who know love. + +Then like mourners walking away from the graves of their loved ones, +they returned to the ballroom, with the dull ache of buried happiness in +their hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Out--far out--in the great American West, the Boy wandered. And Paul +Verdayne, understanding as only he could understand, felt how little use +his companionship and sympathy really were at this crisis of the Boy's +life. + +All through the month of August they travelled, the Boy looking upon the +land he had been so eager to see with eyes that saw nothing but his own +disappointment, and the barrenness of his future. The hot sun beat down +upon the shadeless prairies with the intensity of a living flame. But it +seemed as nothing to the heat of his own passion--his own fiery +rebellion against the decree of destiny--altogether powerless against +the withering despair that had choked all the aspirations and ambitions +which, his whole life long, he had cultivated and nourished in the soil +of his developing soul. + +He thought again and again of the glories so near at hand--the glories +that had for years been the goal of his ambition. He pictured the +pageant to come--the glitter of armor and liveries, the splendor and +sparkle of jewels and lights, and all the dazzling gorgeousness of royal +equipments--the throngs of courtiers and beautiful women bowing before +him, proud of the privilege of doing him homage--him, a mere boy--yet +the king--the absolute monarch of his little realm, and supreme in his +undisputed sway over the hearts of his people--his people who had +worshipped his beautiful mother and, if only for her sake, made an idol +of her son. He saw himself crowned by loving hands with the golden +circlet he loved and reverenced, and meant to redeem from the stigma of +a worthless father's abuse and desecration; he saw his own young hands, +strong, pure, and undefiled by any form of bribery or political +corruption, wielding the sceptre that should--please God!--bring +everlasting honor and fame to the little principality. He saw all this, +and yet it did not thrill him any more! It was all Dead Sea fruit, dust +and ashes in his hand. He wanted but one thing now--and his whole +kingdom did not weigh one pennyweight against it. + +But in spite of his preoccupation the freedom and massiveness of the +West broadened the Boy's mental vision. He absorbed the spirit of the +big world it typified, and he saw things more clearly than in the +crowded city. And yet he suffered more, too. He could not often talk +about his sorrow and his loss, but he felt all the time the unspoken +sympathy in Verdayne's companionship, and was grateful for the +completeness of the understanding between them. + +Once, far out in a wide expanse of sparsely settled land, the two came +upon a hut--a little rough shanty with a sod roof, and probably but two +tiny rooms at most. It was nearing evening, and the red rays of the +setting sun fell upon a young woman, humbly clad, sitting on a bench at +the doorway, and cuddling upon her knee a little baby dressed in coarse, +but spotlessly white garments. A whistle sounded on the still air, and +through the waving grain strode a stalwart man, an eager, expectant +light in his bronzed face. The girl sprang to meet him with an +inarticulate cry of joy, and wife and baby were soon clasped close to +his breast. + +Paul could not bear it. He turned away with a sob in his throat and +looked into Verdayne's eyes with such an expression of utter +hopelessness that the older man felt his own eyes moisten with the +fervor of his sympathy. That poor, humble ranchman possessed something +that was denied the Boy, prince of the blood though he was. + +And the two men talked of commonplace subjects that night in subdued +tones that were close to tears. Both hearts were aching with the +consciousness of unutterable and irreparable loss. + + * * * * * + +Through the long nights that followed, out there in the primitive, Paul +thought of the hideousness of life as he saw it now, with a loathing +that time seemed only to increase. He pictured Opal--his love--as the +wife of that old French libertine, till his soul revolted at the very +thought. Such a thing was beyond belief. + +Once he said to Verdayne, thinking of the conversation he had had with +Opal on the night of the ball at the Plaza, + +"Father Paul, who was Lord Hubert Aldringham? The name sounds so +familiar to me--yet I can't recall where I heard it." + +"Why, he was my uncle, Boy, my mother's brother. A handsome, wicked, +devil-may-care sort of fellow to whom nothing was sacred. You must have +heard us speak of him at home, for mother was very fond of him." + +"And you, Father Paul?" + +"I--detested him, Boy!" + +And then the Boy told him something that Opal had said to him of the +possibility--nay, the probability--of Lord Hubert's being her own +grandfather. Verdayne was pained--grieved to the heart--at the terrible +significance of this--if it were true. And there was little reason, +alas, to doubt it! How closely their lives were woven together--Paul's +and Opal's! How merciless seemed the demands of destiny! + +What a juggler of souls Fate was! + + * * * * * + +And the month of August passed away. And September found the two men +still wandering in an aimless fashion about the prairie country, and yet +with no desire for change. The Boy was growing more and more +dissatisfied, less and less resigned to the decrees of destiny. + +At last, one dull, gray, moonless night, when neither could woo coveted +sleep to his tired eyes, the Boy said to his companion, "Father Paul, +I'm going to be a man--a man, do you hear? I am going to New +Orleans--you know Mr. Ledoux asked us to come in September--and I'm +going to marry Opal, whatever the consequences! I will not be bound to a +piece of flesh I abhor, for the sake of a mere kingdom--not for the sake +of a world! I will not sell my manhood! I will not sacrifice myself, nor +allow the girl I love to become a burnt-offering for a mother's sin. I +will not! Do you remember away off there," and he pointed off to the +south of them, "the little shack, and the man and the woman and--the +baby? Father Paul, I want--that! And I'm going to have it, too! Do you +blame me?" + +And Verdayne threw his arm around the Boy's neck, and said, "Blame you? +No, Boy, no! And may God bless and speed you!" + +And the next day they started for the South. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +It was early in the morning, a few days later, when Paul Verdayne and +his young friend reached New Orleans. Immediately after breakfast--he +would have presented himself before had he dared--the Boy called at the +home of the Ledouxs. Verdayne had important letters to write, as he +informed the Boy with a significant smile, and begged to be allowed to +remain behind. + +And the impatient youth, blessing him mentally for his tact, set forth +alone. + +The residence that he sought was one of the most picturesque and +beautiful of the many stately old mansions of the city. It was enclosed +by a high wall that hid from the passers-by all but the most tantalizing +glimpses of a fragrant, green tropical garden, and gave an air of +exclusiveness to the habitation of this proud old family. As the Boy +passed through the heavy iron gate, and his eye gazed in appreciation +upon the tints of foliage no autumn chills had affected, and the glints +of sun and shadow that only heightened the splendor of blossom, and +shrub, and vine, which were pouring their incense upon the air, he felt +that he was indeed entering the Garden of Eden--the Garden of Eden with +no French serpents to tempt from him the woman that had been created his +helpmeet. + +He found Opal, and a tall, handsome young man in clerical vestments, +sitting together upon the broad vine-shaded veranda. The girl greeted +him cordially and introduced him to the priest, Father Whitman. + +At first Paul dared not trust himself to look at Opal too closely, and +he did not notice that her face grew ashen at his approach. She had +recovered her usual self-possession when he finally looked at her, and +now the only apparent sign of unusual agitation was a slight flush upon +her cheek--an excited sparkle in her eye--which might have been the +effect of many causes. + +He watched the priest curiously. How noble-looking he was! He felt sure +that he would have liked him in any other garb. What did his presence +here portend? + +Paul had supposed that Opal was a Catholic; indeed had been but little +concerned what she professed. She had never appeared to him to be +specially religious, but, if she was, that absurd idea of self-sacrifice +for a dead mother she had never known might appeal to the love of +penance which is inherent in all of Catholic faith, and she might not +surrender to her great love for him. + +The priest rose. + +"Must you go, Father?" asked Opal. + +"Yes!... I will call to-morrow, then?" + +"Yes--tomorrow! And"--she suddenly threw herself upon her knees at his +feet--"your blessing, Father" she begged. + +The priest laid a hand upon her head, and raised his eyes to Heaven. +Then, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead, he took her hands +in his, and gently raised her to her feet. She clung to his hands +imploringly. + +"Absolution, Father," she pleaded. + +He hesitated, his face quivering with emotions his eyes lustrous with +tears, a world of feeling in every line of his countenance. + +"Child," he said hoarsely, "child! Don't tempt me!" + +"But you _must_ say it, you know, or what will happen to me?" + +The priest still hesitated, but her eyes would not release him till he +whispered, "_Absolvo te_, my daughter, and--God bless you!" + +And releasing her hands, he bowed formally to Paul and hurried down the +broad stone steps and through the gate. + +Opal watched him, a smile, half-remorseful and half-triumphant, upon her +face. + +"What does it all mean?" asked Paul as he laid his hand upon her arm. + +She laughed nervously. "Oh--nothing! Only--when I see one of those +long, clerical cassocks, I am immediately seized with an insane desire +to find the _man_ inside the priest!" + +"Laudable, certainly! And you always succeed, I suppose?" + +"Yes, usually!--why not?" And she laughed again. "Don't, Paul! I don't +want to quarrel with you!" + +"We won't quarrel, Opal," he said. But the thought of the priest annoyed +him. + +He seated himself beside her. "Have you no welcome for me?" he said. + +She looked up at him, her eyes sweetly tender. + +"Of course, Paul! I'm very glad to see you again--if you are a bad boy!" + +He looked at her in amazement. "I, bad?--No," he said. And they laughed +again. But it was not the care-free laughter they had known at sea. +There was a strained note in the tones of the girl that grated strangely +upon the Boy's sensitive ear. What had happened? he wondered. What was +the new barrier between them? Was it the priest? Again the thought of +the priest worried him. + +"Where is my friend, the Count de Roannes?" he ventured at last. + +"He sailed for Paris last week." + +Paul's heart leaped. Surely then their legal betrothal had not taken +place. + +"What happened, Opal?" + +"The inevitable!" + +And again his heart bounded for joy! The inevitable! Surely that meant +that the girl's better nature had triumphed, had shown her the ignominy +of such a union in time to save her. He looked at her for further +information, but seeing her evident embarrassment, forbore to pursue the +question further. + +They wandered out through the luxurious garden, and the spell of its +enchantment settled upon them both. + +He pulled a crimson rose from a bush and began listlessly to strip the +thorns from the stalk. "Roses in September," he said, "are like love in +the autumn of life." + +And they both thought again of the Count and a chill passed over their +spirits. The girl watched him curiously. + +"Do you always cut the thorns from your roses?" she asked. + +"Certainly-sooner or later. Don't you?" + +"O no! I am a woman, you see, and I only hold my rose tightly in my +fingers and smile in spite of the pricks as if to convince the world +that my rose has no thorns." + +"Is that honest?" + +"Perhaps not--but--yes, I think it is! If one really loves a rose, you +see, one forgets that it has thorns--really forgets!". + +"Until too late!" + +But there was some undercurrent of hidden meaning even in this subject, +and Paul tried another. + +He asked her about the books she had read since they parted and told her +of his travels. He painted for her a picture of the little cabin on the +western prairie, with its man and its woman and its baby, and she +listened with a strange softness in her eyes. He felt that she +understood. + +There was a tiny lake in the garden, and they sat upon the shore and +looked into the water, at an unaccountable loss for words. At last Paul, +with a boyish laugh, relieved the situation by rolling up his sleeve and +dabbling for pebbles in the sand at the bottom. + +There was not much said--only a word now and then, but both, in spite of +their consciousness of the barrier between them, were rejoicing in the +fact that they were together, while Paul, happy in his new-born +resolution, was singing in his heart. + +Should he tell her now? + +He looked up quickly. + +"Opal," he said, "you knew I would come." + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Because--I love you!" + +The girl tried to laugh away the serious import of his tone. + +"I am not looking for men to love me, Paul," she said. + +"No, that's the trouble. You never have to." + +He turned away again and for a few moments had no other apparent aim in +life than a careful scrutiny of the limpid water. + +Somehow he felt a chill underlying her most casual words to-day. What +had become of the freemasonry between them they had both so readily +recognized on shipboard? + +Just then Gilbert Ledoux and his wife strolled into the garden. They +were genuinely pleased to see Paul and insisted on keeping him for +luncheon. The conversation drifted to his western trip and other less +personal things and not again did he have an opportunity to talk alone +with Opal. + +Paul took his departure soon after, promising to return for dinner, and +to bring Verdayne with him. Then, he resolved to himself, he would tell +Opal why he had come. Then he would claim her as his wife--his queen! + + * * * * * + +And Paul kept his word. + +That evening they found themselves alone in a deep-recessed window +facing the dimly-lighted street. + +"Opal," said Paul, "do you know why I have come to New Orleans? Can't +you imagine, dear?" + +She instantly divined the tenor of his thoughts, and shook her head in a +tremor of sudden fright. + +"I have come to tell you that I have fought it all out and that I cannot +live without you. Though I am breaking my plighted troth, I ask you to +become my wife!" + +Her eyes glistened with a strange lustre. + +"Oh, Paul! Paul!" she murmured, faintly. "Why did you not say this +before--or--why do you tell me now?" + +"Because now I know I love you more than all the world--more than my +duty--more than my life! Is that enough?" + +And Paul was about to break into a torrent of passionate appeal, when +Gilbert Ledoux joined them and, shortly after, Mrs. Ledoux called Opal +to her side. + +Opal looked miserably unhappy. Why was she not rejoicing? Paul knew that +she loved him. Nothing could ever make him doubt that. As he stood +wondering, idly exchanging platitudes with his genial host, Mrs. Ledoux +spoke in a tone of ringing emphasis that lingered in Paul's ears all the +rest of his life, "I think, Opal, it is time to share our secret!" + +And then, as the girl's face paled, and her frail form trembled with the +force of her emotion, her mother hastened to add, "Gentlemen, you will +rejoice with us that our daughter was last week formally betrothed to +the Count de Roannes!" + +The inevitable _had_ happened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +How the remainder of the evening passed, Paul Zalenska never knew. As he +looked back upon it, during the months that followed, it seemed like +some hideous dream from which he was struggling to awake. He talked, he +smiled, he even laughed, but scarcely of his own volition; it was as +though another personality acted through him. + +He was a temperate boy, but that night he drank more champagne than was +good for him. Paul Verdayne was grieved. Not that he censured the lad. +He knew only too well the anguish the Boy was suffering, and he could +not find it in his heart to blame him for the dissipation. And yet +Verdayne also knew how unavailing were all such attempts to drown the +sorrow that had so shocked the Boy's sensitive spirit. + +As he gazed regretfully at the Boy across the dinner table, the butler +placed a cablegram before him. Receiving a nod of permission from his +hostess, he hastily tore open the envelope and paled at its contents. + +The message was signed by the Verdaynes' solicitor, and read: + + _Sir Charles very ill. Come immediately._ + + * * * * * + +Before they left the house, Paul sought Opal for a few last words. There +were no obstacles placed in his way now by anxious parental authority. +He smiled cynically as he noticed how clear the way was made for him, +now that Opal was "safeguarded" by her betrothal. + +She drew him to one side, whispering, "Before you judge me too harshly, +Paul, please listen to what I have to say. I feel I have the right to +make this explanation, and you have the right to hear it. Under the +French law, I am legally bound to the Count de Roannes. Fearing that I +might not remain true to a mere verbal pledge--you knew we were engaged, +Paul, for I told you that, last summer--the Count asked that the +betrothal papers be executed before his unavoidable return to Paris. +Knowing no real reason for delay, since it had to come some time, I +consented; but I stipulated that I was to have six months of freedom +before becoming his wife. Arrangements have been made for us all to go +abroad next spring, and we shall be married in Paris. Paul, I did not +tell you this, this afternoon--I could not! I wanted to see you--the +real you--just once more, before you heard the bitter news, for I knew +that after you had heard, you would never look or speak the same to me +again. Oh, Paul, pity me! Pity me when I tell you that I asked for those +six months simply that I might dedicate them to you, and to the burial, +in my memory, of our little dream of love! It was only my little fancy, +Paul! I wanted to play at being constant that long to our dream. I +wanted to wear my six-months' mourning for our still-born love. I +thought it was only a little game of 'pretend' to you, Paul--why should +it be anything else? But it was very real to me." + +Her voice broke, and the Boy took her hand in his, tenderly, for his +resentment had long since died away. + +"Opal," he faltered, "I no longer know nor care who or what I am. This +experience has taken me out of myself, and set my feet in strange paths. +I had a life to live, Opal, but I have forgotten it in yours. I had +theories, ideals, hopes, aspirations--but I don't know where they are +now, Opal. They are gone--gone with your smile--" + +Opal's eyes grew soft with caresses. + +"They will come back, Paul--they must come back! They were born in +you--of Truth itself, not of a mere woman. You will forget me, Boy, and +your life will not be the pitiful waste you think. It must not be!" + +"I used to think that, Opal. It never seemed to me that life could ever +be an utter waste so long as a man had work to do and the strength and +skill to do it. But now--I'm all at sea! I only know--how--I shall miss +_you!_" + +Opal grew thoughtful. + +"And how will it be with me?" she said sadly. "I have never learned to +wear a mask. I can't pose. I can't wear 'false smiles that cover an +aching heart.' Perhaps the world may teach me now--but I'm not a +hypocrite--yet!" + +"I believe you, Opal! I love you because you are you!" + +"And I love you, Paul, because you are you!" + +And even then he did not clasp her in his arms, nor attempt it. She was +another's now, and his hands were tied. He must try to control his one +great weakness--the longing for her. + +And in the few moments left to them, they talked and cheered each other, +as intimate friends on the eve of a long separation. They both knew now +that they loved--but they also knew that they must part--and forever! + +"I love you, Paul," said Opal, "even as you love me. I do not hesitate +to confess it again, because--well, I am not yet his wife. And I want to +give you this one small comfort to help to make you strong to fight and +conquer, and--endure!" + +"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can +I face the world without you?" + +"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me +always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me, +as men do weary of their wives!" + +"Opal! Never!" + +"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose." + +"But it is not _my_ nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not +capricious. Why should you think so?" + +"But it's human nature, Paul; there is no denying that. To think, Paul, +that we could grow to clasp hands like this--that we could +kiss--actually kiss, Paul, _calmly_, as women kiss each other--that we +could ever rest in each other's arms and grow weary!" + +But Paul would not listen. He always would have loved her, always! He +loved her, anyway, and always would, were she a thousand times the +Countess de Roannes, but it was too late! too late! + +"Always remember, Paul, wherever you are and whatever you do," went on +Opal, "that I love you. I know it now, and I know how much! Let the +memory of it be an inspiration to you when your spirits flag, and a +consolation when skies are gray, and--Paul--oh, I love you--love +you--that's all! Kiss me--just once--our last goodbye! There can be no +harm in that, when it's for the last time!" + +And Paul, with a heart-breaking sob, clasped her in his arms and pressed +his lips to hers as one kisses the face of his beloved dead. He wondered +vaguely why he felt no passion--wondered at the utter languor of the +senses that did not wake even as he pressed his lips to hers. It was not +a woman's body in his arms--but as the sexless form of one long dead and +lost to him forever. It was not passion now--it was love, stripped of +all sensuality, purged of all desire save the longing to endure. + +It was the hour of love's supremest triumph--renunciation! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Back in England again--England in the fall of the year--England in the +autumn of life, for Sir Charles Verdayne was nearing his end. The Boy +spent a few weeks at Verdayne Place, and then left to pay his first +visit to his fiancée. Paul Verdayne was prevented by his father's ill +health from accompanying him to Austria, as had been the original plan. + +Opal had asked of the Boy during that last strange hour they had spent +together that he should make this visit, and bow obediently to the call +of destiny--as she had done. She did not know who he really was, nor +what station in life his fiancée graced, but she did know that it was +his duty bravely and well to play his part in the drama of life, +whatever the role. She would not have him shirk. It was a horrible +thing, she had said with a shudder--none knew it better than she--but +she would be glad all her life to think that he had been no coward, and +had not cringed beneath the bitterest blow of fate, but had been strong +because she loved him and believed in him. + +And so, since Paul Verdayne could not be absent from his father's side, +with many a reluctant thought the Boy set forth for Austria alone. + +During his absence, Isabella--she who had been Isabella Waring--returned +from Blackheath a widow with two grown daughters--two more modern +editions of the original Isabella. The widow herself was graver and more +matronly, yet there was much of the old Isabella left, and Verdayne was +glad to see her. Lady Henrietta gave her a cordial invitation to visit +Verdayne Place, which she readily accepted, passing many pleasant hours +with the friend of her youth and helping to while away the long days +that Verdayne found so tiresome when the Boy was away from him. + +Isabella was still "a good sort," and made life much less unbearable +than it might have been, but Verdayne often smiled to think of the +"puppy-love" he had once felt for her. It was amusing, now, and they +both laughed over it--though Isabella would not have been a woman had +she not wondered at times why her "old pal" had never married. There had +been chances, lots of them, for the girls had always liked the +blue-eyed, manly boy he had been, and petted and flattered and courted +him all through his youth. Why hadn't he chosen one of them? Had he +really cared so much for her--Isabella? And she often found herself +looking with much pitying tenderness upon the lonely man, whose heart +seemed so empty of the family ties it should have fostered--and +wondering. + +Lady Henrietta, too, was set to thinking as the days went by, and +turning, one night, to her son, "Paul," she said, "I begin to think that +perhaps I was wrong in separating you from the girl you loved, and so +spoiling your life. Isabella would have made you a fairly good wife, I +believe, as wives go, and you must forgive your mother, who meant it for +the best. She did not see the way clearly, then, and so denied you the +one great desire of your heart" + +She looked at him closely, but his heart was no longer worn upon his +sleeve, and finding his face non-committal, she went on slowly, feeling +her way carefully as she advanced. + +"Perhaps it is not too late now, my son. Don't let my prejudices stand +in your way again, for you are still young enough to be happy, and I +shall be truly glad to welcome any wife--any!" + +Verdayne did not reply. His eyes were studying the pattern of the rug +beneath his feet. His mother's face flushed with embarrassment at the +delicacy of the subject, but she stumbled on bravely. + +"Paul," she said, "Isabella is young yet, and you are not so very old. +It may not, even now, be too late to hold a little grandchild on my knee +before I die. I have been so fond of Paul--he is so very like you when +you were a boy--and have wished--oh, you don't know how a mother feels, +Paul--I have often wished that he were your son, or that I might have +had a grandson just like him. Do you know, Paul, I have often fancied +that your son, had you had one, would have been very like this dear +Boy." + +Verdayne choked back a sob. If his mother could only understand as some +women would have understood! If he could have told her the truth! But, +no, he never could. Even now it would have been a terrible shock to her, +and she could never have forgiven, never held up her head again, if she +had known. + +As for marrying Isabella--could he? After all, was it right to let the +old name die out for want of an heir? Was it just to his father? And +Isabella would not expect to be made love to. There was never that sort +of nonsense about her, and she would make all due allowance for his age +and seriousness. + +His mother felt she had been very kind and generous in renouncing the +old objection of twenty years' standing, and, too, she felt that it was +only right, after spoiling her son's life for so long, to do her best to +atone for the mistake. It must be confessed she could not see what there +was about Isabella to hold the love and loyalty of a man like Paul for +so long, but then--and she sighed at the thought of the wasted +years--"Love is blind," they say--and so's a lover! And her motherly +heart longed for grandchildren--Paul's children--as it had always longed +for them. + +Paul Verdayne sat opposite his penitent mother and pondered. The scent +from a bowl of red roses on his mother's table almost overpowered him +with memories. + +He thought of the couch of deep red roses on which he had lain, caressed +by the velvet petals. He could inhale their fragrance even yet--he could +look into her eyes and breathe the incense of her hair--her whole +glorious person--that was like none other in all the world. Yes, she had +been happy--and he would remember! She would be happier yet could she +know that he had been faithful to his duty--and surely this was his duty +to his race. His Queen would have it so, he felt sure. + +Rising, he bent over his mother, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and +kissed her calmly upon the brow. Then he walked quietly from the room. +His resolution was firmly fixed. + +He would marry Isabella! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Sir Charles Verdayne lingered for several weeks, no stronger, nor yet +perceptibly weaker. He took a sudden fancy to see his old friend, +Captain Grigsby, and the old salt was accordingly sent for. His presence +acted as a tonic upon the dying man, and the two old friends spent many +pleasant hours together, talking--as old people delight in talking--of +the days of the distant past. + +"Is this widow the Isabella who once raised the devil with your Paul?" +asked Grigsby. + +"Same wench!" answered Sir Charles, a twinkle in his eye. + +"Hum!" said the Captain--and then said again, "Hum!" Then he added +meditatively, "Blasted unlucky kiss that! Likely wench enough, +but--never set the Thames on fire!--nor me!" + +"Oh the kiss didn't count," said Sir Charles. "As I said to the boy's +mother at the time, a man isn't obliged to marry every woman he kisses! +Mighty good thing, too--eh, Grig? Besides, a kiss like that is an insult +to any flesh and blood woman!" + +"An insult?" + +"The worst kind! You see, Grig, no woman likes to be kissed that way. +Whether she's capable of feeling a single thrill of passion herself or +not, she likes to be sure that she can inspire it in a man. And a kiss +like that--well, it rouses all her fighting blood! Makes her feel she's +no woman at all in the man's eye--merely a doll to be kissed. D'ye see? +It's damned inconsistent, of course, but it's the woman of it!" + +"The devil of it, you mean!" the old Captain chuckled in response. Then, +"Paul had a lucky escape," he said, as he looked furtively around the +room for listening ears, "mighty lucky escape! And an experience right +on the heels of it to make up for the loss of a hundred such wenches +and--say, Charles, he's got a son to be proud of! The Boy is certainly +worth all the price!" + +"Any price--any price, Grig!" Then the old man went on, "If Henrietta +only knew! She thinks the world of the youngster, you know--no one could +help that--but what if she knew? Paul's been mighty cautious. I often +laugh when I see them out together--him and the Boy--and think what a +sensation one could spring on the public by letting the cat out of the +bag. And the woman would suffer. Wouldn't she, just! Wouldn't they tear +her to pieces!" + +"Yes, they would," said the Captain, "they certainly would. This is a +world of hypocrites, Charles, damned rotten hypocrites!" + +"That's what it is, Grig! Not one of those same old hens who would have +said, 'Ought we to visit her?' and denounced the whole 'immoral' affair, +and all that sort of thing--not one of them, I say, but would--" + +"Give her very soul to know what such a love means! O they would, +Charles--they would--every damned old cat of them, who would never get +an opportunity to play the questionable--no, not one in a thousand +years--if they searched for it forever!" + +"Yet women are made so, Grigsby--they can't help it! Henrietta would +faint at the mere suggestion of accepting as a daughter-in-law a woman +with a past!" + +And the old man sighed. + +"I'd have given my eyes--yes, I would, Grig--to have seen that woman +just once! God! the man she made out of my boy! Of course it may have +been for the best that it turned out as it did, but--damn it all, Grig, +she was worth while! There's no dodging that!" + +"Nobody wants to dodge it, Charles! She was over-sexed, perhaps--but +better that than undersexed--eh?" + + * * * * * + +But the exhilaration caused by the coming of his old friend gradually +wore itself away, and Sir Charles began to grow weaker. And at last the +end came. He had grown anxious to see the Boy again, and the young +fellow had returned and spent much time with the old man, who loved the +sound of his voice as it expressed his fresh, frank ideas. + +But Sir Charles spent his last hours with his son. + +"Paul," he said, in a last confidential whisper, touching upon the theme +that had never been mentioned between them before, "I +understand--everything--you know, and I'm proud of you--and him! I have +wanted to say something, or do something for you--often--often--to help +you--but it's the sort of thing a chap has to fight out for himself, +and I thought I'd better keep out of it! But I wanted you to +know--_now_--that I've known it all--all along--and been proud of +you--both!" + +And their hands clasped closely, and the eyes of both were wet, but even +on the brink of death the lips of the younger man were sealed. The ++silence of one-and-twenty years remained unbroken. +It was not a +foolish reticence that restrained him--but simply that he could not find +words to voice the memories that grew more and more sacred with the +passing of the years. + +And at evening, when the family had gathered about him, the old man lay +with his son's hand in his, but his eyes looked beyond and rested on the +face of the Boy, who seemed the renewal of hit son's youth, when life +was one glad song! And thus he passed to the Great Beyond. + +And his son was Sir Paul Verdayne, the last of his race. + +That night, the young baronet and the Boy sat alone over their cigars. +The Boy spoke at some length of his extensive Austrian visit. The +Princess Elodie would make him a good wife, he said. She was of good +sturdy stock, healthy, strong--and, well, a little heavy and dull, +perhaps, but one couldn't expect everything! At least, her honor would +never be called into question. He would always feel sure that his name +was safe with her! He was glad he went to Austria. There were political +complications that he had not understood before which made the marriage +an absolute necessity for the salvation of his country's position among +the kingdoms of the world, and he was more resigned to it now. Yes, +indeed, he was far more resigned. The princess wasn't by any means +impossible--not a half bad sort--and--yes, he was resigned! He said it +over and over, but without convincing Sir Paul--or deceiving himself! + +As for the elder man, he said but little. He had been wondering +throughout that dinner-hour whether he could ever really make Isabella +his wife. The Boy thought of Isabella, too, and was anxious to know +whether his Father Paul was going to be happy at last. He had been very +curious to see the woman who could play so cruel a part toward the man +he loved. If he had been Verdayne, he thought, he would never forgive +her--never! Still, if Father Paul loved the woman--as he certainly must +to have remained single for her sake so long--it put a different face on +the matter, and of course it was Verdayne's affair, not his! The Boy had +been disappointed in Isabella's appearance and attractions--she was not +at all the woman he had imagined his Father Paul would love--but of +course she was older now, and age changes some women, and, and--well, he +only hoped that his friend would be happy--happy in his own way, +whatever that might be. + +At last, he summoned Vasili to him and called for his own particular +yellow wine--the Imperial Tokayi--and the old man filled the glasses. It +was too much for Verdayne--and all thoughts of Isabella were consigned +to eternal oblivion as he remembered the time when _he_ had sipped that +wine with his Queen in the little hotel on the Bürgenstock. + +She would have no cause for jealousy--his darling! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +It was November when Sir Charles died, and Lady Henrietta betook herself +to her sister's for consolation, while Sir Paul and the Boy, with a +common impulse, departed for India. + +They spent Christmas in Egypt, the winter months in the desert, and at +last spring came, with its remembrance of duties to be done. And to the +elder man England made its insistent call, as it always did in March. +For was it not in England, and in March, the tidings reached him that +unto him a son was born? + +He must go back. + +So at last, acting upon a pre-arrangement to which the young Prince had +not been a party, they made their way back to their own world of men and +women. + + * * * * * + +"Boy," said Sir Paul, one day, "the time has come when many questions +you have asked and wondered about are to be answered, as is your due. It +was your mother's wish that you should go, at the beginning of May, +alone, to Lucerne. There you will find letters awaiting you--from +her--from your Uncle Peter--yes, even from myself--telling you the whole +secret of your birth, the story of your inheritance." + +"Why Lucerne, Father Paul?" + +"It was your mother's wish--and mine!" + +Then, with a rush of tenderness, the older man threw his arm around the +Boy's shoulders. "Boy," he said, "be charitable and lenient and +kind--whatever you read!" + +"And what are you going to do, Father Paul? I have not quite two weeks +of freedom left, and I begrudge every day I am forced to spend away from +you. You will go with me to see me crowned--and married?" + +"Certainly, Boy! You are to stay in Lucerne only until you are sure you +understand all the revelations of these letters, and their full import. +It may be a week--it may be a day--it may be but a few hours, but--I +can't go with you, and you must not ask me to! It is an experience you +must face alone. I will await you in Venice, Paul, and be sure that when +you want me, Boy, I will come!" + +The Boy's sensitive nature was stirred to the depths by the emotion in +Sir Paul's face--emotion that all his life long he had never seen there +before. He grasped his hand-- + +"Father Paul," he began, but Sir Paul shook his head at the unspoken +appeal in his face and bade him be patient just a little longer and +await his letters, for he could tell him nothing. + +And thus they parted; the Boy to seek in Lucerne the unveiling of his +destiny, the man to wait in Venice, a place he had shunned for +one-and-twenty years, but which was dearer to him than any other city in +the world. It was there that he had lived the climax of his love-life, +with its unutterable ecstasy--and unutterable pain. + +Vasili had preceded his young master to Lucerne with the letters that +had been too precious, and of too secret a nature, to be entrusted to +the post. Who can define the sensations of the young prince as he held +in his hand the whole solution of the mystery that had haunted all his +years? He trembled--paled. What was this secret--perhaps this terrible +secret--which was to be a secret no longer? + +Alone in his apartment, he opened the little packet and read the note +from the Regent, which enclosed the others, and then--he could read no +further. The few words of information that there stared him in the face +drove every other thought from his mind, every other emotion from his +heart. His father! Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he known? A thousand +significant memories rushed over him in the light of the startling +revelation. How blind he had been! And he sat for hours, unheeding the +flight of time, thinking only the one thought, saying over and over +again the one name, the name of his father, his own father, whom he had +loved so deeply all his life-- + +_Paul Verdayne!_ + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +At last, when he felt that he could control his scattered senses, he +turned over the letters in the packet and found his mother's. How his +boyish heart thrilled at this message from the dead!--a message that he +had waited for, and that had been waiting for him, one-and-twenty years! +The letter began: + +"Once, my baby, thy father--long before he was thy father--had a +presentiment that if he became my lover my life would find a tragic end. + +"Once, likewise, I told thy father, before he became my lover, that the +price we might have to pay, if we permitted ourselves to love, would be +sorrow and death! For, my baby, these are so often the terrible cost of +such a love as ours. That he has been my lover--my beloved--heart of my +heart--thine own existence is the living proof; and something--an +intangible something--tells me that the rest of his prophecy will +likewise be fulfilled. We have known the sorrow--aye, as few others +have--and even now I feel that we shall also know death! + +"It is because of this curious presentiment of mine that I write down +for thee, my baby--my baby Paul--this story of thy father and thy +mother, and the great love that gave thee to the world. It is but right, +before thou comest into thy kingdom, that thou shouldst know--thou and +thou alone--the secret of thy birth, that thou mayst carry with thee +into the big world thy birthright--the sweetness of a supreme love." + +Then briefly, but as completely and vividly as the story could be +written, she pictured for him the beautiful idyl she and her lover had +lived, here in this very spot, two-and-twenty years ago; told him, in +her own quaint words, of the beautiful boy she had found in Lucerne, +that glorious May so long ago, and how it had been her caprice to waken +him, until the caprice had become her love, and afterwards her life; +told him how she had seen the danger, and had warned the boy to leave +Lucerne, while there was yet time, but that he had answered that he +would chance the hurt, because he wished to live, and he knew that only +she could teach him how--only she could prove to him the truth of her +own words, that _life was love!_ + +She told how weary and unhappy she had been, picturing with no light +fingers the misery of her life--married when a mere child to a vicious +husband--and all the insults and brutality she was forced to endure; and +then, for contrast, told him tenderly how she had been young again for +this boy she had found in Lucerne. + +There was not one little detail of that idyllic dream of love omitted +from the picture she drew for him of these two--and their sublime three +weeks of life on the Bürgenstock with their final triumphant, but bitter +culmination in Venice. She told him of what they had been pleased to +call their wedding--the wedding of their souls--nor did she seek to +lessen the enormity of their sin. + +She touched with the tenderest of fingers upon the first dawn in their +hearts of the hope of the coming of a child--a child who would hold +their souls together forever--a child who would immortalize their love +till it should live on, and on, and on, through countless generations +perhaps--till who could say how much the world might be benefited and +helped just because they two had loved! + +And then she told him--sweetly, as a mother should--of all her dreams +for her son--all her hopes and ambitions that were centered around his +little life--the life of her son who was to redeem the land--told him +how ennobled and exalted she had felt that this strong, manly Englishman +was her lover, and how sure she had been that their child would have a +noble mind. + + "Thou wilt think my thoughts, my baby Paul--thou wilt dream my + dreams, and know all my ambitions and longings. Thou canst not be + ignoble or base, for thou wert born of a love that makes all other + unions mean and low and sordid by comparison." + +Then, after telling, as only she could tell it, of the bitterness of +that parting in Venice, when, because of the threatening danger, from +which there was no escape, she left her lover to save his life, she went +on: + + "Dost thou know yet, when thou readest this, little Paul, with thy + father's eyes--dost thou know, I wonder, the meaning of that great + love which to the twain who realize it becomes a sacrament--dost + understand?--a sacrament holier even than a prayer. It was even so + with thy father and me--dost thou--canst thou understand? If not + yet, sometime thou wilt, and thou wilt then forgive thy mother for + her sin." + +She told of the taunts and persecutions to which she was forced to +submit upon her return to her kingdom. The king and his friends had +vilely commended her for her "patriotism" in finding an heir to the +throne. "Napoleon would have felt honored," her husband had sneered, "if +Josephine had adopted thy method of finding him the heir he desired!" +But through it all, she said, she had not faltered. She had held the one +thought supreme in her heart and remembered that however guilty she +might be in the eyes of the world, there was a higher truth in the words +of Mrs. Browning, "God trusts me with a child," and had dared to pray. + + "To pray for strength and grace and wisdom to give thee birth, my + baby, and to make thee all that thou shouldst be--to develop thee + into the man I and thy father would have thee become. I was not + only giving an heir to the throne of my realm. I was giving a son + to the husband of my soul. But the world did not know that. + Whatever it might suspect, it could actually know--nothing! The + secret was thy father's and mine--his and mine alone--and now it + is thine, as it needs must be! Guard it well, my baby, and let it + make thy life and thy manhood full of strength and power and + sweetness and glory and joy, and remember, as thou readest for the + first time this story of thy coming into the world, that thy mother + counted it her greatest, proudest glory to be the chosen love of + thy father, and the mother of his son." + +She had touched as lightly as she could upon the dark hours of her +baby's coming, when she was doomed to pass through that Valley of the +Shadow far away from the protecting and comforting love of him whose +right it was by every law of Nature to have been, then of all times, by +her side; but the Boy felt the pathos of it, and his eyes filled with +tears. His mother--the mother of his dreams--his glorious +queen-mother--to suffer all this for him--for him! + +And Father Paul!--his own father! What must this cross have been to him! +Surely he would love him all the rest of his life to make up for all +that suffering! + +Then he thought of the other letters and he read them all, his heart +torn between grief and anger--for they told him all the appalling +details of the tragedy that had taken his mother from him, and left his +father and himself bereaved of all that made life dear and worth the +living to man and boy. + +One of the letters was from Sir Paul, telling the story over again from +the man's point of view, and laying bare at last the great secret the +Boy had so often longed to hear. Nothing was kept back. Even every +note--every little scrap of his mother's writing--had been sacredly kept +and was now enclosed for the eyes of their son to read. The closed door +in Father Paul's life was unlocked now, and his son entered and +understood, wondering why he had been so blind that he had not seen it +all before. The writing on the wall had certainly been plain enough. And +he smiled to remember the readiness with which he had believed the +plausible story of Isabella Waring! + +And that man--the husband of his mother--the king who had taken her dear +life from her with a curse upon his lips! Thank God he was not his +father! No, in all the world of men, there was no one but Paul +Verdayne--no one--to whom he would so willingly have given the +title--and to him he had given it in his heart long before. + +He sat and read the letters through again, word by word, living in +imagination the life his mother had lived, feeling all she had felt. +God! the bliss, the agony of it all! + +And Paul Zalenska, surrounded by the messages from the past that had +given him being, and looking at the ruin of his own life with eyes newly +awakened to the immensity of his loss, bowed his face in his hands and +wept like a heart-broken child over the falling of his house of cards. + +Ah! his mother had understood--she had loved and suffered. She was older +than he, too, and had known her world as he could not possibly know it, +and yet she had bade him take the gifts of life when they came his way. + +And--God help him!--he had not done so! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The next morning, Paul Zalenska rose early. He had not slept well. He +was troubled with conflicting emotions, conflicting memories. The wonder +and sorrow of it all had been too much even for his youth and health to +endure. His mother had won so much from life, he thought--and he so +little! He thought of Opal--indeed, when was she ever absent from his +thoughts, waking or sleeping?--and the memory of his loss made him +frantic. Opal--his darling! And _they_ might have been just as happy as +his mother and father had been, but they had let their happiness slip +from them! What fools! Oh, what fools they had been! Not to have risked +anything--everything--for their happiness! And where was she now? In +Paris, in her husband's arms, no doubt, where he could hold her to him, +and caress her and kiss her at his own sweet will! God! It was +intolerable, unthinkable! And he--Paul, her lover--lying there alone, +who would have died a thousand deaths, if that were possible, to save +her from such a fate! + +At last he forced the thought of his own loss from him, and thought +again of his mother. Ah, but her death had been opportune! How glorious +to die when life and love had reached their zenith! in the fullness of +joy to take one's farewell of the world! + +And in the long watches of that wakeful night, he formed the resolution +that he put into effect at the first hint of dawn. He would spend one +entire day in solitude. He would traverse step by step the primrose +paths of his mother's idyllic dream; he would visit every scene, every +nook, she and her lover had immortalized in their memories; he would see +it all, feel it all--yes, _live_ it all, and become so impregnated with +its witchery that it would shed lustre and glory upon all the bleak +years to come. So well had she told her story, so perfect had been its +word-painting, he was sure that he would recognize every scene. + +He explored the ivy-terrace leading to his mother's room, he walked up +and down under the lime trees, and he sat on the bench still in position +under the ivy hanging from the balustrade, and looked up wistfully at +the windows of the rooms that had been hers. Then he engaged a launch +and crossed the lake, and was not satisfied until he had found among the +young beeches on the other side what he felt must have been the exact +spot where his mother had peeped through the leaves upon her ardent +lover, before she knew him. And he roamed about among the trees, feeling +a subtle sense of satisfaction in being in the same places that they had +been who gave him being, as though the spirits of their two natures must +still haunt the spot and leave some trace of their presence even yet. He +followed each of the three paths until he had decided to his own +satisfaction by which one his mother had escaped from her pursuer, that +day, and he laughed a buoyant, boyish laugh at the image it suggested of +Verdayne, the misogynist--his stately, staid old Father Paul--actually +"running after a woman!" Truly the Boy was putting aside his own sorrow +and discontent to-day. He was living in the past, identifying himself +with every phase of it, living in imagination the life of these two so +dear to him, and rejoicing in their joy. Life had certainly been one +sweet song to them, for a brief space, a duet in Paradise, broken +up--alas for the Boy!--before it had become the trio it should have +developed into, by every law of Nature. + +He sought the little village that they had visited before him, and +lunched at the same little hotel. He drove out to the little farmhouse +where the lovers had had their first revelation of him--their baby--and +he wept over the loss of the glorious mother she would have been to him. +He even climbed the mountain and looked with her eyes out over the +landscape. He was young and strong, and he determined to let nothing +escape him--to let no sense of fatigue deter him--but to crowd the day +full of memories of her. + +The Boy, as his mother had been before him, was enraptured by all that +he saw. The beauty of the snow-capped mountains against the blue of the +sky and the golden glamour of the sunshine appealed to him keenly, and +he watched the reflection of it all in the crystal lake in a trance of +delight. + +"Ah," he thought, "had they deliberately searched the world over for a +fitting setting for their idyl, they could not have selected a retreat +more perfect than this. It was made for lovers who love as they did." + +And at last, under the witchery of the star-studded skies, wearied and +hungry, but filled and thrilled with the fragrance and glory of the +memories of the mother whom his young heart idealized, he left the +launch at the landing by the terrace steps and started blithely for the +little restaurant, dreaming, always dreaming, not of the future--but of +the past. + +For him, alas, the future held no promise! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +During the Boy's absence that day a new guest had arrived at the little +hotel. A capricious American lady, who had come to Lucerne, "for a day +or two's rest," she said, before proceeding to Paris where an impatient +Count awaited her and his wedding-day. + +Yes, Opal was actually in Lucerne, and the suite of rooms once occupied +by the mysterious Madame Zalenska were now given over to the little lady +from over the seas, who, in spite of her diminutive stature, contrived +to impress everybody with a sense of her own importance. She had just +received a letter from her fiancé, an unusually impatient communication, +even from him. He was anxious, he said, for her and his long-delayed +honeymoon. Honeymoon! God help her! Her soul recoiled in horror from the +hideous prospect. Only two days more, she thought, pressing her lips +tightly together. Oh, the horror of it! She dared not think of it, or +she would go mad! But she would not falter. She had told herself that +she was now resigned. She was going to defeat Fate after all! + +She had partaken of her dinner, and was standing behind the ivy that +draped the little balcony, watching the moon in its setting of Swiss +skies and mystic landscape. How white and calm and spotless it appeared! +It was not a man's face she saw there--but that of a woman--the face of +a nun in its saintly, virgin purity, suggesting only sweet inspiring +thoughts of the glory of fidelity to duty, of the comfort and peace and +rest that come of renunciation. + +Opal clasped her hands together with a thrill of exultation at her own +victory over the love and longings that were never to be fulfilled. A +song of prayer and thanksgiving echoed in her heart over the thought +that she had been strong enough to do her duty and bear the cross that +life had so early laid upon her shoulders. She felt so good--so true--so +pure--so strong to-night. She would make her life, she thought--her life +that could know no personal love--abound in love for all the world, and +be to all it touched a living, breathing benediction. + +As she gazed she suddenly noticed a lighted launch on the little lake, +and an inexplicable prescience disturbed the calm of her musings. She +watched, with an intensity she could not have explained, the gradual +approach of the little craft. What did that boat, or its passenger, +matter to her that she should feel such an acute interest in its +movements? Yet something told her it did matter much, and though she +laughed at her superstition, nevertheless her heart listened to it, and +dared not gainsay its insistent whisper. + +A young man, straight and tall and lithe, bounded from the launch and +mounted the terrace steps. She saw his clean-cut profile, his +well-groomed appearance, which even in the moonlight was plainly +evident. She noted the regal bearing of his well-knit figure, and she +caught the delicious aroma of the particular brand of cigar Paul always +smoked, as he passed beneath the balcony where she stood. + +She turned in very terror and fled to her rooms, pulling the curtains +closer. She shrank like a frightened child upon the couch, her face +white and drawn with fear--of what, she did not know. + +After a time--long, terrible hours, it seemed to her--she parted the +curtains with tremulous fingers and looked out again at the sky, and +shuddered. The virgin nun-face had mysteriously changed--the moon that +had looked so pure and spotless was now blood-red with passion. + +Opal crept back, pulling the curtains together again, and threw herself +face downward upon the couch. God help her! + + * * * * * + +Paul Zalenska lingered long over his dinner that night. He was tired and +thoughtful. And he enjoyed sitting at that little table where his father +perhaps sat the night he had first seen her who became his love. + +And Paul pictured to himself that first meeting. He tried to imagine +that he was Paul Verdayne, and that shortly his lady would come in with +her stately tread, and take her seat, and be waited upon by her elderly +attendant. Perhaps she would look at him through those long dark lashes +with eyes that seemed not to see. But there was no special table, +to-night, and the Boy felt that the picture was woefully +incomplete--that he had been left out of the scheme of things entirely. + +After finishing his meal, he went out, as his father had done, out under +the stars and sat on the little bench under the ivy, and smoked a cigar. +He felt a curious thrill of excitement, quite out of keeping with his +loneliness. Was it just the memory of that old love-story that had +stirred his blood? Why did his pulse leap, his blood race through his +veins like this, his heart rise to his throat and hammer there so +fiercely, so strangely. Only one influence in all the world had ever +done this to him--only one influence--_one woman_--and she was miles and +miles away! + +Suddenly, impelled by some force beyond his power of resistance--a sense +of someone's gaze fixed upon him, he raised his eyes to the ivy above +him. There, faint and indistinct in the shadow of the leaves, but quite +unmistakable, he saw the white, frightened face of the girl he loved, +her luminous eyes looking straight down into his. + +He sprang to his feet, and pulled himself up by the ivy to the level of +the terrace, but she had vanished and the watching stars danced +mockingly overhead. Was he dreaming? Had that strange old love-story +taken away from him the last remaining shred of sanity? Surely he hadn't +seen Opal! She was in Paris--damn it!--and he clenched his teeth at the +thought--certainly not at Lucerne! + +He looked at the windows of that enchanted room. All was darkness and +silence. Cursing himself for a madman, he strode into the hall and +examined the Visitors' List. Suddenly the blood leaped to his face--his +head reeled--his heart beat to suffocation. He was not dreaming, for +there, as plainly as words could be written, was the entry: + +_Miss Ledoux and maid, New Orleans, U. S. A._ + +She was there--in Lucerne!--his Opal! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +How Paul reached his room, he never knew. He was in an ecstasy--his +young blood surging through his veins in response to the leap of the +seething passions within. + +Have you never felt it, Reader? If you have not, you had better lay +aside this book, for you will never, never understand what +followed--what _must_ follow, in the very nature of human hearts. + +Fate once more had placed happiness in his grasp--should he fling it +from him? Never! never again! He remembered his mother and her great +love, as she had bade him. + +This day, following as it did his mother's letter, had been a revelation +to him of the possibilities of life, and of his own capacity for +enjoying it. In one week, only one week more, he must take upon his +shoulders the burdens of a kingdom. Should he let a mistaken sense of +right and duty defraud him a second time? Was this barrier--which a +stronger or a weaker man would have brushed aside without a second +thought--to wreck his life, and Opal's? He laughed exultingly. His whole +soul was on fire, his whole body aflame. + +Beyond the formality of the betrothal, Opal had not yet been bound to +the Count. She was not his--yet! She could not be Paul's wife--Fate had +made that forever impossible--but she should be _his_, as he knew she +already was at heart. + +They loved, and was not love--everything! + +He paced the floor in an excitement beyond his control. Opal should give +him, out of her life, one day--one day in the little hotel on the +Bürgenstock, where his mother and her lover had been so happy. They, +too, should be happy--as happy as two mating birds in a new-built +nest--for one day they would forget all yesterdays and all to-morrows. +He would make that one day as glorious and shadowless for her as a day +could possibly be made--one day in which to forget that the world was +gray--- one day which should live in their memories throughout all the +years to come as the one ray of sunshine in two bleak and dreary lives! + +And tempted, as he admitted to himself, quite beyond all reason, he +swore by all that he held sacred to risk everything--brave +everything--for the sake of living one day in Paradise. + +"We have a right to be happy," he said. "Everyone has a right to be +happy, and we have done no wrong to the world. Why should we two, who +have the capability of making so much of our lives and doing so much for +the world, as we might have, together--why should we be sentenced to the +misery of mere existence, while men and women far less worthy of +happiness enjoy life in its utmost ecstasy?" + +One thing he was firmly resolved upon. Opal should not know his real +rank. She should give herself to Paul Zalenska, the man--not to Paul the +Prince! His rank should gloss over nothing--nothing--and for all she +knew now to the contrary, her future rank as Countess de Roannes was +superior to his own. + +And then as silence fell about the little hotel, unbroken save by some +strolling musicians in the square near at hand who sent the most tender +of Swiss love-melodies out upon the evening air, Paul walked out to the +terrace, passed through the little gate, and reaching the balcony, +knocked gently but imperatively upon the door of the room that was once +his mother's. + +The door was opened cautiously. + +Paul stepped inside, and closed it softly behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +In the moonlit room, Paul and Opal faced each other in a silence heavy +with emotion. + +It had been months since they parted, yet for some moments neither +spoke. Opal first found her voice. + +"Paul! You-saw me!" + +"I felt your eyes!" + +"Oh, why did I come!" + +Opal had begun to prepare for the night and had thrown about her +shoulders a loose robe of crimson silk. Her lustrous hair, like waves of +burnished copper, hung below her waist in beautiful confusion. With +trembling fingers she attempted to secure it. + +"Your hair is wonderful, Opal! Please leave it as it is," Paul said +softly. And, curiously enough, she obeyed in silence. + +"Paul," she said at last, with a little nervous laugh, as she recovered +her self-possession and seated herself on the couch, "don't stand +staring at me! I'm not a tragedy queen! You're too melodramatic. Sit +down and tell me why you've come here at this hour." + +Paul obeyed mechanically, his gaze still upon her. She shrank from the +expression of his eyes--it was the old tiger-look again! + +"I came because I had to, Opal. I could not have done otherwise. I have +something to tell you." + +"Something to tell me?" she repeated. + +"Yes. The most interesting story in the world to me, Opal--a letter from +my mother--a letter to me alone, which I can share with only one woman +in the world--the woman I love!" + +Her eyes fell. As she raised her hand abstractedly to adjust the +curtain, Paul saw the flash of her betrothal ring. He caught her hand in +his and quietly slipped the ring from her finger. She seized the jewel +with her free hand and tried to thrust it into her bosom. + +"No! no!--not there!" he remonstrated, and was not satisfied until she +had crossed the room and hidden it from his sight. + +"Does that please your majesty?" she asked, with a curious little +tremble in her voice. + +Paul started, and stared at her with a world of wonder in his eyes. +Could she know? + +"Your majesty--" he stammered. + +"Why not?" she laughed. "You speak as though you had but to command to +be obeyed." + +"Forgive me, dear," he answered softly. + +And Opal became her sympathetic self again. + +"Tell me about your mother, Paul," she said. + +And Paul, beginning at the very beginning, told her the whole story as +it had been told to him, reading much of his mother's letter to her, +reserving only such portions of it as would reveal the identity he was +determined to keep secret until she was his. The girl was moved to the +depths of her nature by the beauty and pathos of it all, and then the +thought came to her, "This, then, is Paul's heritage--his birthright! +He, like me, is doomed!" + +And her heart ached for him--and for herself! + +But Paul did not give her long to muse. Sitting down beside her for the +first time, he told her the plan he had been turning over in his mind +for their one day together. + +"Surely," he said, "it is not too much to ask out of a lifetime of +misery--one little day of bliss! Just one day in which there shall be no +yesterday, and no to-morrow--one day of Elysium against years of +Purgatory! Let us have our idyl, dear, as my mother and father had +theirs--even though it must be as brief as a butterfly's existence, let +us not deny ourselves that much. I ask only one day! + +"You love me, Opal. I love you. You are, of all the world of women, my +chosen one, as I--no, don't shake your head, for you can't honestly deny +it--am yours! We know we must soon part forever. Won't it be easier for +both of us--both, I say--if for but one day, we can give to each other +all! Won't all our lives be better for the memory of one perfect day? +Think, Opal--to take out of all eternity just a few hours--and yet out +of those few hours may be born sufficient courage for all the life to +come! Don't you see? Can't you? Oh, I can't argue--I can't reason! I +only want you to be mine--all mine--yes, if only for a few hours--all +mine!" + +"Paul, you are mad," she began, but he would not listen. + +"Just one day," he pleaded--"no yesterday, and no to-morrow!" + +He looked at her tenderly. + +"Opal, it simply has to be--it's Fate! If it wasn't meant to be, why +have we met here like this? Do you think we two are mere toys in the +grip of circumstances? Or do you believe the gods have crossed our paths +again just to tantalize us? Is that why we are here, Opal, you and +I--_together_?" + +"Why, I came to rest--to see Lucerne! Most tourists come to Lucerne! +It's a--pretty--place--very!" she responded, lamely. + +"Well, then, account for the rest of it. Why did _I_ come?--and at the +same time?--and find you here in my mother's room? Simply a coincidence? +Answer me that! Chance plays strange freaks sometimes, I'll admit, but +Fate is a little more than mere chance. Why did I hear your voice, that +time? Why did I see you, and follow? Why did we find ourselves so near +akin--so strangely, so irresistibly drawn to each other? Answer me, +Opal! Why was it, if we weren't created to be--_one_?" + +After a moment of waiting he said, "Listen to the music, Opal! Only +listen! Doesn't it remind you of dreams and visions--of fairyland, of +happiness, and--love?" + +But she could not answer. + +At last she said slowly, "Oh, it's too late, Paul--too late!" + +"Too late?" he echoed. "It's never too late to take the good the gods +send! Never, while love lasts!" + +"But the Count, Paul--and your fiancée! Think, Paul, think!" + +"I can't think! What does the Count matter, Opal! Nothing--nothing makes +any difference when you are face to face with destiny and your soul-mate +calls! It has to be--_it has to be!_--can't you--won't you--see it?" + +"_God help all poor souls lost in the dark!_" She did see it. It stared +her relentlessly in the face and tugged mercilessly at her heart with +fingers of red-hot steel! She covered her face with her hands, but she +could not shut out the terrible image of advancing Death that held for +her all the charm of a serpent's eye. She struggled, as virgin woman has +always struggled. But in her heart she knew that she would yield. What +was her weak woman's nature after all, when pitted against the strength +of the man she loved! + +"Oh, I was feeling so pure--so good--so true--to-night! Are there not +thousands of beautiful women in the world who might be yours for the +asking? Could you not let the poor Count have his wife and his honeymoon +in peace?" + +Honeymoon! She shuddered at the thought. + +"Sweetheart," he whispered, "by every God-made law of Nature you are +mine--mine--mine! What care we for the foolish, man-made conventions of +this or any other land? There is only one law in the universe--the +divine right of the individual to choose for himself his mate!" + +Then his whisper became softer--more enticing--more resistless in its +passionate appeal. + +He was pleading with his whole soul--this prince who with one word could +command the unquestioning obedience of a kingdom! But the woman in his +arms did not know that, and it would have made no difference if she had! +In that supreme moment it was only man and woman. + +Opal gazed in amazement at this revelation of a new Paul. How splendid +he was! What a king among all the men she knew! What a god in his +manhood's glory!--a god to make the hearts of better and wiser women +than she ache--and break--with longing! Her hand stole to her heart to +still the fury of its beating. + +"Opal," he breathed, "I have wanted you ever since that mad moment in +gray old London when I first caught the lure in your glorious eyes--do +you remember, sweetheart? I know you are mine--and you know it--girl! + +His voice sank lower and lower, growing more and more intense with +suppressed passion. Opal was held spell-bound by the subtle charm of his +languorous eyes. She wanted to cry out, but she could not speak--she +could not think--the spell of his fascination overpowered her. + +She felt her eyes grow humid. Her heart seemed to struggle upward, till +it caught in her throat like a huge lump of molten lead and threatened +to choke her with its wild, hot pulsations. + +"I love you, Opal! I love you! and I want you! God! how I want you!" +Paul stammered on, with a catch in his boyish voice it made her heart +leap to hear. "I want your eyes, Opal--your hair--your lips--your +glorious self! I want you as man never wanted woman before!" + +He paused, dazed by his own passion, maddened by her lack of +response--blinded by a mist of fire that made his senses swim and his +brain reel, and crazed by the throbbing of the pulse that cried out from +every vein in his body with the world-old elemental call. Was she going +to close the gates of Paradise in his very face and in the very hour of +his triumph rob him of the one day--his little day? + +It was too much. + +More overwhelmed by her lack of response than by any words she could +have uttered, Paul hesitated. Then, speech failing him, half-dazed, he +stumbled toward the door. + +"Paul!... Paul!" + +He heard her call as one in dreamland catches the far-off summons of +earth's realities. He turned. She stretched out her arms to him--those +round, white arms. + +"I understand you, Paul! I do understand." She threw her arms around his +neck and drew his face down to hers. "Yes, I love you, Paul, I love you! +Do you hear, I love you! I am yours--utterly--heart, mind, soul, and +body! Don't you know that I am yours?" + +She was in his arms now, weeping strange, hot tears of joy, her heart +throbbing fiercely against his own. + +"Paul--Paul--I am mad, I think!--we are both mad, you and I!" + +And as their lips at last met in one long, soul-maddening kiss, and the +intoxication of the senses stole over them, she murmured in the fullness +of her surrender, "Take me! Crush me! Kiss me! My love--my love!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +The morning dawned. The morning of their one day. + +Nature had done her best for them and made it all that a May day should +be. There was not one tint, nor tone, nor bit of fragrance lacking. +Silver-throated birds flooded the world with songs of love. The very air +seemed full of beauty and passion and the glory and joy of life in the +dawn of its fullness. + +Their arrangements had been hasty, but complete. Paul had stolen away +from Lucerne in the middle of the night, to be ready to welcome his +darling at the-first break of the morning; and it was at a delightfully +early hour that they met at the little hotel on the Bürgenstock where +his mother's love-dream had waxed to its idyllic perfection, +one-and-twenty years ago. They sat on the balcony and ate their simple +breakfast, looking down to where the reflection of the snow-crowned +mountains trembled in the limpid lake. + +Opal had never before looked so lovely, he thought. She was gowned in +the simplest fashion in purest white, as a bride should be, her glorious +hair arranged in a loose, girlish knot, while her lustrous eyes were +cast down, shyly, and her cheeks were flushed--flushed with the +revelations and memories of the night just passed--flushed with the +promise of the day just dawning--flushed with love, with slumbering, +smouldering passion--with wifehood! + +How completely she was his when she had once surrendered! + +In their first kiss of greeting, they bridged over, in one ecstatic +moment, the hours of their brief separation. When he finally withdrew +his lips from hers, with a deep sigh of momentary satisfaction, she +looked up into his eyes with something of the old, capricious mischief +dancing in her own. + +"Let us make the most of our day, darling, our one day!" she said. "We +must not waste a single minute of it." + +Opal had stolen away from Lucerne and had come up the mountain +absolutely unattended. She would share her secret with no one, she said, +and Paul had acquiesced. And now he took her up in his arms as one would +carry a little child, and bore her off to the suite he had engaged for +them. What a bit of a thing she was to wield such an influence over a +man's whole life! + +A pert little French maid waited upon them. She eyed with great favor +the _distingué_ young monsieur, and his _charmante épouse!_ There was a +knowing twinkle in her eye--she had not been a _femme de chambre_ even a +little while without learning to scent a _lune de miel!_ And this +promised to be especially _piquante_. But Paul would have none of her, +and she tripped away disappointed of her coveted _divertissement_. + +Paul was very jealous and exacting and even domineering this morning, +and would permit no intrusion. He would take care of madame, he had +informed the girl, and when she had taken herself away, he repeated it +emphatically. Opal was his little girl, he said, and he was going to pet +and coddle her himself. _Femme de chambre_ indeed! Wasn't he worth a +dozen of the impertinent French minxes! Wanted to coquette with him, +most likely--thought he might be ready to yawn over madame's charms! She +could keep her pretty ankles out of his sight--he wasn't interested in +them! + +How Paul thrilled at the touch of everything Opal wore! Soft delicious +things they were, and he handled them with an awkward reverence that +brought tears to her eyes. They spoke a strange, shy language of their +own--these little, filmy bits of fine linen. + +Oh, but it was good, thought Opal, to be taken care of like this!--to be +on these familiar terms with the Boy she loved--to give him the right to +love her and do these little things, so sacred in a woman's life. And to +Paul it meant more than even she guessed. It was such a new world to +him. He felt that he was treading on holy ground, and, for the moment, +was half-afraid. + +And thus began their one day--the one day that was to know no yesterday, +and no tomorrow! + +They found it hard to remember that part of it at all times. He would +grow reminiscent for an instant, and begin, "Do you remember--" and she +would catch him up quickly with a whispered, "No yesterday, Paul!" And +again, it would be his turn, for a troubled look would cloud the joy of +her eyes, and she would start to say, "What shall I do--" or "When I go +to Paris--" and Paul would snatch her to his heart and remind her that +there was "No tomorrow!" + +All the forenoon she lay in his arms, crying out with little +inarticulate gurgles of joy under his caresses, lavishing a whole +lifetime's concentrated emotion upon him in a ferocity of passion that +seemed quenchless. + +And Paul was in the seventh heaven--mad with love! He was learning that +there were tones in that glorious voice that he had never heard before, +depths in those eyes that he had never fathomed--and those tones, those +depths, were all for him, for him alone--aye, had been waiting there +through all eternity for his awakening touch. + +"Opal," he said, earnestly, "perhaps it was here--on this very spot, it +may be, who knows--that my mother gave herself to my father! + +But she could only smile at him through fast-gathering tears--strange +tears of mingled joy and wonder and pain. + +And he covered her face, her neck, her shoulders with burning kisses, +and cried out in an ecstasy of bliss, "Oh, my love! My life!" + +And thus the morning hours died away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +And behold, it was noon! + +The day and their love stood still together. The glamour of the day, the +resistless force of their masterful love that seemed to them so unlike +all other loves of which they had ever heard or dreamed, held them in a +transport of delight that could only manifest itself in strange, +bitter-sweet caresses, in incoherent murmurings. + +This, then, was love! Aye, this was Love! + +The thoughts of the two returned with a tender, persistent recollection +to the love-tale of the past--the delicious idyl of love that had given +birth to this boy. Here, even here, had been spent those three maddest +and gladdest of weeks--that dream of an ideal love realized in its +fullness, as it is given to few to realize. + +Yes, that was Love! + +It was youth eternal--youth and fire, power and passion. + +It was May! May! + + * * * * * + +It was mid-afternoon before they awakened, to look into each other's +eyes with a new understanding. Surely never since the world began had +two souls loved each other as did these! + +And what should they do with the afternoon? Such a little while remained +for them--such a little while! + +Paul drew out his mother's letter, and together they read it, +understanding now, as they had not been able to understand before, its +whole wonderful significance. + +When they read of the first dawn of the hope of parentage in the hearts +of these long-ago lovers, their eyes met, heavy with the wistfulness of +renunciation. That consolation, alas! was not for them. Only the joy of +loving could ever be theirs. + +And then, drawing out the other letters that had accompanied his +mother's, Paul revealed to his darling the whole mystery of his +identity. + +At first she was startled--almost appalled--at the thought that she had +given herself to a Prince of the Purple--a real king of a real +kingdom--and for a moment felt a strange awe of him. + +But Paul, reading her unspoken thought in her eyes, with that sweet +clairvoyance that had always existed between them, soothed and petted +and caressed her till the smiles returned to her face and she nestled in +his arms, once more happy and content. + +She was the queen of his soul, he told her, whoever might wear the crown +and bear the title before the world. Then, very carefully, lest he +should wound her, he told her the whole story of the Princess Elodie. + +Opal moved across the room and stood drumming idly by the long, open +window. He watched her anxiously. + +"Paul, did you go to see her as you promised--and is she ...pretty?" + +"She is a cow!" + +"Paul!" Opal laughed at his tone. + +"Oh, but she is! Fancy loving a cow!" + +Opal's heart grew heavy with a great pity for this poor, unfortunate +royal lady who was to be Paul's wife--the mother of his children--but +never, never his Love! + +"But, Paul, you'll be good to her, won't you? I know you will! You +couldn't be unkind to any living thing." + +And she ran into his arms, and clasped his neck tight! And the poor +Princess Elodie was again forgotten! + +"You--Opal--are my real wife," Paul assured her, "the one love of my +soul, the mate the gods have formed for me--my own forever!" + +Opal wept for pity of him, and for herself, but she faced the future +bravely. She would always be his guiding star, to beckon him upward! + +"And, Opal, my darling," Paul went on, "I promise you to live henceforth +a life of which you shall be proud. I will be brave and true and noble +and great and pure--to prove my gratitude to the gods for giving me this +one day--for giving me you, dearest--and your love--your wonderful love! +I _will_ be worthy, dear--I will! I'll be your knight--your +Launcelot--and you shall be my Guenevere! I will always wear your colors +in my heart, dear--the red-brown of your hair, the glorious hazel of +your eyes, the flush of your soft cheek, the rose of your sweet lips, +the virgin whiteness of your soul!" + +Opal looked at him with eyes brimming with pride. Young as he was, he +was indeed every inch a king. + +And she had crowned him king of her heart and soul and life before she +had known! Oh, the wonder of it!--the strange, sweet wonder of it! _He_, +who might have loved and mated where he would, had chosen her to be his +love! She could not realize it. It was almost beyond belief, she +thought, that she--plain little Opal Ledoux--could stir such a nature as +his to such a depth as she knew she had stirred it. + +Ah, the gods had been good to her! They had sent her the Prince +Charming, and he had wakened her with his kiss--that first kiss--how +well she remembered it--and how utterly she belonged to him! + +Then she remembered that, however much they tried to deceive themselves, +there was a to-morrow--a to-morrow that would surely come--a to-morrow +in which they would not belong to each other at all. He would belong to +the world. She would belong to a-- + +She sprang up at the recollection, and drew the curtains of the window +closer together. + +"We will shut out the cold, inquisitive, prying old world," she said. +"It shall not look, shall not listen! It is a hard, cruel world, my +Paul. It would say that I must not put my arms around your neck--like +this--must not lay my cheek against yours--so--must not let my heart +feel the wild throbbing of yours--and why? Because I do not wear your +ring, Paul--that's all!" + +She held up her white hand for his inspection, and surveyed it +critically. + +"See, Paul--there is no glittering, golden fetter to hold me to you with +the power of an iron band, and so I must not--let you hold me to you at +all" + +They both laughed merrily, and then Paul, pulling her down on his knee +and holding her face against his own, whispered, "What care we for the +old world? It is as sad and mad and bad as we are--if we only knew! And +who knows how much worse? It has petty bickerings, damning lies of spite +and malice, trickery and thievery and corruption on its conscience. Let +the little people of the world prate of their little things! We are +free, dearest--and we defy it, don't we? Our ideals are never lost. And +ideals are the life of love. Is love--a love like ours--a murderer of +life?" + +"Sometimes, Paul--sometimes! I fear it--I do fear it!" + +"Never fear, Opal, my beloved! You need not fear anything--anywhere! I +will stand between you and the world, dear--between you and hell itself! +My God, girl, how I love you! Opal! My Opal! My heart aches with the +immensity of it! Come, my love, my queen, my treasure, come! We have not +many more hours to--live! And I want you close, close--all mine! Ah, +Opal, we are masters of life and death! All earth, all heaven, and--hell +itself, cannot take you from me now!" + +Oh, if scone moments in life could only be eternal! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +And the day--died! + +The sun sank beneath the western horizon; the moon cast her silvery +sheen over the weary world; the twinkling stars appeared in the jewelled +diadem of night; and the silence of evening settled over mountain and +lake and swaying tree, while the two who had dared all things for the +sake of this one day, looked into each other's eyes now with a sudden +realization of the end. + +They had not allowed themselves once to think of the hour of separation. + +And now it was upon them! And they were not ready to part. + +"How do people say good-by forever, Paul?--people who love as we love? +How do they say it, dear? Tell me!" + +"But it is not forever, Opal. Don't you know that you will always be +part of my life--my soul-life, which is the only true one--its +sanctifying inspiration? You must not forget that--never, never!" + +"No, I won't forget it, my King!" She delighted in giving him his title +now. "That satisfaction I will hold to as long as I live!" + +"But, Opal, am I never to see you?--never? Surely we may meet +sometimes--rarely, of course, at long intervals, when life grows gray +and gloomy, and I am starving for one ray of the sunshine of your +smile?" + +"It would be dangerous, Paul, for both of us!" + +"But the world is only a little place after all, beloved. We shall be +thrown together again by Fate--as we have been this time." + +Then she smiled at him archly. "Ah, Paul, I know you so well! Your eyes +are saying that you will often manage to see me 'by chance'--but you +must not, dear, you must not" + +"Girl, I can never forget one word you have uttered, one caress you have +given--one tone of your voice--one smile of your lips--one glance of +your eye--never, never in God's world!" + +"Hold me closer, Paul, and teach me to be brave!" + +They clung together in an agony too poignant for words, too mighty for +tears! And of the unutterable madness and anguish of those last bitter +kisses of farewell, no mortal pen can write! + +But theirs had been from the beginning a mad love--a mad, hopeless, +fatal love--and it could bring neither of them happiness nor +peace--nothing but the bitterness of eternal regret! + +And thus the day--their one day of life--came to an end! + + * * * * * + +That evening, from the hotel at Lucerne, two telegrams flashed over the +wires. One was addressed to the Count de Roannes, Paris, and read as +follows: + +"_Shall reach Paris Monday afternoon.--Opal._" + +The other was addressed to Sir Paul Verdayne, at Venice, and was not +signed at all, saying simply, + +"_A son awaits his father in Lucerne_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +That night a sudden storm swept across Lucerne. + +The thunder crashed like the boom of a thousand cannon; like menacing +blades the lightning flashed its tongues of savage flame; the winds +raved in relentless fury, rocking the giant trees like straws in the +majesty of their wrath. Madness reigned in undisputed sovereignty, and +the earth cowered and trembled beneath the anger of the threatening +heavens. + +Opal crouched in her bed, and buried her head in the pillows. She had +never before known the meaning of fear, but now she was alone, and the +consciousness of guilt was upon her--the acute agony of their separation +mingled with the despairing prospect of a long, miserable loveless--yes, +_shameful,_--life as the legal slave of a man she abhorred. + +She did not regret the one day she had given to her lover. Whatever the +cost, she would never, never regret, she said to herself, for it had +been well worth any price that might be required of her. She gloried in +it, even now, while the storm raged outside. + +And the thunders crashed like the falling of mighty rocks upon the roof +over her head. Should she summon Céleste, her maid? + +Suddenly, as the tempest paused as if to catch its breath, she heard +footsteps in the corridor outside. It was very late--who could be +prowling about at this hour? She listened intently, every nerve and +sense keenly alert. Nearer and nearer the steps came, and then she +remembered with a start that in the excitement of her stealthy return to +the hotel and the anguish and madness of their parting, she had +forgotten to fasten her door. + +There came a light tap on the panel. She did not speak or move--hardly +breathed. Then the door opened, noiselessly, cautiously, and he--her +lover, her king--entered, the dim light of her room making his form, as +it approached, appear of even more than its usual majestic height and +power. + +"Paul!" she whispered. + +He seemed in a strange daze. Had the storm gone to his head and driven +him mad? + +"Yes, it is I," he said hoarsely. "It is Paul. Don't cry out. See, I am +calm!" and he laid his hand on hers. It was burning with fever. "I will +not hurt you, Opal!" + +Cry out? Hurt her? What did he mean? She had no thought of crying out. +Of course he would not hurt her--her lover, her lord, her king! Did she +not belong to him--now? + +He sat down and took her hands in his. + +"Opal," he muttered, "I've been thinking, thinking, thinking, till I +feel half-mad--yes, mad! Dearest, I cannot give you up like this--I +cannot! Let you go to _his_ arms--you who have been mine! Oh, Opal, I've +pictured it all to myself--seen you in his arms--seen his lips on +yours--seen--seen--Can't you imagine what it means to me? It's more than +I can stand, dearest! I may be crazy--I believe I am--but wouldn't it be +better for you and me to--to--cease forever this mockery of life, +and--forget?" + +She did not understand him. + +"Forget?" she murmured, holding his hand against her cheek, while her +free arm pulled his head down to hers. "Forget?" + +He pressed his burning lips to her cool neck, and then, after a moment, +went on, "Yes, beloved, to forget. Think, Opal, think! To forget all +ambition, all restlessness, all disappointment, all longing for what can +never be, all pain, all suffering, all thought of responsibility or +growth or desire, all success or failure--all life, all death--to +forget! to forget! Ah, dearest, one must have loved as we have loved, +and lost as we have lost, to wish to--forget!" + +"But there is no such respite for us, Paul. We are not the sort who can +put memory aside. To live will be to remember!" + +"Yes, that is it. To live _is_ to remember. But why should we live +longer? We've lived a lifetime in one day, have we not, sweetheart? What +more has life to give us?" + +He was calmer now, but it was the calmness of determination. + +"Let us die, dear--let us die! Virginius slew his daughter to save her +honor. You are more to me than a thousand daughters. You are my wife, +Opal!--Opal, my very own!" + +His eyes softened again, as the storm outside lulled for a moment. + +"My darling, don't be afraid! I will save you from him. I will keep you +mine--mine!" + +The thunder crashed again, and again the fury leaped to his eyes. He +drew from his pocket a curious foreign dagger, engraved with quaint +designs, and glittering with encrusted gold. Opal recognized it at once. +She had toyed with it the day before, admiring the richness of its +material and workmanship. + +"She--has been--mine--my wife," he muttered to himself, wildly, +disconnectedly, yet with startling distinctness. "She shall never, never +lie in his arms!" + +He passed his hand across his eyes, as if to brush away a veil. + +"Oh, the red! the red! the red! It's blood and fire and hell! It glares +in my eyes! It screams in my ears! Bidding me kill! kill!" + +He clasped her to him fiercely. + +"To see you, after all this--to see you go from me--and know you were +going to him--_him_--while I went ... Oh, beloved! beloved! God never +meant that! Surely He never meant that when He created us the creatures +that we are!" + +She kissed his hot, quivering lips. She had not loved him so much in all +their one mad day as she loved him now. + +"Paul," she whispered, "beloved!--what would you do?" + +There was only a great wonder in her eyes, not the faintest sign of +fear. Even in his anguish the Boy noticed that. + +"What would I do? Listen, Opal, my darling. Don't you remember, you said +it was not life but death--and I said it was both! And it is! it is! I +thought I was strong enough to brave hell! Opal--though you are +betrothed to the Count de Roannes you are _my wife_! And our +wedding-journey shall be eternal--through stars, Opal, and +worlds--far-off, glimmering worlds--our freed spirits together, always +together--together!" + +She watched him, fascinated, spell-bound. + +"Dear heart, Nature will not repulse us," Paul continued. "She will +gather us to her great, warm, peaceful heart, beloved!" + +Opal held him close to her breast, almost maternally, with a great +longing to soothe and calm his troubled spirit. + +"Think," he continued, "of what my poor, unhappy mother said was the +cost of love--'_Sorrow and death!_' We have had the sorrow, God knows! +And now for death! Kiss me, dearest, dearest! Kiss me for time and for +eternity, Opal, for in life and in death we can never part more!" + +She kissed him--obediently, solemnly--and then, holding her to him, +drinking in all the love that still shone for him in those eyes that had +driven him to desperation, he suddenly plunged the little dagger to its +hilt through her heart. + +She did not cry out. She did not even shudder. But looking at him with +"the light that never was on sea or land" in her still brilliant eyes, +she murmured, "In--life--and--in--death ... beloved! beloved!" + +And while he whispered between his set lips, "Sleep, my beloved, sleep," +her little head dropped back against his arm with a long, peaceful sigh. + +He held her form tenderly to his heart, murmuring senseless, meaningless +words of comfort and love, like a mother crooning her babe to sleep. And +he still clasped her there till the new day peeped through the blinds. +And the storm raged at intervals with all the ferocity of unspent +passion. But _his_ passion was over now, and he laughed a savage laugh +of triumph. + +No one could take her from him now--no one! His darling was his--his +wife--in life and in death! + +He laid her down upon the bed and arranged the blankets over her +tenderly, hiding the hideous, gaping wound, with its unceasing flow; +carefully from sight. He closed her eyes, kissing them as he did so, and +folded her little white hands together, and then he pulled out the +disarranged lace at her throat and smoothed it mechanically, till it lay +quite to his satisfaction. Opal was so fastidious, he thought--so +particular about these little niceties of dress. She would like to look +well when they found her--dear Heaven!--to-morrow! + +"No to-morrow!" he thought. They had spoken more wisely than they knew. +There would be no to-morrow for her--nor for him! + +There was a tiny spot of blood upon the frill of her sleeve, and he +carefully turned it under, out of sight. He looked at the ugly stains +upon his own garments with a thrill of satisfaction. She was his! Was it +not quite right and proper that her blood should be upon him? + +But even then, frenzied as he was, he had a singular care for +appearances, a curious regard for detail, and busied himself in removing +all signs of his presence from her chamber--all tell-tale traces of the +storm of passion that swept away her life--and his! He felt himself +already but the ghost of his former self, and laughed a weird, half-mad +laugh at the thought as it came to him. + +He bent over her again. He would have given much to have lain down +beside her and slept his last sleep in her cold, lifeless arms. But no! +Even this was denied him! + +He wound a tress of her hair about his fingers, and it clung and twined +there as her white fingers had been wont to twine. Oh, the pity of her +stillness--her silence--who was never still nor silent--never +indifferent to his presence! She looked so like a sleeping child in her +whiteness and tranquillity, her red-brown hair in disordered waves about +her head, her eyes closed in the last long sleep. And he wept as he +pressed his burning lips to hers, so cold, so pitifully cold, and for +the first time unresponsive. Oh, God, unresponsive forever! + +"Poor little girl!" he moaned, between sobs of hopeless pain. "Poor +little passionate girl!... Poor little tired Opal!" + +And with a dry sob of unutterable anguish, he picked up the dagger--the +cruel, kind little dagger--and crept to his own room. + +The dagger was still wet with her blood. "Her blood!--Oh, God!-her +blood!--hers! All mine in life, and yet never so much mine as now--mine +in death!--all mine! mine! And she was not afraid--not the least afraid! +Her eyes had room only for her overwhelming love--love--just love, no +fear, even that hour when face to face with the Great Mystery. And this +was her blood--_hers!_" + +He believed that she had been glad to die. He believed--oh, he was sure, +that death in his arms--and from his hand--had been sweeter than life +could have been--with that wretch--and always without him--her lover! +Yes, she had been glad to die. She had been grateful for her escape! And +again the dagger drew his fascinated gaze and wrung from his lips the +cry, "Her blood--hers! God in Heaven! Her blood!--hers!" + +He put his hand to his head with an inarticulate cry of bewilderment. +Then, with one supreme effort, he began to stagger hastily but +noiselessly about the room. The servants of the house were already +astir, and the day would soon be here. He put his sacred letters +carefully away, and destroyed all worthless papers, mechanically, but +still methodically. + +Then he hastily scribbled a few lines, and laid them beside his letters, +for Verdayne would be with him now in a few hours. His father--yes, his +own father! How he would like to see him once more--just once more--with +the knowledge of their relationship as a closer bond between them--to +talk about his mother--his beautiful, queenly mother--and her wonderful, +wonderful love! Yet--and he sighed as he thought of his deserted +kingdom--after all, all in vain--in vain! It was not to be--all that +glory--that triumph! Fate had willed differently. He was obeying the +Law! + +And his mother would not fail to understand. Verdayne must have loved +his mother like this! O God, Love was a fearful thing, he thought, to +wreck a life--a terrible thing, even a hideous thing--but in spite of +everything it was all that was worth living for--and dying for! + +The storm had spent its fury now, and only the steady drip, drip of the +rain reminded him of the falling of tears. + +"Opal!" he groaned, "Opal!" And he threw himself upon the bed, clasping +his dagger in uncontrollable agony. "O life is cruel, hard, bitter! I'll +none of it!--we'll none of it, you and I!" His voice grew triumphant in +its raving. "It was worth all the cost--even the sorrow and death! But +the end has come! Opal! Opal! I am coming, sweet!--coming!" + +And the dagger, still red with the blood of his darling, found its +unerring way to his own heart; and Paul Zalenska forgot his dreams, his +ambitions, his love, his passion, and his despair in the darkness and +quiet of eternal sleep. + +"_Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord._" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Sir Paul Verdayne reached Lucerne on the afternoon of the next day. He +was as eager as a boy for the reunion with his son. How he loved the +Boy--his Boy--the living embodiment of a love that seemed to him greater +than any other love the world had ever known. + +The storm had ceased and in the brilliancy of the afternoon sunshine +little trace of the fury of the night could be seen. Nature smiled +radiantly through the tear-drops still glistening on tree and shrub and +flower, like some capricious coquette defying the world to prove that +she had ever been sad. + +To Sir Paul, the place was hallowed with memories of his Queen, and his +heart and soul were full of her as he left the train. At the station +Vasili awaited him with the news of the double tragedy that had +horrified Lucerne. + +In that moment, Sir Paul's heart broke. He grasped at the faithful +servitor for a support the old man was scarce able to give. He looked up +into the pitying face, grown old and worn in the service of the young +King and his heart thrilled, as it ever thrilled, at the sight of the +long, cruel scar he remembered so well--the scar which the Kalmuck had +received in the service of his Queen, long years before. + +Sir Paul loved Vasili for that--loved him even more for the service he +had done the world when he choked to death the royal murderer of his +Queen, on the fatal night of that tragedy so cruelly alive in his +memory. He looked again at the scar on the swarthy face, and yet he knew +it was as nothing to the scar made in the old man's heart that day. + +In some way--they never knew how--they managed to reach the scene of the +tragedy, and Sir Paul, at his urgent request, was left alone with the +body of his son. + +Oh, God! Could he bear this last blow--and live? + +After a time, when reason began to re-assert itself, he searched and +found the letters that had told the Boy-king the story of his birth. Was +there no word at all for him--his father?--save the brief telegram he +had received the night before? + +Ah, yes! here was a note. His Boy had thought of him, then, even at the +last. He read it eagerly. + + "Father--dear Father--you who alone of all the world can + understand--forgive and pity your son who has found the cross too + heavy--the crown too thorny--to bear! I go to join my unhappy + mother across the river that men call death--and there together we + shall await the coming of the husband and father we could neither + of us claim in this miserable, gray old world. Father Paul--dearest + and best and truest of fathers, your Boy has learned with you the + cost of love, and has gladly paid the price--'sorrow and death!'" + +He bent again over the cold form, he pushed aside the clustering curls, +and kissed again and again, with all the fervor and pain of a lifetime's +repression, the white marble face of his son. + +And a few words of that little note rang in his ears +unceasingly--"dearest, and best, and _truest_ of fathers!" _Truest of +fathers_! Ah, yes! The Boy--his Boy--had understood! + +And the scalding tears came that were his one salvation, for they washed +away for a time some of the deadly ache from his bereaved heart. + + * * * * * + +When the force of his outburst was spent, Sir Paul Verdayne mastered +himself resolutely. There was much to be done. It was indeed a double +torture to find such an affliction here, of all places under Heaven, but +he told himself that his Queen would have him brave and strong, and +master his grief as an English gentleman should. And her wishes were +still, as they had ever been, the guide of his every thought and action. + +One thing he was determined upon. The world must never know the truth. + +To be sure, Sir Paul himself did not know the secret of that one day. He +could only surmise. Even Vasili did not know. The Boy had cleverly +managed to have the day, as he had the preceding one, "all to himself," +as he had informed Vasili, and Opal had been equally skillful in +escaping the attendance of her maid. They had left the hotel separately +at night, in different directions, returning separately at night. Who +was there to suspect that they had passed the day together, or had even +met each other at all? Surely--no one! + +And what was there for the world to know, in the mystery of their death? +Nothing! They were each found alone, stabbed to the heart, and the +dagger that had done the deed had not even been withdrawn from the body +of the Boy, when they found him. Sir Paul and Vasili had recognized it, +but who would dare to insinuate that the same dagger had drunk the blood +of the young American lady, or to say whose hand had struck either blow? +It was all a mystery, and Sir Paul was determined that it should remain +so. + +Money can accomplish anything, and though all Europe rang with the +story, no scandal--nor hint of it--besmirched the fair fame of the +unhappy Boy and girl who had loved "not wisely, but too well!" + +There had, indeed, been for them, as they had playfully said--"No +to-morrow!" + +And Sir Paul Verdayne, kneeling by the bier, with its trappings of a +kingdom's mourning, which hid beneath its rich adornment all the joy +that life for twenty years had held for him, felt for the first time a +sense of guilt, as he looked back upon his past. + +He did not regret his love. He could never do that! Truly, a man and a +woman had a right to love and mate as they would, if the consequences of +their deeds rested only upon their own heads. But to bring children into +the world, the fruit of such a union, to suffer and die, "for the sins +of the fathers," as his son had suffered and died--there was the sin--a +selfish, unpardonable sin! "And the wages of sin is death." + +He had never felt the truth before. He had been so happy in his Boy, and +so proud of his future, that there had never been a question in his +mind. But now he was face to face with the terrible consequences. + +"Oh, God!" he cried, "truly my punishment is just--but it is greater +than I can bear!" + + * * * * * + +_And Paul Verdayne--what of him? Of course you want to know. Read the +sequel_ + +=_HIGH NOON_= + +A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." You can get this book from your bookseller, or +for 60c., carriage paid, from the publishers + +The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_, 15 W. 38th St., New York + + + + +Successful Novels _from_ Famous Plays + +=TO-DAY= + +By George H. Broadhurst and Abraham S. Schomer. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +This novel tells what follows in the wake of the average American +woman's desire to keep up with the social procession. All the human +emotions are dealt with in a masterly way in this great book. + +=THE FAMILY CUPBOARD= + +By Owen Davis. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +A work of fiction which presents a frank treatment of the domestic +problems of to-day. It tells what happens in many homes when the wife +devotes herself wholly to society, to the exclusion of her own husband. +Mere man sometimes revolts, when regarded only as a money-making +machine. + +=AT BAY= + +From the drama by George Scarborough. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +This stirring detective story holds the attention of the reader from the +very start. It is full of action, presenting a baffling situation, the +solving of which carries one along in a whirlwind of excitement. Through +the story runs a love plot that is interwoven with the mystery of a +secret-service case. + +=The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_= + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +The Night of Temptation + +By VICTORIA CROSS + +Author of + +"LIFE'S SHOP WINDOW," "FIVE NIGHTS," etc. + + * * * * * + +This book takes for its keynote the self-sacrifice of woman in her love. +Regina, the heroine, gives herself to a man for his own sake, for the +happiness she can give him. He is her hero, her god, and she declines to +marry him until she is satisfied that he cannot live without her. + +The London _Athenaeum_ says: "Granted beautiful, rich, perfect, +passionate men and women, the author is capable of working out their +destiny." + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +The Macaulay Company, Publishers + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +The Secret of the Night + +By GASTON LEROUX + +Author of "THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM," etc. + + * * * * * + +Another thrilling mystery story in which the famous French detective +hero, Joseph Rouletabille, makes his appearance before the public again. +This character has won a place in the hearts of novel readers as no +other detective has since the creation of Sherlock Holmes. + +Thousands upon thousands of people in two continents await eagerly every +book by Gaston Leroux that relates the adventures of the hero of "The +Mystery of the Yellow Room" and "The Perfume of the Lady in Black." + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +The Macaulay Company, Publishers + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +Guardian Angels + +By MARCEL PRÉVOST + +Member of the Académie Française, Officer of the Legion of Honour + +Author of "SIMPLY WOMEN," Etc. + + * * * * * + +Every married woman ought to read this novel, if only to be forewarned +against a danger that may one day invade her own home. It is a story of +the double life led by the governesses of many young girls, showing the +dangers of such companionships. + +It is no exaggeration to say that "Guardian Angels" is one of the most +remarkable novels that have been issued in any language during recent +years. + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +=The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_ + +15 West 38th Street New York= + + + + +The Crown Novels + +FAMOUS BOOKS AT POPULAR PRICES + +=HER SOUL AND HER BODY, By Louise Closser Hale= + +The struggle between the spirit and the flesh of a young girl early in +life compelled to make her own way. Exposed to the temptations of life +in a big city, the contest between her better and lower natures is +described with psychological analysis and tender sympathy. Absorbingly +interesting. + +=HELL'S PLAYGROUND, by Ida Vera Simonton= + +This book deals with primal conditions in a land where "there ain't no +ten commandments"; where savagery, naked and unashamed, is not confined +to the blacks. It is a record of the life in the African tropics and it +is a powerful and fascinating story of a scene that has rarely been +depicted in fiction. + +=THE MYSTERY OF No. 47, by J. Storer Clouston= + +This is a most ingenious detective story--a thriller in every sense of +the word. The reader is led cleverly on until he is at a loss to know +what to expect, and, completely baffled, is unable to lay the book down +until he has finished the story and satisfied his perplexity. + +=THE SENTENCE OF SILENCE, by Reginald Wright Kauffman= + +Author of "The House of Bondage;" etc. + +By "The Sentence of Silence" is meant that sentence of reticence +pronounced upon the subject of sex. That which means the continuance of +the human race is the one thing of which no one is permitted to speak. +In this book the subject is dealt with frankly. + +=THE GIRL THAT GOES WRONG, by Reginald Wright Kauffman= + +Author of "The House of Bondage." + +The inexpressible conditions of human bondage of many young girls and +women in our cities demand fearless and uncompromising warfare. The +terrible peril that lingers just around the corner from every American +home must be stamped out with relentless purpose. + +=TO-MORROW, by Victoria Cross= + +Author of "Life's Shop Window." etc. + +Critics agree that this is Victoria Cross' greatest novel. Those who +have read "Life's Shop Window," "Five Nights," "Anna Lombard," and +similar books by this author will ask no further recommendation. +"To-morrow" is a real novel--not a collection of short stories. + +=SIMPLY WOMEN, by Marcel Prévost= + +"Like a motor-car or an old-fashioned razor, this book should be in the +hands of mature persons only."--_St. Louis Post-Dispatch._ + +"Marcel Prévost. of whom a critic remarked that his forte was the +analysis of the souls and bodies of a type half virgin and half +courtesan, is now available in a volume of selections admirably +translated by R.I. Brandon-Vauvillez."--_San Francisco Chronicle._ + +=THE ADVENTURES OF A NICE YOUNG MAN, by Aix= =Joseph and Potiphar's Wife +Up-to-Date= + +A handsome young, man, employed as a lady's private secretary, is bound, +to meet with interesting adventures. + +"Under a thin veil the story unquestionably sets forth actual episodes +and conditions in metropolitan circles."--- _Washington Star._ + +=HER REASON, Anonymous= + +This startling anonymous work of a well-known English novelist is a +frank exposure of Modern Marriage. "Her Reason" shows the deplorable +results of the process at work to-day among the rich, whose daughters +are annually offered for sale in the markets of the world. + +=THE COUNTERPART, by Horner Cotes= + +One of the best novels of the Civil War ever written. John Luther Loag, +the well-known writer, says of this book--"It is a perfectly bully story +and full of a fine sentiment. I have read it all--and with great +interest." + +=THE PRINCESS OF FORGE, by George C. Shedd= + +The tale of a man, and a maid, and a gold-mine--a stirring, romantic +American novel of the West. _The Chicago Inter-Ocean_ says--"Unceasing +action is the word for this novel. From the first to the last page there +is adventure." + +=OUR LADY OF DARKNESS, by Albert Dorrington and A. G. Stephens= + +A story of the Far East. _The Grand Rapids Herald_ says of the +book--"'Our Lady of Darkness' is entitled to be classed with 'The Count +of Monte Cristo.' It is one of the greatest stories of mystery and +deep-laid plot and its masterly handling must place it in the front rank +of modern fiction." + +=THE DUPLICATE DEATH, by A. C. Fox-Davies= + +A first-rate detective story--one that will keep you thrilled to the +very end. _The New York Tribune's_ verdict on the book is this--"We need +only commend it as a puzzling and readable addition to the fiction of +crime." + +=THE DANGEROUS AGE, by Karin Michaelis= + +Here is a woman's soul laid bare with absolute frankness. Europe went +mad about the book, which has been translated into twelve languages. It +betrays the freemasonry of womanhood. + +=MY ACTOR HUSBAND, Anonymous= + +The reader will be startled by the amazing truths set forth and, the +completeness of their revelations. Life behind the scenes is stripped +bare of all its glamor. Young women whom the stage attracts should read +this story. There is a ringing damnation in it. + +=MRS. DRUMMOND'S VOCATION, by Mark Ryce= + +Lily Drummond is an unmoral (not immoral) heroine. She was not a bad +girl at heart; but when chance opened up for her the view of a life she +had never known or dreamed of, her absence of moral responsibility did +the rest. + +=DOWNWARD: "A Slice of Life," by Maud Churton Braby= + +Author of "Modern Marriage and How to Bear It." + +"'Downward' belongs to that great modern school of fiction built upon +woman's downfall. * * * I cordially commend this bit of fiction to the +thousands of young women who are yearning to see what they call +life.'"--_James L. Ford in the N. Y. Herald_. + +=TWO APACHES OF PARIS, by Alice and Claude Askew= + +Authors of "The Shulamite," "The Rod of Justice," etc. + +All primal struggles originate with the daughters of Eve. + +This story of Paris and London tells of the wild, fierce life of the +flesh, of a woman with the beauty of consummate vice to whom a man gave +himself, body and soul. + +=THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH, by Elinor Glyn= + +One of Mrs. Glyn's biggest successes. Elizabeth is a charming young +woman who is always saying and doing droll and, daring things, both +shocking and amusing. + +=BEYOND THE ROCKS, by Elinor Glyn= + +"One of Mrs. Glyn's highly sensational and somewhat erotic +novels."--_Boston Transcript_. + +The scenes are laid in Paris and London; and a country-house party also +figures, affording the author some daring situations, which she has +handled deftly. + +=THE REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE, by Elinor Glyn= + +The story of the awakening of a young girl, whose maidenly emotions are +set forth as Elinor Glyn alone knows how. + +"Gratitude and, power and self-control! * * * in nature I find there is +a stronger force than all these things, and that is the touch of the one +we love."--Ambrosine. + +=THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE, by Elinor Glyn= + +"One of Mrs. Glyn's most pungent tales of feminine idiosyncracy and +caprice."--Boston Transcript, + +Evangeline is a delightful heroine with glorious red hair and amazing +eyes that looked a thousand unsaid challenges. + +=DAYBREAK: a Prologue to "Three Weeks"= + +"Daybreak" is a prologue to "Three Weeks" and forms the first of the +series, although published last. It is a highly interesting account of a +love episode that took place during the youth of the famous Queen of +"Three Weeks." + +A story of the Balkans, this is one of the timely novels of the year. + +=ONE DAY: a Sequel to "Three Weeks"= + +"There is a note of sincerity in this book that is lacking in the +first."--Boston Globe. + +"One Day" is the sequel you have been waiting for since reading "Three +Weeks," and is a story which points a moral, a clear, well-written +exposition of the doctrine, "As ye sow, so shall ye reap." + +=HIGH NOON: a New Sequel to "Three Weeks" A Modern Romeo and Juliet= + +A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." + +=THE DIARY OF MY HONEYMOON= + +A woman who sets out to unburden her soul upon intimate things is bound +to touch upon happenings which are seldom the subject of writing at all; +but whatever may be said of the views of the anonymous author, the +"Diary" is a work of throbbing and intense humanity, the moral of which +is sound throughout and plain to see. + +=THE INDISCRETION OF LADY USHER: a Sequel to "The Diary of My +Honeymoon"= + +"Another purpose novel dealing with the question of marriage and dealing +very plainly,--one of the most interesting among the many books on these +lines which are at present attracting so much attention."--Cleveland +Town Topics. + +_Price 50 cents per copy; Postage 10 cents extra Order from your +Bookseller or from the Publishers_ + +=THE MACAULAY COMPANY, 15 West 38th St., New York Send for Illustrated +Catalogue= + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13776 *** diff --git a/13776-h/13776-h.htm b/13776-h/13776-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99f48ca --- /dev/null +++ b/13776-h/13776-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6293 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of One Day, by Anonymous. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: smaller; float: right; clear: right;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem .caesura {vertical-align: -200%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13776 ***</div> + +<h1>ONE DAY</h1> + +<h2>A SEQUEL TO "THREE WEEKS"</h2> + +<h2>ANONYMOUS</h2> +<br /> + +<h4>Original Publication Date 1909, by The Macaulay Company</h4> +<br /> + +<h4>NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY 1912</h4> + +<br /> + +<h4>THE SCHILLING PRESS NEW YORK</h4> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<a href='#FOREWORD_TO_MY_AMERICAN_FRIENDS'><b>FOREWORD TO MY AMERICAN FRIENDS</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XVI'><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XVII'><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII'><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XIX'><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XX'><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXI'><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXII'><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXIII'><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXIV'><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXV'><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXVI'><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXVII'><b>CHAPTER XXVII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXVIII'><b>CHAPTER XXVIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXIX'><b>CHAPTER XXIX</b></a><br /> + <br /> + <a href='#Successful_Novels_from_Famous_Plays'><b>Successful Novels from Famous Plays</b></a><br /> + <a href='#The_Night_of_Temptation'><b>The Night of Temptation</b></a><br /> + <a href='#The_Secret_of_the_Night'><b>The Secret of the Night</b></a><br /> + <a href='#Guardian_Angels'><b>Guardian Angels</b></a><br /> + <a href='#The_CROWN_NOVELS'><b>The Crown Novels</b></a><br /> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='FOREWORD_TO_MY_AMERICAN_FRIENDS'></a><h2>FOREWORD TO MY AMERICAN FRIENDS</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Now after spending some very pleasant weeks in your interesting country, +I feel sure that this book will find many sympathetic readers in +America. Quite naturally it will be discussed; some, doubtless, will +censure it—and unjustly; others will believe with me that the tale +teaches a great moral lesson.</p> + +<p>Born as the Boy was born, the end which Fate forced upon him, to me, was +inevitable. Each word and act of the three weeks of his parents' +love-idyl must reflect in the character and life of the child. Little by +little the baby King grew before my mental vision until I saw at last +there was no escape from his importunity and I allowed the insistent +Boy—masterful even from his inception—to shape himself at his own +sweet will. Thus he became the hero of my study.</p> + +<p>This is not a book for children or fools—but for men and women who can +grasp the underlying principle of morality which has been uppermost in +my mind as I wrote. Those who can see beyond the outburst of +passion—the overmastering belief in the power of love to justify all +things, which the Boy inherited so naturally from his Queen mother—will +understand the forces against which the young Prince must needs fight a +losing battle. The transgression was unavoidable to one whose very +conception was beyond the law—the punishment was equally inevitable.</p> + +<p>In fairness to this book of mine—and to me—the great moral lesson I +have endeavored to teach must be considered in its entirety, and no +single episode be construed as the book's sole aim. The verdict on my +two years' work rests with you, dear Reader, but at least you may be +sure that I have only tried to show that those who sow the wind shall +reap the whirlwind.</p> + +<p>—THE AUTHOR.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<h2>ONE DAY</h2> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_I'></a><h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The Prince tore the missive fiercely from its envelope, and scowled at +the mocking glint of the royal crown so heavily embossed at the top of +the paper. What a toy it was, he thought, to cost so much, and +eventually to mean so little! Roughly translated, the letter ran as +follows:</p> + +<p>"Your Royal Highness will be gratified to learn that at last a +satisfactory alliance has been arranged between the Princess Elodie of +Austria and your royal self. It is the desire of both courts and +councils that the marriage shall be solemnized on the fifteenth of the +May following your twenty-first birthday, at which time the coronation +ceremony takes place that is to place the crown of the kingdom upon the +head of the son of our beloved and ever-to-be-regretted Imperatorskoye. +The Court and Council extend greetings and congratulations upon the not +far distant approach of both auspicious events to your Royal Highness, +which cannot fail to afford the utmost satisfaction in every detail to +the ever-beautiful-and-never-to-be-sufficiently beloved Prince Paul.</p> + +<p>"Imperator-to-be, we salute thee. We kiss thy feet."</p> + +<p>The letter was sealed with the royal crest and signed by the Regent—the +Boy's uncle—the Grand Duke Peter, his mother's brother, who had been +his guardian and protector almost from his birth. The young prince knew +that his uncle loved him, knew that the Grand Duke desired nothing on +earth so much as the happiness of his beloved sister's only son—and yet +at this crisis of the Boy's life, even his uncle was as powerless to +help as was Paul Verdayne, the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"The Princess Elodie!" he grumbled. "Who the devil is this Princess +Elodie, anyway? Austrian blood has no particular charm for me! They +might at least have told me something a little more definite about the +woman they have picked out to be the mother of my children. A man +usually likes to look an animal over before he purchases!"</p> + +<p>Known to London society as Monsieur Zalenska, the Prince had come up to +town with the Verdaynes, and was apparently enjoying to the utmost the +frivolities of London life.</p> + +<p>At a fashionable garden party he sat alone, in a seclusion he had long +sought and had finally managed to secure, behind a hedge of hawthorn +where none but lovers, and men and women troubled as he was troubled, +cared to conceal themselves.</p> + +<p>The letter, long-expected and dreaded, had finally crossed the continent +to his hand. It was only the written confirmation of the sentence Fate +had pronounced upon him, even as it had pronounced similar sentences +upon princes and potentates since the beginning of thrones and kingdoms.</p> + +<p>While the Prince—or Paul Zalenska, as I will now call him—sat in his +brooding brown study, clutching the imperial letter tightly in his young +hand, his attention was arrested by the sound of voices on the other +side of the hawthorn hedge.</p> + +<p>He listened idly, at first, to what seemed to be a one-sided +conversation, in a dull, emotionless feminine voice—a discourse on +fashion, society chit-chat, and hopeless nonentities, interspersed with +bits of gossip. Could women never talk about anything else? he thought +impatiently.</p> + +<p>But his displeasure did not seem to affect the course of things at all. +The voice, completely unconscious of the aversion it aroused in the +invisible listener, continued its dreary, expressionless monotone.</p> + +<p>"What makes you so silent, Opal? You haven't said a word to-day that you +didn't absolutely have to say. If all American girls are as dreamy as +you, I wonder why our English lords are so irresistibly attracted across +the water when in search of brides!"</p> + +<p>And then the Boy on the other side of the hedge felt his sluggish pulse +quicken, and almost started to his feet, impelled by a sudden thrill of +delight; for another voice had spoken—a voice of such infinite charm +and sweetness and vitality, yet with languorous suggestion of emotional +heights and depths, that he felt a vague sense of disappointment when +the magnetic notes finally died away.</p> + +<p>"Brides?" the voice echoed, with a lilt of girlish laughter running +through the words. "You mean '<i>bribes</i>,' don't you? For I assure you, +dear cousin, it is the metallic clink of American gold, and nothing +else, that lures your great men over the sea. As for my silence, <i>ma +belle</i>, I have been uncommunicative because there really seemed nothing +at all worth saying. I can't accustom myself to small-talk—I can't even +listen to it patiently. I always feel a wild impulse to fly far, far +away, where I can close my ears to it all and listen to my own thoughts. +I'm sorry if I disappoint you, Alice—I seem to disappoint everybody +that I would like to please—but I assure you, laugh at my dreams as you +may, to me my dream-life is far more attractive and beautiful than what +you term Life. Forgive me if I hurt you, cousin. I'm peculiarly +constituted, perhaps, but I don't like this twaddle, and I can't help +it! Everything in England is so beautiful, and yet its society seems +so—so hopelessly unsatisfactory to one who longs to <i>live!</i>"</p> + +<p>"To live, Opal? We are not dead, surely! What do you mean by life?"</p> + +<p>And so her name was Opal! How curiously the name suited the voice! The +Boy, as he listened, felt that no other name could possibly have +matched that voice—the opal, that glorious gem in which all the fires +of the sun, the iridescent glories of the rainbow, and the cold +brilliance of ice and frost and snow seemed to blend and crystallize. +All this, and more, was in that mysteriously fascinating voice.</p> + +<p>"To live, Alice?" echoed the voice again. "To live? Why, to live is to +<i>feel!</i>—to feel every emotion of which the human soul is capable, to +rise to the heights of love, and knowledge, and power; to sink—if need +be—to the deepest depths of despair, but, at all costs, at all hazards, +to <i>live!</i>—to experience in one's own nature all the reality and +fullness of the deathless emotions of life!"</p> + +<p>The voice sank almost to the softness of a whisper, yet even then was +vibrant, alive, intense.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Alice, from my childhood up, I have dreamed of life and longed for +it. What life really is, each must decide for himself, must he not? +Some, they say, sleep their way through a dreamless existence, and +never, never wake to realities. Alice, I have sometimes wondered if that +was to be my fate, have wondered and wondered until I have cried out in +real terror at the hideous prospect! Surely Fate could not be so cruel +as to implant such a desperate desire in a soul that never was to know +its fulfilment. Could it, Alice? Tell me, <i>could</i> it?"</p> + +<p>The Boy held his breath now.</p> + +<p>Who was this girl, anyhow, who seemed to express his own thoughts as +accurately as he himself could have done? He was bored no longer. He was +roused, stirred, awakened—and intensely interested. It was as though +the voice of his own soul spoke to him in a dream.</p> + +<p>The cold, lifeless voice now chimed in again. In his impatience the Boy +clenched his fists and shut his teeth together hard. Why didn't she keep +still? He didn't want to miss a single note he might have caught of the +voice—that other! Why did this nonentity—for one didn't have to see +her to be sure that she was that—have to interrupt and rob him of his +pleasure?</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, Opal," she was saying. (Of course she didn't, +thought the Boy—how could she?) "I am sure that I live. And yet I have +never felt that way—thank goodness! It's vulgar to feel too deeply, +Mamma used to say, and as I have grown older, I can see that she was +right. The best people never show any excess of emotion. That is for +tragedy queens, operatic stars, and—the women we do not talk about! +Ladies cultivate repose!"</p> + +<p>("Repose!—<i>mon Dieu!</i>" thought Paul, behind the hedge. He wished that +she would!)</p> + +<p>"And yet, Alice, you are—married!"</p> + +<p>"Married?—of course!—why not?" and the eavesdropper fancied he could +see the wide-open gaze of well-bred English surprise that accompanied +the words. "One has to marry, of course. That is what we are created +for. But one doesn't make a fuss about it. It's only a custom—a +ceremony—and doesn't change existence much for most women, if they +choose sensibly. Of course there is always the chance of a +<i>mésalliance</i>! A woman has to risk that."</p> + +<p>"And you don't—love?"</p> + +<p>The Boy was struck by a note that was almost horror in the opaline voice +so near him.</p> + +<p>"Love? Why, Opal, of course we do! It's easy to love, you know, when a +man is decent and half-way good to one. I am sure I think a great deal +of Algernon; but I dare say I should have thought as much of any other +man I had happened to marry. That is a wife's duty!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Duty!</i>—and you call that love?" The horror in the tones had now +changed to scorn.</p> + +<p>"You have strange ideas of life, Opal. I should be afraid to indulge +them if I were you—really I should! You have lived so much in books +that you seem to have a very garbled idea of the world. Fiction is apt +to be much of a fairy tale, a crazy exaggeration of what living really +consists of!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Afraid?</i> Why should I be afraid? I am an American girl, remember, and +Americans are afraid of nothing—nothing! Come, cousin, tell to me, if +you can, why I should be afraid."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know! really I don't!" There was a troubled, perplexed note +in the English voice now. "Such notions are apt to get girls into +trouble, and lead them to some unhappy fate. Too much 'life'—as you +call it—must mean suffering, and sorrow, and many tears—and maybe, +<i>sin</i>!"</p> + +<p>There was a shocked note in the voice of the young English matron as +she added the last word, and her voice sank to a whisper. But Paul +Zalenska heard, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Suffering, and sorrow, and many tears," repeated the American girl, +musingly, "and maybe—sin!" Then she went on, firmly, "Very well, +Alice, give me the suffering and sorrow, and many tears—and the sin, +too, if it must be, for we are all sinners of greater or less +degree—but at any rate, give me life! My life may still be far off in +the future, but when the time comes, I shall certainly know, and—I +shall <i>live</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You are a peculiar girl, Opal, and—we don't say those things in +England."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't say those things, you cold English women! You do not even +<i>feel</i> them! As for sin, Alice, to my mind there can be no worse sin +under heaven than you commit when you give yourself to a man whom you do +not love better than you could possibly love any other. Oh, it is a +sin—it <i>must</i> be—to sell yourself like that! It's no wonder, I think, +that your husbands are so often driven to 'the women we do not talk +about' for—consolation!"</p> + +<p>"Opal! Opal! hush! What <i>are</i> you saying? You really—but see! isn't +that Algernon crossing the terrace? He is probably looking for us."</p> + +<p>"And like a dutiful English wife, you mustn't fail to obey, I suppose! +Lead the way, cousin mine, and I'll promise to follow you with due +dignity and decorum."</p> + +<p>And the rustle of silken skirts heralded the departure of the ladies +away from the hedge and beyond Paul's hearing.</p> + +<p>Then he too started at an eager, restless pace for the centre of the +crowd. He had quite forgotten the future so carefully arranged for him, +and was off in hot pursuit of—what? He did not know! He only knew that +he had heard a voice, and—he followed!</p> + +<p>As he rejoined the guests, he looked with awakened interest into every +face, listened with eager intensity to every voice. But all in vain. It +did not occur to him that he might easily learn from his hostess the +identity of her American guest; and even if the thought had presented +itself to him, he would never have acted upon it. The experience was +his alone, and he would have been unwilling to share it with any one.</p> + +<p>He was no longer bored as earlier in the afternoon, and he carried the +assurance of enthusiasm and interest in his every glance and motion. +People smiled at the solitary figure, and whispered that he must have +lost Verdayne. But for once in his life, the Boy was not looking for his +friend.</p> + +<p>But neither did he find the voice!</p> + +<p>Usually among the first to depart on such occasions as these, this time +he remained until almost all the crowd had made their adieux. And it was +with a keen sense of disappointment that he at last entered his carriage +for the home of the Verdaynes. He was hearing again and again in the +words of the voice, as it echoed through his very soul, "When my time +comes, I shall certainly know, and I shall—<i>live!</i>"</p> + +<p>The letter in his pocket no longer scorched the flesh beneath. He had +forgotten its very existence, nor did he once think of the Princess +Elodie of Austria. What had happened to him?</p> + +<p>Had he fallen in love with a—voice?</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_II'></a><h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was May at Verdayne Place, and May at Verdayne Place was altogether +different from May in any other part of the world. The skies were of a +far deeper and richer blue; the flowers reached a higher state of +fragrant and rainbow-hued perfection; the sun shining through the green +of the trees was tempered to just the right degree of shine and shadow. +To an Englishman, home is the beginning and the end of the world, and +Paul Verdayne was a typical Englishman.</p> + +<p>To be sure, it had not always been so, but Paul had outlived his +vagabond days and had become thoroughly domesticated; yet there had been +a time in his youth when the wandering spirit had filled his soul, when +the love of adventure had lent wings to his feet, and the glory of +romance had lured him to the lights and shadows of other skies than +these. But Verdayne was older now, very much older! He had lived his +life, he said, and settled down!</p> + +<p>In the shade of the tall trees of the park, two men were drinking in the +beauties of the season, in all the glory and splendor of its +ever-changing, yet ever-enduring loveliness. One of them was past forty, +the ripeness of middle age and the general air of a well-spent, +well-directed, and fully-developed life lending to his face and form an +unusual distinction—even in that land of distinguished men. His +companion was a boy of twenty, straight and tall and proud, carrying +himself with the regal grace of a Greek god. He was a strong, handsome, +healthy, well-built, and well-instructed boy, a boy at whom any one who +looked once would be sure to look the second time, even though he could +not tell exactly wherein the peculiar charm lay. Both men were fair of +hair and blue-eyed, with clear, clean skins and well-bred English faces, +and the critical observer could scarcely fail to notice how curiously +they resembled each other. Indeed, the younger of the pair might easily +have been the replica of the elder's youth.</p> + +<p>When they spoke, however, the illusion of resemblance disappeared. In +the voice of the Boy was a certain vibrant note that was entirely +lacking in the deeper tones of the man—not an accent, nor yet an +inflection, but still a quality that lent a subtle suggestion of foreign +shores. It was an expressive voice, neither languorous nor unduly +forceful, but strangely magnetic, and adorably rich and full, and +musical, thrilling its hearers with its suggestion of latent physical +and spiritual force.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of which I write, those two were facing a crisis that +made them blind to everything of lesser import. Paul Verdayne—the man +—realized this to the full. His companion—the Boy—was dimly but just +as acutely conscious of it. The question had come at last—the question +that Paul Verdayne had been dreading for years.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Paul," the Boy was saying, "what relation are you to me? You are +not really my uncle, though I have been taught to call you so after this +quaint English fashion of yours. I know it is something of a secret, but +I know no more! We are closer comrades, it seems to me—you and I—than +any others in all the world. We always understand each other, somehow, +almost without words—is it not so? I even bear your name, and I am +proud of it, because it is yours. But why must there be so much mystery +about our real relationship? Won't you tell me just what I am to you?"</p> + +<p>The question, long-looked-for as it was, found the elder man all +unprepared. Is any one ever ready for any dire calamity, however +certainly expected? He paced up and down under the tall trees of the +park and for a time did not answer. Then he paused and laid his hand +upon the shoulder of the Boy with a tenderness of touch that proved +better than any words how close was the bond between them.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what you are to me! I could never, never do that! You are +everything to me, everything!"</p> + +<p>The Boy made a motion as if to speak, but the man forestalled him.</p> + +<p>"We're jolly good friends, aren't we—the very best of companions? In +all the world there is no man, woman or child that is half so near and +dear to me as you. Men don't usually talk about these things to one +another, you know, Boy; but, though I am a bachelor, you see, I feel +toward you as most men feel toward their sons. What does the mere +defining of the relationship matter? Could we possibly be any more to +each other than we are?"</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne seated himself on a little knoll beneath the shade of a +giant oak. The Boy looked at him with the wistfulness of an infinite +question in his gaze.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Boy! Some time, perhaps—yes, certainly—you shall know all, +all! But that time has not yet come, and for the present it is best that +things should rest as they are. Trust us, Boy—trust me—and be +patient!"</p> + +<p>"Patient!" The Boy laughed a full, ringing laugh, as he threw himself on +the grass at his companion's feet. "I have never learned the word! Could +you be patient, Uncle Paul, when youth was all on fire in your heart, +with your own life shrouded in mystery? Could you, I say, be patient +then?"</p> + +<p>Verdayne laughed indulgently as his strong fingers stroked the Boy's +brown curls.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not, Boy, perhaps not! But it is for you," he continued, "for +you, Boy, to make the best of that life of yours, which you are pleased +to think clouded in such tantalizing mystery. It is for you to develop +every God-given faculty of your being that all of us that love you may +have the happiness of seeing you perform wisely and well the mission +upon which you have been sent to this kingdom of yours to accomplish. +Boy! every true man is a king in the might of his manhood, but upon you +is bestowed a double portion of that universal royalty. This is a +throne-worshipping world we are living in, Paul, and it means even more +than you can realize to be a prince of the blood!"</p> + +<p>The Boy looked around the park apprehensively. What if someone heard? +For this straight young sapling, who was only the "Boy" to Paul +Verdayne, was to the world at large an heir to a throne, a king who had +been left in infancy the sole ruler of his kingdom.</p> + +<p>His visits to Verdayne Place were <i>incognito</i>. He did like to throw +aside the purple now and then and be the real live boy he was at heart. +He did enjoy to the full his occasional opportunities, unhampered by +the trappings and obligations of royalty.</p> + +<p>"A prince of the blood!" he echoed scornfully. "Bah!—what is that? +Merely an accident of birth!"</p> + +<p>"No, not an accident, Paul! Nothing in the world ever is that. Every +fragment of life has its completing part somewhere, given its place in +the scheme of the universe by intricate design—always by <i>design!</i> As +for the duties of your kingdom, my Prince, it is not like you to take +them so lightly."</p> + +<p>"I know! I know! Yet everybody might have been born a prince. It is far +more to be a man!"</p> + +<p>"True enough, Boy! yet everybody might not have been born to your +position. Only you could have been given the heritage that is yours! My +Boy, yours is a mission, a responsibility, from the Creator of Life +Himself. Everybody can follow—but only God's chosen few can lead! And +you—oh, Boy! yours is a birthright above that of all other princes—if +you only knew!"</p> + +<p>The young prince looked wistfully upward into the eyes of the elder man.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Uncle Paul! Dmitry always speaks of my birth with a reverence +and awe quite out of proportion to its possible consequence—poor old +man. And once even the Grand Duke Peter spoke of my 'divine origin' +though he could not be coaxed or wheedled into committing his wise self +any further. Now you, yourself the most reserved and secretive of +individuals when it pleases you to be so, have just been surprised into +something of the same expression. Do you wonder that I long to unravel +the mystery that you are all so determined to keep from me? I can learn +nothing at home—absolutely nothing! They glorify my mother—God bless +her memory! Everyone worships her! But they never speak of you, and they +are silent, too, about my father. They simply won't tell me a thing +about him, so I don't imagine that he could have been a very good king! +<i>Was</i> he, Uncle Paul? Did you know him?"</p> + +<p>"I never knew the king, Boy!—never even saw him!"</p> + +<p>"But you must have heard—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Boy, that I can tell you—absolutely nothing!"</p> + +<p>Verdayne had risen again and was once more pacing back and forth under +the trees, as was his wont when troubled with painful memories.</p> + +<p>"But my mother—you knew <i>her</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—I knew your mother!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me about her!"</p> + +<p>A dull, hopeless agony came into the eyes of the older man. And so his +Gethsemane had come to him again! Every life has this garden to pass +through—some, alas! again and yet again! And Paul Verdayne had thought +that he had long since drained his cup of misery to the dregs. He knew +better now.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will tell you of your mother, Boy," he said, and there was a +strained, guarded note in his voice which his companion's quick ear did +not fail to catch. "But you must be patient if you wish to hear what +little there is, after all, that I can tell you. You must remember, my +Boy, that it is a long time since your mother—died—and men of my age +sometimes—forget!"</p> + +<p>"I will remember," the Boy said, gently.</p> + +<p>But as he looked up into the face of his friend, something in his heart +told him that Paul Verdayne did <i>not</i> forget! And somehow the older man +felt confident that the Boy knew, and was strangely comforted by the +silent sympathy between them which both felt, but neither could express.</p> + +<p>"Your mother, Boy, was the noblest and most beautiful woman that ever +graced a throne. Everyone who knew her must have said that! You are very +like her, Paul—not in appearance, a mistake of Fate to be everlastingly +deplored, but in spirit you are her living counterpart. Ah! you have a +great example to live up to, Boy, in attempting to follow her footsteps! +There was never a queen like her—never!"</p> + +<p>The young prince followed with the deepest absorption the words of the +man who had known his mother, hanging upon the story with the breathless +interest of a child in some fairy tale.</p> + +<p>"She knew life as it is given few women to know it. She was not more +than thirty-five, I think, when you were born, but she had crowded into +those years more knowledge of the world, in all its myriad phases, than +others seem to absorb during their allotted three score and ten. And her +knowledge was not of the world alone, but of the heart. She was full of +ideals of advancement, of growth, of doing and being something worthy +the greatest endeavor, exerting every hope and ambition to the utmost +for the future splendor of her kingdom—your kingdom now. How she loved +you!—what splendid achievements she expected of you! how she prayed +that you might be grand, and great, and true!"</p> + +<p>"Did you always know her?"</p> + +<p>"Always?—no. Only for three weeks, Boy!"</p> + +<p>"Three weeks!—three little weeks! How strange, then, that you should +have learned so much about her in that short space of time! She must +indeed have made a strong impression upon you!"</p> + +<p>"Impression, you say? Boy, all that I am or ever expect to become—all +that I know or ever expect to learn—all that I have done or ever expect +to accomplish—I owe to your mother. She was the one inspiration of my +life. Until I knew her, I was a nonentity. It was she who awakened +me—who taught me how to live! Three weeks! Child! child!—"</p> + +<p>He caught himself sharply and bit his lip, forcing back the impetuous +words he had not meant to say. The silence of years still shrouded those +mysterious three weeks, and the time had not yet come when that silence +could be broken. What had he said? What possessed the Boy to-day to +cling so persistently to this hitherto forbidden subject?</p> + +<p>"Where did you meet her, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"At Lucerne!"</p> + +<p>"Lucerne!" echoed the Boy, his blue eyes growing dreamy with musing. +"That says nothing to me—nothing! and yet—you will laugh at me, I +know, but I sometimes get the most tantalizing impression that I +remember my mother. It is absurd, of course—I suppose I could not +possibly remember her—and yet there is such a haunting, vague sense of +close-clinging arms, of an intensely white and tender face bending over +me—sometimes in the radiance of day and again in the soft shadows of +night, but always, always alight with love—of kisses, soft and warm, +and yet often tearful—and of black, lustrous hair, over which there +always seems to shine a halo—a very coronet of triumphant motherhood."</p> + +<p>Verdayne's lips moved, but no sound came from them to voice the +passionate cry in his heart, "My Queen, my Queen!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is only a curious dream! It must be, of course! But it is +a very real vision to me, and I would not part with it for the world. +Uncle, do you know, I can never look upon the pictured face of a Madonna +without being forcibly reminded of this vision of my mother—the mother +I can see only in dreams!"</p> + +<p>Verdayne found it growing harder and harder for him to speak.</p> + +<p>"I do not think that strange, Boy. Others would not understand it, but I +do. She was so intensely a mother that the spirit of the great Holy +Mother must have been at all times hovering closely about her! Her +deepest desires centred about her son. You were the embodiment of the +greatest, sweetest joys—if not the only real joys—of her strangely +unhappy life, and her whole thought, her one hope, was for you. In your +soul must live all the unrealized hopes and crucified ideals of the +woman who, always every inch a queen, was never more truly regal than in +the supreme hour that crowned her your mother."</p> + +<p>"And am I like her, Uncle Paul? Am I really like her?"</p> + +<p>"So much so, Boy, that she sometimes seems to live again in you. Like +her, you believe so thoroughly in the goodness and greatness of a +God—in the beauty and glory of the world fraught with lessons of life +and death—in the omnipotence of Fate—in the truth and power and +grandeur of overmastering love. You believe in the past, in all the +dreams and legends of the Long Ago still relived in the Now, in the +capabilities of the human mind, the kingship of the soul. Your voice is +hers, every tone and cadence is as her own voice repeating her own +words. Be glad, Paul, that you are like your mother, and hope that with +the power to think her thoughts and dream lier dreams, you may also have +the power to love as she loved, and, if need be, die her death!"</p> + +<p>"But you think the same thoughts, Uncle Paul. You believe all I +believe!"</p> + +<p>"Because she taught me, Paul—because she taught me! I slept the sleep +of the blind and deaf and soulless until her touch woke my soul into +being. You have always been alive to the joy of the world and the beauty +of living. Your soul was born with your body and lived purposefully from +the very beginning of things. You were born for a purpose and that +purpose showed itself even in infancy."</p> + +<p>A silence fell between the two men. A long time they sat in that +sympathetic communion, each busy with his own thoughts. The older Paul +was lost in memories of the past, for his life lay all behind him—the +younger Paul was indulging in many dreams of a roseate future, for his +life was all ahead of him.</p> + +<p>It was a friendship that the world often wondered about—this strange +intimacy between Paul Verdayne, the famous Member of Parliament, and the +young man from abroad who called himself Paul Zalenska. None knew +exactly where Monsieur Zalenska came from, and as they had long ago +learned the futility of questioning either of the men about personal +affairs, had at last reconciled themselves to never finding out. +Everyone suspected that the Boy was a scion of rank—and some went so +far as to say of royalty, but beyond the fact that every May he came +with his faithful, foreign-looking attendant to Verdayne Place and spent +the summer months with the Verdayne family, nothing definite was +actually known. His elderly attendant certainly spoke some beastly +foreign jargon and went by the equally beastly foreign name of Vasili. +He was known to worship his young master and to attend him with the most +marked servility, but he was never questioned, and had he been, would +certainly have told no tales.</p> + +<p>The parents of Paul Verdayne—Sir Charles and Lady Henrietta—were very +fond of their young guest, and made much of his annual visits. As for +Paul himself, he never seemed to be perfectly happy anywhere if the +young fellow were out of his sight.</p> + +<p>He had made himself very much distinguished, had this Paul Verdayne. He +had found out how to get the most out of his life and accomplish the +utmost good for himself and his England with the natural endowments of +his energetic and ambitious personality. He had become a famous orator, +a noted statesman, a man of brain as well as brawn. People were glad to +listen when he talked. He inspired them with the idea—so nearly extinct +in this day and age of the world—that life after all was very much +worth the living. He stirred languid pulses with a dormant enthusiasm. +He roused torpid brains to thought. He had ideas and had also a way of +making other people share those ideas. England was proud of Paul +Verdayne, as she had good reason to be. And he was only forty-three +years old even now. What might he not accomplish in the future for the +land to which he devoted all his talents, his tireless, well-directed +activities?</p> + +<p>He had given himself up so thoroughly to political interests that he had +not taken time to marry. This was a great disappointment to his mother, +Lady Henrietta, who had set her heart upon welcoming a daughter-in-law +and a houseful of merry, romping grandchildren before the sun of her +life had gone down forever. It was also a secret source of +disappointment to certain younger feminine hearts as well, who in the +days of his youth, and even in the ripeness of later years, had regarded +Paul Verdayne with eyes that found him good to look upon. But the young +politician had never been a woman's man. He was chivalrous, of course, +as all well-bred Englishmen are, but he kept himself as aloof from all +society as politeness would permit, and the attack of the most +skillfully aimed glances fell harmless, even unheeded, upon his +impenetrable armor. He might have married wherever he had willed, but +Society and her fair votaries sighed and smiled in vain, and finally +decided to leave him alone, to Verdayne's infinite relief.</p> + +<p>As for the Boy, he was always, as I have said, a mystery, always a topic +for the consideration of the gossips. Every year since he was a little +fellow six years old he had come to Verdayne Place for the summer; at +first, accompanied by his nurse, Anna, and a silver-haired servant, +curiously named Dmitry. Later the nurse had ceased to be a necessity, +and the old servant had been replaced by Vasili, a younger, but no less +devoted attendant. As the Boy grew older, he had learned to hunt and +took long rides with his then youthful host across the wide stretch of +English country that made up the Verdayne estates and those of the +neighboring gentry. Often they cruised about in distant waters, for the +young fellow from his earliest years shared with the elder an absorbing +love of nature in all her varied and glorious forms; and in February, +always in February, Verdayne found time to steal away from England for a +brief visit to that far-off country in the south of Europe from which +the Boy came. Many remembered that Verdayne, like an uncle of his, Lord +Hubert Aldringham, had been much given to foreign travel in his younger +days and had made many friends and acquaintances among the nobility and +royalty of other lands, and although it was strange, they thought it was +not at all improbable that the lad was connected with some one of those +great families across the Channel.</p> + +<p>As for Paul and the Boy, they knew not what people thought or said, and +cared still less. There was too strong a bond of <i>camaraderie</i> between +them to be disturbed by the murmurings of a wind that could blow neither +of them good or ill.</p> + +<p>And the Boy was now twenty years of age.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Paul Zalenska broke their long silence.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Uncle, I sometimes have a queer feeling of fear that my +father must have done something terrible in his life—something to make +strong men shrink and shudder at the thought—something—<i>criminal</i>! Oh, +I dare not think of that!" he went on hastily. "I dare not—I dare not! +I think the knowledge of it would drive me mad!"</p> + +<p>His voice sank to a half-whisper and there was a note of horror in his +words.</p> + +<p>"But, what a king he must have been!—what a miserable apology for all +that royalty should be by every law, human or divine! Why isn't his name +heralded over the length and breadth of the kingdom in paeans of praise? +Why isn't the whole world talking of his valor, his beneficence, his +statesmanship? What is a king created a king for, if not to make +history?"</p> + +<p>He fought silently for a moment to regain his self-control, forcing the +hideous idea from him and at last speaking with an air of finality +beyond his years.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't think of it! May the King of the world endow me with the +strength of the gods and the wisdom of the ancient seers, that I may +make up by my efficiency for all my father's deplorable lack, and become +all that my mother meant me to be when she gave me to the world!"</p> + +<p>He stretched out his arms in a passionate appeal to Heaven, and Paul +Verdayne, looking up at him, realized as he had never before that the +Boy certainly had within him the stuff of which kings should be made.</p> + +<p>The Boy was not going to disappoint him. He was going to justify the +high hopes cherished for him so long. He was going to be a man after his +mother's own heart.</p> + +<p>"Uncle," went on the Boy, wrought up to a high pitch of emotion, and +throwing himself down again at Verdayne's feet, "I feel with Louis XVI, +'I am too young to reign!' Why haven't I ever had a father to teach and +train me in the way I should go? Every boy needs a good father, princes +most of all, so much more is expected of us poor royal devils than of +more ordinary and more fortunate mortals! I know I shouldn' be +complaining like this—certainly not to you, Uncle Paul, who have been +all most fathers are to most boys! But there are times, you know, when +you persist in keeping me at arm's length as you keep everyone else! +When you put up that sign, 'Thus far and no further!' I feel myself +almost a stranger! Won't you let me come nearer? Won't you take down +that barrier between us and let me have a father—at least, in name? I'm +tired of calling you 'Uncle' who uncle never was and never could be! +You're far more of a father—really you are! Let me call you in name +what you have always been in spirit. Let me say 'Father Paul!' I like +the sound of it, don't you? 'Father Paul!'—'Father Paul!'"</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne felt every drop of blood leave his face. He felt as if the +Boy had inadvertently laid a cold hand upon his naked heart, chilling, +paralyzing its every beat. What did he mean? The Boy was just then +looking thoughtfully at the setting sun and did not see the change that +his words called into his companion's face—thank heaven for that!—but +what <i>could</i> he mean?</p> + +<p>"You can call yourself my 'Father Confessor,' you know, if you entertain +any scruples as to the propriety of a staid old bachelor's fathering a +stray young cub like me—that will make it all right, surely! You will +let me, won't you? In all the world there is no one so close to me as +you, and such dreams as I may happily bring to fulfillment will be, more +than you know, because of your guidance, your inspiration. You are the +father of my spirit, whoever may have been the father of my flesh! Let +it be hereafter, then, not 'Uncle,' but 'Father Paul'!"</p> + +<p>And the older man, rising and standing by the Boy, threw his arm around +the young shoulders, and gazing far off to the distant west, felt +himself shaken by a strange emotion as he answered, "Yes, Boy, hereafter +let it be 'Father Paul!'"</p> + +<p>And as the sun travelled faster and faster toward the line of its +crossing between the worlds of night and day, its rays reflected a new +radiance upon the faces of the two men who sat in the silent shadows of +the park, feeling themselves drawn more closely together than ever +before, thinking, thinking, thinking-in the eyes of the man a great +memory, in the eyes of the Boy a great longing for life!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The two friends ran up to London for the theatre that night, to see a +famous actor in a popular play, but neither was much interested in the +performance. Something had kindled in the heart of the man a reminiscent +fire and the Boy was thinking his own thoughts and listening, ever +listening.</p> + +<p>"I'm several kinds of a fool," he thought, "but I'd like to hear that +voice again and get a glimpse of the face that goes with it. I dare say +she is anything but attractive in the flesh—if she is really in the +flesh at all, which I am beginning to doubt—so I should be disenchanted +if I were to see her, I suppose. But I'd like to <i>know</i>!" Yet, after +all, he could not comprehend how such a voice could accompany an +unattractive face. The spirit that animated those tones must needs light +up the most ordinary countenance with character, if not with beauty, he +thought; but he saw no face in the vast audience to which he cared to +assign it. No, <i>she</i> wasn't there. He was sure of that.</p> + +<p>But as they left the building and stood upon the pavement, awaiting +their carriage, his blood mounted to his face, dyeing it crimson. In the +sudden silence that mysteriously falls on even vast crowds, sometimes, +he heard that voice again!</p> + +<p>It was only a snatch of mischievous laughter from a brougham just being +driven away from the curb, but it was unmistakably <i>the</i> voice. Had the +Boy been alone he would have followed the brougham and solved the +mystery then and there.</p> + +<p>The laugh rang out again on the summer evening air. It was like a lilt +of fairies' merriment in the moonlit revels of Far Away! It was the note +of a siren's song, calling, calling the hearts and souls of men! It +was—But the Boy stopped and shook himself free from the "sentimental +rot" he was indulging in.</p> + +<p>He turned with a question on his lips, but Verdane had noticed nothing +and the Boy did not speak.</p> + +<p>Still that laugh thrilled and mocked him all the way to Berkeley Square +and lured him on and on through the night's mysterious dreams.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_III'></a><h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br /> + +<p>In the drawing room of her mansion on Grosvenor Square, Lady Alice +Mordaunt was pouring tea, and talking as usual the same trifling +commonplaces that had on a previous occasion excited her cousin's +disdain. Opposite her sat her mother, Lady Fletcher, a perfect model of +the well-bred English matron, while Opal Ledoux, in the daintiest and +fluffiest of summer costumes, was curled up like a kitten in a corner of +the window-seat, apparently engrossed in a book, but in reality watching +the passers-by.</p> + +<p>From her childhood up she had lived in a Castle of Dreams, which she had +peopled with the sort of men and women that suited her own fanciful +romantic ideas, and where she herself was supposed to lie asleep until +her ideal knight, the Prince Charming of the story, came across land +and sea to storm the Castle and wake her with a kiss.</p> + +<p>It was made up of moonbeams and rays of sunshine and +rainbow-gleams—this dream—woven by fairy fingers into so fragile a +cobweb that it seemed absurd to think it could stand the winds and +torrents of Grown-Up Land; but Opal, in spite of her eighteen years, was +still awaiting the coming of her ideal knight, though the stage setting +of the drama, and her picture of just how the Prince Charming of her +dreams was to look, and what he would say, had changed materially with +the passing of the years.</p> + +<p>If sometimes she wove strange lines of tragedy throughout the dreams, +out of the threads of shadow that flitted across the sunshine of her +life, she did not reject them. She felt they belonged there and did not +shrink, even when her young face paled at the curious self-pity the +passing of the thought invoked.</p> + +<p>Hers was a strange mixture, made up of an unusual intermingling of many +bloods. Born in New Orleans, of a father who was a direct descendant of +the early French settlers of Louisiana, and of a Creole mother, who +might have traced her ancestry back to one of the old grandees of Spain, +she yet clung with a jealous affection to the land of her birth and +called herself defiantly "a thorough-bred American!" Her mother had died +in giving her birth, and her father, while she was still too young to +remember, had married a fair Englishwoman who had tried hard to be a +mother to the strange little creature whose blood leaped and danced +within her veins with all the fire and romance of foreign suns. Gay and +pleasure-mad as she usually appeared, there was always the shadow of a +heartache in her eye, and one felt the possibility of a tragedy in her +nature. In fact one felt intuitively sorry—almost afraid—for her lest +her daring, adventurous spirit should lead her too close to the +precipice along the rocky pathway of life.</p> + +<p>She was thinking many strange thoughts as she sat looking out of the +window. Her English cousins, related to her only through her stepmother, +yet called kin for courtesy's sake, had given up trying to understand +her complexities, as she had likewise given up trying to explain +herself. If they were pleased forever to consider her in the light of a +conundrum, she thought, why—let them!</p> + +<p>After a while the ladies at the tea-table began to chat in more +confidential tones. Opal was not too oblivious to her surroundings to +notice, nor to grasp the fact that they were discussing her, but that +knowledge did not interest her. She was so used to being considered a +curiosity that it had ceased to have any special concern for her. She +only hoped that they would sometime succeed in understanding her better +than she had yet learned to understand herself. It might have interested +her, however, had she overheard this particular conversation, for it +shed a great light upon certain shades of character she had discovered +in herself and often wondered about, but had never had explained to her.</p> + +<p>But she did not hear.</p> + +<p>"I am greatly concerned about Opal," Lady Alice was saying. "She is the +most difficult creature, Mamma—you've no idea how peculiar—with the +most dangerous, positively <i>immoral</i> ideas. I do wish she were safely +married, for then—well, there is really no knowing what might happen to +a girl who thinks and talks as she does. I used to think it might be a +sort of American pose—put on for startling effect, you know—but I +begin to think she actually means it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she means it," replied Lady Fletcher, lowering her voice +discreetly, till it was little more than a whisper. "She has always had +just such notions. It gives Amy a great deal of trouble and worry to +keep her straight. You know—or perhaps you didn't know, for we don't +talk of these things often, especially when they are in one's +family—but there is a bad strain in her blood and they are always +looking for it to crop out somewhere. Her mother married happily—and +escaped the curse—but for several generations back the women of her +family have been of peculiar temperament and—they've usually gone wrong +sometime in their lives. It seems to be in the blood. They can't help +it. Mr. Ledoux told Amy all about it at the time of their marriage, and +that is the reason they have tried to keep Opal as secluded as possible +from the usual free-and-easy associations of American girls, and are so +anxious to marry her off wisely."</p> + +<p>"And speedily," put in Alice—"the sooner the better!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—speedily!"</p> + +<p>Lady Fletcher gave an uneasy glance in Opal's direction before she +continued.</p> + +<p>"You are too young to have heard the story, Alice, but her +grandmother—a black-eyed Spanish lady of high rank—was made quite +unpleasantly notorious by her associations with a brother of Lady +Henrietta Verdayne. He was an unprincipled roué—this Lord Hubert +Aldringham—a libertine who openly boasted of the conquests he had made +abroad. Being appointed to many foreign posts in the diplomatic service, +he was naturally on intimate terms with people of rank and royalty. They +say he was very fascinating, with the devil's own eye, and ten times as +devilish a heart—"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mamma!"</p> + +<p>Alice was shocked.</p> + +<p>"I am only repeating what they said, child," apologized the elder woman +meekly. "Women will be fools, you know, over a handsome face and a +tender voice—some women, I mean—and that's what Opal has to fight +against."</p> + +<p>"Poor Opal," murmured Alice, "I did not know!"</p> + +<p>"Some even go so far as to say—"</p> + +<p>Again Lady Fletcher looked up apprehensively, but Opal was still +absorbed in her dreams.</p> + +<p>"To say—what, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of course it's only talk—nobody can actually <i>know,</i> I suppose, +and I wouldn't, of course, be quoted as saying anything for the world, +dear knows; but they say that it is more than probable that Opal's +mother was ... <i>Lord Hubert's own daughter!"</i></p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother! If it is true—if it <i>could</i> be true—what a fight for +her!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and the worst of it is with Opal, she won't fight. She has been +rigidly trained in the principles of virtue and propriety from her very +birth, and yet she horrifies every one at times by shocking ideas—that +no one knows where she gets, nor, worse yet, where they may lead!"</p> + +<p>"But she is good, Mother. She has the noblest ideas of charity and +kindness and altruism, of the advancement of all that's good and true in +the world, of the attainment of knowledge, of the beauties and +consolation of religion. It's fine to hear her talk when she's +inspired—not a bit preachy, you know—she's certainly far enough from +that—but more like reading some beautiful poem you can but half +understand, or listening to music that makes you wish you were better, +whether you take in its full meaning or not."</p> + +<p>This was a long speech for Lady Alice. Her mother looked at her in +amazement. There certainly must be something out of the ordinary in this +peculiar American cousin to wake Alice from her customary languor.</p> + +<p>Alice smiled at her mother's surprise.</p> + +<p>"Strange, isn't it, Mother?" she asked, half ashamed of her unusual +enthusiasm. "But it's true. She'd help some good man to be a power in +the world. I feel it so often when she talks. I didn't know women ever +thought such things as she does. I-I-I believe we can trust her, Mother, +to steer clear of everything!"</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Alice; I am sure I hope so, but—I don't know. I am afraid +it was a mistake to keep her so much alone. It gives her more unreal +ideas of life than actual contact with the world would have done."</p> + +<p>Opal Ledoux left the window and sauntered down the long drawing-room +toward the table where the speakers were sitting.</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about?—me?"</p> + +<p>The cousins were surprised and showed it by blushing guiltily.</p> + +<p>Opal laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"Dreary subject for a dreary day! I hope you found it more interesting +than I have!" And she stretched her small figure to its utmost height, +which was not a bit above five foot, and shrugged her shoulders lazily.</p> + +<p>"What are you reading, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher, in an effort to +change the subject, looking with some interest at the volume that the +girl carried.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me—all twaddle and moonshine! I ought not to waste my +valuable time with such trash. There isn't a real character in the book, +not one. When I write a book, and I presume I shall some time, if I live +long enough, I shall put people into it who have real flesh and blood in +them and who do startling things. But I'll have to live it all first!"</p> + +<p>"Live the startling things, Opal? God forbid!"</p> + +<p>"Surely! Why not?"</p> + +<p>And Opal dropped listlessly into a chair, tossed the offending book on a +table, and taking a cup of tea from the hand of her cousin, began to sip +it with an air of languid indifference, which sat strangely on her +youthful, almost childlike figure.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Alice," she asked carelessly, "who was the young man who +stared at us so rudely last night as we drove away from the theatre?"</p> + +<p>"I saw no young man staring, Opal. Where was he?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he stood on the pavement, waiting, I suppose, for his carriage, +and as we drove away he looked at me as though he thought I had no right +to live, and still less to laugh—I believe I was laughing—and as we +turned the corner I peeped back through the curtain, and he still stood +there in the full glare of the light, staring. It's impolite, +cousins—<i>very! Gentlemen</i> don't stare at girls in America!"</p> + +<p>"What did he look like, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher.</p> + +<p>"Like a Greek god!" answered the girl, without a second's hesitation.</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>Both women gasped, simultaneously. They were dismayed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be shocked! He had the full panoply of society war-paint on. +He was certainly properly clothed, but as to his being in his right +mind, I have my doubts—serious doubts! He stared!"</p> + +<p>"I hope you didn't stare at him, Opal!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did! What could he expect? And I laughed at him, too! But I +don't believe he saw me at all, more's the pity. I am quite sure he +would have fallen in love with me if he had!"</p> + +<p>"Opal!"</p> + +<p>Opal was thoroughly enjoying herself now. She did enjoy shocking people +who were so delightfully shockable!</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>'Opal'?"</i> and her mimicry was irresistible. "Don't you think I'm +a bit lovable, cousin?—not a bit? You discourage me! I'm doomed to be a +spinster, I suppose! Ah, me! And I'd far rather be the spinster's cat! +Cats aren't worried about the conventions and all that sort of thing. +Happy animals! While we poor two-footed ones they call human—only we +aren't really more than half so—have to keep our claws well hidden and +purr hypocritically, no matter how roughly the world rubs our fur the +wrong way, nor how wild we are to scratch and spit and bristle! Wouldn't +you like to be a cat, Alice?"</p> + +<p>"Goodness, child! What an idea! I am very well contented, Opal, with +the sphere of life into which I have been placed!"</p> + +<p>"Happy, happy Alice! May that state of mind endure forever! But come! +Haven't you an idea, either of you, who my Knight of the Stare can be?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't describe him, Opal."</p> + +<p>Opal opened her eyes in wide surprise.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I? Why, I thought I did, graphically! A Greek god, dressed <i>en +règle</i>. What more do you want? I am sure anyone ought to recognize him +by that."</p> + +<p>Her listeners looked at her in real consternation, which she was quick +to see. Her eyes danced.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you insist upon details, I can supply a few, I guess, if I +try. I am really dying of curiosity to know who he is and why he stared. +Of course I didn't look at him very closely. It wouldn't have +been—er—what do you call it?—proper. And of course I could not see +clearly at night, anyway. But I did notice he was about six feet tall. +Imagine me, poor little me, looking up to six feet! With broad +shoulders; an athletic, muscular figure, like a young Hercules; a +well-shaped head, like Apollo's, covered with curls of fair hair; a +smooth, clear skin, with the tint of the rose in his cheek that deepened +to blood-red when his blue eyes, in which the skies of all the world +seemed to be mirrored, stared with an expression like that of a man upon +whom the splendor of some glorious Paradise was just dawning. He looked +like an Englishman, yet something in his attitude and general appearance +made me think that he was not. His hands—"</p> + +<p>"Opal! Opal! What do you mean? How could you see so much of a young man +in so short a time? And at night, too?"</p> + +<p>Opal pouted.</p> + +<p>"You wanted a detailed description. I was trying to give it to you. As I +told you at the start, I couldn't see much. But anyway, he stared!"</p> + +<p>"And I dare say he wasn't the only one who stared!" put in Lady Alice in +dry tones of reprehension. "I can't imagine who it could be, can you, +mother?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless it was that strange young Monsieur Zalenska—<i>Paul</i> +Zalenska, I believe he calls himself—Paul Verdayne's guest. I rather +think, from the description, that it must have been he!"</p> + +<p>"Zalenska? What a name! I wonder if he won't let me call him 'Paul!'" +said the incorrigible Opal, musingly. "I shall ask him the first time I +see him. Paul's a pretty name! I like that—but I'll never, never be +able to twist my tongue around the other. He'd get out of hearing before +I could call him and that would never do at all! But 'Monsieur,' you +say? Why 'Monsieur'? He certainly doesn't look at all like a Frenchman!"</p> + +<p>"No one knows what he is, Opal; nor who. That is, no one but the +Verdaynes. He has always made a mystery of himself."</p> + +<p>Opal clapped her small hands childishly.</p> + +<p>"Charming! My ideal knight in the flesh! But how shall I attract him?"</p> + +<p>She knitted her brows and pondered as seriously as though the fate of +nations depended upon her decision.</p> + +<p>"Shall I send him my card, Alice, and ask him to call? Or would it be +better to make an appointment with him for the Park? Perhaps a +'personal' in the <i>News</i> would answer my purpose—do you think he reads +the <i>News</i>, or would the <i>Times</i> be better? Come, cousins, what do you +think? I am so young, you know! Please advise me."</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands in a charming gesture of helpless appeal and the +ladies looked at one another in horrified silence. What unheard of thing +would this impossible girl propose next! They would be thankful when +they saw her once more safely embarked for the "land of the free," and +out from under their chaperonage, they hoped, forever. They realized +that she was quite beyond their restraining powers. Had she no sense of +decency at all?</p> + +<p>The door opened, callers were announced, and the day was saved.</p> + +<p>Opal straightened up, put on what she called her "best dignity" and +comported herself in so very well-bred and amiable a manner that her +cousins quite forgave all her past delinquencies and smiled approval +upon the charming courtesy she extended to their guests. She could be +<i>such</i> a lady when she would! No one could resist her! And yet they felt +themselves sitting upon the crater of a volcano liable to erupt at any +moment. One never felt quite safe with Opal.</p> + +<p>But, much to their surprise and relief, everything went beautifully, and +the guests departed, delighted with Lady Alice's "charming American +cousin, so sweet, so dainty, so witty, so brilliant, and altogether +lovely—really quite a dear, you know!"</p> + +<p>But for all that, Lady Alice Mordaunt and Lady Fletcher were far from +feeling easy over their guest, and ardently wished that the girl's +father would cut short his visit to France and return to take her back +with him to America. And while these two worthy ladies worried and +fretted, Opal Ledoux laughed and dreamed.</p> + +<p>And in a big mansion over in Berkeley Square Monsieur Paul Zalenska +wondered—and listened.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV'></a><h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was a whole two weeks after the Boy's experience at the theatre, and +though the echoes of that mysterious voice still rang through all his +dreams at night, and most of his waking hours, he had not heard its lilt +again.</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne smiled to himself to note the youngster's sudden interest +in society. He had not—strange as it may seem—been told a word of the +experience, but he was not curious. He certainly knew the world, if +anyone knew it, and though he was sure he recognized the symptoms, he +had too much tact to ask, "Who is the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Let the Boy have his little secrets," he thought, remembering his own +callow days. "They will do him good."</p> + +<p>And though the Boy felt an undue sense of guilt, he continued to keep +his lips closed and his eyes and ears open, though it often seemed so +utterly useless to do so. Sometimes he wondered if he had dropped to +sleep, there behind the hawthorn hedge that afternoon, and dreamed it +all.</p> + +<p>Verdayne and the Boy were sitting at luncheon at the Savoy. Sir Charles +and Lady Henrietta had gone down to Verdayne Place for a week, and the +two men were spending most of their time away from the lonely house in +Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>That day they were discussing the Boy's matrimonial prospects as +proposed by the Grand Duke Peter—indeed, they were usually discussing +them. The Boy had written, signifying his acceptance and approval of the +arrangements as made. Nothing else was expected of him for the present, +but his nature had not ceased its revolt against the decree of Fate, and +Paul Verdayne shared his feeling of repugnance to the utmost. Perhaps +Verdayne felt it even more acutely than the young Prince himself, for he +knew so much better all that the Boy was sacrificing. But he also knew, +as did the poor royal victim himself, that it was inevitable.</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder at the court escapades that occasionally scandalize all +Europe," said the Boy. "I don't wonder at all! The real wonder is that +more of the poor slaves to royalty do not snap the chains that bind +them, and bolt for freedom. It would be like me,—very like me!"</p> + +<p>And Verdayne could say nothing. He knew of more reasons than one why it +would be very like the Boy to do such a thing, and he sighed as he +thought that some time, perhaps, he might do it. And yet he could not +blame him!</p> + +<p>"Father Paul," went on the Boy, his thoughts taking a new turn, "you are +a bachelor—a hopeless old bachelor—and you have never told me why. Of +course there's a woman or two in it! We have talked about everything +else under the sun, I think—you and I—but, curiously enough, we have +never talked of love! Yet I feel sure that you believe in it. Don't you, +Father Paul? Come now, confess! I am in a mood for sentiment to-day, and +I want to hear what drove you to a life of single blessedness—what made +my romantic old pal such a confirmed old celibate! I don't believe that +you object to matrimony on general principles. Tell me your love-story, +please, Father Paul."</p> + +<p>"What makes you so certain that I have had one, Boy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know just why, but I am certain! It's there in your lips +when you smile, in your eyes when you are moved, in your voice when you +allow yourself to become reminiscent. You are full of memories that you +have never spoken of to me. And now, Father Paul—now is the accepted +time!"</p> + +<p>For a moment Verdayne was nonplussed. What could he reply? There was +only one love-story in his life, and that one would end only with his +own existence, but he could not tell that story to the Boy—yet! +Suddenly, however, an old, half-forgotten memory flashed across his +mind. Of course he had a love-story. He would tell the Boy the story of +Isabella Waring.</p> + +<p>So, as they sat together over their coffee and cigarettes, Verdayne told +his young guest about the Curate's daughter, who had all unconsciously +wielded such an influence over the events of his past life. He told of +the girl's kindness to him when he had broken his collarbone; of her +assistance so freely offered to his mother; of her jolly, lively +spirits, her amiable disposition and general gay good-fellowship; and +then of the unlucky kiss that had aroused the suspicion and august +displeasure of Lady Henrietta, and had sent her erring son a wanderer +over the face of Europe—to forget!</p> + +<p>He painted his sadness at leaving home—and Isabella—in pathetic +colors. Indeed, he became quite affecting when he pictured his parting +with Isabella, and when in repeating his parting words, he managed to +get just the right suspicion of a tremble into his voice, he really felt +quite proud of his ability as a story-teller.</p> + +<p>The Boy was plainly touched.</p> + +<p>"What foolishness to think that such a love as yours could be cured +merely by sending you abroad!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Just what I thought, Boy—utter folly!"</p> + +<p>"Of course it didn't cure you, Father Paul. You didn't learn to forget, +did you? Oh, it was cruel to send you away when you loved her like +that! I didn't think it of Aunt Henrietta—I didn't indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't blame mother, Boy. She meant it for the best, just as +your Uncle Peter now means it for the best for you and yours. She +thought I would forget."</p> + +<p>"Was she very, very beautiful, Father Paul? But of course she was, if +<i>you</i> loved her!"</p> + +<p>"She was pretty, Boy—at least I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Big or little?"</p> + +<p>"Tall—very tall."</p> + +<p>"I like tall, magnificent women. There's something majestic about them. +I hope the Princess Elodie"—and the Boy made a wry face—"will be +quite six foot tall. I could never love a woman small either in body or +mind. I am sure I should have liked your Isabella, Father Paul. Majestic +women of majestic minds for me, for there you have the royal stamp of +nature that makes some women born to the purple. Yes, I am sure I should +have liked Isabella. Tell me more."</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne smiled. He should hardly have considered Isabella Waring +in any degree "majestic"—but he did not say so.</p> + +<p>"She was charmingly healthy and robust—athletic, you know, and all +that—with light fluffy hair. I believe she used to wear it in a net. +Blue eyes, of course—thoroughly English, you know—and a fine comrade. +Liked everything that I liked, as most girls at that age didn't, +naturally. Of course, mother couldn't appreciate her. She wasn't her +style at all. And she naturally thought—mother did, I mean—that when +she sent me away 'for my health'"—the Boy smiled—"that I'd forget all +about her."</p> + +<p>Verdayne began to think he wasn't telling it well after all. He looked +out of the window. It was getting hard to meet the frank look in the +Boy's blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Forget!" and there was a fine scorn in the tones of the young +enthusiast. "But you didn't! you didn't! I'm sure you didn't!"</p> + +<p>The romantic story appealed strongly to the Boy's mood.</p> + +<p>"But why didn't you marry her when you came back, Father Paul? Did she +die?"</p> + +<p>"No, she didn't die. She is still living, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Then why didn't you marry her, Father Paul? Did they still oppose it? +Surely when you came home and they saw you had not forgotten, it was +different. Tell me how it was when you came home."</p> + +<p>And Paul Verdayne, in a voice he tried his best to make very sad and +heart-broken, replied with downcast eyes, "When I came home, Boy, I +found Isabella Waring ready to marry a curate, and happy over the +prospect of an early wedding. So, you see, my share in her life was +over."</p> + +<p>The Boy's face fell. He had not anticipated this ending to the romance. +How could any woman ever have proved faithless to his Father Paul! And +how could he, poor man, still keep his firm, dauntless belief in the +goodness and truth of human nature after so bitter an experience as +this! It shocked his sense of right and justice—this story. He wished +he had not asked to hear it.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for telling me, Father Paul. It was kind of you to open your +past life to me like this, and very unkind of me to ask what I should +have known would cost you such pain to tell. I am truly sorry for it +all, Father Paul. Thank you again—and forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"It's a relief to open one's heart, sometimes, to one who can +sympathize," replied Verdayne, with a deep sigh. But he felt like a +miserable hypocrite.</p> + +<p>Poor Isabella Waring! He had hardly given her a passing thought in +twenty years. And now he had vilified her to help himself out of a tight +corner. Well, she was always a good sort. She wouldn't mind being +used—or even misused—to help out her "old pal" this way. Still it made +him feel mean, and he was glad when the Boy dropped the subject and +turned again to his own difficulties.</p> + +<p>But the mind of the young prince was restive, that day. Nothing held his +attention long. It seemed, like his eye, to be roving hither and +thither, seeking something it never could find.</p> + +<p>"You have been to America, Father Paul, haven't you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>America? Yes, Verdayne had been to America. It was in America that he +had passed one season of keenest anguish. He had good reason to remember +it—such good reason that in all their wanderings about the world he had +never seen fit to take the Boy there.</p> + +<p>But something had aroused the young fellow's passing interest, and now +nothing would satisfy him save that he must hear all about America; and +so, for a full hour, as best he could, Verdayne described the country of +the far West as he remembered it.</p> + +<p>"Nothing in America appealed to me so strongly as the gigantic +prairies," he said at last. "You were so deeply moved by our trip to +Africa, Boy, that you must remember the impression of vastness and +infinity the great desert made upon us. Well, in the glorious West of +America it is as if the desert had sprung to life, and from every grain +of sand had been born a blade of grass, waving and fluttering with the +joy of new birth. Oh, it is truly wonderful, Paul! Once I went there +with the soil of my heart scorched as dry and lifeless as the burning +sands of Sahara, but in that revelation of a new creation, some pulse +within me sprang mysteriously into being again. It could never be the +same heart that it once was, but it would now know the semblance of a +new existence. And I took up the burden of life again—albeit a strange, +new life—and came home to fight it out. The prairies did all that for +me, Boy!" He paused for a moment, and then spoke in a sadder tone. "It +was soon after that, Paul, that I first found you."</p> + +<p>Paul Zalenska thought that he understood. That, of course, was after +Isabella Waring had wrecked his life. Cruel, heartless Isabella! He had +never even heard her name before to-day, but he hated her, wherever she +might be!</p> + +<p>"There is a legend they tell out there that is very pretty and +appropriate," went on Verdayne, dreamily. "They say that when the +Creator made the world, He had indiscriminately strewn continents and +valleys, mountains and seas, islands and lakes, until He came to the +western part of America, and despite His omnipotence, was puzzled to +know what new glories He could possibly contrive for this corner of the +earth. Something majestic and mighty it must be, He thought, and yet of +an altogether different beauty from that in the rest of the +universe—something individual, distinctive. The seas still overflowed +the land, as they had through past eternities, awaiting His touch to +call into form and being the elements still sleeping beneath the +water—the living representation of His thought. Suddenly stretching out +His rod, He bade the waters recede—and they did so, leaving a vast +extent of grassy land where the majestic waves had so lately rolled and +tossed. And it is said that the land retains to this day the memory of +the sea it then was, while the grasses wave with a subtle suggestion of +the ocean's ebb and flow beneath the influence of a wind that is like no +other wind in the world so much as an ocean breeze; while the gulls, +having so well learned their course, fly back and forth as they did +before the mystic change from water into earth. Indeed, the first +impression one receives of the prairie is that of a vast sea of growing +vegetation!"</p> + +<p>The Boy's eyes sparkled. This was the fanciful Father Paul that he +loved best of all.</p> + +<p>"Some time we must go there, Father Paul. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Boy, some time!"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_V'></a><h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Rebellious thoughts were flitting through the brain of Paul Zalenska as +he rode forth the next morning, tender and fanciful ones, too, as he +watched the sun's kisses fall on leaf and flower and tree, drying with +their soft, insistent warmth the tears left by the dew of night, and +wooing all Nature to awake—to look up with glorious smiles, for the +world, after all, is beautiful and full of love and laughter.</p> + +<p>Why should <i>not</i> Paul be happy? Was he not twenty, and handsome, and +rich, and popular, and destined for great things? Was there a want in +the world that he could not easily have satisfied, had he so desired? +And was he not officially betrothed to the Princess Elodie of Austria—</p> + +<p>"Damn the Princess Elodie!" he thought, with more emphasis than +reverence, and he rode along silently, slowly, a frown clouding his +fresh, boyish brow, face to face with the prose of the existence he +would fain have had all romance and poetry.</p> + +<p>It had all been arranged for him by well-meaning minds—minds that could +never see how the blessing they had intended to bestow might by any +chance become a curse.</p> + +<p>The Boy came of age in February next—February nineteenth—but it had +been the strongly expressed wish of his mother that his coronation +should not take place until May.</p> + +<p>For was it not in May that she had met her Paul?</p> + +<p>She had felt, from the birth of the young Prince, a presentiment of her +own early death, and had formed many plans and voiced many preferences +for his future. No one knew what personal reasons the Imperatorskoye had +for the wish, but she had so definitely and unmistakably made the desire +known to all her councillors that none dreamed of disobeying the mandate +of their deceased and ever-to-be-lamented Queen. Her slightest wish had +always been to them an Unassailable law.</p> + +<p>So the coronation ceremonies were to take place in the May following the +Prince's birthday, and the Regent had arranged that the marriage should +also be celebrated at that time. Of course, the Boy had acquiesced. He +saw no reason to put it off any longer. It was always best to swallow +your bitterest pill first, he thought, and get the worst over and the +taste out of your mouth as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>Until that eventful time, the Prince was free to go where he pleased, +and to do whatever he wished. He had insisted upon this liberty, and the +Regent, finding him in all other respects so amenable to his leading, +gladly made the concession. This left him a year—that is, nearly a +year, for it was June now—of care-free bachelorhood; a year for one, +who was yet only a dreamy boy, to acquire the proper spirit for a happy +bridegroom; a year of Father Paul!</p> + +<p>He rode along aimlessly for a short distance, scarcely guiding his +horse, and only responding to the greetings of acquaintances he chanced +to meet with absent-minded, though still irreproachable, courtesy. He +was hardly thinking at all, now—at least consciously. He was simply +glad to be alive, as Youth is glad—in spite of any possible, or +impossible, environment.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his eyes fell upon a feminine rider some paces in advance, who +seemed to attract much attention, of which she was—apparently +—delightfully unconscious. Paul marked the faultless proportions of her +horse.</p> + +<p>"What a magnificent animal!" he thought. Then, under his breath, he +added, "and what a stunning rider!"</p> + +<p>She was only a girl—about eighteen or nineteen, he should judge by her +figure and the girlish poise of her small head—but she certainly knew +how to ride. She sat her horse as though a part of him, and controlled +his every motion as she would her own.</p> + +<p>"Just that way might she manage a man," Paul thought, and then laughed +aloud at the absurdity of the thought. For he had never seen the girl +before.</p> + +<p>Paul admired a good horsewoman—they are so pitifully few. And he +followed her, at a safe distance, with an interest unaccountable, even +to him. Finally she drew rein before one of the houses facing the Row, +dismounted, and throwing the train of her habit gracefully over her arm, +walked to the door with a brisk step. Paul instantly likened her to a +bird, so lightly tripping over the walk that her feet scarcely seemed to +touch the ground. She was a wee thing—certainly not more than five foot +tall—and <i>petite</i>, almost to an extreme. The Boy had expressed a +preference, only a few days before, for tall, magnificent women. Now he +suddenly discovered that the woman for a man to love should by all means +be short and small. He wondered why it had never occurred to him in that +light before, and thought of Jacques' question about Rosalind, "What +stature is she of?" and Orlando's reply, "As high as my heart!"</p> + +<p>The girl who had aroused this train of thought had reached the big stone +steps by this time, and suddenly turning to look over her shoulder, just +as he passed the gate, met his gaze squarely. Gad! what eyes those +were!—full of mystery and magnetism, and—possibilities!</p> + +<p>For an instant their eyes clung together in that strange mingling of +glances that sometimes holds even utter strangers spellbound by its +compelling force.</p> + +<p>Then she turned and entered the house, and Paul rode on.</p> + +<p>But that glance went with him. It tormented him, troubled him, perplexed +him. He felt a mad desire to turn back, to follow her into that house, +and compel her to meet his eyes again. Did she know the power of her own +eyes? Did she know a look like that had almost the force of a caress?</p> + +<p>He told himself that they were the most beautiful eyes that he had ever +seen—and yet he could not have told the color of them to save his soul. +He began to wonder about that. It vexed him that he could not remember.</p> + +<p>"Eyes!" he thought, "those are not eyes! They are living magnets, +drawing a fellow on and on, and he never stops to think what color they +are—nor <i>care!</i>"</p> + +<p>And then he pulled himself up sharply, and declared himself a madman +for raving on the street in broad daylight over the mere accidental +meeting with a pair of pretty eyes. He—the uncrowned king of a +to-be-glorious throne! He—the affianced husband of the Princess Elodie +of—Hell! He refused to think of it! And again the horse he rode and the +Park trees heard a bit of Paul Zalenska's English profanity that should +have made them hide in shame over the depravity of youth.</p> + +<p>But the strangest thing of all was that the Boy, for the nonce, was not +thinking of—nor listening for—the voice!</p> + +<p>He turned as he reached the end of the Row and rode slowly back. But the +horses and groom had already gone from the gate. And inwardly cursing +his slowness, he started on a trot for Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>He was not very far from the Verdayne house, when, turning a sudden +corner, he came upon the girl again, riding at a leisurely pace in the +opposite direction. Startled by his unexpected appearance, she glanced +back over her shoulder as she passed, surprising him—and perhaps +herself, too, for girls do that sometimes—by a ringing and tantalizing +laugh!</p> + +<p>That laugh! Wonder upon wonders, it was <i>the voice</i>!</p> + +<p>It was she—Opal!</p> + +<p>He wheeled his horse sharply, but swift as he was, she was yet swifter +and was far down the street before he was fairly started in pursuit. His +one desire of the moment was to catch and conquer the sprite that +tempted him.</p> + +<p>Her veil fluttered out behind her on the breeze, like a signal of +no-surrender, and once—only once—she looked back over her shoulder. +She was too far ahead for him to catch the glint of her eye, but he +heard the echo of that laugh—that voice—and it spurred him on and on.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, by some turn known only to herself, she eluded him and escaped +beyond his vision—and beyond his reach. He halted his panting horse at +the crossing of several streets, and swore again. But though he looked +searchingly in every possible direction, there was no trace of the +fugitive to be seen. It was as though the earth had opened and +swallowed horse and rider in one greedy gulp.</p> + +<p>Baffled and more disappointed than he cared to own, Paul rode slowly +back to Berkeley Square, his heart bounding with the excitement of the +chase and yet thoroughly vexed over his failure, at himself, his horse, +the girl.</p> + +<p>At the house he found letters from the Regent awaiting him, recalling to +him his position and its unwelcome responsibilities. One of them +enclosed a full-length photograph of his future bride.</p> + +<p>Fate had certainly been kind to him by granting his one expressed wish. +The Princess Elodie was what he had desired, "quite six-foot tall." Yet +he pushed the portrait aside with an impatient gesture, and before his +mental vision rose a little figure tripping up the steps, with a +backward glance that still seemed to pierce his very soul.</p> + +<p>He was not thinking, as he certainly should have been, of the Princess +Elodie! And he had not even noticed whether she had any eyes or not!</p> + +<p>He looked again at the picture of the Austrian princess, lying face +upward upon the pile of letters. With disgust and loathing he swept the +offending portrait into a drawer, and summoning Vasili, began to make a +hasty toilet.</p> + +<p>Vasili had never seen his young master in such bad humor. He was +unpardonably late for luncheon, but that would not disturb him, surely +not to such an extent as this!</p> + +<p>He was greatly disturbed by something. There was no denying that.</p> + +<p>He had found the voice, but—</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI'></a><h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was the next morning at the breakfast table that Paul Zalenska, +listlessly looking over the "Society Notes" in the <i>Times</i>, came upon +this significant notice:</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Mr. Gilbert Ledoux and daughter, Miss Opal Ledoux, of New Orleans, + accompanied by Henri, Count de Roannes, of Paris, have taken + passage on the Lusitania, which sails for New York on July 3rd."</p></div> + +<p>It was <i>she</i>, of course!—who else could it be? Surely there could not +be more than one Opal in America!</p> + +<p>"Father Paul, I notice that the Lusitania is to sail for America on the +third of July. Can't we make it?"</p> + +<p>Verdayne smiled quietly at the suddenness of the proposal, but was not +unduly surprised. He remembered many unaccountable impulses of his own +when his life was young and his blood was hot. He remembered too with a +tender gratitude how his father had humored him and—was he not "Father +Paul"?</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why not, Boy."</p> + +<p>"You see, I have already lost a whole month out of my one free year. I +am unwilling to waste a single hour of it, Father Paul—wouldn't you be? +And we <i>must</i> see America together, you and I, before I go back +to—prison!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Boy, certainly. My time is yours—when you want it, and +where you want it, the whole year through!"</p> + +<p>"I know that, Father Paul, and—I thank you!"</p> + +<p>It was more difficult to arrange matters with Lady Henrietta. She was +not so young as she once was and she still adored her son, as only the +mother of but one child can adore, and could not bear the idea of having +him away from her. Old and steady as he had now become, he was still her +boy, the idol of her heart. Yet she felt, as her son did, that the Boy +was entitled to the few months of liberty left him, and she did not +greatly object, though there was a wistful look in her eyes as they +rested on her son that told how keenly she felt every separation from +him.</p> + +<p>As for Sir Charles, he had not lost the knowing twinkle of the eye. +Moreover, he knew far better than his wife how real was the claim their +young guest had upon their son. And he bade them go with a hearty grasp +of the hand and a bluff Godspeed.</p> + +<p>So it was settled that Verdayne and the Boy, attended only by Vasili, +were to sail for America on the third of July, and passage was +immediately secured on the Lusitania.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On the morning of the day appointed, Paul Zalenska from an upper deck +watched the party he had been awaiting, as they mounted the gang-plank.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Ledoux he scarcely noticed. The Count de Roannes, too, +interested him no longer when, with a hasty glance, he had assured +himself that the Frenchman was as old as Ledoux and not the gay young +dandy in Opal's train that he had feared to find him.</p> + +<p>He had eyes alone for the girl, and he watched her closely as she +tripped up the gang-plank, clinging to her father's arm and chattering +gayly in that voice he so well remembered.</p> + +<p>She was not so small at close range as she had appeared at a distance, +but possessed an exquisite roundness of figure and softness of outline +well in proportion to the shortness of her stature.</p> + +<p>He had been proud of his kingship—very proud of his royal blood and his +mission to his little kingdom. But of late he had known some rebellious +thoughts, quite foreign to his mental habit.</p> + +<p>And to-day, as he looked at Opal Ledoux, he thought, "After all, how +much of a real man can I ever be? What am I but a petty pawn on the +chessboard of the world, moved hither and yon, to gain or to lose, by +the finger of Fate!"</p> + +<p>As Opal Ledoux passed him, she met his glance, and slightly flushed by +the <i>rencontre</i>, looked back over her shoulder at him and—smiled! And +<i>such</i> a smile! She passed on, leaving him tingling in every fibre with +the thrill of it.</p> + +<p>It was Fate. He had felt it from the very first, and now he was sure of +it.</p> + +<p>How would it end? How <i>could</i> it end?</p> + +<p>Paul Zalenska was very young—oh, very young, indeed!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII'></a><h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The next day Verdayne and his young companion were introduced to Mr. +Ledoux and his guest.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Ledoux, a reserved man evidently descended from generations of +thinking people, was apparently worried, for his face bore unmistakable +signs of some mental disturbance. Paul Zalenska was struck by the +haunted expression of what must naturally have been a grave countenance. +It was not guilt, for he had not the face of a man pursued by +conscience, but it certainly was fear—a real fear. And Paul wondered.</p> + +<p>As for the Count de Roannes, the Boy dismissed him at once as unworthy +of further consideration. He was brilliantly, even artificially +polished—glaringly ultra-fashionable, ostentatiously polite and suave. +In the lines of his bestial face he bore the records of a lifetime's +profligacy and the black tales of habitual self-indulgence. Paul hated +him instinctively and wondered how a man of Ledoux's unmistakable +refinement could tolerate him for a moment.</p> + +<p>It was not until the middle of the following afternoon that Opal Ledoux +appeared on deck, when her father, with an air of pride, mingled with a +certain curious element of timidity, presented to her in due form both +the Englishman and his friend.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the two young people flashed a recognition that the lips of +each tacitly denied as they responded conventionally to the +introduction.</p> + +<p>Paul noticed that the shadow of her father's uneasiness was reflected +upon her in a somewhat lesser but all too evident degree. And again he +wondered.</p> + +<p>A few moments of desultory conversation that was of no interest to +Paul—and then the Count proposed a game of <i>écarté</i>, to which Verdayne +and Ledoux assented readily enough.</p> + +<p>But not so our Boy!</p> + +<p><i>Ecarté!</i> Bah! When did a boy of twenty ever want to play cards within +sound of the rustle of a petticoat?—and <i>such</i> a petticoat!</p> + +<p>When the elderly gallant noted the attitude of the young fellow he cast +a quick glance of suspicion at Opal. He would have withdrawn his +proposal had he been able to find any plausible excuse. But it was too +late. And with an inward invective on his own blundering, he followed +the other gentlemen to the smoking-room.</p> + +<p>And Paul and Opal were at last face to face—and alone!</p> + +<p>He turned as the sound of the retreating steps died away and looked long +and searchingly into her face. If the girl intended to ignore their +former meeting, he thought, he would at once put that idea beyond all +question. She bore his scrutiny with no apparent embarrassment. She was +an American girl, and as she would have expressed it, she was "game!"</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said at last, questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he responded, "well—well, indeed, <i>at last</i>!"</p> + +<p>She bowed mockingly.</p> + +<p>"And," he went on, "I have been searching for you a long time, Opal!"</p> + +<p>He had not intended to say that, but having said it, he would not take +it back.</p> + +<p>Then she remembered that she had said that she would call him "Paul" the +first time she met him, and she smiled.</p> + +<p>"Searching for me? I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Of course not! Neither do I! Why should we? The best things in life are +the things we don't—and can't—understand. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps!" doubtfully. She had never thought of it in just that light +before, but it might be true. It was human nature to be attracted by +mystery. "But you have been looking for me, you say! Since when?—our +race?" And her laugh rang out on the air with its old mocking rhythm.</p> + +<p>And the Boy felt his blood tingle again at the memory of it.</p> + +<p>"But what did you say, Monsieur Zalenska—pardon me—Paul, I mean," and +she laughed again, "what did you say as you rode home again?"</p> + +<p>The Boy shook his head with affected contrition.</p> + +<p>"Unfit to tell a lady!" he said.</p> + +<p>And the girl laughed again, pleased by his frankness.</p> + +<p>"Vowed eternal vengeance upon my luckless head, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not so bad as that, I think," said Paul, pretending to reflect upon +the matter—"I am sure it was not quite so bad as that!"</p> + +<p>"It would hardly have done, would it, to vow what you were not at all +sure you would ever be able to fulfil? Take my advice, and never bank a +<i>sou</i> upon the move of any woman!"</p> + +<p>"You're not a woman," he laughed in her eyes; "you're just an +abbreviation!"</p> + +<p>But Opal was not one whit sensitive upon the subject of her height. Not +she!</p> + +<p>"Well, some abbreviations are more effective than the words they stand +for," she retorted. "I shall cling to the flattering hope that such may +be my attraction to the reader whose 'only books are woman's looks!'"</p> + +<p>"But why did you run away?"</p> + +<p>"Just—because!" Then, after a pause, "Why did you follow?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, do you? Just—because, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>And then they both laughed again.</p> + +<p>"But I know why you ran. You were afraid!" said Paul.</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed and there was a fine scorn in her tones.</p> + +<p>"Afraid—of what, pray?"</p> + +<p>"Of being caught—too easily! Come, now—weren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't contradict you for the world, Paul."</p> + +<p>She lingered over his name with a cadence in her tone that made it +almost a caress. It thrilled him again as it had from the beginning.</p> + +<p>"But I'll forgive you for running away from me, since I am so fortunate +as to be with you now where you can't possibly run very far! Strange, +isn't it, how Fate has thrown us together?"</p> + +<p>"Very!"</p> + +<p>There was a dry sarcasm in the tones, and a mockery in the glance, that +told him she was not blind to his manoeuvres. Their eyes met and they +laughed again. Truly, life just then was exceedingly pleasant for the +two on the deck of the Lusitania.</p> + +<p>"But I was looking for you before that, Opal—long before that—weeks!"</p> + +<p>The girl was truly surprised now and turned to him wonderingly. Then, +without question, he told her of his overhearing her at the garden +party—what a long time ago it seemed!—and his desire, ever since, to +meet her.</p> + +<p>He told her, too, of his hearing her laugh at the theatre that night; +but the girl was silent, and said not a word of having seen him there. +Confidences were all right for a man, she thought, but a girl did well +to keep some things to herself.</p> + +<p>He did not say that he was deliberately following her to America, but +the girl had her own ideas upon the subject and smiled to herself at the +lively development of affairs since that tiresome garden party she had +found so unbearable. Here was an adventure after her own heart.</p> + +<p>And yet Opal Ledoux had much on her mind just then. The Boy had read the +signs upon her face correctly. She was troubled.</p> + +<p>For a long time they sat together, and looking far out over the vast +expanse of dancing blueness, they spoke of life—and the living of it. +And both knew so little of either!</p> + +<p>It was a strange talk for the first one—so subtly intimate, with its +flashes of personality and freedom from conventions, that it seemed like +a meeting of old friends, rather than of strangers. Some intimacies are +like the oak, long and steady of growth; others spring to full maturity +in an hour's time. And these two had bridged the space of years in a few +moments of converse. They understood each other so well.</p> + +<p>This same idea occurred to them simultaneously, as she looked up at him +with eyes glowing with a quick appreciation of some well-expressed and +worthy thought. Something within him stirred to sudden life—something +that no one else had ever reached.</p> + +<p>He looked into her eyes and thought he had never looked into the eyes of +a woman before. She smiled—and he was sure it was the first time he had +ever seen a woman smile!</p> + +<p>"I am wild to be at home again," she was saying, "fairly crazy for +America! How I love her big, broad, majestic acres—the splendid sweep +of her meadows—the massive grandeur of her mountain peaks—the glory of +her open skies! You too, I believe, are a wanderer on strange seas. You +can hardly fail to understand my longing for the homeland!"</p> + +<p>"I do understand, Opal. I am on my first visit to your country. Tell me +of her—her institutions, her people! Believe me, I am greatly +interested!"</p> + +<p>And he was—in <i>her</i>! Nothing else counted at that moment. But the girl +did not understand that—then!</p> + +<p>For half an hour, perhaps, she lost herself in an eloquent eulogy of +America, while the Boy sat and watched her, catching the import of but +little that she said, it must be confessed, but drinking in every detail +of her expressive countenance, her flashing, lustrous eyes, her red, +impulsive lips and rounded form, and her white, slender hands, always +employed in the expression of a thought or as the outlet for some +passing emotion. He caught himself watching for the occasional glimpses +of her small white teeth between the rose of her lips. He saw in her +eyes the violet sparks of smouldering fires, kindled by the volcanic +heart sometimes throbbing and threatening so close to the surface. When +the eruption came!—Fascinated he watched the rise and sweep of her +white arm. Every line and curve of her body was full of suggestion of +the ardent and restless and impulsive temperament with which nature had +so lavishly endowed her. She was alive with feeling—alive to the +finger-tips with the joy of life, the fullness of a deep, emotional +nature.</p> + +<p>It occurred to Paul that nature had purposely left her body so small, +albeit so beautifully rounded, that it might devote all its powers to +the building therein of a magnificent, flaming soul—that her inner +nature might always triumph. But Opal had never been especially +conscious of a soul—scarcely of a body. She had not yet found herself.</p> + +<p>Paul's emotions were in such chaotic rebellion that the thunder of his +heart-beats mingled with the pulse hammering through his brain and made +him for the first time in his life curiously deaf to his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>As she met his eye, expressing more than he realized of the storm +within, her own fell with a sudden sense of apprehension. She rose and +looked far out over the restless waves with a sudden flush on her +dimpled cheek, a subtle excitement in her rapid words.</p> + +<p>"As for our men, Paul, they are only human beings, but mighty with that +strength of physique and perfect development of mind that makes for +power. They are men of dauntless purpose. They are men of pure thoughts +and lofty ideals. They know what they want and bend every ambition and +energy to its attainment. Of course I speak of the average American—the +<i>type</i>! The normal American is a born fighter. Yes, that is the key-note +of American supremacy! We never give up! never! In my country, what men +want, they get!"</p> + +<p>She raised her hand in a quaint, expressive gesture, and the loose +sleeve fell back, leaving her white arm bare. He sprang to his feet, his +eyes glowing.</p> + +<p>"And in my country, what men want, they <i>take</i>!" he responded +fiercely—almost brutally and without a second's warning Paul threw his +arms about her and crushed her against his breast. He pressed his lips +mercilessly upon her own, holding them in a kiss that seemed to Opal +would never end.</p> + +<p>"How—how dare you!" she gasped, when at last she escaped his grasp and +faced him in the fury of outraged girlhood. "I—I—hate you!"</p> + +<p>"Dare? When one loves one dares anything!" was his husky response. "I +shall have had my kiss and you can never forget that! Never! never!"</p> + +<p>And Paul's voice grew exultant.</p> + +<p>Opal had heard of the brutality, the barbarism of passion, but her life +had flowed along conventional channels as peacefully as a quiet river. +She had longed to believe in the fury of love—in that irresistible +attraction between men and women. It appealed to her as it naturally +appeals to all women who are alive with the intensity of life. But she +had <i>seen</i> nothing of it.</p> + +<p>Now she looked living Passion in the face for the first time, and was +appalled—half frightened, half fascinated—by the revelation. That kiss +seemed to scorch her lips with a fire she had never dreamed of. With +the universal instinct of shamed womanhood, she pressed her handkerchief +to her lips, rubbing fiercely at the soiled spot. He divined her thought +and laughed, with a note of exultation that stirred her Southern blood.</p> + +<p>In defiance she raised her eyes and searched his face, seeking some +solution of the mystery of her own heart's strange, rebellious +throbbing. What could it mean?</p> + +<p>Paul took another step toward her, his face softening to tenderness.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Opal?" he breathed.</p> + +<p>"I was—trying—to understand you."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand myself sometimes—certainly not to-day!"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>(I wonder if Eve didn't say that to Adam in the garden!)</p> + +<p>"I have been accustomed to entertain that same idea myself," he said, +"but, after all, what is it to be a gentleman? All men can be gentle +when they get what they want. That's no test of gentility. It takes +circumstances outside the normal to prove man's civilization. When his +desires meet with opposition the brute comes to the surface—that's +all."</p> + +<p>Another rush of passion lighted his eyes and sought its reflection in +hers. Opal turned and fled.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the seclusion of her stateroom Opal faced herself resolutely. A +sensation of outrage mingled with a strange sense of guilt. Her +resentment seemed to blend with something resembling a strange, fierce +joy. She tried to fight it down, but it would not be conquered.</p> + +<p>Why was he so handsome, so brilliant, this strange foreign fellow whom +she felt intuitively to be more than he claimed to be? What was the +secret of his power that even in the face of this open insult she could +not be as angry as she knew she should have been?</p> + +<p>She looked in the mirror apprehensively. No, there was no sign of that +terrible kiss. And yet she felt as though all the world must have seen +had they looked at her—felt that she was branded forever by the burning +touch of his lips!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was not until the dinner hour on the following day that Paul and Opal +met again. One does not require an excuse for keeping to one's stateroom +during an ocean voyage—especially during the first few days—and the +girl, though in excellent health and a capital sailor, kept herself +secluded.</p> + +<p>She wanted to understand herself and to understand this stranger who was +yet no stranger. For a girl who had looked upon life as she had she felt +woefully unsophisticated. But the Boy? He was certainly not a man of the +world, who through years of lurid experience had learned to look upon +all women as his legitimate quarry. If he had been that sort, she told +herself, she would have been on her guard instinctively from the very +first. But she knew he was too young for that—far too young—- and his +eyes were frank and clear and open, with no dark secrets behind their +curtained lids. But what was he—and who?</p> + +<p>When the day was far spent, she knew that she was no nearer a solution +than she had been at dawn, so she resolved to join the group at table +and put behind her the futile labor of self-examination. She would not, +of course, deign to show any leniency toward the offender—indeed not! +She would not vouchsafe one unnecessary word for his edification.</p> + +<p>But she took elaborate care with her toilet, selected her most becoming +gown and drove her maid into a frenzy by her variations of taste and +temper.</p> + +<p>It was truly a very bewitching Opal who finally descended to the <i>salon</i> +and joined the party of four masculine incapables who had spent the day +in vain search for amusement. Paul Zalenska rose hastily at her entrance +and though she made many attempts to avoid his gaze she was forced at +last to meet it. The electric spark of understanding flashed from eye to +eye, and both thrilled in answer to its magnetic call. In the glance +that passed between them was lurking the memory of a kiss.</p> + +<p>Opal blushed faintly. How dare he remember! Why, his very eyes echoed +that triumphant laugh she could not forget. She stole another glance at +him. Perhaps she had misjudged him—but—</p> + +<p>She turned to respond to the greeting of her father and the other two +gentlemen, and soon found herself seated at the table opposite the Boy +she had so recently vowed to shun. Well, she needn't talk to him, that +was one consolation. Yet she caught herself almost involuntarily +listening for what he would say at this or that turn of the conversation +and paying strict—though veiled—attention to his words.</p> + +<p>It was a strange dinner. No one felt at ease. The air was charged with +something that all felt too tangibly oppressive, yet none could define, +save the two—who would not.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>For Paul the evening was a dismal failure. Try as he would, he could not +catch Opal's eye again, nor secure more than the most meagre replies +even to his direct questions. She was too French to be actually +impolite, but she interposed between them those barriers only a woman +can raise. She knew that Paul was mad for a word with her; she knew that +she was tormenting and tantalizing him almost beyond endurance; she felt +his impatience in every nerve of her, with that mysterious sixth sense +some women are endowed with, and she rejoiced in her power to make him +suffer. He deserved to suffer, she said. Perhaps he'd have some idea of +the proper respect due the next girl he met! These foreigners! <i>Mon +Dieu</i>! She'd teach him that American girls were a little different from +the kind they had in his country, where "what men want, they take," as +he had said. What kind of heathen was he?</p> + +<p>And she watched him surreptitiously from under her long lashes with a +curious gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. She had always known she had +this power over men, but she had never cared quite so much about using +it before and had been more annoyed than gratified by the effect her +personality had had upon her masculine world.</p> + +<p>So she smiled at the Count, she laughed with the Count and made eyes +most shamelessly at the disgusting old gallant till something in his +face warned her that she had reached a point beyond which even her +audacity dared not go.</p> + +<p>Heavens! how the old monster would <i>devour</i> a woman, she thought, with a +thrill of disgust. There were awful things in his face!</p> + +<p>And the Boy glared at de Roannes with unspeakable profanity in his eyes, +while the girl laughed to herself and enjoyed it all as girls do enjoy +that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>It was delightful, this game of speaking eyes and lips.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Oh, the little more, and how much it is!<br /></span> +<span>And the little less, and what worlds away!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But it was, as she could dimly see, a game that might prove exceedingly +dangerous to play, and the Count had spoiled it all, anyway. And a +curious flutter in her heart, as she watched the Boy take his punishment +with as good grace as possible, pled for his pardon until she finally +desisted and bade the little company good night.</p> + +<p>At her departure the men took a turn at bridge, but none of them seemed +to care much for the cards that night and the Boy soon broke away. He +was about to withdraw to his stateroom in chagrin when quite +unexpectedly he found Opal standing by the rail, wrapped in a long +cloak. She was gazing far out toward the distant horizon, the light of +strange, puzzling thoughts in the depths of her eyes. She did not notice +him until he stood by her side, when she turned and faced him defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he said, "there was one poet of life and love whom we did not +quote in our little discussion to-night. Do you remember Tennyson's +words,</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'A man had given all earthly bliss<br /></span> +<span>And all his worldly worth for this,<br /></span> +<span>To waste his whole heart in one kiss<br /></span> +<span class='i2'>Upon her perfect lips?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Let them plead for me the pardon I know no better way to sue for—or +explain!"</p> + +<p>The girl was silent. That little flutter in her heart was pleading for +him, but her head was still rebellious, and she knew not which would +triumph. She put one white finger on her lip, and wondered what to say +to him. She would not look into his eyes—they bothered her quite beyond +all reason—so she looked at the deck instead, as though hoping to find +some rule of conduct there.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Opal," went on the pleading tones, "that is, sorry that it +offended you. I can't be sorry that I did it—yet!"</p> + +<p>After a moment of serious reflection, she looked up at him sternly.</p> + +<p>"It was a very rude thing to do, Paul! No one ever—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose I know that, Opal? Did you think that I thought—"</p> + +<p>"How was I to know what you thought, Paul? You didn't know me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I do. Better than you know yourself!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him quickly, a startled expression in her soft, +lustrous eyes.</p> + +<p>"I—almost—believe you do—Paul."</p> + +<p>"Opal!" He paused. She was tempting him again. Didn't she know it?</p> + +<p>"Opal, can't—won't you believe in me? Don't you feel that you know +me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that I do—even yet—after—that! Oh, Paul, are you sure +that you know yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No, not sure, but I'm beginning to!"</p> + +<p>She made no reply. After a moment, he said softly, "You haven't said +that you forgive me, yet, Opal! I know there is no plausible excuse for +me, but—listen! I couldn't help it—I truly couldn't! You simply must +forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't help it?"—Oh, the scorn of her reply. "If there had been any +man in you at all, you could have helped it!"</p> + +<p>"No, Opal, you don't understand! It is because I <i>am</i> a man that I +couldn't help it. It doesn't strike you that way now, I know, but—some +day you will see it!"</p> + +<p>And suddenly she did see it. And she reached out her hand to him, and +whispered, "Then let's forget all about it. I am willing to—if you +will!"</p> + +<p>Forget? He would not promise that. He did not wish to forget! And she +looked so pretty and provoking as she said it, that he wanted to—! But +he only took her hand, and looked his gratitude into her eyes.</p> + +<p>The Count de Roannes came unexpectedly and unobserved upon the climax of +the little scene, and read into it more significance than it really had. +It was not strange, perhaps, that to him this meeting should savour of +clandestine relations and that he should impute to it false motives and +impulses. The Count prided himself upon his tact, and was therefore very +careful to use the most idiomatic English in his conversation. But at +this sudden discovery—for he had not imagined that the acquaintance had +gone beyond his own discernment—he felt the English language quite +inadequate to the occasion, and muttered something under his breath that +sounded remarkably like "<i>Tison d'enfer!</i>" as he turned on his heel and +made for his stateroom.</p> + +<p>And the Boy, unconscious and indifferent to all this by-play, had only +time to press to his lips the little hand she had surrendered to him +before the crowd was upon them.</p> + +<p>But the waves were singing a Te Deum in his ears, and the skies were +bluer in the moonlight than ever sea-skies were before. Paul felt, with +a thrill of joy, that he was looking far off into the vaster spaces of +life, with their broader, grander possibilities. He felt that he was +wiser, nobler, stronger—nearer his ideal of what a brave man should be.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX'></a><h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>When two are young, and at sea, and in love, and the world is beautiful +and bright, it is joyous and wonderful to drift thoughtlessly with the +tide, and rise and fall with the waves. Thus Paul Zalenska and Opal +Ledoux spent that most delightful of voyages on the Lusitania. They were +not often alone. They did not need to be. Their intimacy had at one +bound reached that point when every word and movement teemed with tender +significance and suggestion. Their first note had reached such a high +measure that all the succeeding days followed at concert pitch. It was a +voyage of discovery. Each day brought forth revelations of some new +trait of character—each unfolding that particular something which the +other had always admired.</p> + +<p>And so their intimacy grew.</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne saw and smiled. He was glad to see the Boy enjoying +himself. He knew his chances for that sort of thing were all too +pathetically few.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ledoux looked on, troubled and perplexed, but he saw no chance, and +indeed no real reason, for interfering.</p> + +<p>The Count de Roannes was irritated, at times even provoked, but he kept +his thoughts to himself, hiding his annoyance, and his secret explosions +of "<i>Au diable!</i>" beneath his usual urbanity.</p> + +<p>There was nothing on the surface to indicate more than the customary +familiarity of young people thrown together for a time, and yet no one +could fail to realize the undercurrent of emotion below the gaiety of +the daily ripple of amusement and pleasurable excitement and converse.</p> + +<p>They read together, they exchanged experiences of travel, they discussed +literature, music, art and the stage, with the enthusiastic partisanship +of zealous youth. They talked of life, with its shade and shadow, its +heights and depths of meaning, and altogether became very well +acquainted. Each day anew, they discovered an unusual congeniality in +thoughts and opinions. They shared in a large measure the same exalted +outlook upon life—the same lofty ambitions and dreams.</p> + +<p>And the more Paul learned of the character of this strange girl, the +more he felt that she was the one woman in the world for him. To be +sure, he had known that, subconsciously, the first time he had heard her +voice. Now he knew it by force of reason as well, and he cursed the fate +that denied him the right to declare himself her lover and claim her +before the world.</p> + +<p>One thing that impressed Paul about the girl was the generous charity +with which she viewed the frailties of human nature, her sincere pity +for all forms of human weakness and defeat, her utter freedom from petty +malice or spite. Rail at life and its hypocrisies, as she often did, she +yet felt the tragedy in its pitiful short-comings, and looked with the +eye of real compassion upon its sins and its sinners, condoning as far +as possible the fault she must have in her very heart abhorred.</p> + +<p>"We all make mistakes," she would say, when someone retailed a bit of +scandal. "No human being is perfect, nor within a thousand miles of +perfection. What right then have we to condemn any fellow-creature for +his sins, when we break just as important laws in some other direction? +It's common hypocrisy to say, 'We never could have done this terrible +thing!' and draw our mantle of self-righteousness closely about us lest +it become contaminated. Perhaps we couldn't! Why? Because our +temptations do not happen to lie in that particular direction, that's +all! But we are all law-breakers; not one keeps the Ten Commandments to +the letter—not one! Attack us on our own weak point and see how quickly +we run up the flag of surrender—and perhaps the poor sinner we denounce +for his guilt would scorn just as bitterly to give in to the weakness +that gets the best of us. <i>Sin is sin</i>, and one defect is as hideous as +another. He who breaks one part of the code of morality and +righteousness is as guilty—just exactly as guilty—as he who breaks +another. Isn't the first commandment as binding as the other nine? And +how many of us do not break that every day we live?"</p> + +<p>And there was the whole creed of Opal Ledoux.</p> + +<p>But as intimate as she and the Boy had become, they yet knew +comparatively little of each other's lives.</p> + +<p>Opal guessed that the Boy was of rank, and bound to some definite course +of action for political reasons. This much she had gained from odds and +ends of conversation. But beyond that, she had no idea who he was, nor +whence he came. She would not have been a woman had she not been +curious—and as I have said before, Opal Ledoux was, every inch of her +five feet, a woman—but she never allowed herself to wax inquisitive.</p> + +<p>As for the Boy, he knew there was some evil hovering with threatening +wings over the sunshine of the girl's young life—some shadow she tried +to forget, but could not put aside—and he grew to associate this shadow +with the continued presence of the French Count, and his intimate air of +authority. Paul knew not why he should thus connect these two, but +nevertheless the impression grew that in some way de Roannes exercised a +sinister influence over the life of the girl he loved.</p> + +<p>He hated the Count. He resented every look that those dissolute eyes +flashed at the girl, and he noticed many. He saw Opal wince sometimes, +and then turn pale. Yet she did not resent the offense.</p> + +<p>But Paul did.</p> + +<p>"Such a look from a man like that is the grossest insult to any woman," +he thought, writhing in secret rage. "How can she permit it? If she were +my—my <i>sister</i>, I'd shoot him if he once dared to turn his damned eyes +in her direction!"</p> + +<p>And thus matters stood throughout the brief voyage. Paul and Opal, +though conscious of the double barrier between them, tried to forget its +existence for the moment, and, at intervals, succeeded admirably.</p> + +<p>For were they not in the spring-time of youth, and in love?</p> + +<p>And Paul Zalenska talked to this girl as he had never talked to anyone +before—not even Paul Verdayne!</p> + +<p>She brought out the latent best in him. She developed in him a quickness +of perception, a depth of thought and emotion, a facility of speech +which he had never known. She stimulated every faculty, and gave him new +incentive—a new and firmer resolve to aspire and fight for all that he +held dear.</p> + +<p>"I always feel," he said to Opal, once, "as though my soul stood always +at attention, awaiting the inevitable command of Fate! All Nature seems +to tell me at times that there is a purpose in my living, a work for me +to do, and I feel so thoroughly <i>alive</i>—so ready to listen to the call +of duty—and to obey!"</p> + +<p>"A dreamer!" she laughed, "as wild a dreamer as I!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he returned. "All great deeds are born of dreams! It was a +dreamer who found this America you are so loyal to! And who knows but +that I too may find my world?"</p> + +<p>"And a fatalist, too!"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course! Everyone is, to a greater or a less extent, though +most dare not admit it!"</p> + +<p>"But yesterday you said—what <i>did</i> you say, Paul, about the power of +the human will over environment and fate?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember. That was yesterday. I'm not the same to-day, at all. +And to-morrow I may be quite different."</p> + +<p>"Behold the consistency of man. But Fate, Paul—what makes Fate? I have +always been taught to believe that the world is what we make it!"</p> + +<p>"And it is true, too, that in a way we may make the world what we will, +each creating it anew for himself, after his own pattern—but after all, +Opal, that is Fate. For what we <i>are</i>, we put into these worlds of ours, +and what we are is what our ancestors have made us—and that is what I +understand by destiny."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Paul, you have so many noble theories of life."</p> + +<p>His boyish face grew troubled and perplexed.</p> + +<p>"I <i>thought</i> I had, Opal—till I knew you! Now I do not know! Fate seems +to have taken a hand in the game and my theories are cast aside like +worthless cards. I begin to see more clearly that we cannot always +choose our paths."</p> + +<p>"Can one ever, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not! Once I believed implicitly in the omnipotence of the human +will to make life just what one wished. Now"—and he searched her +eyes—"I know better."</p> + +<p>"Unlucky Opal, to cross your path!" she sighed. "Are you superstitious, +Paul? Do you know that opals bring bad luck to those who come beneath +the spell of their influence?"</p> + +<p>"I'll risk the bad luck, Opal!"</p> + +<p>And she smiled.</p> + +<p>And he thought as he looked at her, how well she understood him! What an +inspiration would her love have brought to such a life as he meant his +to be! What a Récamier or du Barry she would have made, with her +<i>piquante</i>, captivating face, her dark, lustrous, compelling eyes, her +significant gestures, which despite many wayward words and phrases, +expressed only lofty and majestic thoughts! Her whole regal little +body, with its irresistible power and charm, was so far beyond most +women! She was life and truth and ambition incarnate! She was the spirit +of dreams and the breath of idealism and the very soul of love and +longing.</p> + +<p>Would she feel insulted, he wondered, had she known he had dared to +compare her, even in his own thoughts, with a king's mistress? He meant +no insult—far from it! But would she have understood it had she known?</p> + +<p>Paul fancied that she would.</p> + +<p>"They may not have been moral, those women," he thought, "that is, what +the world calls 'moral' in the present day, but they possessed power, +marvellous power, over men and kingdoms. Opal Ledoux was created to +exert power—her very breath is full of force and vitality!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he repeated aloud after due deliberation, "I'll risk the bad luck +if you'll be good tome!"</p> + +<p>"Am I not?"</p> + +<p>"Not always."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will be to-day. See! I have a new book—a sad little +love-tale, they say—just the thing for two to read at sea," and with a +heightened color she began to read.</p> + +<p>She had pulled her deck-chair forward, until she sat in a flood of +sunshine, and the bright rays, falling on her mass of rich brown hair, +heightened all the little glints of red-gold till they looked like +living bits of flame. Oh the vitality of that hair! the intense glow of +those eyes in whose depths the flame-like glitter was reflected as the +voice, too, caught fire from the fervid lines!</p> + +<p>Soon the passion and charm of the poem cast its spell over them both as +they followed the fate of the unhappy lovers through the heart-ache of +their evanescent dream.</p> + +<p>Their eyes met with a quick thrill of understanding.</p> + +<p>"It is—Fate, again," Paul whispered. "Read on, Opal!"</p> + +<p>She read and again they looked, and again they understood.</p> + +<p>"I cannot read any more of it," she faltered, a real fear in her voice. +"Let us put it away."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" he pleaded. "It's true—too true. Read on, please, dear!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot, Paul. It is too sad!"</p> + +<p>"Then let me read it, Opal, and you can listen!"</p> + +<p>And he took the book gently from her hand, and read until the sun was +smiling its farewell to the laughing waters.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That evening a strong wind was playing havoc with the waves, and the +fury of the maddened spray was beating a fierce accompaniment to their +hearts.</p> + +<p>"How I love the wind," said Opal. "More than all else in Nature I love +it, I think, whatever its mood may be. I never knew why—probably +because I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is +tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and +wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and +passionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of +the wind!"</p> + +<p>"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count, +drily. "It might be disastrous!"</p> + +<p>"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind +hope, Count de Roannes."</p> + +<p>And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_X'></a><h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br /> + +<p>As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her +stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face +appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her.</p> + +<p>"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!"</p> + +<p>"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally.</p> + +<p>"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night."</p> + +<p>"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone—really alone—and this is our +last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part—perhaps forever—who +knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!"</p> + +<p>His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response.</p> + +<p>"Well—perhaps!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you +afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Afraid?—I dare anything—to-night!"</p> + +<p>"Then come!"</p> + +<p>"I will—if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him +a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!"</p> + +<p>Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come.</p> + +<p>And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the +deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his +beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware.</p> + +<p>"Well, ... I'm here," she said.</p> + +<p>"I see you are, Opal and—thank you."</p> + +<p>He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked +at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood!</p> + +<p>"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not; I am—angry!"</p> + +<p>"With me?"</p> + +<p>"No!—not you."</p> + +<p>"Whom, then?"</p> + +<p>"With—myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously.</p> + +<p>Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you +are so sorry?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd +have some self-respect!"</p> + +<p>Paul looked at her deliberately, taking in every little detail of her +appearance, his eyes full of admiration. Then he added, with an air of +finality, "But <i>I</i> respect you!"</p> + +<p>She softened, and laid her hand on his arm. Paul instantly took +possession of it.</p> + +<p>"Do you really?" she asked, searching his face, almost wistfully. "A +girl who will do ...what I am doing to-night!"</p> + +<p>"But what <i>are</i> you doing, Opal?" he asked in the most innocent +surprise. "Merely keeping a wakeful man company beneath the stars!"</p> + +<p>"Is that ...all?"</p> + +<p>"All ...<i>now!</i>"</p> + +<p>They stood silently for a minute, hand still in hand, looking far out +over the moonlit waters, each conscious of the trend of the other's +thoughts—the beating of the other's heart. The deck was deserted by all +save their two selves—they two alone in the big starlit universe. At +last she spoke.</p> + +<p>"This is interesting, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!—holding your hand!"</p> + +<p>She snatched it from him. "I forgot you had it," she said.</p> + +<p>"Forget again!"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't!... Is it always interesting?... holding a girl's hand?"</p> + +<p>"It depends upon the girl, I suppose! I was enjoying it immensely just +then."</p> + +<p>He took her hand again.</p> + +<p>And again that perilously sweet silence fell between them.</p> + +<p>At last, "Promise me, Paul!" she said.</p> + +<p>"I will—what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Promise me to forget anything I may say or do to-night ... not to think +hard of me, however rashly I may act! I'm not accountable, really! I'm +liable to say ...anything! I feel it in my blood!"</p> + +<p>"I understand, Opal! See! the winds are boisterous and unruly enough. +You may be as rash and reckless as you will!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly the wind blew her against his breast. The perfume of her hair, +and all the delicious nearness of her, intoxicated him. He laughed a +soft, caressing little lover-laugh, and raising her face to his, kissed +her lips easily, naturally, as though he had the right. She struggled, +helplessly, as he held her closely to him, and would not let her go.</p> + +<p>"You are a—" She bit her lip, and choked back the offensive word.</p> + +<p>"A—what? Say it, Opal!"</p> + +<p>"A—a—<i>brute</i>! There! let me go!"</p> + +<p>But he only held her closer and laughed again softly, till she +whispered, "I didn't—quite—<i>mean</i> that, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you didn't!"</p> + +<p>She drew away from him and pointed her finger at him accusingly, her +eyes full of reproof.</p> + +<p>"But—you <i>said</i> you wouldn't! You promised!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't what?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't do—what you did—again!"</p> + +<p>"Did I?" insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"How dare you ask that? You——"</p> + +<p>"'Brute' again? Quite like old married folk!"</p> + +<p>"Old married folk? They never kiss!"</p> + +<p>"Don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Not each other!... other people's husbands or wives!"</p> + +<p>"Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"Surely——</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>'Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife,<br /></span> +<span>He would have written sonnets all his life?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>O no! not he!"</p> + +<p>"I'm learning many new things, Opal! Let's play we're married, then—to +someone else!"</p> + +<p>"But—haven't you any conscience at all?"</p> + +<p>"Conscience?—what a question! Of course I have!"</p> + +<p>"You certainly aren't using it to-night!"</p> + +<p>"I'm too busy! Kiss me!"</p> + +<p>"The very idea!"</p> + +<p>"Please!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!"</p> + +<p>"Then let me kiss you!"</p> + +<p><i>"No!!!"</i></p> + +<p>"Why not?—Don't you like to be loved?"</p> + +<p>And his arms closed around her, and his lips found hers again, and held +them.</p> + +<p>At last, "Silly Boy!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! to make such a terrible fuss about something he doesn't really +want, and will be sorry he has after he gets it!"</p> + +<p>And Paul asked her wickedly, what foolish boy she was talking about now? +<i>He</i> knew what he really wanted—always—and was not sorry when he had +it. Not he! He was sorry only for the good things he had let slip, never +for those he had taken!</p> + +<p>"But—do let me go, Paul! I don't belong to you!"</p> + +<p>"Yes you do—for a little while!" He held her close.</p> + +<p>Belong to him! How she thrilled at the thought! Was this what it meant +to be—loved? And <i>did</i> she belong to him—if only, as he said, for a +little while? She certainly didn't belong to herself! Whatever this +madness that had suddenly taken possession of her, it was stronger than +herself. She couldn't control it—she didn't even want to! At all +events, she was <i>living</i> to-night! Her blood was rushing madly through +her body. She was deliciously, thoroughly alive!</p> + +<p>"Paul!—are you listening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear!" the answer strangely muffled.</p> + +<p>And then she purred in his ear, all the time caressing his cheek with +her small white fingers: "You see, Paul, I knew I had made some sort of +impression upon you. I must have done so or you wouldn't have—done +that! But any girl can make an impression on shipboard, and an affair at +sea is always so—evanescent, that no one expects it to last more than +a week. I don't want to make such a transitory impression upon you, +Paul. I wanted you to remember me longer. I wanted—oh, I wanted to give +you something to remember that was just a little bit different than +other girls had given you—some distinct impression that must linger +with you—always—always! I'm not like other women! Do you see, Paul? It +was all sheer vanity. I wanted you to remember!"</p> + +<p>"And did you think I could forget?"</p> + +<p>"Of course! All men forget a kiss as soon as their lips cease tingling!"</p> + +<p>Paul laughed. "Wise girl! Who taught you so much? Come, confess!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've known <i>you</i> a whole week, Paul, and you——"</p> + +<p>But their lips met again and the sentence was never finished.</p> + +<p>At last she put her hands on each side of his face and looked up into +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you are!"</p> + +<p>"You misunderstood me!—I said <i>'Not'</i>! But why? Are you ashamed of +me?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to be, oughtn't I? But—I don't believe you can help it!"</p> + +<p>His lips crushed hers again, fiercely. "I can't, Opal—I can't!"</p> + +<p>She turned away her head, but he buried his face in her neck, kissing +the soft flesh again and again.</p> + +<p>"Such a slip of a girl!" Paul murmured in her ear, when he again found +his voice. "Such a tiny, little girl! I am almost afraid you will vanish +if I don't hold you tight!"</p> + +<p>Opal was thoroughly aroused now—no longer merely passive—quite +satisfactorily responsive.</p> + +<p>"I won't, Paul! I won't! But hold me closer, closer! Crush this terrible +ache out of my heart if you can, Paul!"</p> + +<p>There were tears in her voice. He clasped her to him and felt her heart +throbbing out its pain against its own, as he whispered, "Opal, am I a +brute?"</p> + +<p>"N-o-o-o-o!" A pause. At last, "Let me go now, Paul! This is sheer +insanity!"</p> + +<p>But he made no move to release her until she looked up into his eyes in +an agony of appeal, and pleaded, "Please, Paul!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you want to go?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not sure of that, but I'm quite sure that I <i>ought</i> to go! I +must! I must!"</p> + +<p>And Paul released her. Where was this madness carrying them? Was he +acting the part of the man he meant to be, or of a cad—an unprincipled +bounder? He did not know. He only knew he wanted to kiss her—<i>kiss</i> +her....</p> + +<p>She turned on him in a sudden flash of indignation. "Why have you such +power over me?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"What power over you, Opal!"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of dodging the truth, you professor of honesty? You make +me do things we both know I'll be sorry for all the rest of my life. +<i>Why</i> do you do it?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes blazed with a real anger that made her <i>piquante</i> face more +alluring than ever to the eyes of the infatuated Boy who watched her. He +was fighting desperately for self-control, but if she should look at +him as she had looked sometimes—!</p> + +<p>"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew I was capable of +being foolish—wicked, perhaps—for a <i>grande passion</i>. I could forgive +myself that, I think! But for a mere caprice—a <i>penchant</i> like this! +Oh, Paul! what can you think of me?"</p> + +<p>His voice was hoarse—heavy with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Think of you, Opal? I am sure you must know what I think. I've never +had an opportunity to tell you—in so many words—but you must have seen +what I have certainly taken no pains to conceal. Shall I try to tell +you, Opal?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! I don't want to hear a word—not a word! Do you understand? I +forbid you!"</p> + +<p>Paul bowed deferentially. She laughed nervously at the humility in his +obeisance.</p> + +<p>"Don't be ridiculous!" she commanded. "This is growing too melodramatic, +and I hate a scene. But, really, Paul, you mustn't—simply mustn't! +There are reasons—conditions—and—you must not tell me, and I must +not, <i>will</i> not listen!"</p> + +<p>"I mustn't make love to you, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean ... just that!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the 'why.' There are plenty of good and sufficient reasons +that I might give if I chose, but—I don't choose! The only reason that +you need to know is—that I forbid you!"</p> + +<p>She turned away with that regal air of hers that made one forget her +child-like stature.</p> + +<p>"Are you going, Opal?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!—what did I come out here for? I can't remember. Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"To wish me good-night, of course! And you haven't done it!"</p> + +<p>She looked back over her shoulder, a mocking laugh in those inscrutable +eyes. Then she turned and held out both hands to him.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Paul, good-night!... You seem able to do as you please with +me, in spite of—everything—and I just want to stay in your arms +forever—forever ..."</p> + +<p>Paul caught her to him, and their lips melted in a clinging kiss.</p> + +<p>At last she drew away from his embrace.</p> + +<p>"The glitter of the moonlight and the music of the wind-maddened waves +must have gone to my brain!" She laughed merrily, pulled his face down +to hers for a last swift kiss, and ran from him before he could detain +her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The next morning they met for a brief moment alone.</p> + +<p>Opal shook hands with the Boy in her most perfunctory manner.</p> + +<p>Paul, after a moment's silent contemplation of her troubled face, bent +over her, saying, "Have I offended you, Opal? Are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes wide and asked with the utmost innocence "For what?"</p> + +<p>Paul was disconcerted. "Last night!" he said faintly.</p> + +<p>She colored, painfully.</p> + +<p>"No, Paul, listen! I don't blame you a bit!—not a bit! A man would be a +downright fool not to take—what he wanted—— But if you want to +be—friends with me, you'll just forget all about—last night—or at any +rate, ignore it, and never refer to it again."</p> + +<p>He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it for the briefest +possible instant.</p> + +<p>And then their <i>tête-à-tête</i> was interrupted, and they sat down for +their last breakfast at sea.</p> + +<p>Opal Ledoux was not visible again until the Lusitania docked in New +York, when she waved her <i>companion de voyage</i> a smiling but none the +less reluctant <i>au revoir</i>!</p> + +<p>But Paul was too far away to see the tears in her eyes, and only +remembered the smile.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>New York's majestic greatness and ceaseless, tireless activity speedily +engrossed the Boy and opened his eager eyes to a wider horizon than he +had yet known. There was a new influence in the whir and hum of this +metropolis of the Western world that set the wheels of thought to a more +rapid motion, and keyed his soul to its highest tension.</p> + +<p>It was not until his first letter from the homeland had come across the +waters that he paused to wonder what the new factor in his life meant +for his future. He had not allowed his reason to assert itself until the +force of circumstances demanded that he look his soul in the face, and +learn whither he was drifting. Paul was no coward, but he quailed before +the ominous clouds that threatened the happiness of himself and the girl +he loved.</p> + +<p>For now he knew that he loved Opal Ledoux. It was Fate. He had guessed +it at the first sound of her voice; he had felt it at the first glance +of her eye; and he had known it beyond the peradventure of a doubt at +the first touch of her lips.</p> + +<p>Yet this letter from his kingdom was full of suggestions of duties to be +done, of responsibilities to be assumed, of good still to be brought out +of much that was petty and low, and of helpless, miserable human beings +who were so soon to be dependent upon him.</p> + +<p>"I will make my people happy," he thought. "Happiness is the birthright +of every man—be he peasant or monarch." And then the thought came to +him, how could he ever succeed in making them truly happy, when he +himself had so sorely missed the way! There was only one thing to do, he +knew that—both for Opal's sake and for his own—and that was to go far +away, and never see the face again that had bewitched him so.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, if he did this, he might forget the experience that was, after +all, only an episode in a man's life and—other men forget! He might +learn to be calmly happy and contented with his Princess. It was only +natural for a young man to make love to a pretty girl, he thought, and +why should he be any exception? He had taken the good the gods provided, +as any live man would—now he could go his way, as other men did, +and—forget! Why not? And yet the mere thought of it cast such a gloom +over his spirits that he knew in his heart his philosophic attempt to +deceive himself was futile and vain. He might run away, of +course—though it was hardly like him to do that—but he would scarcely +be able to forget.</p> + +<p>And then Verdayne joined him with an open note in his hand—a formal +invitation from Gilbert Ledoux for them to dine with him in his Fifth +Avenue house on the following evening. He wished his family to meet the +friends who had so pleasantly attracted himself and his daughter on +shipboard.</p> + +<p>Was it strange how speedily the Boy's resolutions vanished? Run away! +Not he!</p> + +<p>"Accept the invitation, Father Paul, by all means!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was a cordial party in which Paul Verdayne and his young companion +found themselves on the following evening—a simple family gathering, +graciously presided over by Opal's stepmother.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Ledoux's wife was one of those fashion-plate women who strike +one as too artificial to be considered as more than half human. You +wonder if they have also a false set of emotions to replace those they +wore out in their youth—<i>c'est à dire</i> if they ever had any! Paul +smiled at the thought that Mr. Ledoux need have no anxiety over the +virtue of his second wife—whatever merry dance the first might have led +him!</p> + +<p>Opal was not present when the gentlemen were announced, and the bevy of +aunts and uncles and cousins were expressing much impatience for her +presence—which Paul Zalenska echoed fervently in his heart. It was +truly pleasant—this warm blood-interest of kinship. He liked the +American clannishness, and he sighed to think of the utter lack of +family affection in his own life.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room, where they were received, was furnished in good taste, +the Boy thought. The French touch was very prominent—the blend of color +seemed to speak to him of Opal. Yes, he liked the room. The effect grew +on one with the charm of the real home atmosphere that a dwelling place +should have. But he wasn't so much interested in that, after all! In +fact, it was rather unsatisfactory—without Opal! These people were +<i>her</i> people and, of course, of more than ordinary interest to him on +her account, but still—</p> + +<p>And at last, when the Boy was beginning to acknowledge himself slightly +bored, and to resent the familiar footing on which he could see the +Count de Roannes already stood in the family circle, Opal entered, and +the gloomy, wearisome atmosphere seemed suddenly flooded with sunlight.</p> + +<p>She came in from the street, unconventionally removing her hat and +gloves as she entered.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been so long, Opal?" asked Mrs. Ledoux, with +considerable anxiety.</p> + +<p>"At the Colony Club, <i>ma mère</i>—I read a paper!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" put in the Count, in an amused tone. "On what subject?"</p> + +<p>"On 'The Modern Ethical Viewpoint,' <i>Comte</i>," she answered, nodding her +little head sagely. "It was very convincing! In fact, I exploded a bomb +in the camp that will give them all something sensational to talk about +till—till—the next scandal!"</p> + +<p>The Count gave a low chuckle of appreciation, while Mr. Ledoux asked, +seriously, "But to what purpose, daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Why, papa, don't you know? I had to teach Mrs. Stuyvesant Moore, Mrs. +Sanford Wyckoff, and several other old ladies how to be good!"</p> + +<p>And in the general laugh that followed, she added, under her breath, +"Oh, the irony of life!"</p> + +<p>Paul watched her in a fever of boyish jealousy as she passed through the +family circle, bestowing her kisses left and right with impartial favor. +She made the rounds slowly, conscientiously, and then, with an air of +supreme indifference, moved to the Boy's side.</p> + +<p>He leaned over her.</p> + +<p>"Where are my kisses?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands behind her back, child-fashion, and looked up at +him, a coquettish daring in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where did you put them last?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know!"</p> + +<p>"True—I ought. But, as a matter of fact, I haven't the slightest idea. +It depends altogether upon what girl you saw last."</p> + +<p>"If you think that of me——"</p> + +<p>"What else can I think? Our first meeting did not leave much room for +conjecture. And, of course——"</p> + +<p>"Opal! You have just time to dress for dinner! And the Count is very +anxious to see the new orchid, you know!"</p> + +<p>There was a suggestion of reproof in Mrs. Ledoux's voice. The girl's +face clouded as she turned away in response to the summons. But she +threw the Boy a challenge over her shoulder—a hint of that mischief +that always seemed to lurk in the corner of her eye.</p> + +<p>Paul bit his lip. He was not a boy to be played with, as Opal Ledoux +would find out. And he sulked in a corner, refusing to be conciliated, +until at last she re-entered the room, leaning on the Count's +"venerable" arm. She had doubtless been showing him the orchid. Humph! +What did that old reprobate know—or care—about orchids?</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"A primrose by the river's brim,<br /></span> +<span>A yellow primrose was to him,<br /></span> +<span>And nothing more."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As the evening passed, there came to the Boy no further opportunity to +speak to Opal alone. She not only avoided him herself, but the entire +party seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to keep him from her. It +roused all the fight in his Slavic blood, and he determined not to be +outwitted by any such high-handed proceeding. He crossed the room and +boldly broke into the conversation of the group in which she stood.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ledoux," he said, "pardon me, but as we are about to leave, I +must remind you of your promise to show me the new orchid. I am very +fond of orchids. May I not see it now?"</p> + +<p>Opal had made no such promise, but as she looked up at him with an +instinctive denial, she met his eyes with an expression in their depths +she dared not battle. There was no knowing what this impetuous Boy might +say or do, if goaded too far.</p> + +<p>"Please pardon my forgetfulness," she said, with a propitiating smile, +as she took his arm. "We will go and see it."</p> + +<p>And the Boy smiled. He had not found his opportunity—he had made one!</p> + +<p>With a malicious smile on his thin, wicked lips the Count de Roannes +watched them as they moved across the room toward the conservatory—this +pair so finely matched that all must needs admire.</p> + +<p>It was rather amusing in <i>les enfants</i>, he told Ledoux, this "<i>Paul et +Virginie</i>" episode. Somewhat <i>bourgeois</i>, of course—but harmless, he +hoped. This with an expressive sneer. But—<i>mon Dieu!</i>—and there was a +sinister gleam in his evil eyes—it mustn't go too far! The girl was a +captivating little witch—the old father winced at the significance in +the tone—and she must have her fling! He rather admired her the more +for her <i>diablerie</i>—but she must be careful!</p> + +<p>But he need not have feared to-night. Paul Zalenska's triumph was +short-lived. When once inside the conservatory, the girl turned and +faced him, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"What an utterly shameless thing to do!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he demanded. "You were not treating me with due respect and +'self-preservation is the first law of nature,' you know. I am so little +accustomed to being—snubbed, that I don't take it a bit kindly!"</p> + +<p>"I did not snub you," she said, "at least, not intentionally. But of +course my friends have prior claims on my time and attention. I can't +put them aside for a mere stranger."</p> + +<p>"A stranger?" he echoed. "Then you mean——"</p> + +<p>"I mean what?"</p> + +<p>"To ignore our former—acquaintance—altogether?"</p> + +<p>"I do mean just that! One has many desperate flirtations on board ship, +but one isn't in any way bound to remember them. It is not +always—convenient. You may have foolishly remembered. I +have—forgotten!"</p> + +<p>"You have not forgotten. I say you have not, Opal."</p> + +<p>"We use surnames in society, Monsieur Zalenska?"</p> + +<p>"Opal!" appealingly.</p> + +<p>"Why such emotion, Monsieur?" mockingly.</p> + +<p>The Boy was taken aback for a moment, but he met her eyes bravely.</p> + +<p>"Why? Because I love you, Opal, and in your heart you know it!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why do I love you? Because I can't help it! Who knows, really, why +anything happens or does not happen in this topsy-turvy world?"</p> + +<p>The girl looked at him steadily for a moment, and then spoke +indifferently, almost lightly.</p> + +<p>"Have you looked at the orchid you wished so much to see, Monsieur +Zalenska? Mamma is very proud of it!"</p> + +<p>"Opal!"</p> + +<p>But she went on, heedless of his interruption, "Because, if you haven't, +you must look at it hastily—you have wasted some time quite foolishly +already—and I have promised to join the Count in a few moments, and—"</p> + +<p>"Very well. I understand, Opal!" Paul stiffened. "I will relieve you of +my presence. But don't think you will always escape so easily because I +yield now. You have not meant all you have said to me to-night, and I +know it as well as you do. You have tried to play with me—"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon!"</p> + +<p>"You knew the tiger was in my blood—you couldn't help but know it!—and +yet you deliberately awakened him!" She gave him a startled glance, her +eyes appealing for mercy, but he went on relentlessly. "Yes, after the +manner of women since the world began, you lured him on and on! Is it my +fault—or yours—if he devour us both?"</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne, strangely restless and ill at ease, was passing beneath +the window and thus became an involuntary listener to these mad words +from the lips of his young friend.</p> + +<p>Straightway there rose to his mental vision a picture—never very far +removed—a picture of a luxurious room in a distant Swiss hotel, the +foremost figure in which was the slender form of a royally fascinating +woman, reclining with reckless abandon upon a magnificent tiger skin, +stretched before the fire. He saw her lavishing her caresses upon the +inanimate head. He heard her purr once more in the vibrant, appealing +tones so like the Boy's.</p> + +<p>The stately Englishman passed his hand over his eyes to shut out the +maddening vision, with its ever-fresh pangs of poignant anguish, its +persistent, unconquered and unconquerable despair!</p> + +<p>"God help the Boy!" he prayed, as he strolled on into the solitude of +the moonlit night. "No one else can! It is the call of the blood—the +relentless lure of his heritage! From it there is no escape, as against +it there is no appeal. It is the mad blood of youth, quickened and +intensified in the flame of inherited desire. I cannot save him!"</p> + +<p>And then, with a sudden flood of tender, passionate, sacred memories, he +added in his heart,</p> + +<p>"And I would not, if I could!"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Paul Verdayne had many acquaintances and friends in New York, and much +against their inclination he and the Boy soon found themselves absorbed +in the whirl of frivolities. They were not very favorably impressed. It +was all too extravagant for their Old World tastes—not too magnificent, +for they both loved splendor—but it shouted its cost too loudly in +their ears, and grated on their nerves and shocked their aesthetic +sense.</p> + +<p>The Boy was a favorite everywhere, even more so, perhaps, than in +London. American society saw no mystery about him, and would not have +cared if it had. If his face seemed somewhat familiar, as it often had +to Opal Ledoux, no one puzzled his brains over it or searched the +magazines to place it. New York accepted him, as it accepts all +distinguished foreigners who have no craving for the limelight of +publicity, for his face value, and enjoyed him thoroughly. Women petted +him, because he was so witty and chivalrous and entertaining, and always +as exquisitely well-groomed as any belle among them; men were attracted +to him because he had ideas and knew how to express them. He was worth +talking to and worth listening to. He had formed opinions of his own +upon most subjects. He had thought for himself and had the courage of +his convictions, and Americans like that.</p> + +<p>Naturally enough, before many days, at a fashionable ball at the Plaza +he came into contact with Opal Ledoux again.</p> + +<p>It was a new experience, this, to see the girl he loved surrounded by +the admiration and attention of other men. In his own infatuation he had +not realized that most men would be affected by her as he was, would +experience the same maddening impulses—the same longing—the same +thirst for possession of her. Now the fact came home to him with the +force of an electric shock. He could not endure the burning glances of +admiration that he saw constantly directed toward her. What right had +other men to devour her with their eyes?</p> + +<p>He hastened to meet her. She greeted him politely but coldly, expressing +some perfunctory regret when he asked for a dance, and showing him that +her card was already filled. And then her partner claimed her, and she +went away on his arm, smiling up into his face in a way she had that +drove men wild for her. "The wicked little witch!" Paul thought. "Would +she make eyes at every man like that? Dare she?"</p> + +<p>A moment after, he heard her name, and instantly was all attention. The +two men just behind him were discussing her rather freely—far too +freely for the time and the place—and the girl, in Paul's estimation. +He listened eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Bold little devil, that Ledoux girl!" said one. "God! how she is +playing her little game to-night! They say she is going to marry that +old French Count, de Roannes! That's the fellow over there, watching her +with the cat's eyes. I guess he thinks she means to have her fling +first—and I guess she thinks so too! As usual, it's the spectator who +sees the best of the game. What a curious girl she is—a living +paradox!"</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"Spanish, you know. Ought to have black hair instead of red—black eyes +instead of—well, chestnut about expresses the color of hers. I call +them witch's eyes, they're so full of fire and—the devil!"</p> + +<p>"She's French, too, isn't she? That accounts for the eyes. The <i>beauté +du diable</i>, hers is! Couldn't she make a heaven for a man if she +would—or a hell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's in her! She's doomed, you know! Her grandmothers before her +were bad women—regular witches, they say, with a good, big streak of +yellow. Couldn't keep their heads on their shoulders—couldn't be +faithful to any one man. Don't know as they tried!"</p> + +<p>"I'll bet they made it interesting for the fellow while it did last, +anyway! But this one will never be happy. She has a tragedy in her face, +if ever a woman had. But she's a man's woman, all right, and she'd make +life worth living if a fellow had any red blood in him. She's one of +those women who are born for nothing else in the world but to love, and +be loved. Can't you shoot the Count?"</p> + +<p>"The Count!—Hell! He won't be considered at all after a little! She'll +find plenty of men glad to wake the devil in her—just to keep her from +yawning! But she's not very tractable even now, though her sins all lie +ahead of her! She's altogether too cool on the surface for her make-up, +but—well, full of suggestion, and one feels a volcano surging and +steaming just below the mask she wears, and has an insane desire to wake +it up! That kind of woman simply can't help it."</p> + +<p>A third voice broke in on the conversation—an older voice—the voice of +a man who had lived and observed much.</p> + +<p>"I saw her often as a child," he said, "a perilously wilful child, +determined upon her own way, and possessed of her own fancies about +this, that, and the other, which were seldom, if ever, the ideas of +anyone else. There was always plenty of excitement where she was—always +that same disturbing air! Even with her pigtails and pinafores, one +could see the woman in her eyes. But she was a provoking little +creature, always dreaming of impossible romances. Her father had his +hands full."</p> + +<p>"As her husband will have, poor devil! If he's man enough to hold her, +all right. If he is not," with a significant shrug of the shoulders, +"it's his own lookout!"</p> + +<p>"That old French <i>roué</i> hold her? You're dreaming! She won't be faithful +to him a week—if he has a handsome valet, or a half-way manly groom! +How could she?" And they laughed coarsely.</p> + +<p>The Boy gave them a look that should have annihilated all three, but +they weren't noticing the Boy. He could have throttled them! How dared +such lips as these pollute his darling's name! And yet these were +society men—they could dance with her, clasp her to them, and look into +those "witch eyes"—oh, the ignominy of it!</p> + +<p>He looked across at Opal. How beautiful she was in her pale green gown, +her white shoulders and arms glistening beneath the electric light with +the sheen of polished marble, her red-brown hair glowing with its fiery +lure, while even across the room her eyes sparkled like diamonds, +lighting up her whole face. She was certainly enjoying herself—this +Circe who had tempted him across the seas. She seemed possessed of the +very spirit of mischief—and Paul forgot himself.</p> + +<p>The orchestra was playing a Strauss waltz—it fired his blood. He walked +across the room with his masterful, authoritative air—the manner of a +man born to command. "Miss Ledoux," he said, and the crowd around her +instinctively made way for him, "this is our waltz, I believe!" and +whirled her away before she could answer.</p> + +<p>Ah! it was delicious, that waltz! In perfect rhythm they clung together, +gliding about the polished floor, her bare shoulder pressing his arm, +her head with its bewildering perfume so near his lips, their hearts +throbbing fiercely in the ecstasy of their nearness—which was Love.</p> + +<p>Oh to go on forever! forever!</p> + +<p>The sweet cadence of the music died away, and they looked into each +other's eyes, startled.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be acquiring the habit," she pouted, but her lips quivered, +and in response he whispered in her ear, "Whose waltz was it, +sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Paul—nor care!"</p> + +<p>That was enough.</p> + +<p>They left the room together.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>In a secluded corner adjoining the ballroom, Paul and Opal stood hand in +hand, conscious only of being together, while their two hearts beat a +tumultuous acknowledgment of that <b>world-old</b> power whose name, in +whatever guise it comes to us, is Love!</p> + +<p>"I said I wouldn't, Paul!" at last she said.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't what?"</p> + +<p>"See you again—like this!"</p> + +<p>Paul smiled tenderly.</p> + +<p>"My darling," he whispered, "what enchantment have you cast over me that +all my resolutions to give you up fade away at the first glimpse of your +face? I resolve to be brave and remember my duty—until I see you—and +then I forget everything but you—I want nothing but you!"</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Opal!" he cried impetuously. "After seeing these gay Lotharios making +eyes at you all the evening, can you ask me that? I want to take you +away and hide you from every other man's sight—that's what I want! It +drives me crazy to see them look at you that way! But you have such a +way of keeping a fellow at arm's length when you want to," he went on, +ruefully, "in spite of the magic call of your whole tempting +personality. You know '<i>Die Walküre</i>,' don't you?—but of course you do. +If I believed in the theory of reincarnation, I should feel sure that +you were Brünhilde herself, surrounded by the wall of fire!"</p> + +<p>"I wish I were! I wish every woman had some such infallible way of +<i>proving</i> every man who seeks her!"</p> + +<p>"You have, Opal! You have your own womanly instincts—every woman's +impassable wall of fire, if she will only hide behind them. <i>You</i> could +never love unworthily!"</p> + +<p>"But, Paul, don't you know? Haven't they told you? I shall probably +marry the Count de Roannes!"</p> + +<p>Paul was astounded.</p> + +<p>"Opal! No! No! Not that, surely not that! I heard it, yes—a moment ago. +But I could not believe it. The idea was too horrible. It could not be +true!"</p> + +<p>"But it is true, Paul! It is all too true!"</p> + +<p>"It is a crime," he fairly groaned.</p> + +<p>She shrank from him. "Don't say that, Paul!"</p> + +<p>"But you know it is true! Opal, just think! If you give your sweet self +to him—and that is all you can give him, as you and I know—if you give +yourself to him, I say, I—I shall go mad!"</p> + +<p>"Yet women have loved him," she began, bravely, attempting to defend +herself. "Women—some kinds of women—really love him now. He has a +power of—compelling—love—even yet!"</p> + +<p>"And such women," Paul cried hoarsely, "are more to be honored than you +if you consent to become his property with no love in your heart! Don't +plead extenuating circumstances. There can be no extenuating +circumstances in all the world for such a thing."</p> + +<p>She winced as though he had struck her, for she knew in her heart that +what he said was true, brutally true. The Boy was only voicing her own +sentiments—the theory to which she had always so firmly clung.</p> + +<p>As Paul paused, a sudden realization of his own future overwhelmed him +and locked his lips. He smiled sadly. Who was he that he should talk +like that? Was not he, too, pleading extenuating circumstances? True, he +was a man and she was a woman, and the world has two distinct +standards—but—no less than she—he was selling himself for gain.</p> + +<p>"Paul, Paul! I'm afraid you don't understand! It isn't <i>money</i>. Surely +you don't think that! It isn't money—it is honor—<i>honor</i>, do you hear? +My dead mother's honor, and my father's breaking heart!"</p> + +<p>The secret was out, at last. This, then, was the shadow that had cast +its gloom over the family ever since he had come in contact with them. +It was even worse than he had thought. That she—the lovely Opal—should +have to sacrifice her own honor to save her mother's!</p> + +<p>Honor! honor! how many crimes are committed in thy name!</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it," he said sympathetically.</p> + +<p>And she told him, sparing herself details, as far as possible, of the +storm of scandal about to burst upon the family—a storm from which only +the sacrifice of herself could save the family name of Ledoux, and her +mother's memory. It might, or might not, be true, but the Count de +Roannes claimed to be able—and ready—to bring proof. And, if it were +true, she was not a Ledoux at all, and her father was not her father at +all, except in name. No breath of ill-fame had ever reached her mother's +name before. They had thought she had happily escaped the curse of her +mother before her. But the Count claimed to know, and—well, he wanted +her—Opal—and, of course, it <i>was</i> possible, and of course he would do +anything to protect the good name of his wife, if Opal became his wife, +and——</p> + +<p>"So, you see, Paul—in the end, I shall have to—submit!"</p> + +<p>She had not told it at all well, she thought, but Paul little cared how +the story was told.</p> + +<p>"I do not see it that way at all, Opal. It seems to me—well, +diabolical, and may God help you, dear girl, when you, with your +high-keyed sensitive nature, first wake to the infamy of it! I have no +right to interfere—no right at all. Not even my love for you, which is +stronger than myself, gives me that right. For I am betrothed! I tell +you this because I see where my folly has led us. There is only one +thing to do. We must part—and at once. I am sorry"—then he thought of +that first meeting on board the liner, "no, I am <i>not</i> sorry we met! I +shall never be that! But I am going to be a man. I am going to do my +duty. Help me, Opal—help me!"</p> + +<p>It was the old appeal of the man to the helpmeet God had created for +him, and the woman in her responded.</p> + +<p>"Paul, I will!" and her little fingers closed over his.</p> + +<p>"Of course he loves you—in his way, but——"</p> + +<p>"Don't, Paul, don't! He has never once pretended that—he has been too +wise."</p> + +<p>"He will break your spirit, dear—it's his nature. And then he will +break your heart!"</p> + +<p>She raised her head, defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Break my spirit, Paul? He could not. And as for my heart—that will +never be his to break!"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met with the old understanding that needs no words. Then she +pointed to the heavens.</p> + +<p>"See the stars, Paul, smiling down so calmly. How can they when hearts +are aching? When I was a child, I loved the stars. I fancied, too, that +they loved me, and I would run out under their watchful eyes, singing +for very joy, sure they were guiding my life and that some day I would +be happy, gloriously happy. Somehow, Paul, I always expected to be +happy—always!—till now! Now the stars seem to mock me. I must have +been born under a baleful conjunction, I guess. Oh, I told you, Paul, +that Opals were unlucky. I warned you—didn't I warn you? I may have +tempted you, too, but—I didn't mean to do it!"</p> + +<p>"Bless your dear heart, girl, you weren't to blame!"</p> + +<p>"But you said—that night—about the tiger——"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Opal, I was not myself. I was—excited. I didn't mean +that."</p> + +<p>After a moment, she said, musingly, "It is just as I said, Paul. I was +born to go to the devil, so it is well—well for you, I mean—and +perhaps for me—that you and I cannot marry." He shook his head, but she +went on, unheeding. "Paul, if I am destined to be a disgrace to +someone—and they say I am—I'd rather bring reproach upon his name than +on yours!"</p> + +<p>"But why marry at all, if you feel like that? Why, it's—it's damnable!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see, Paul, I am foreordained to evil—marked a bad woman from +the cradle! Marriage is the only salvation, you know, for girls with my +inheritance. It's the sanctuary that keeps a woman good and 'happy ever +after.'"</p> + +<p>"It would be more apt, in my opinion, to drive one to forbidden wine! A +marriage like that, I mean—for one like you."</p> + +<p>"But at least a married woman has a <i>name</i>—whatever she may do. +She's—protected. She isn't——"</p> + +<p>But Paul would hear no more.</p> + +<p>"Opal, <i>we</i> were made for each other from the beginning—surely we were. +Some imp has slipped into the scheme of things somewhere and turned it +upside down."</p> + +<p>He paused. She looked up searchingly into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Paul, do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearest!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"As sure as I am of my own existence! With all my heart, Opal—with all +my soul!"</p> + +<p>"Then we mustn't see each other any more!"</p> + +<p>"Not any more. You are right, Opal, not any more!"</p> + +<p>"But what shall we do, Paul? We shall be sure to meet often. You expect +to stay the summer through, do you not? And we are not going to New +Orleans for several weeks yet—and then?"</p> + +<p>"We are going West, Father Paul and I—out on the prairies to rough it +for a while. We were going before long, anyway, and a few weeks sooner +or later won't make any difference. And then—home, back over the sea +again, to face life, to work, to try to be—strong, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Paul paused and looked at her passionately.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so alluring to-night, Opal?"</p> + +<p>Her whole body quivered, caught fire from the flame in his eyes. What +was there about this man that made her always so conscious she was a +woman? Why could she never be calm in his presence, but was always so +fated to <i>feel, feel, feel!</i></p> + +<p>Her voice trembled as she looked up at him and answered, "Am I wicked, +Paul? I wanted to be happy to-night—just for to-night! I wanted to +forget the fate that was staring me so relentlessly in the face. But—I +couldn't, Paul!"</p> + +<p>Then she glanced through the curtains into the ballroom and shuddered.</p> + +<p>"The Count is looking for me," she said. The Boy winced, and she went on +rapidly, excitedly. "We must part. As well now as any time, I suppose, +since it has to be. But first, Paul, let me say it once—just once—<i>I +love you!</i>"</p> + +<p>He snatched her to him—God! that any one else should ever have the +right!</p> + +<p>"And I—worship you, Opal! Even that seems a weak word, to-night. +But—you understand, don't you? I didn't know at sea whether it was love +or what it was that had seized me as nothing ever had before. But I know +now! And listen, Opal—this isn't a vow, nor anything of that kind—but +I feel that I want to say it. I shall always love you just this +way—always—I feel it, I know it!—as long as I live! Will you +remember, darling?—remember—everything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes! And you, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Till death!" And his lips held hers, regardless of ten thousand Counts +and their claims upon her caresses.</p> + +<p>And they clung together again in the anguish of parting that comes at +some time, or another into the lives of all who know love.</p> + +<p>Then like mourners walking away from the graves of their loved ones, +they returned to the ballroom, with the dull ache of buried happiness in +their hearts.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Out—far out—in the great American West, the Boy wandered. And Paul +Verdayne, understanding as only he could understand, felt how little use +his companionship and sympathy really were at this crisis of the Boy's +life.</p> + +<p>All through the month of August they travelled, the Boy looking upon the +land he had been so eager to see with eyes that saw nothing but his own +disappointment, and the barrenness of his future. The hot sun beat down +upon the shadeless prairies with the intensity of a living flame. But it +seemed as nothing to the heat of his own passion—his own fiery +rebellion against the decree of destiny—altogether powerless against +the withering despair that had choked all the aspirations and ambitions +which, his whole life long, he had cultivated and nourished in the soil +of his developing soul.</p> + +<p>He thought again and again of the glories so near at hand—the glories +that had for years been the goal of his ambition. He pictured the +pageant to come—the glitter of armor and liveries, the splendor and +sparkle of jewels and lights, and all the dazzling gorgeousness of royal +equipments—the throngs of courtiers and beautiful women bowing before +him, proud of the privilege of doing him homage—him, a mere boy—yet +the king—the absolute monarch of his little realm, and supreme in his +undisputed sway over the hearts of his people—his people who had +worshipped his beautiful mother and, if only for her sake, made an idol +of her son. He saw himself crowned by loving hands with the golden +circlet he loved and reverenced, and meant to redeem from the stigma of +a worthless father's abuse and desecration; he saw his own young hands, +strong, pure, and undefiled by any form of bribery or political +corruption, wielding the sceptre that should—please God!—bring +everlasting honor and fame to the little principality. He saw all this, +and yet it did not thrill him any more! It was all Dead Sea fruit, dust +and ashes in his hand. He wanted but one thing now—and his whole +kingdom did not weigh one pennyweight against it.</p> + +<p>But in spite of his preoccupation the freedom and massiveness of the +West broadened the Boy's mental vision. He absorbed the spirit of the +big world it typified, and he saw things more clearly than in the +crowded city. And yet he suffered more, too. He could not often talk +about his sorrow and his loss, but he felt all the time the unspoken +sympathy in Verdayne's companionship, and was grateful for the +completeness of the understanding between them.</p> + +<p>Once, far out in a wide expanse of sparsely settled land, the two came +upon a hut—a little rough shanty with a sod roof, and probably but two +tiny rooms at most. It was nearing evening, and the red rays of the +setting sun fell upon a young woman, humbly clad, sitting on a bench at +the doorway, and cuddling upon her knee a little baby dressed in coarse, +but spotlessly white garments. A whistle sounded on the still air, and +through the waving grain strode a stalwart man, an eager, expectant +light in his bronzed face. The girl sprang to meet him with an +inarticulate cry of joy, and wife and baby were soon clasped close to +his breast.</p> + +<p>Paul could not bear it. He turned away with a sob in his throat and +looked into Verdayne's eyes with such an expression of utter +hopelessness that the older man felt his own eyes moisten with the +fervor of his sympathy. That poor, humble ranchman possessed something +that was denied the Boy, prince of the blood though he was.</p> + +<p>And the two men talked of commonplace subjects that night in subdued +tones that were close to tears. Both hearts were aching with the +consciousness of unutterable and irreparable loss.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Through the long nights that followed, out there in the primitive, Paul +thought of the hideousness of life as he saw it now, with a loathing +that time seemed only to increase. He pictured Opal—his love—as the +wife of that old French libertine, till his soul revolted at the very +thought. Such a thing was beyond belief.</p> + +<p>Once he said to Verdayne, thinking of the conversation he had had with +Opal on the night of the ball at the Plaza,</p> + +<p>"Father Paul, who was Lord Hubert Aldringham? The name sounds so +familiar to me—yet I can't recall where I heard it."</p> + +<p>"Why, he was my uncle, Boy, my mother's brother. A handsome, wicked, +devil-may-care sort of fellow to whom nothing was sacred. You must have +heard us speak of him at home, for mother was very fond of him."</p> + +<p>"And you, Father Paul?"</p> + +<p>"I—detested him, Boy!"</p> + +<p>And then the Boy told him something that Opal had said to him of the +possibility—nay, the probability—of Lord Hubert's being her own +grandfather. Verdayne was pained—grieved to the heart—at the terrible +significance of this—if it were true. And there was little reason, +alas, to doubt it! How closely their lives were woven together—Paul's +and Opal's! How merciless seemed the demands of destiny!</p> + +<p>What a juggler of souls Fate was!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And the month of August passed away. And September found the two men +still wandering in an aimless fashion about the prairie country, and yet +with no desire for change. The Boy was growing more and more +dissatisfied, less and less resigned to the decrees of destiny.</p> + +<p>At last, one dull, gray, moonless night, when neither could woo coveted +sleep to his tired eyes, the Boy said to his companion, "Father Paul, +I'm going to be a man—a man, do you hear? I am going to New +Orleans—you know Mr. Ledoux asked us to come in September—and I'm +going to marry Opal, whatever the consequences! I will not be bound to a +piece of flesh I abhor, for the sake of a mere kingdom—not for the sake +of a world! I will not sell my manhood! I will not sacrifice myself, nor +allow the girl I love to become a burnt-offering for a mother's sin. I +will not! Do you remember away off there," and he pointed off to the +south of them, "the little shack, and the man and the woman and—the +baby? Father Paul, I want—that! And I'm going to have it, too! Do you +blame me?"</p> + +<p>And Verdayne threw his arm around the Boy's neck, and said, "Blame you? +No, Boy, no! And may God bless and speed you!"</p> + +<p>And the next day they started for the South.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was early in the morning, a few days later, when Paul Verdayne and +his young friend reached New Orleans. Immediately after breakfast—he +would have presented himself before had he dared—the Boy called at the +home of the Ledouxs. Verdayne had important letters to write, as he +informed the Boy with a significant smile, and begged to be allowed to +remain behind.</p> + +<p>And the impatient youth, blessing him mentally for his tact, set forth +alone.</p> + +<p>The residence that he sought was one of the most picturesque and +beautiful of the many stately old mansions of the city. It was enclosed +by a high wall that hid from the passers-by all but the most tantalizing +glimpses of a fragrant, green tropical garden, and gave an air of +exclusiveness to the habitation of this proud old family. As the Boy +passed through the heavy iron gate, and his eye gazed in appreciation +upon the tints of foliage no autumn chills had affected, and the glints +of sun and shadow that only heightened the splendor of blossom, and +shrub, and vine, which were pouring their incense upon the air, he felt +that he was indeed entering the Garden of Eden—the Garden of Eden with +no French serpents to tempt from him the woman that had been created his +helpmeet.</p> + +<p>He found Opal, and a tall, handsome young man in clerical vestments, +sitting together upon the broad vine-shaded veranda. The girl greeted +him cordially and introduced him to the priest, Father Whitman.</p> + +<p>At first Paul dared not trust himself to look at Opal too closely, and +he did not notice that her face grew ashen at his approach. She had +recovered her usual self-possession when he finally looked at her, and +now the only apparent sign of unusual agitation was a slight flush upon +her cheek—an excited sparkle in her eye—which might have been the +effect of many causes.</p> + +<p>He watched the priest curiously. How noble-looking he was! He felt sure +that he would have liked him in any other garb. What did his presence +here portend?</p> + +<p>Paul had supposed that Opal was a Catholic; indeed had been but little +concerned what she professed. She had never appeared to him to be +specially religious, but, if she was, that absurd idea of self-sacrifice +for a dead mother she had never known might appeal to the love of +penance which is inherent in all of Catholic faith, and she might not +surrender to her great love for him.</p> + +<p>The priest rose.</p> + +<p>"Must you go, Father?" asked Opal.</p> + +<p>"Yes!... I will call to-morrow, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—tomorrow! And"—she suddenly threw herself upon her knees at his +feet—"your blessing, Father" she begged.</p> + +<p>The priest laid a hand upon her head, and raised his eyes to Heaven. +Then, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead, he took her hands +in his, and gently raised her to her feet. She clung to his hands +imploringly.</p> + +<p>"Absolution, Father," she pleaded.</p> + +<p>He hesitated, his face quivering with emotions his eyes lustrous with +tears, a world of feeling in every line of his countenance.</p> + +<p>"Child," he said hoarsely, "child! Don't tempt me!"</p> + +<p>"But you <i>must</i> say it, you know, or what will happen to me?"</p> + +<p>The priest still hesitated, but her eyes would not release him till he +whispered, "<i>Absolvo te</i>, my daughter, and—God bless you!"</p> + +<p>And releasing her hands, he bowed formally to Paul and hurried down the +broad stone steps and through the gate.</p> + +<p>Opal watched him, a smile, half-remorseful and half-triumphant, upon her +face.</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean?" asked Paul as he laid his hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>She laughed nervously. "Oh—nothing! Only—when I see one of those +long, clerical cassocks, I am immediately seized with an insane desire +to find the <i>man</i> inside the priest!"</p> + +<p>"Laudable, certainly! And you always succeed, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, usually!—why not?" And she laughed again. "Don't, Paul! I don't +want to quarrel with you!"</p> + +<p>"We won't quarrel, Opal," he said. But the thought of the priest annoyed +him.</p> + +<p>He seated himself beside her. "Have you no welcome for me?" he said.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, her eyes sweetly tender.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Paul! I'm very glad to see you again—if you are a bad boy!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her in amazement. "I, bad?—No," he said. And they laughed +again. But it was not the care-free laughter they had known at sea. +There was a strained note in the tones of the girl that grated strangely +upon the Boy's sensitive ear. What had happened? he wondered. What was +the new barrier between them? Was it the priest? Again the thought of +the priest worried him.</p> + +<p>"Where is my friend, the Count de Roannes?" he ventured at last.</p> + +<p>"He sailed for Paris last week."</p> + +<p>Paul's heart leaped. Surely then their legal betrothal had not taken +place.</p> + +<p>"What happened, Opal?"</p> + +<p>"The inevitable!"</p> + +<p>And again his heart bounded for joy! The inevitable! Surely that meant +that the girl's better nature had triumphed, had shown her the ignominy +of such a union in time to save her. He looked at her for further +information, but seeing her evident embarrassment, forbore to pursue the +question further.</p> + +<p>They wandered out through the luxurious garden, and the spell of its +enchantment settled upon them both.</p> + +<p>He pulled a crimson rose from a bush and began listlessly to strip the +thorns from the stalk. "Roses in September," he said, "are like love in +the autumn of life."</p> + +<p>And they both thought again of the Count and a chill passed over their +spirits. The girl watched him curiously.</p> + +<p>"Do you always cut the thorns from your roses?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly-sooner or later. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"O no! I am a woman, you see, and I only hold my rose tightly in my +fingers and smile in spite of the pricks as if to convince the world +that my rose has no thorns."</p> + +<p>"Is that honest?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not—but—yes, I think it is! If one really loves a rose, you +see, one forgets that it has thorns—really forgets!".</p> + +<p>"Until too late!"</p> + +<p>But there was some undercurrent of hidden meaning even in this subject, +and Paul tried another.</p> + +<p>He asked her about the books she had read since they parted and told her +of his travels. He painted for her a picture of the little cabin on the +western prairie, with its man and its woman and its baby, and she +listened with a strange softness in her eyes. He felt that she +understood.</p> + +<p>There was a tiny lake in the garden, and they sat upon the shore and +looked into the water, at an unaccountable loss for words. At last Paul, +with a boyish laugh, relieved the situation by rolling up his sleeve and +dabbling for pebbles in the sand at the bottom.</p> + +<p>There was not much said—only a word now and then, but both, in spite of +their consciousness of the barrier between them, were rejoicing in the +fact that they were together, while Paul, happy in his new-born +resolution, was singing in his heart.</p> + +<p>Should he tell her now?</p> + +<p>He looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he said, "you knew I would come."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Because—I love you!"</p> + +<p>The girl tried to laugh away the serious import of his tone.</p> + +<p>"I am not looking for men to love me, Paul," she said.</p> + +<p>"No, that's the trouble. You never have to."</p> + +<p>He turned away again and for a few moments had no other apparent aim in +life than a careful scrutiny of the limpid water.</p> + +<p>Somehow he felt a chill underlying her most casual words to-day. What +had become of the freemasonry between them they had both so readily +recognized on shipboard?</p> + +<p>Just then Gilbert Ledoux and his wife strolled into the garden. They +were genuinely pleased to see Paul and insisted on keeping him for +luncheon. The conversation drifted to his western trip and other less +personal things and not again did he have an opportunity to talk alone +with Opal.</p> + +<p>Paul took his departure soon after, promising to return for dinner, and +to bring Verdayne with him. Then, he resolved to himself, he would tell +Opal why he had come. Then he would claim her as his wife—his queen!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And Paul kept his word.</p> + +<p>That evening they found themselves alone in a deep-recessed window +facing the dimly-lighted street.</p> + +<p>"Opal," said Paul, "do you know why I have come to New Orleans? Can't +you imagine, dear?"</p> + +<p>She instantly divined the tenor of his thoughts, and shook her head in a +tremor of sudden fright.</p> + +<p>"I have come to tell you that I have fought it all out and that I cannot +live without you. Though I am breaking my plighted troth, I ask you to +become my wife!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes glistened with a strange lustre.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Paul! Paul!" she murmured, faintly. "Why did you not say this +before—or—why do you tell me now?"</p> + +<p>"Because now I know I love you more than all the world—more than my +duty—more than my life! Is that enough?"</p> + +<p>And Paul was about to break into a torrent of passionate appeal, when +Gilbert Ledoux joined them and, shortly after, Mrs. Ledoux called Opal +to her side.</p> + +<p>Opal looked miserably unhappy. Why was she not rejoicing? Paul knew that +she loved him. Nothing could ever make him doubt that. As he stood +wondering, idly exchanging platitudes with his genial host, Mrs. Ledoux +spoke in a tone of ringing emphasis that lingered in Paul's ears all the +rest of his life, "I think, Opal, it is time to share our secret!"</p> + +<p>And then, as the girl's face paled, and her frail form trembled with the +force of her emotion, her mother hastened to add, "Gentlemen, you will +rejoice with us that our daughter was last week formally betrothed to +the Count de Roannes!"</p> + +<p>The inevitable <i>had</i> happened.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>How the remainder of the evening passed, Paul Zalenska never knew. As he +looked back upon it, during the months that followed, it seemed like +some hideous dream from which he was struggling to awake. He talked, he +smiled, he even laughed, but scarcely of his own volition; it was as +though another personality acted through him.</p> + +<p>He was a temperate boy, but that night he drank more champagne than was +good for him. Paul Verdayne was grieved. Not that he censured the lad. +He knew only too well the anguish the Boy was suffering, and he could +not find it in his heart to blame him for the dissipation. And yet +Verdayne also knew how unavailing were all such attempts to drown the +sorrow that had so shocked the Boy's sensitive spirit.</p> + +<p>As he gazed regretfully at the Boy across the dinner table, the butler +placed a cablegram before him. Receiving a nod of permission from his +hostess, he hastily tore open the envelope and paled at its contents.</p> + +<p>The message was signed by the Verdaynes' solicitor, and read:</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p><i>Sir Charles very ill. Come immediately.</i></p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Before they left the house, Paul sought Opal for a few last words. There +were no obstacles placed in his way now by anxious parental authority. +He smiled cynically as he noticed how clear the way was made for him, +now that Opal was "safeguarded" by her betrothal.</p> + +<p>She drew him to one side, whispering, "Before you judge me too harshly, +Paul, please listen to what I have to say. I feel I have the right to +make this explanation, and you have the right to hear it. Under the +French law, I am legally bound to the Count de Roannes. Fearing that I +might not remain true to a mere verbal pledge—you knew we were engaged, +Paul, for I told you that, last summer—the Count asked that the +betrothal papers be executed before his unavoidable return to Paris. +Knowing no real reason for delay, since it had to come some time, I +consented; but I stipulated that I was to have six months of freedom +before becoming his wife. Arrangements have been made for us all to go +abroad next spring, and we shall be married in Paris. Paul, I did not +tell you this, this afternoon—I could not! I wanted to see you—the +real you—just once more, before you heard the bitter news, for I knew +that after you had heard, you would never look or speak the same to me +again. Oh, Paul, pity me! Pity me when I tell you that I asked for those +six months simply that I might dedicate them to you, and to the burial, +in my memory, of our little dream of love! It was only my little fancy, +Paul! I wanted to play at being constant that long to our dream. I +wanted to wear my six-months' mourning for our still-born love. I +thought it was only a little game of 'pretend' to you, Paul—why should +it be anything else? But it was very real to me."</p> + +<p>Her voice broke, and the Boy took her hand in his, tenderly, for his +resentment had long since died away.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he faltered, "I no longer know nor care who or what I am. This +experience has taken me out of myself, and set my feet in strange paths. +I had a life to live, Opal, but I have forgotten it in yours. I had +theories, ideals, hopes, aspirations—but I don't know where they are +now, Opal. They are gone—gone with your smile—"</p> + +<p>Opal's eyes grew soft with caresses.</p> + +<p>"They will come back, Paul—they must come back! They were born in +you—of Truth itself, not of a mere woman. You will forget me, Boy, and +your life will not be the pitiful waste you think. It must not be!"</p> + +<p>"I used to think that, Opal. It never seemed to me that life could ever +be an utter waste so long as a man had work to do and the strength and +skill to do it. But now—I'm all at sea! I only know—how—I shall miss +<i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>Opal grew thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"And how will it be with me?" she said sadly. "I have never learned to +wear a mask. I can't pose. I can't wear 'false smiles that cover an +aching heart.' Perhaps the world may teach me now—but I'm not a +hypocrite—yet!"</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Opal! I love you because you are you!"</p> + +<p>"And I love you, Paul, because you are you!"</p> + +<p>And even then he did not clasp her in his arms, nor attempt it. She was +another's now, and his hands were tied. He must try to control his one +great weakness—the longing for her.</p> + +<p>And in the few moments left to them, they talked and cheered each other, +as intimate friends on the eve of a long separation. They both knew now +that they loved—but they also knew that they must part—and forever!</p> + +<p>"I love you, Paul," said Opal, "even as you love me. I do not hesitate +to confess it again, because—well, I am not yet his wife. And I want to +give you this one small comfort to help to make you strong to fight and +conquer, and—endure!"</p> + +<p>"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can +I face the world without you?"</p> + +<p>"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me +always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me, +as men do weary of their wives!"</p> + +<p>"Opal! Never!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"But it is not <i>my</i> nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not +capricious. Why should you think so?"</p> + +<p>"But it's human nature, Paul; there is no denying that. To think, Paul, +that we could grow to clasp hands like this—that we could +kiss—actually kiss, Paul, <i>calmly</i>, as women kiss each other—that we +could ever rest in each other's arms and grow weary!"</p> + +<p>But Paul would not listen. He always would have loved her, always! He +loved her, anyway, and always would, were she a thousand times the +Countess de Roannes, but it was too late! too late!</p> + +<p>"Always remember, Paul, wherever you are and whatever you do," went on +Opal, "that I love you. I know it now, and I know how much! Let the +memory of it be an inspiration to you when your spirits flag, and a +consolation when skies are gray, and—Paul—oh, I love you—love +you—that's all! Kiss me—just once—our last goodbye! There can be no +harm in that, when it's for the last time!"</p> + +<p>And Paul, with a heart-breaking sob, clasped her in his arms and pressed +his lips to hers as one kisses the face of his beloved dead. He wondered +vaguely why he felt no passion—wondered at the utter languor of the +senses that did not wake even as he pressed his lips to hers. It was not +a woman's body in his arms—but as the sexless form of one long dead and +lost to him forever. It was not passion now—it was love, stripped of +all sensuality, purged of all desire save the longing to endure.</p> + +<p>It was the hour of love's supremest triumph—renunciation!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Back in England again—England in the fall of the year—England in the +autumn of life, for Sir Charles Verdayne was nearing his end. The Boy +spent a few weeks at Verdayne Place, and then left to pay his first +visit to his fiancée. Paul Verdayne was prevented by his father's ill +health from accompanying him to Austria, as had been the original plan.</p> + +<p>Opal had asked of the Boy during that last strange hour they had spent +together that he should make this visit, and bow obediently to the call +of destiny—as she had done. She did not know who he really was, nor +what station in life his fiancée graced, but she did know that it was +his duty bravely and well to play his part in the drama of life, +whatever the role. She would not have him shirk. It was a horrible +thing, she had said with a shudder—none knew it better than she—but +she would be glad all her life to think that he had been no coward, and +had not cringed beneath the bitterest blow of fate, but had been strong +because she loved him and believed in him.</p> + +<p>And so, since Paul Verdayne could not be absent from his father's side, +with many a reluctant thought the Boy set forth for Austria alone.</p> + +<p>During his absence, Isabella—she who had been Isabella Waring—returned +from Blackheath a widow with two grown daughters—two more modern +editions of the original Isabella. The widow herself was graver and more +matronly, yet there was much of the old Isabella left, and Verdayne was +glad to see her. Lady Henrietta gave her a cordial invitation to visit +Verdayne Place, which she readily accepted, passing many pleasant hours +with the friend of her youth and helping to while away the long days +that Verdayne found so tiresome when the Boy was away from him.</p> + +<p>Isabella was still "a good sort," and made life much less unbearable +than it might have been, but Verdayne often smiled to think of the +"puppy-love" he had once felt for her. It was amusing, now, and they +both laughed over it—though Isabella would not have been a woman had +she not wondered at times why her "old pal" had never married. There had +been chances, lots of them, for the girls had always liked the +blue-eyed, manly boy he had been, and petted and flattered and courted +him all through his youth. Why hadn't he chosen one of them? Had he +really cared so much for her—Isabella? And she often found herself +looking with much pitying tenderness upon the lonely man, whose heart +seemed so empty of the family ties it should have fostered—and +wondering.</p> + +<p>Lady Henrietta, too, was set to thinking as the days went by, and +turning, one night, to her son, "Paul," she said, "I begin to think that +perhaps I was wrong in separating you from the girl you loved, and so +spoiling your life. Isabella would have made you a fairly good wife, I +believe, as wives go, and you must forgive your mother, who meant it for +the best. She did not see the way clearly, then, and so denied you the +one great desire of your heart"</p> + +<p>She looked at him closely, but his heart was no longer worn upon his +sleeve, and finding his face non-committal, she went on slowly, feeling +her way carefully as she advanced.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is not too late now, my son. Don't let my prejudices stand +in your way again, for you are still young enough to be happy, and I +shall be truly glad to welcome any wife—any!"</p> + +<p>Verdayne did not reply. His eyes were studying the pattern of the rug +beneath his feet. His mother's face flushed with embarrassment at the +delicacy of the subject, but she stumbled on bravely.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she said, "Isabella is young yet, and you are not so very old. +It may not, even now, be too late to hold a little grandchild on my knee +before I die. I have been so fond of Paul—he is so very like you when +you were a boy—and have wished—oh, you don't know how a mother feels, +Paul—I have often wished that he were your son, or that I might have +had a grandson just like him. Do you know, Paul, I have often fancied +that your son, had you had one, would have been very like this dear +Boy."</p> + +<p>Verdayne choked back a sob. If his mother could only understand as some +women would have understood! If he could have told her the truth! But, +no, he never could. Even now it would have been a terrible shock to her, +and she could never have forgiven, never held up her head again, if she +had known.</p> + +<p>As for marrying Isabella—could he? After all, was it right to let the +old name die out for want of an heir? Was it just to his father? And +Isabella would not expect to be made love to. There was never that sort +of nonsense about her, and she would make all due allowance for his age +and seriousness.</p> + +<p>His mother felt she had been very kind and generous in renouncing the +old objection of twenty years' standing, and, too, she felt that it was +only right, after spoiling her son's life for so long, to do her best to +atone for the mistake. It must be confessed she could not see what there +was about Isabella to hold the love and loyalty of a man like Paul for +so long, but then—and she sighed at the thought of the wasted +years—"Love is blind," they say—and so's a lover! And her motherly +heart longed for grandchildren—Paul's children—as it had always longed +for them.</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne sat opposite his penitent mother and pondered. The scent +from a bowl of red roses on his mother's table almost overpowered him +with memories.</p> + +<p>He thought of the couch of deep red roses on which he had lain, caressed +by the velvet petals. He could inhale their fragrance even yet—he could +look into her eyes and breathe the incense of her hair—her whole +glorious person—that was like none other in all the world. Yes, she had +been happy—and he would remember! She would be happier yet could she +know that he had been faithful to his duty—and surely this was his duty +to his race. His Queen would have it so, he felt sure.</p> + +<p>Rising, he bent over his mother, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and +kissed her calmly upon the brow. Then he walked quietly from the room. +His resolution was firmly fixed.</p> + +<p>He would marry Isabella!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Sir Charles Verdayne lingered for several weeks, no stronger, nor yet +perceptibly weaker. He took a sudden fancy to see his old friend, +Captain Grigsby, and the old salt was accordingly sent for. His presence +acted as a tonic upon the dying man, and the two old friends spent many +pleasant hours together, talking—as old people delight in talking—of +the days of the distant past.</p> + +<p>"Is this widow the Isabella who once raised the devil with your Paul?" +asked Grigsby.</p> + +<p>"Same wench!" answered Sir Charles, a twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said the Captain—and then said again, "Hum!" Then he added +meditatively, "Blasted unlucky kiss that! Likely wench enough, +but—never set the Thames on fire!—nor me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh the kiss didn't count," said Sir Charles. "As I said to the boy's +mother at the time, a man isn't obliged to marry every woman he kisses! +Mighty good thing, too—eh, Grig? Besides, a kiss like that is an insult +to any flesh and blood woman!"</p> + +<p>"An insult?"</p> + +<p>"The worst kind! You see, Grig, no woman likes to be kissed that way. +Whether she's capable of feeling a single thrill of passion herself or +not, she likes to be sure that she can inspire it in a man. And a kiss +like that—well, it rouses all her fighting blood! Makes her feel she's +no woman at all in the man's eye—merely a doll to be kissed. D'ye see? +It's damned inconsistent, of course, but it's the woman of it!"</p> + +<p>"The devil of it, you mean!" the old Captain chuckled in response. Then, +"Paul had a lucky escape," he said, as he looked furtively around the +room for listening ears, "mighty lucky escape! And an experience right +on the heels of it to make up for the loss of a hundred such wenches +and—say, Charles, he's got a son to be proud of! The Boy is certainly +worth all the price!"</p> + +<p>"Any price—any price, Grig!" Then the old man went on, "If Henrietta +only knew! She thinks the world of the youngster, you know—no one could +help that—but what if she knew? Paul's been mighty cautious. I often +laugh when I see them out together—him and the Boy—and think what a +sensation one could spring on the public by letting the cat out of the +bag. And the woman would suffer. Wouldn't she, just! Wouldn't they tear +her to pieces!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they would," said the Captain, "they certainly would. This is a +world of hypocrites, Charles, damned rotten hypocrites!"</p> + +<p>"That's what it is, Grig! Not one of those same old hens who would have +said, 'Ought we to visit her?' and denounced the whole 'immoral' affair, +and all that sort of thing—not one of them, I say, but would—"</p> + +<p>"Give her very soul to know what such a love means! O they would, +Charles—they would—every damned old cat of them, who would never get +an opportunity to play the questionable—no, not one in a thousand +years—if they searched for it forever!"</p> + +<p>"Yet women are made so, Grigsby—they can't help it! Henrietta would +faint at the mere suggestion of accepting as a daughter-in-law a woman +with a past!"</p> + +<p>And the old man sighed.</p> + +<p>"I'd have given my eyes—yes, I would, Grig—to have seen that woman +just once! God! the man she made out of my boy! Of course it may have +been for the best that it turned out as it did, but—damn it all, Grig, +she was worth while! There's no dodging that!"</p> + +<p>"Nobody wants to dodge it, Charles! She was over-sexed, perhaps—but +better that than undersexed—eh?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But the exhilaration caused by the coming of his old friend gradually +wore itself away, and Sir Charles began to grow weaker. And at last the +end came. He had grown anxious to see the Boy again, and the young +fellow had returned and spent much time with the old man, who loved the +sound of his voice as it expressed his fresh, frank ideas.</p> + +<p>But Sir Charles spent his last hours with his son.</p> + +<p>"Paul," he said, in a last confidential whisper, touching upon the theme +that had never been mentioned between them before, "I +understand—everything—you know, and I'm proud of you—and him! I have +wanted to say something, or do something for you—often—often—to help +you—but it's the sort of thing a chap has to fight out for himself, +and I thought I'd better keep out of it! But I wanted you to +know—<i>now</i>—that I've known it all—all along—and been proud of +you—both!"</p> + +<p>And their hands clasped closely, and the eyes of both were wet, but even +on the brink of death the lips of the younger man were sealed. The ++silence of one-and-twenty years remained unbroken. +It was not a +foolish reticence that restrained him—but simply that he could not find +words to voice the memories that grew more and more sacred with the +passing of the years.</p> + +<p>And at evening, when the family had gathered about him, the old man lay +with his son's hand in his, but his eyes looked beyond and rested on the +face of the Boy, who seemed the renewal of hit son's youth, when life +was one glad song! And thus he passed to the Great Beyond.</p> + +<p>And his son was Sir Paul Verdayne, the last of his race.</p> + +<p>That night, the young baronet and the Boy sat alone over their cigars. +The Boy spoke at some length of his extensive Austrian visit. The +Princess Elodie would make him a good wife, he said. She was of good +sturdy stock, healthy, strong—and, well, a little heavy and dull, +perhaps, but one couldn't expect everything! At least, her honor would +never be called into question. He would always feel sure that his name +was safe with her! He was glad he went to Austria. There were political +complications that he had not understood before which made the marriage +an absolute necessity for the salvation of his country's position among +the kingdoms of the world, and he was more resigned to it now. Yes, +indeed, he was far more resigned. The princess wasn't by any means +impossible—not a half bad sort—and—yes, he was resigned! He said it +over and over, but without convincing Sir Paul—or deceiving himself!</p> + +<p>As for the elder man, he said but little. He had been wondering +throughout that dinner-hour whether he could ever really make Isabella +his wife. The Boy thought of Isabella, too, and was anxious to know +whether his Father Paul was going to be happy at last. He had been very +curious to see the woman who could play so cruel a part toward the man +he loved. If he had been Verdayne, he thought, he would never forgive +her—never! Still, if Father Paul loved the woman—as he certainly must +to have remained single for her sake so long—it put a different face on +the matter, and of course it was Verdayne's affair, not his! The Boy had +been disappointed in Isabella's appearance and attractions—she was not +at all the woman he had imagined his Father Paul would love—but of +course she was older now, and age changes some women, and, and—well, he +only hoped that his friend would be happy—happy in his own way, +whatever that might be.</p> + +<p>At last, he summoned Vasili to him and called for his own particular +yellow wine—the Imperial Tokayi—and the old man filled the glasses. It +was too much for Verdayne—and all thoughts of Isabella were consigned +to eternal oblivion as he remembered the time when <i>he</i> had sipped that +wine with his Queen in the little hotel on the Bürgenstock.</p> + +<p>She would have no cause for jealousy—his darling!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX'></a><h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was November when Sir Charles died, and Lady Henrietta betook herself +to her sister's for consolation, while Sir Paul and the Boy, with a +common impulse, departed for India.</p> + +<p>They spent Christmas in Egypt, the winter months in the desert, and at +last spring came, with its remembrance of duties to be done. And to the +elder man England made its insistent call, as it always did in March. +For was it not in England, and in March, the tidings reached him that +unto him a son was born?</p> + +<p>He must go back.</p> + +<p>So at last, acting upon a pre-arrangement to which the young Prince had +not been a party, they made their way back to their own world of men and +women.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Boy," said Sir Paul, one day, "the time has come when many questions +you have asked and wondered about are to be answered, as is your due. It +was your mother's wish that you should go, at the beginning of May, +alone, to Lucerne. There you will find letters awaiting you—from +her—from your Uncle Peter—yes, even from myself—telling you the whole +secret of your birth, the story of your inheritance."</p> + +<p>"Why Lucerne, Father Paul?"</p> + +<p>"It was your mother's wish—and mine!"</p> + +<p>Then, with a rush of tenderness, the older man threw his arm around the +Boy's shoulders. "Boy," he said, "be charitable and lenient and +kind—whatever you read!"</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do, Father Paul? I have not quite two weeks +of freedom left, and I begrudge every day I am forced to spend away from +you. You will go with me to see me crowned—and married?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Boy! You are to stay in Lucerne only until you are sure you +understand all the revelations of these letters, and their full import. +It may be a week—it may be a day—it may be but a few hours, but—I +can't go with you, and you must not ask me to! It is an experience you +must face alone. I will await you in Venice, Paul, and be sure that when +you want me, Boy, I will come!"</p> + +<p>The Boy's sensitive nature was stirred to the depths by the emotion in +Sir Paul's face—emotion that all his life long he had never seen there +before. He grasped his hand—</p> + +<p>"Father Paul," he began, but Sir Paul shook his head at the unspoken +appeal in his face and bade him be patient just a little longer and +await his letters, for he could tell him nothing.</p> + +<p>And thus they parted; the Boy to seek in Lucerne the unveiling of his +destiny, the man to wait in Venice, a place he had shunned for +one-and-twenty years, but which was dearer to him than any other city in +the world. It was there that he had lived the climax of his love-life, +with its unutterable ecstasy—and unutterable pain.</p> + +<p>Vasili had preceded his young master to Lucerne with the letters that +had been too precious, and of too secret a nature, to be entrusted to +the post. Who can define the sensations of the young prince as he held +in his hand the whole solution of the mystery that had haunted all his +years? He trembled—paled. What was this secret—perhaps this terrible +secret—which was to be a secret no longer?</p> + +<p>Alone in his apartment, he opened the little packet and read the note +from the Regent, which enclosed the others, and then—he could read no +further. The few words of information that there stared him in the face +drove every other thought from his mind, every other emotion from his +heart. His father! Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he known? A thousand +significant memories rushed over him in the light of the startling +revelation. How blind he had been! And he sat for hours, unheeding the +flight of time, thinking only the one thought, saying over and over +again the one name, the name of his father, his own father, whom he had +loved so deeply all his life—</p> + +<p><i>Paul Verdayne!</i></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX'></a><h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>At last, when he felt that he could control his scattered senses, he +turned over the letters in the packet and found his mother's. How his +boyish heart thrilled at this message from the dead!—a message that he +had waited for, and that had been waiting for him, one-and-twenty years! +The letter began:</p> + +<p>"Once, my baby, thy father—long before he was thy father—had a +presentiment that if he became my lover my life would find a tragic end.</p> + +<p>"Once, likewise, I told thy father, before he became my lover, that the +price we might have to pay, if we permitted ourselves to love, would be +sorrow and death! For, my baby, these are so often the terrible cost of +such a love as ours. That he has been my lover—my beloved—heart of my +heart—thine own existence is the living proof; and something—an +intangible something—tells me that the rest of his prophecy will +likewise be fulfilled. We have known the sorrow—aye, as few others +have—and even now I feel that we shall also know death!</p> + +<p>"It is because of this curious presentiment of mine that I write down +for thee, my baby—my baby Paul—this story of thy father and thy +mother, and the great love that gave thee to the world. It is but right, +before thou comest into thy kingdom, that thou shouldst know—thou and +thou alone—the secret of thy birth, that thou mayst carry with thee +into the big world thy birthright—the sweetness of a supreme love."</p> + +<p>Then briefly, but as completely and vividly as the story could be +written, she pictured for him the beautiful idyl she and her lover had +lived, here in this very spot, two-and-twenty years ago; told him, in +her own quaint words, of the beautiful boy she had found in Lucerne, +that glorious May so long ago, and how it had been her caprice to waken +him, until the caprice had become her love, and afterwards her life; +told him how she had seen the danger, and had warned the boy to leave +Lucerne, while there was yet time, but that he had answered that he +would chance the hurt, because he wished to live, and he knew that only +she could teach him how—only she could prove to him the truth of her +own words, that <i>life was love!</i></p> + +<p>She told how weary and unhappy she had been, picturing with no light +fingers the misery of her life—married when a mere child to a vicious +husband—and all the insults and brutality she was forced to endure; and +then, for contrast, told him tenderly how she had been young again for +this boy she had found in Lucerne.</p> + +<p>There was not one little detail of that idyllic dream of love omitted +from the picture she drew for him of these two—and their sublime three +weeks of life on the Bürgenstock with their final triumphant, but bitter +culmination in Venice. She told him of what they had been pleased to +call their wedding—the wedding of their souls—nor did she seek to +lessen the enormity of their sin.</p> + +<p>She touched with the tenderest of fingers upon the first dawn in their +hearts of the hope of the coming of a child—a child who would hold +their souls together forever—a child who would immortalize their love +till it should live on, and on, and on, through countless generations +perhaps—till who could say how much the world might be benefited and +helped just because they two had loved!</p> + +<p>And then she told him—sweetly, as a mother should—of all her dreams +for her son—all her hopes and ambitions that were centered around his +little life—the life of her son who was to redeem the land—told him +how ennobled and exalted she had felt that this strong, manly Englishman +was her lover, and how sure she had been that their child would have a +noble mind.</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Thou wilt think my thoughts, my baby Paul—thou wilt dream my + dreams, and know all my ambitions and longings. Thou canst not be + ignoble or base, for thou wert born of a love that makes all other + unions mean and low and sordid by comparison."</p></div> + +<p>Then, after telling, as only she could tell it, of the bitterness of +that parting in Venice, when, because of the threatening danger, from +which there was no escape, she left her lover to save his life, she went +on:</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Dost thou know yet, when thou readest this, little Paul, with thy + father's eyes—dost thou know, I wonder, the meaning of that great + love which to the twain who realize it becomes a sacrament—dost + understand?—a sacrament holier even than a prayer. It was even so + with thy father and me—dost thou—canst thou understand? If not + yet, sometime thou wilt, and thou wilt then forgive thy mother for + her sin."</p></div> + +<p>She told of the taunts and persecutions to which she was forced to +submit upon her return to her kingdom. The king and his friends had +vilely commended her for her "patriotism" in finding an heir to the +throne. "Napoleon would have felt honored," her husband had sneered, "if +Josephine had adopted thy method of finding him the heir he desired!" +But through it all, she said, she had not faltered. She had held the one +thought supreme in her heart and remembered that however guilty she +might be in the eyes of the world, there was a higher truth in the words +of Mrs. Browning, "God trusts me with a child," and had dared to pray.</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"To pray for strength and grace and wisdom to give thee birth, my + baby, and to make thee all that thou shouldst be—to develop thee + into the man I and thy father would have thee become. I was not + only giving an heir to the throne of my realm. I was giving a son + to the husband of my soul. But the world did not know that. + Whatever it might suspect, it could actually know—nothing! The + secret was thy father's and mine—his and mine alone—and now it + is thine, as it needs must be! Guard it well, my baby, and let it + make thy life and thy manhood full of strength and power and + sweetness and glory and joy, and remember, as thou readest for the + first time this story of thy coming into the world, that thy mother + counted it her greatest, proudest glory to be the chosen love of + thy father, and the mother of his son."</p></div> + +<p>She had touched as lightly as she could upon the dark hours of her +baby's coming, when she was doomed to pass through that Valley of the +Shadow far away from the protecting and comforting love of him whose +right it was by every law of Nature to have been, then of all times, by +her side; but the Boy felt the pathos of it, and his eyes filled with +tears. His mother—the mother of his dreams—his glorious +queen-mother—to suffer all this for him—for him!</p> + +<p>And Father Paul!—his own father! What must this cross have been to him! +Surely he would love him all the rest of his life to make up for all +that suffering!</p> + +<p>Then he thought of the other letters and he read them all, his heart +torn between grief and anger—for they told him all the appalling +details of the tragedy that had taken his mother from him, and left his +father and himself bereaved of all that made life dear and worth the +living to man and boy.</p> + +<p>One of the letters was from Sir Paul, telling the story over again from +the man's point of view, and laying bare at last the great secret the +Boy had so often longed to hear. Nothing was kept back. Even every +note—every little scrap of his mother's writing—had been sacredly kept +and was now enclosed for the eyes of their son to read. The closed door +in Father Paul's life was unlocked now, and his son entered and +understood, wondering why he had been so blind that he had not seen it +all before. The writing on the wall had certainly been plain enough. And +he smiled to remember the readiness with which he had believed the +plausible story of Isabella Waring!</p> + +<p>And that man—the husband of his mother—the king who had taken her dear +life from her with a curse upon his lips! Thank God he was not his +father! No, in all the world of men, there was no one but Paul +Verdayne—no one—to whom he would so willingly have given the +title—and to him he had given it in his heart long before.</p> + +<p>He sat and read the letters through again, word by word, living in +imagination the life his mother had lived, feeling all she had felt. +God! the bliss, the agony of it all!</p> + +<p>And Paul Zalenska, surrounded by the messages from the past that had +given him being, and looking at the ruin of his own life with eyes newly +awakened to the immensity of his loss, bowed his face in his hands and +wept like a heart-broken child over the falling of his house of cards.</p> + +<p>Ah! his mother had understood—she had loved and suffered. She was older +than he, too, and had known her world as he could not possibly know it, +and yet she had bade him take the gifts of life when they came his way.</p> + +<p>And—God help him!—he had not done so!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The next morning, Paul Zalenska rose early. He had not slept well. He +was troubled with conflicting emotions, conflicting memories. The wonder +and sorrow of it all had been too much even for his youth and health to +endure. His mother had won so much from life, he thought—and he so +little! He thought of Opal—indeed, when was she ever absent from his +thoughts, waking or sleeping?—and the memory of his loss made him +frantic. Opal—his darling! And <i>they</i> might have been just as happy as +his mother and father had been, but they had let their happiness slip +from them! What fools! Oh, what fools they had been! Not to have risked +anything—everything—for their happiness! And where was she now? In +Paris, in her husband's arms, no doubt, where he could hold her to him, +and caress her and kiss her at his own sweet will! God! It was +intolerable, unthinkable! And he—Paul, her lover—lying there alone, +who would have died a thousand deaths, if that were possible, to save +her from such a fate!</p> + +<p>At last he forced the thought of his own loss from him, and thought +again of his mother. Ah, but her death had been opportune! How glorious +to die when life and love had reached their zenith! in the fullness of +joy to take one's farewell of the world!</p> + +<p>And in the long watches of that wakeful night, he formed the resolution +that he put into effect at the first hint of dawn. He would spend one +entire day in solitude. He would traverse step by step the primrose +paths of his mother's idyllic dream; he would visit every scene, every +nook, she and her lover had immortalized in their memories; he would see +it all, feel it all—yes, <i>live</i> it all, and become so impregnated with +its witchery that it would shed lustre and glory upon all the bleak +years to come. So well had she told her story, so perfect had been its +word-painting, he was sure that he would recognize every scene.</p> + +<p>He explored the ivy-terrace leading to his mother's room, he walked up +and down under the lime trees, and he sat on the bench still in position +under the ivy hanging from the balustrade, and looked up wistfully at +the windows of the rooms that had been hers. Then he engaged a launch +and crossed the lake, and was not satisfied until he had found among the +young beeches on the other side what he felt must have been the exact +spot where his mother had peeped through the leaves upon her ardent +lover, before she knew him. And he roamed about among the trees, feeling +a subtle sense of satisfaction in being in the same places that they had +been who gave him being, as though the spirits of their two natures must +still haunt the spot and leave some trace of their presence even yet. He +followed each of the three paths until he had decided to his own +satisfaction by which one his mother had escaped from her pursuer, that +day, and he laughed a buoyant, boyish laugh at the image it suggested of +Verdayne, the misogynist—his stately, staid old Father Paul—actually +"running after a woman!" Truly the Boy was putting aside his own sorrow +and discontent to-day. He was living in the past, identifying himself +with every phase of it, living in imagination the life of these two so +dear to him, and rejoicing in their joy. Life had certainly been one +sweet song to them, for a brief space, a duet in Paradise, broken +up—alas for the Boy!—before it had become the trio it should have +developed into, by every law of Nature.</p> + +<p>He sought the little village that they had visited before him, and +lunched at the same little hotel. He drove out to the little farmhouse +where the lovers had had their first revelation of him—their baby—and +he wept over the loss of the glorious mother she would have been to him. +He even climbed the mountain and looked with her eyes out over the +landscape. He was young and strong, and he determined to let nothing +escape him—to let no sense of fatigue deter him—but to crowd the day +full of memories of her.</p> + +<p>The Boy, as his mother had been before him, was enraptured by all that +he saw. The beauty of the snow-capped mountains against the blue of the +sky and the golden glamour of the sunshine appealed to him keenly, and +he watched the reflection of it all in the crystal lake in a trance of +delight.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he thought, "had they deliberately searched the world over for a +fitting setting for their idyl, they could not have selected a retreat +more perfect than this. It was made for lovers who love as they did."</p> + +<p>And at last, under the witchery of the star-studded skies, wearied and +hungry, but filled and thrilled with the fragrance and glory of the +memories of the mother whom his young heart idealized, he left the +launch at the landing by the terrace steps and started blithely for the +little restaurant, dreaming, always dreaming, not of the future—but of +the past.</p> + +<p>For him, alas, the future held no promise!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>During the Boy's absence that day a new guest had arrived at the little +hotel. A capricious American lady, who had come to Lucerne, "for a day +or two's rest," she said, before proceeding to Paris where an impatient +Count awaited her and his wedding-day.</p> + +<p>Yes, Opal was actually in Lucerne, and the suite of rooms once occupied +by the mysterious Madame Zalenska were now given over to the little lady +from over the seas, who, in spite of her diminutive stature, contrived +to impress everybody with a sense of her own importance. She had just +received a letter from her fiancé, an unusually impatient communication, +even from him. He was anxious, he said, for her and his long-delayed +honeymoon. Honeymoon! God help her! Her soul recoiled in horror from the +hideous prospect. Only two days more, she thought, pressing her lips +tightly together. Oh, the horror of it! She dared not think of it, or +she would go mad! But she would not falter. She had told herself that +she was now resigned. She was going to defeat Fate after all!</p> + +<p>She had partaken of her dinner, and was standing behind the ivy that +draped the little balcony, watching the moon in its setting of Swiss +skies and mystic landscape. How white and calm and spotless it appeared! +It was not a man's face she saw there—but that of a woman—the face of +a nun in its saintly, virgin purity, suggesting only sweet inspiring +thoughts of the glory of fidelity to duty, of the comfort and peace and +rest that come of renunciation.</p> + +<p>Opal clasped her hands together with a thrill of exultation at her own +victory over the love and longings that were never to be fulfilled. A +song of prayer and thanksgiving echoed in her heart over the thought +that she had been strong enough to do her duty and bear the cross that +life had so early laid upon her shoulders. She felt so good—so true—so +pure—so strong tonight. She would make her life, she thought—her life +that could know no personal love—abound in love for all the world, and +be to all it touched a living, breathing benediction.</p> + +<p>As she gazed she suddenly noticed a lighted launch on the little lake, +and an inexplicable prescience disturbed the calm of her musings. She +watched, with an intensity she could not have explained, the gradual +approach of the little craft. What did that boat, or its passenger, +matter to her that she should feel such an acute interest in its +movements? Yet something told her it did matter much, and though she +laughed at her superstition, nevertheless her heart listened to it, and +dared not gainsay its insistent whisper.</p> + +<p>A young man, straight and tall and lithe, bounded from the launch and +mounted the terrace steps. She saw his clean-cut profile, his +well-groomed appearance, which even in the moonlight was plainly +evident. She noted the regal bearing of his well-knit figure, and she +caught the delicious aroma of the particular brand of cigar Paul always +smoked, as he passed beneath the balcony where she stood.</p> + +<p>She turned in very terror and fled to her rooms, pulling the curtains +closer. She shrank like a frightened child upon the couch, her face +white and drawn with fear—of what, she did not know.</p> + +<p>After a time—long, terrible hours, it seemed to her—she parted the +curtains with tremulous fingers and looked out again at the sky, and +shuddered. The virgin nun-face had mysteriously changed—the moon that +had looked so pure and spotless was now blood-red with passion.</p> + +<p>Opal crept back, pulling the curtains together again, and threw herself +face downward upon the couch. God help her!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Paul Zalenska lingered long over his dinner that night. He was tired and +thoughtful. And he enjoyed sitting at that little table where his father +perhaps sat the night he had first seen her who became his love.</p> + +<p>And Paul pictured to himself that first meeting. He tried to imagine +that he was Paul Verdayne, and that shortly his lady would come in with +her stately tread, and take her seat, and be waited upon by her elderly +attendant. Perhaps she would look at him through those long dark lashes +with eyes that seemed not to see. But there was no special table, +to-night, and the Boy felt that the picture was woefully +incomplete—that he had been left out of the scheme of things entirely.</p> + +<p>After finishing his meal, he went out, as his father had done, out under +the stars and sat on the little bench under the ivy, and smoked a cigar. +He felt a curious thrill of excitement, quite out of keeping with his +loneliness. Was it just the memory of that old love-story that had +stirred his blood? Why did his pulse leap, his blood race through his +veins like this, his heart rise to his throat and hammer there so +fiercely, so strangely. Only one influence in all the world had ever +done this to him—only one influence—<i>one woman</i>—and she was miles and +miles away!</p> + +<p>Suddenly, impelled by some force beyond his power of resistance—a sense +of someone's gaze fixed upon him, he raised his eyes to the ivy above +him. There, faint and indistinct in the shadow of the leaves, but quite +unmistakable, he saw the white, frightened face of the girl he loved, +her luminous eyes looking straight down into his.</p> + +<p>He sprang to his feet, and pulled himself up by the ivy to the level of +the terrace, but she had vanished and the watching stars danced +mockingly overhead. Was he dreaming? Had that strange old love-story +taken away from him the last remaining shred of sanity? Surely he hadn't +seen Opal! She was in Paris—damn it!—and he clenched his teeth at the +thought—certainly not at Lucerne!</p> + +<p>He looked at the windows of that enchanted room. All was darkness and +silence. Cursing himself for a madman, he strode into the hall and +examined the Visitors' List. Suddenly the blood leaped to his face—his +head reeled—his heart beat to suffocation. He was not dreaming, for +there, as plainly as words could be written, was the entry:</p> + +<p><i>Miss Ledoux and maid, New Orleans, U. S. A.</i></p> + +<p>She was there—in Lucerne!—his Opal!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>How Paul reached his room, he never knew. He was in an ecstasy—his +young blood surging through his veins in response to the leap of the +seething passions within.</p> + +<p>Have you never felt it, Reader? If you have not, you had better lay +aside this book, for you will never, never understand what +followed—what <i>must</i> follow, in the very nature of human hearts.</p> + +<p>Fate once more had placed happiness in his grasp—should he fling it +from him? Never! never again! He remembered his mother and her great +love, as she had bade him.</p> + +<p>This day, following as it did his mother's letter, had been a revelation +to him of the possibilities of life, and of his own capacity for +enjoying it. In one week, only one week more, he must take upon his +shoulders the burdens of a kingdom. Should he let a mistaken sense of +right and duty defraud him a second time? Was this barrier—which a +stronger or a weaker man would have brushed aside without a second +thought—to wreck his life, and Opal's? He laughed exultingly. His whole +soul was on fire, his whole body aflame.</p> + +<p>Beyond the formality of the betrothal, Opal had not yet been bound to +the Count. She was not his—yet! She could not be Paul's wife—Fate had +made that forever impossible—but she should be <i>his</i>, as he knew she +already was at heart.</p> + +<p>They loved, and was not love—everything!</p> + +<p>He paced the floor in an excitement beyond his control. Opal should give +him, out of her life, one day—one day in the little hotel on the +Bürgenstock, where his mother and her lover had been so happy. They, +too, should be happy—as happy as two mating birds in a new-built +nest—for one day they would forget all yesterdays and all to-morrows. +He would make that one day as glorious and shadowless for her as a day +could possibly be made—one day in which to forget that the world was +gray—- one day which should live in their memories throughout all the +years to come as the one ray of sunshine in two bleak and dreary lives!</p> + +<p>And tempted, as he admitted to himself, quite beyond all reason, he +swore by all that he held sacred to risk everything—brave +everything—for the sake of living one day in Paradise.</p> + +<p>"We have a right to be happy," he said. "Everyone has a right to be +happy, and we have done no wrong to the world. Why should we two, who +have the capability of making so much of our lives and doing so much for +the world, as we might have, together—why should we be sentenced to the +misery of mere existence, while men and women far less worthy of +happiness enjoy life in its utmost ecstasy?"</p> + +<p>One thing he was firmly resolved upon. Opal should not know his real +rank. She should give herself to Paul Zalenska, the man—not to Paul the +Prince! His rank should gloss over nothing—nothing—and for all she +knew now to the contrary, her future rank as Countess de Roannes was +superior to his own.</p> + +<p>And then as silence fell about the little hotel, unbroken save by some +strolling musicians in the square near at hand who sent the most tender +of Swiss love-melodies out upon the evening air, Paul walked out to the +terrace, passed through the little gate, and reaching the balcony, +knocked gently but imperatively upon the door of the room that was once +his mother's.</p> + +<p>The door was opened cautiously.</p> + +<p>Paul stepped inside, and closed it softly behind him.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>In the moonlit room, Paul and Opal faced each other in a silence heavy +with emotion.</p> + +<p>It had been months since they parted, yet for some moments neither +spoke. Opal first found her voice.</p> + +<p>"Paul! You-saw me!"</p> + +<p>"I felt your eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, why did I come!"</p> + +<p>Opal had begun to prepare for the night and had thrown about her +shoulders a loose robe of crimson silk. Her lustrous hair, like waves of +burnished copper, hung below her waist in beautiful confusion. With +trembling fingers she attempted to secure it.</p> + +<p>"Your hair is wonderful, Opal! Please leave it as it is," Paul said +softly. And, curiously enough, she obeyed in silence.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she said at last, with a little nervous laugh, as she recovered +her self-possession and seated herself on the couch, "don't stand +staring at me! I'm not a tragedy queen! You're too melodramatic. Sit +down and tell me why you've come here at this hour."</p> + +<p>Paul obeyed mechanically, his gaze still upon her. She shrank from the +expression of his eyes—it was the old tiger-look again!</p> + +<p>"I came because I had to, Opal. I could not have done otherwise. I have +something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Something to tell me?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes. The most interesting story in the world to me, Opal—a letter from +my mother—a letter to me alone, which I can share with only one woman +in the world—the woman I love!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes fell. As she raised her hand abstractedly to adjust the +curtain, Paul saw the flash of her betrothal ring. He caught her hand in +his and quietly slipped the ring from her finger. She seized the jewel +with her free hand and tried to thrust it into her bosom.</p> + +<p>"No! no!—not there!" he remonstrated, and was not satisfied until she +had crossed the room and hidden it from his sight.</p> + +<p>"Does that please your majesty?" she asked, with a curious little +tremble in her voice.</p> + +<p>Paul started, and stared at her with a world of wonder in his eyes. +Could she know?</p> + +<p>"Your majesty—" he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she laughed. "You speak as though you had but to command to +be obeyed."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, dear," he answered softly.</p> + +<p>And Opal became her sympathetic self again.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about your mother, Paul," she said.</p> + +<p>And Paul, beginning at the very beginning, told her the whole story as +it had been told to him, reading much of his mother's letter to her, +reserving only such portions of it as would reveal the identity he was +determined to keep secret until she was his. The girl was moved to the +depths of her nature by the beauty and pathos of it all, and then the +thought came to her, "This, then, is Paul's heritage—his birthright! +He, like me, is doomed!"</p> + +<p>And her heart ached for him—and for herself!</p> + +<p>But Paul did not give her long to muse. Sitting down beside her for the +first time, he told her the plan he had been turning over in his mind +for their one day together.</p> + +<p>"Surely," he said, "it is not too much to ask out of a lifetime of +misery—one little day of bliss! Just one day in which there shall be no +yesterday, and no to-morrow—one day of Elysium against years of +Purgatory! Let us have our idyl, dear, as my mother and father had +theirs—even though it must be as brief as a butterfly's existence, let +us not deny ourselves that much. I ask only one day!</p> + +<p>"You love me, Opal. I love you. You are, of all the world of women, my +chosen one, as I—no, don't shake your head, for you can't honestly deny +it—am yours! We know we must soon part forever. Won't it be easier for +both of us—both, I say—if for but one day, we can give to each other +all! Won't all our lives be better for the memory of one perfect day? +Think, Opal—to take out of all eternity just a few hours—and yet out +of those few hours may be born sufficient courage for all the life to +come! Don't you see? Can't you? Oh, I can't argue—I can't reason! I +only want you to be mine—all mine—yes, if only for a few hours—all +mine!"</p> + +<p>"Paul, you are mad," she began, but he would not listen.</p> + +<p>"Just one day," he pleaded—"no yesterday, and no to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Opal, it simply has to be—it's Fate! If it wasn't meant to be, why +have we met here like this? Do you think we two are mere toys in the +grip of circumstances? Or do you believe the gods have crossed our paths +again just to tantalize us? Is that why we are here, Opal, you and +I—<i>together</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I came to rest—to see Lucerne! Most tourists come to Lucerne! +It's a—pretty—place—very!" she responded, lamely.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, account for the rest of it. Why did <i>I</i> come?—and at the +same time?—and find you here in my mother's room? Simply a coincidence? +Answer me that! Chance plays strange freaks sometimes, I'll admit, but +Fate is a little more than mere chance. Why did I hear your voice, that +time? Why did I see you, and follow? Why did we find ourselves so near +akin—so strangely, so irresistibly drawn to each other? Answer me, +Opal! Why was it, if we weren't created to be—<i>one</i>?"</p> + +<p>After a moment of waiting he said, "Listen to the music, Opal! Only +listen! Doesn't it remind you of dreams and visions—of fairyland, of +happiness, and—love?"</p> + +<p>But she could not answer.</p> + +<p>At last she said slowly, "Oh, it's too late, Paul—too late!"</p> + +<p>"Too late?" he echoed. "It's never too late to take the good the gods +send! Never, while love lasts!"</p> + +<p>"But the Count, Paul—and your fiancée! Think, Paul, think!"</p> + +<p>"I can't think! What does the Count matter, Opal! Nothing—nothing makes +any difference when you are face to face with destiny and your soul-mate +calls! It has to be—<i>it has to be!</i>—can't you—won't you—see it?"</p> + +<p>"<i>God help all poor souls lost in the dark!</i>" She did see it. It stared +her relentlessly in the face and tugged mercilessly at her heart with +fingers of red-hot steel! She covered her face with her hands, but she +could not shut out the terrible image of advancing Death that held for +her all the charm of a serpent's eye. She struggled, as virgin woman has +always struggled. But in her heart she knew that she would yield. What +was her weak woman's nature after all, when pitted against the strength +of the man she loved!</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was feeling so pure—so good—so true—to-night! Are there not +thousands of beautiful women in the world who might be yours for the +asking? Could you not let the poor Count have his wife and his honeymoon +in peace?"</p> + +<p>Honeymoon! She shuddered at the thought.</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart," he whispered, "by every God-made law of Nature you are +mine—mine—mine! What care we for the foolish, man-made conventions of +this or any other land? There is only one law in the universe—the +divine right of the individual to choose for himself his mate!"</p> + +<p>Then his whisper became softer—more enticing—more resistless in its +passionate appeal.</p> + +<p>He was pleading with his whole soul—this prince who with one word could +command the unquestioning obedience of a kingdom! But the woman in his +arms did not know that, and it would have made no difference if she had! +In that supreme moment it was only man and woman.</p> + +<p>Opal gazed in amazement at this revelation of a new Paul. How splendid +he was! What a king among all the men she knew! What a god in his +manhood's glory!—a god to make the hearts of better and wiser women +than she ache—and break—with longing! Her hand stole to her heart to +still the fury of its beating.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he breathed, "I have wanted you ever since that mad moment in +gray old London when I first caught the lure in your glorious eyes—do +you remember, sweetheart? I know you are mine—and you know it—girl!</p> + +<p>His voice sank lower and lower, growing more and more intense with +suppressed passion. Opal was held spellbound by the subtle charm of his +languorous eyes. She wanted to cry out, but she could not speak—she +could not think—the spell of his fascination overpowered her.</p> + +<p>She felt her eyes grow humid. Her heart seemed to struggle upward, till +it caught in her throat like a huge lump of molten lead and threatened +to choke her with its wild, hot pulsations.</p> + +<p>"I love you, Opal! I love you! and I want you! God! how I want you!" +Paul stammered on, with a catch in his boyish voice it made her heart +leap to hear. "I want your eyes, Opal—your hair—your lips—your +glorious self! I want you as man never wanted woman before!"</p> + +<p>He paused, dazed by his own passion, maddened by her lack of +response—blinded by a mist of fire that made his senses swim and his +brain reel, and crazed by the throbbing of the pulse that cried out from +every vein in his body with the world-old elemental call. Was she going +to close the gates of Paradise in his very face and in the very hour of +his triumph rob him of the one day—his little day?</p> + +<p>It was too much.</p> + +<p>More overwhelmed by her lack of response than by any words she could +have uttered, Paul hesitated. Then, speech failing him, half-dazed, he +stumbled toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Paul!... Paul!"</p> + +<p>He heard her call as one in dreamland catches the far-off summons of +earth's realities. He turned. She stretched out her arms to him—those +round, white arms.</p> + +<p>"I understand you, Paul! I do understand." She threw her arms around his +neck and drew his face down to hers. "Yes, I love you, Paul, I love you! +Do you hear, I love you! I am yours—utterly—heart, mind, soul, and +body! Don't you know that I am yours?"</p> + +<p>She was in his arms now, weeping strange, hot tears of joy, her heart +throbbing fiercely against his own.</p> + +<p>"Paul—Paul—I am mad, I think!—we are both mad, you and I!"</p> + +<p>And as their lips at last met in one long, soul-maddening kiss, and the +intoxication of the senses stole over them, she murmured in the fullness +of her surrender, "Take me! Crush me! Kiss me! My love—my love!"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The morning dawned. The morning of their one day.</p> + +<p>Nature had done her best for them and made it all that a May day should +be. There was not one tint, nor tone, nor bit of fragrance lacking. +Silver-throated birds flooded the world with songs of love. The very air +seemed full of beauty and passion and the glory and joy of life in the +dawn of its fullness.</p> + +<p>Their arrangements had been hasty, but complete. Paul had stolen away +from Lucerne in the middle of the night, to be ready to welcome his +darling at the-first break of the morning; and it was at a delightfully +early hour that they met at the little hotel on the Bürgenstock where +his mother's love-dream had waxed to its idyllic perfection, +one-and-twenty years ago. They sat on the balcony and ate their simple +breakfast, looking down to where the reflection of the snow-crowned +mountains trembled in the limpid lake.</p> + +<p>Opal had never before looked so lovely, he thought. She was gowned in +the simplest fashion in purest white, as a bride should be, her glorious +hair arranged in a loose, girlish knot, while her lustrous eyes were +cast down, shyly, and her cheeks were flushed—flushed with the +revelations and memories of the night just passed—flushed with the +promise of the day just dawning—flushed with love, with slumbering, +smouldering passion—with wifehood!</p> + +<p>How completely she was his when she had once surrendered!</p> + +<p>In their first kiss of greeting, they bridged over, in one ecstatic +moment, the hours of their brief separation. When he finally withdrew +his lips from hers, with a deep sigh of momentary satisfaction, she +looked up into his eyes with something of the old, capricious mischief +dancing in her own.</p> + +<p>"Let us make the most of our day, darling, our one day!" she said. "We +must not waste a single minute of it."</p> + +<p>Opal had stolen away from Lucerne and had come up the mountain +absolutely unattended. She would share her secret with no one, she said, +and Paul had acquiesced. And now he took her up in his arms as one would +carry a little child, and bore her off to the suite he had engaged for +them. What a bit of a thing she was to wield such an influence over a +man's whole life!</p> + +<p>A pert little French maid waited upon them. She eyed with great favor +the <i>distingué</i> young monsieur, and his <i>charmante épouse!</i> There was a +knowing twinkle in her eye—she had not been a <i>femme de chambre</i> even a +little while without learning to scent a <i>lune de miel!</i> And this +promised to be especially <i>piquante</i>. But Paul would have none of her, +and she tripped away disappointed of her coveted <i>divertissement</i>.</p> + +<p>Paul was very jealous and exacting and even domineering this morning, +and would permit no intrusion. He would take care of madame, he had +informed the girl, and when she had taken herself away, he repeated it +emphatically. Opal was his little girl, he said, and he was going to pet +and coddle her himself. <i>Femme de chambre</i> indeed! Wasn't he worth a +dozen of the impertinent French minxes! Wanted to coquette with him, +most likely—thought he might be ready to yawn over madame's charms! She +could keep her pretty ankles out of his sight—he wasn't interested in +them!</p> + +<p>How Paul thrilled at the touch of everything Opal wore! Soft delicious +things they were, and he handled them with an awkward reverence that +brought tears to her eyes. They spoke a strange, shy language of their +own—these little, filmy bits of fine linen.</p> + +<p>Oh, but it was good, thought Opal, to be taken care of like this!—to be +on these familiar terms with the Boy she loved—to give him the right to +love her and do these little things, so sacred in a woman's life. And to +Paul it meant more than even she guessed. It was such a new world to +him. He felt that he was treading on holy ground, and, for the moment, +was half-afraid.</p> + +<p>And thus began their one day—the one day that was to know no yesterday, +and no tomorrow!</p> + +<p>They found it hard to remember that part of it at all times. He would +grow reminiscent for an instant, and begin, "Do you remember—" and she +would catch him up quickly with a whispered, "No yesterday, Paul!" And +again, it would be his turn, for a troubled look would cloud the joy of +her eyes, and she would start to say, "What shall I do—" or "When I go +to Paris—" and Paul would snatch her to his heart and remind her that +there was "No tomorrow!"</p> + +<p>All the forenoon she lay in his arms, crying out with little +inarticulate gurgles of joy under his caresses, lavishing a whole +lifetime's concentrated emotion upon him in a ferocity of passion that +seemed quenchless.</p> + +<p>And Paul was in the seventh heaven—mad with love! He was learning that +there were tones in that glorious voice that he had never heard before, +depths in those eyes that he had never fathomed—and those tones, those +depths, were all for him, for him alone—aye, had been waiting there +through all eternity for his awakening touch.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he said, earnestly, "perhaps it was here—on this very spot, it +may be, who knows—that my mother gave herself to my father!</p> + +<p>But she could only smile at him through fast-gathering tears—strange +tears of mingled joy and wonder and pain.</p> + +<p>And he covered her face, her neck, her shoulders with burning kisses, +and cried out in an ecstasy of bliss, "Oh, my love! My life!"</p> + +<p>And thus the morning hours died away.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>And behold, it was noon!</p> + +<p>The day and their love stood still together. The glamour of the day, the +resistless force of their masterful love that seemed to them so unlike +all other loves of which they had ever heard or dreamed, held them in a +transport of delight that could only manifest itself in strange, +bitter-sweet caresses, in incoherent murmurings.</p> + +<p>This, then, was love! Aye, this was Love!</p> + +<p>The thoughts of the two returned with a tender, persistent recollection +to the love-tale of the past—the delicious idyl of love that had given +birth to this boy. Here, even here, had been spent those three maddest +and gladdest of weeks—that dream of an ideal love realized in its +fullness, as it is given to few to realize.</p> + +<p>Yes, that was Love!</p> + +<p>It was youth eternal—youth and fire, power and passion.</p> + +<p>It was May! May!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was mid-afternoon before they awakened, to look into each other's +eyes with a new understanding. Surely never since the world began had +two souls loved each other as did these!</p> + +<p>And what should they do with the afternoon? Such a little while remained +for them—such a little while!</p> + +<p>Paul drew out his mother's letter, and together they read it, +understanding now, as they had not been able to understand before, its +whole wonderful significance.</p> + +<p>When they read of the first dawn of the hope of parentage in the hearts +of these long-ago lovers, their eyes met, heavy with the wistfulness of +renunciation. That consolation, alas! was not for them. Only the joy of +loving could ever be theirs.</p> + +<p>And then, drawing out the other letters that had accompanied his +mother's, Paul revealed to his darling the whole mystery of his +identity.</p> + +<p>At first she was startled—almost appalled—at the thought that she had +given herself to a Prince of the Purple—a real king of a real +kingdom—and for a moment felt a strange awe of him.</p> + +<p>But Paul, reading her unspoken thought in her eyes, with that sweet +clairvoyance that had always existed between them, soothed and petted +and caressed her till the smiles returned to her face and she nestled in +his arms, once more happy and content.</p> + +<p>She was the queen of his soul, he told her, whoever might wear the crown +and bear the title before the world. Then, very carefully, lest he +should wound her, he told her the whole story of the Princess Elodie.</p> + +<p>Opal moved across the room and stood drumming idly by the long, open +window. He watched her anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Paul, did you go to see her as you promised—and is she ...pretty?"</p> + +<p>"She is a cow!"</p> + +<p>"Paul!" Opal laughed at his tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she is! Fancy loving a cow!"</p> + +<p>Opal's heart grew heavy with a great pity for this poor, unfortunate +royal lady who was to be Paul's wife—the mother of his children—but +never, never his Love!</p> + +<p>"But, Paul, you'll be good to her, won't you? I know you will! You +couldn't be unkind to any living thing."</p> + +<p>And she ran into his arms, and clasped his neck tight! And the poor +Princess Elodie was again forgotten!</p> + +<p>"You—Opal—are my real wife," Paul assured her, "the one love of my +soul, the mate the gods have formed for me—my own forever!"</p> + +<p>Opal wept for pity of him, and for herself, but she faced the future +bravely. She would always be his guiding star, to beckon him upward!</p> + +<p>"And, Opal, my darling," Paul went on, "I promise you to live henceforth +a life of which you shall be proud. I will be brave and true and noble +and great and pure—to prove my gratitude to the gods for giving me this +one day—for giving me you, dearest—and your love—your wonderful love! +I <i>will</i> be worthy, dear—I will! I'll be your knight—your +Launcelot—and you shall be my Guenevere! I will always wear your colors +in my heart, dear—the red-brown of your hair, the glorious hazel of +your eyes, the flush of your soft cheek, the rose of your sweet lips, +the virgin whiteness of your soul!"</p> + +<p>Opal looked at him with eyes brimming with pride. Young as he was, he +was indeed every inch a king.</p> + +<p>And she had crowned him king of her heart and soul and life before she +had known! Oh, the wonder of it!—the strange, sweet wonder of it! <i>He</i>, +who might have loved and mated where he would, had chosen her to be his +love! She could not realize it. It was almost beyond belief, she +thought, that she—plain little Opal Ledoux—could stir such a nature as +his to such a depth as she knew she had stirred it.</p> + +<p>Ah, the gods had been good to her! They had sent her the Prince +Charming, and he had wakened her with his kiss—that first kiss—how +well she remembered it—and how utterly she belonged to him!</p> + +<p>Then she remembered that, however much they tried to deceive themselves, +there was a to-morrow—a to-morrow that would surely come—a to-morrow +in which they would not belong to each other at all. He would belong to +the world. She would belong to a—</p> + +<p>She sprang up at the recollection, and drew the curtains of the window +closer together.</p> + +<p>"We will shut out the cold, inquisitive, prying old world," she said. +"It shall not look, shall not listen! It is a hard, cruel world, my +Paul. It would say that I must not put my arms around your neck—like +this—must not lay my cheek against yours—so—must not let my heart +feel the wild throbbing of yours—and why? Because I do not wear your +ring, Paul—that's all!"</p> + +<p>She held up her white hand for his inspection, and surveyed it +critically.</p> + +<p>"See, Paul—there is no glittering, golden fetter to hold me to you with +the power of an iron band, and so I must not—let you hold me to you at +all"</p> + +<p>They both laughed merrily, and then Paul, pulling her down on his knee +and holding her face against his own, whispered, "What care we for the +old world? It is as sad and mad and bad as we are—if we only knew! And +who knows how much worse? It has petty bickerings, damning lies of spite +and malice, trickery and thievery and corruption on its conscience. Let +the little people of the world prate of their little things! We are +free, dearest—and we defy it, don't we? Our ideals are never lost. And +ideals are the life of love. Is love—a love like ours—a murderer of +life?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, Paul—sometimes! I fear it—I do fear it!"</p> + +<p>"Never fear, Opal, my beloved! You need not fear anything—anywhere! I +will stand between you and the world, dear—between you and hell itself! +My God, girl, how I love you! Opal! My Opal! My heart aches with the +immensity of it! Come, my love, my queen, my treasure, come! We have not +many more hours to—live! And I want you close, close—all mine! Ah, +Opal, we are masters of life and death! All earth, all heaven, and—hell +itself, cannot take you from me now!"</p> + +<p>Oh, if scone moments in life could only be eternal!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>And the day—died!</p> + +<p>The sun sank beneath the western horizon; the moon cast her silvery +sheen over the weary world; the twinkling stars appeared in the jewelled +diadem of night; and the silence of evening settled over mountain and +lake and swaying tree, while the two who had dared all things for the +sake of this one day, looked into each other's eyes now with a sudden +realization of the end.</p> + +<p>They had not allowed themselves once to think of the hour of separation.</p> + +<p>And now it was upon them! And they were not ready to part.</p> + +<p>"How do people say good-by forever, Paul?—people who love as we love? +How do they say it, dear? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>"But it is not forever, Opal. Don't you know that you will always be +part of my life—my soul-life, which is the only true one—its +sanctifying inspiration? You must not forget that—never, never!"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't forget it, my King!" She delighted in giving him his title +now. "That satisfaction I will hold to as long as I live!"</p> + +<p>"But, Opal, am I never to see you?—never? Surely we may meet +sometimes—rarely, of course, at long intervals, when life grows gray +and gloomy, and I am starving for one ray of the sunshine of your +smile?"</p> + +<p>"It would be dangerous, Paul, for both of us!"</p> + +<p>"But the world is only a little place after all, beloved. We shall be +thrown together again by Fate—as we have been this time."</p> + +<p>Then she smiled at him archly. "Ah, Paul, I know you so well! Your eyes +are saying that you will often manage to see me 'by chance'—but you +must not, dear, you must not"</p> + +<p>"Girl, I can never forget one word you have uttered, one caress you have +given—one tone of your voice—one smile of your lips—one glance of +your eye—never, never in God's world!"</p> + +<p>"Hold me closer, Paul, and teach me to be brave!"</p> + +<p>They clung together in an agony too poignant for words, too mighty for +tears! And of the unutterable madness and anguish of those last bitter +kisses of farewell, no mortal pen can write!</p> + +<p>But theirs had been from the beginning a mad love—a mad, hopeless, +fatal love—and it could bring neither of them happiness nor +peace—nothing but the bitterness of eternal regret!</p> + +<p>And thus the day—their one day of life—came to an end!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That evening, from the hotel at Lucerne, two telegrams flashed over the +wires. One was addressed to the Count de Roannes, Paris, and read as +follows:</p> + +<p>"<i>Shall reach Paris Monday afternoon.—Opal.</i>"</p> + +<p>The other was addressed to Sir Paul Verdayne, at Venice, and was not +signed at all, saying simply,</p> + +<p>"<i>A son awaits his father in Lucerne</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>That night a sudden storm swept across Lucerne.</p> + +<p>The thunder crashed like the boom of a thousand cannon; like menacing +blades the lightning flashed its tongues of savage flame; the winds +raved in relentless fury, rocking the giant trees like straws in the +majesty of their wrath. Madness reigned in undisputed sovereignty, and +the earth cowered and trembled beneath the anger of the threatening +heavens.</p> + +<p>Opal crouched in her bed, and buried her head in the pillows. She had +never before known the meaning of fear, but now she was alone, and the +consciousness of guilt was upon her—the acute agony of their separation +mingled with the despairing prospect of a long, miserable loveless—yes, +<i>shameful,</i>—life as the legal slave of a man she abhorred.</p> + +<p>She did not regret the one day she had given to her lover. Whatever the +cost, she would never, never regret, she said to herself, for it had +been well worth any price that might be required of her. She gloried in +it, even now, while the storm raged outside.</p> + +<p>And the thunders crashed like the falling of mighty rocks upon the roof +over her head. Should she summon Céleste, her maid?</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as the tempest paused as if to catch its breath, she heard +footsteps in the corridor outside. It was very late—who could be +prowling about at this hour? She listened intently, every nerve and +sense keenly alert. Nearer and nearer the steps came, and then she +remembered with a start that in the excitement of her stealthy return to +the hotel and the anguish and madness of their parting, she had +forgotten to fasten her door.</p> + +<p>There came a light tap on the panel. She did not speak or move—hardly +breathed. Then the door opened, noiselessly, cautiously, and he—her +lover, her king—entered, the dim light of her room making his form, as +it approached, appear of even more than its usual majestic height and +power.</p> + +<p>"Paul!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He seemed in a strange daze. Had the storm gone to his head and driven +him mad?</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is I," he said hoarsely. "It is Paul. Don't cry out. See, I am +calm!" and he laid his hand on hers. It was burning with fever. "I will +not hurt you, Opal!"</p> + +<p>Cry out? Hurt her? What did he mean? She had no thought of crying out. +Of course he would not hurt her—her lover, her lord, her king! Did she +not belong to him—now?</p> + +<p>He sat down and took her hands in his.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he muttered, "I've been thinking, thinking, thinking, till I +feel half-mad—yes, mad! Dearest, I cannot give you up like this—I +cannot! Let you go to <i>his</i> arms—you who have been mine! Oh, Opal, I've +pictured it all to myself—seen you in his arms—seen his lips on +yours—seen—seen—Can't you imagine what it means to me? It's more than +I can stand, dearest! I may be crazy—I believe I am—but wouldn't it be +better for you and me to—to—cease forever this mockery of life, +and—forget?"</p> + +<p>She did not understand him.</p> + +<p>"Forget?" she murmured, holding his hand against her cheek, while her +free arm pulled his head down to hers. "Forget?"</p> + +<p>He pressed his burning lips to her cool neck, and then, after a moment, +went on, "Yes, beloved, to forget. Think, Opal, think! To forget all +ambition, all restlessness, all disappointment, all longing for what can +never be, all pain, all suffering, all thought of responsibility or +growth or desire, all success or failure—all life, all death—to +forget! to forget! Ah, dearest, one must have loved as we have loved, +and lost as we have lost, to wish to—forget!"</p> + +<p>"But there is no such respite for us, Paul. We are not the sort who can +put memory aside. To live will be to remember!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is it. To live <i>is</i> to remember. But why should we live +longer? We've lived a lifetime in one day, have we not, sweetheart? What +more has life to give us?"</p> + +<p>He was calmer now, but it was the calmness of determination.</p> + +<p>"Let us die, dear—let us die! Virginius slew his daughter to save her +honor. You are more to me than a thousand daughters. You are my wife, +Opal!—Opal, my very own!"</p> + +<p>His eyes softened again, as the storm outside lulled for a moment.</p> + +<p>"My darling, don't be afraid! I will save you from him. I will keep you +mine—mine!"</p> + +<p>The thunder crashed again, and again the fury leaped to his eyes. He +drew from his pocket a curious foreign dagger, engraved with quaint +designs, and glittering with encrusted gold. Opal recognized it at once. +She had toyed with it the day before, admiring the richness of its +material and workmanship.</p> + +<p>"She—has been—mine—my wife," he muttered to himself, wildly, +disconnectedly, yet with startling distinctness. "She shall never, never +lie in his arms!"</p> + +<p>He passed his hand across his eyes, as if to brush away a veil.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the red! the red! the red! It's blood and fire and hell! It glares +in my eyes! It screams in my ears! Bidding me kill! kill!"</p> + +<p>He clasped her to him fiercely.</p> + +<p>"To see you, after all this—to see you go from me—and know you were +going to him—<i>him</i>—while I went ... Oh, beloved! beloved! God never +meant that! Surely He never meant that when He created us the creatures +that we are!"</p> + +<p>She kissed his hot, quivering lips. She had not loved him so much in all +their one mad day as she loved him now.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she whispered, "beloved!—what would you do?"</p> + +<p>There was only a great wonder in her eyes, not the faintest sign of +fear. Even in his anguish the Boy noticed that.</p> + +<p>"What would I do? Listen, Opal, my darling. Don't you remember, you said +it was not life but death—and I said it was both! And it is! it is! I +thought I was strong enough to brave hell! Opal—though you are +betrothed to the Count de Roannes you are <i>my wife</i>! And our +wedding-journey shall be eternal—through stars, Opal, and +worlds—far-off, glimmering worlds—our freed spirits together, always +together—together!"</p> + +<p>She watched him, fascinated, spell-bound.</p> + +<p>"Dear heart, Nature will not repulse us," Paul continued. "She will +gather us to her great, warm, peaceful heart, beloved!"</p> + +<p>Opal held him close to her breast, almost maternally, with a great +longing to soothe and calm his troubled spirit.</p> + +<p>"Think," he continued, "of what my poor, unhappy mother said was the +cost of love—'<i>Sorrow and death!</i>' We have had the sorrow, God knows! +And now for death! Kiss me, dearest, dearest! Kiss me for time and for +eternity, Opal, for in life and in death we can never part more!"</p> + +<p>She kissed him—obediently, solemnly—and then, holding her to him, +drinking in all the love that still shone for him in those eyes that had +driven him to desperation, he suddenly plunged the little dagger to its +hilt through her heart.</p> + +<p>She did not cry out. She did not even shudder. But looking at him with +"the light that never was on sea or land" in her still brilliant eyes, +she murmured, "In—life—and—in—death ... beloved! beloved!"</p> + +<p>And while he whispered between his set lips, "Sleep, my beloved, sleep," +her little head dropped back against his arm with a long, peaceful sigh.</p> + +<p>He held her form tenderly to his heart, murmuring senseless, meaningless +words of comfort and love, like a mother crooning her babe to sleep. And +he still clasped her there till the new day peeped through the blinds. +And the storm raged at intervals with all the ferocity of unspent +passion. But <i>his</i> passion was over now, and he laughed a savage laugh +of triumph.</p> + +<p>No one could take her from him now—no one! His darling was his—his +wife—in life and in death!</p> + +<p>He laid her down upon the bed and arranged the blankets over her +tenderly, hiding the hideous, gaping wound, with its unceasing flow; +carefully from sight. He closed her eyes, kissing them as he did so, and +folded her little white hands together, and then he pulled out the +disarranged lace at her throat and smoothed it mechanically, till it lay +quite to his satisfaction. Opal was so fastidious, he thought—so +particular about these little niceties of dress. She would like to look +well when they found her—dear Heaven!—to-morrow!</p> + +<p>"No to-morrow!" he thought. They had spoken more wisely than they knew. +There would be no to-morrow for her—nor for him!</p> + +<p>There was a tiny spot of blood upon the frill of her sleeve, and he +carefully turned it under, out of sight. He looked at the ugly stains +upon his own garments with a thrill of satisfaction. She was his! Was it +not quite right and proper that her blood should be upon him?</p> + +<p>But even then, frenzied as he was, he had a singular care for +appearances, a curious regard for detail, and busied himself in removing +all signs of his presence from her chamber—all tell-tale traces of the +storm of passion that swept away her life—and his! He felt himself +already but the ghost of his former self, and laughed a weird, half-mad +laugh at the thought as it came to him.</p> + +<p>He bent over her again. He would have given much to have lain down +beside her and slept his last sleep in her cold, lifeless arms. But no! +Even this was denied him!</p> + +<p>He wound a tress of her hair about his fingers, and it clung and twined +there as her white fingers had been wont to twine. Oh, the pity of her +stillness—her silence—who was never still nor silent—never +indifferent to his presence! She looked so like a sleeping child in her +whiteness and tranquillity, her red-brown hair in disordered waves about +her head, her eyes closed in the last long sleep. And he wept as he +pressed his burning lips to hers, so cold, so pitifully cold, and for +the first time unresponsive. Oh, God, unresponsive forever!</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl!" he moaned, between sobs of hopeless pain. "Poor +little passionate girl!... Poor little tired Opal!"</p> + +<p>And with a dry sob of unutterable anguish, he picked up the dagger—the +cruel, kind little dagger—and crept to his own room.</p> + +<p>The dagger was still wet with her blood. "Her blood!—Oh, God!-her +blood!—hers! All mine in life, and yet never so much mine as now—mine +in death!—all mine! mine! And she was not afraid—not the least afraid! +Her eyes had room only for her overwhelming love—love—just love, no +fear, even that hour when face to face with the Great Mystery. And this +was her blood—<i>hers!</i>"</p> + +<p>He believed that she had been glad to die. He believed—oh, he was sure, +that death in his arms—and from his hand—had been sweeter than life +could have been—with that wretch—and always without him—her lover! +Yes, she had been glad to die. She had been grateful for her escape! And +again the dagger drew his fascinated gaze and wrung from his lips the +cry, "Her blood—hers! God in Heaven! Her blood!—hers!"</p> + +<p>He put his hand to his head with an inarticulate cry of bewilderment. +Then, with one supreme effort, he began to stagger hastily but +noiselessly about the room. The servants of the house were already +astir, and the day would soon be here. He put his sacred letters +carefully away, and destroyed all worthless papers, mechanically, but +still methodically.</p> + +<p>Then he hastily scribbled a few lines, and laid them beside his letters, +for Verdayne would be with him now in a few hours. His father—yes, his +own father! How he would like to see him once more—just once more—with +the knowledge of their relationship as a closer bond between them—to +talk about his mother—his beautiful, queenly mother—and her wonderful, +wonderful love! Yet—and he sighed as he thought of his deserted +kingdom—after all, all in vain—in vain! It was not to be—all that +glory—that triumph! Fate had willed differently. He was obeying the +Law!</p> + +<p>And his mother would not fail to understand. Verdayne must have loved +his mother like this! O God, Love was a fearful thing, he thought, to +wreck a life—a terrible thing, even a hideous thing—but in spite of +everything it was all that was worth living for—and dying for!</p> + +<p>The storm had spent its fury now, and only the steady drip, drip of the +rain reminded him of the falling of tears.</p> + +<p>"Opal!" he groaned, "Opal!" And he threw himself upon the bed, clasping +his dagger in uncontrollable agony. "O life is cruel, hard, bitter! I'll +none of it!—we'll none of it, you and I!" His voice grew triumphant in +its raving. "It was worth all the cost—even the sorrow and death! But +the end has come! Opal! Opal! I am coming, sweet!—coming!"</p> + +<p>And the dagger, still red with the blood of his darling, found its +unerring way to his own heart; and Paul Zalenska forgot his dreams, his +ambitions, his love, his passion, and his despair in the darkness and +quiet of eternal sleep.</p> + +<p>"<i>Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIX'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Sir Paul Verdayne reached Lucerne on the afternoon of the next day. He +was as eager as a boy for the reunion with his son. How he loved the +Boy—his Boy—the living embodiment of a love that seemed to him greater +than any other love the world had ever known.</p> + +<p>The storm had ceased and in the brilliancy of the afternoon sunshine +little trace of the fury of the night could be seen. Nature smiled +radiantly through the tear-drops still glistening on tree and shrub and +flower, like some capricious coquette defying the world to prove that +she had ever been sad.</p> + +<p>To Sir Paul, the place was hallowed with memories of his Queen, and his +heart and soul were full of her as he left the train. At the station +Vasili awaited him with the news of the double tragedy that had +horrified Lucerne.</p> + +<p>In that moment, Sir Paul's heart broke. He grasped at the faithful +servitor for a support the old man was scarce able to give. He looked up +into the pitying face, grown old and worn in the service of the young +King and his heart thrilled, as it ever thrilled, at the sight of the +long, cruel scar he remembered so well—the scar which the Kalmuck had +received in the service of his Queen, long years before.</p> + +<p>Sir Paul loved Vasili for that—loved him even more for the service he +had done the world when he choked to death the royal murderer of his +Queen, on the fatal night of that tragedy so cruelly alive in his +memory. He looked again at the scar on the swarthy face, and yet he knew +it was as nothing to the scar made in the old man's heart that day.</p> + +<p>In some way—they never knew how—they managed to reach the scene of the +tragedy, and Sir Paul, at his urgent request, was left alone with the +body of his son.</p> + +<p>Oh, God! Could he bear this last blow—and live?</p> + +<p>After a time, when reason began to re-assert itself, he searched and +found the letters that had told the Boy-king the story of his birth. Was +there no word at all for him—his father?—save the brief telegram he +had received the night before?</p> + +<p>Ah, yes! here was a note. His Boy had thought of him, then, even at the +last. He read it eagerly.</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Father—dear Father—you who alone of all the world can + understand—forgive and pity your son who has found the cross too + heavy—the crown too thorny—to bear! I go to join my unhappy + mother across the river that men call death—and there together we + shall await the coming of the husband and father we could neither + of us claim in this miserable, gray old world. Father Paul—dearest + and best and truest of fathers, your Boy has learned with you the + cost of love, and has gladly paid the price—'sorrow and death!'"</p></div> + +<p>He bent again over the cold form, he pushed aside the clustering curls, +and kissed again and again, with all the fervor and pain of a lifetime's +repression, the white marble face of his son.</p> + +<p>And a few words of that little note rang in his ears +unceasingly—"dearest, and best, and <i>truest</i> of fathers!" <i>Truest of +fathers</i>! Ah, yes! The Boy—his Boy—had understood!</p> + +<p>And the scalding tears came that were his one salvation, for they washed +away for a time some of the deadly ache from his bereaved heart.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the force of his outburst was spent, Sir Paul Verdayne mastered +himself resolutely. There was much to be done. It was indeed a double +torture to find such an affliction here, of all places under Heaven, but +he told himself that his Queen would have him brave and strong, and +master his grief as an English gentleman should. And her wishes were +still, as they had ever been, the guide of his every thought and action.</p> + +<p>One thing he was determined upon. The world must never know the truth.</p> + +<p>To be sure, Sir Paul himself did not know the secret of that one day. He +could only surmise. Even Vasili did not know. The Boy had cleverly +managed to have the day, as he had the preceding one, "all to himself," +as he had informed Vasili, and Opal had been equally skillful in +escaping the attendance of her maid. They had left the hotel separately +at night, in different directions, returning separately at night. Who +was there to suspect that they had passed the day together, or had even +met each other at all? Surely—no one!</p> + +<p>And what was there for the world to know, in the mystery of their death? +Nothing! They were each found alone, stabbed to the heart, and the +dagger that had done the deed had not even been withdrawn from the body +of the Boy, when they found him. Sir Paul and Vasili had recognized it, +but who would dare to insinuate that the same dagger had drunk the blood +of the young American lady, or to say whose hand had struck either blow? +It was all a mystery, and Sir Paul was determined that it should remain +so.</p> + +<p>Money can accomplish anything, and though all Europe rang with the +story, no scandal—nor hint of it—besmirched the fair fame of the +unhappy Boy and girl who had loved "not wisely, but too well!"</p> + +<p>There had, indeed, been for them, as they had playfully said—"No +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>And Sir Paul Verdayne, kneeling by the bier, with its trappings of a +kingdom's mourning, which hid beneath its rich adornment all the joy +that life for twenty years had held for him, felt for the first time a +sense of guilt, as he looked back upon his past.</p> + +<p>He did not regret his love. He could never do that! Truly, a man and a +woman had a right to love and mate as they would, if the consequences of +their deeds rested only upon their own heads. But to bring children into +the world, the fruit of such a union, to suffer and die, "for the sins +of the fathers," as his son had suffered and died—there was the sin—a +selfish, unpardonable sin! "And the wages of sin is death."</p> + +<p>He had never felt the truth before. He had been so happy in his Boy, and +so proud of his future, that there had never been a question in his +mind. But now he was face to face with the terrible consequences.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" he cried, "truly my punishment is just—but it is greater +than I can bear!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>And Paul Verdayne—what of him? Of course you want to know. Read the +sequel</i></p> + +<p><b><i>HIGH NOON</i></b></p> + +<p>A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." You can get this book from your bookseller, or +for 60c., carriage paid, from the publishers</p> + +<p>The Macaulay Company, <i>Publishers</i>, 15 W. 38th St., New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='Successful_Novels_from_Famous_Plays'></a><h2>Successful Novels <i>from</i> Famous Plays</h2> + +<p><b>TO-DAY</b></p> + +<p>By George H. Broadhurst and Abraham S. Schomer.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents</p> + +<p>This novel tells what follows in the wake of the average American +woman's desire to keep up with the social procession. All the human +emotions are dealt with in a masterly way in this great book.</p> + +<p><b>THE FAMILY CUPBOARD</b></p> + +<p>By Owen Davis.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents</p> + +<p>A work of fiction which presents a frank treatment of the domestic +problems of to-day. It tells what happens in many homes when the wife +devotes herself wholly to society, to the exclusion of her own husband. +Mere man sometimes revolts, when regarded only as a money-making +machine.</p> + +<p><b>AT BAY</b></p> + +<p>From the drama by George Scarborough.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents</p> + +<p>This stirring detective story holds the attention of the reader from the +very start. It is full of action, presenting a baffling situation, the +solving of which carries one along in a whirlwind of excitement. Through +the story runs a love plot that is interwoven with the mystery of a +secret-service case.</p> + +<p><b>The Macaulay Company, <i>Publishers</i></b></p> + +<p>15 West 38th Street New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='The_Night_of_Temptation'></a><h2>The Night of Temptation</h2> + +<p>By VICTORIA CROSS</p> + +<p>Author of</p> + +<p>"LIFE'S SHOP WINDOW," "FIVE NIGHTS," etc.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>This book takes for its keynote the self-sacrifice of woman in her love. +Regina, the heroine, gives herself to a man for his own sake, for the +happiness she can give him. He is her hero, her god, and she declines to +marry him until she is satisfied that he cannot live without her.</p> + +<p>The London <i>Athenaeum</i> says: "Granted beautiful, rich, perfect, +passionate men and women, the author is capable of working out their +destiny."</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Macaulay Company, Publishers</p> + +<p>15 West 38th Street New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='The_Secret_of_the_Night'></a><h2>The Secret of the Night</h2> + +<p>By GASTON LEROUX</p> + +<p>Author of "THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM," etc.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Another thrilling mystery story in which the famous French detective +hero, Joseph Rouletabille, makes his appearance before the public again. +This character has won a place in the hearts of novel readers as no +other detective has since the creation of Sherlock Holmes.</p> + +<p>Thousands upon thousands of people in two continents await eagerly every +book by Gaston Leroux that relates the adventures of the hero of "The +Mystery of the Yellow Room" and "The Perfume of the Lady in Black."</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Macaulay Company, Publishers</p> + +<p>15 West 38th Street New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='Guardian_Angels'></a><h2>Guardian Angels</h2> + +<p>By MARCEL PRÉVOST</p> + +<p>Member of the Académie Française, Officer of the Legion of Honour</p> + +<p>Author of "SIMPLY WOMEN," Etc.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Every married woman ought to read this novel, if only to be forewarned +against a danger that may one day invade her own home. It is a story of +the double life led by the governesses of many young girls, showing the +dangers of such companionships.</p> + +<p>It is no exaggeration to say that "Guardian Angels" is one of the most +remarkable novels that have been issued in any language during recent +years.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><b>The Macaulay Company, <i>Publishers</i></b></p> + +<p><b>15 West 38th Street New York</b></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='The_CROWN_NOVELS'></a><h2>The Crown Novels</h2> + +<p>FAMOUS BOOKS AT POPULAR PRICES</p> + +<p><b>HER SOUL AND HER BODY, By Louise Closser Hale</b></p> + +<p>The struggle between the spirit and the flesh of a young girl early in +life compelled to make her own way. Exposed to the temptations of life +in a big city, the contest between her better and lower natures is +described with psychological analysis and tender sympathy. Absorbingly +interesting.</p> + +<p><b>HELL'S PLAYGROUND, by Ida Vera Simonton</b></p> + +<p>This book deals with primal conditions in a land where "there ain't no +ten commandments"; where savagery, naked and unashamed, is not confined +to the blacks. It is a record of the life in the African tropics and it +is a powerful and fascinating story of a scene that has rarely been +depicted in fiction.</p> + +<p><b>THE MYSTERY OF No. 47, by J. Storer Clouston</b></p> + +<p>This is a most ingenious detective story—a thriller in every sense of +the word. The reader is led cleverly on until he is at a loss to know +what to expect, and, completely baffled, is unable to lay the book down +until he has finished the story and satisfied his perplexity.</p> + +<p><b>THE SENTENCE OF SILENCE, by Reginald Wright Kauffman</b></p> + +<p>Author of "The House of Bondage;" etc.</p> + +<p>By "The Sentence of Silence" is meant that sentence of reticence +pronounced upon the subject of sex. That which means the continuance of +the human race is the one thing of which no one is permitted to speak. +In this book the subject is dealt with frankly.</p> + +<p><b>THE GIRL THAT GOES WRONG, by Reginald Wright Kauffman</b></p> + +<p>Author of "The House of Bondage."</p> + +<p>The inexpressible conditions of human bondage of many young girls and +women in our cities demand fearless and uncompromising warfare. The +terrible peril that lingers just around the corner from every American +home must be stamped out with relentless purpose.</p> + +<p><b>TO-MORROW, by Victoria Cross</b></p> + +<p>Author of "Life's Shop Window." etc.</p> + +<p>Critics agree that this is Victoria Cross' greatest novel. Those who +have read "Life's Shop Window," "Five Nights," "Anna Lombard," and +similar books by this author will ask no further recommendation. +"To-morrow" is a real novel—not a collection of short stories.</p> + +<p><b>SIMPLY WOMEN, by Marcel Prévost</b></p> + +<p>"Like a motor-car or an old-fashioned razor, this book should be in the +hands of mature persons only."—<i>St. Louis Post-Dispatch.</i></p> + +<p>"Marcel Prévost. of whom a critic remarked that his forte was the +analysis of the souls and bodies of a type half virgin and half +courtesan, is now available in a volume of selections admirably +translated by R.I. Brandon-Vauvillez."—<i>San Francisco Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p><b>THE ADVENTURES OF A NICE YOUNG MAN, by Aix</b> <b>Joseph and Potiphar's Wife +Up-to-Date</b></p> + +<p>A handsome young, man, employed as a lady's private secretary, is bound, +to meet with interesting adventures.</p> + +<p>"Under a thin veil the story unquestionably sets forth actual episodes +and conditions in metropolitan circles."—- <i>Washington Star.</i></p> + +<p><b>HER REASON, Anonymous</b></p> + +<p>This startling anonymous work of a well-known English novelist is a +frank exposure of Modern Marriage. "Her Reason" shows the deplorable +results of the process at work to-day among the rich, whose daughters +are annually offered for sale in the markets of the world.</p> + +<p><b>THE COUNTERPART, by Horner Cotes</b></p> + +<p>One of the best novels of the Civil War ever written. John Luther Loag, +the well-known writer, says of this book—"It is a perfectly bully story +and full of a fine sentiment. I have read it all—and with great +interest."</p> + +<p><b>THE PRINCESS OF FORGE, by George C. Shedd</b></p> + +<p>The tale of a man, and a maid, and a gold-mine—a stirring, romantic +American novel of the West. <i>The Chicago Inter-Ocean</i> says—"Unceasing +action is the word for this novel. From the first to the last page there +is adventure."</p> + +<p><b>OUR LADY OF DARKNESS, by Albert Dorrington and A. G. Stephens</b></p> + +<p>A story of the Far East. <i>The Grand Rapids Herald</i> says of the +book—"'Our Lady of Darkness' is entitled to be classed with 'The Count +of Monte Cristo.' It is one of the greatest stories of mystery and +deep-laid plot and its masterly handling must place it in the front rank +of modern fiction."</p> + +<p><b>THE DUPLICATE DEATH, by A. C. Fox-Davies</b></p> + +<p>A first-rate detective story—one that will keep you thrilled to the +very end. <i>The New York Tribune's</i> verdict on the book is this—"We need +only commend it as a puzzling and readable addition to the fiction of +crime."</p> + +<p><b>THE DANGEROUS AGE, by Karin Michaelis</b></p> + +<p>Here is a woman's soul laid bare with absolute frankness. Europe went +mad about the book, which has been translated into twelve languages. It +betrays the freemasonry of womanhood.</p> + +<p><b>MY ACTOR HUSBAND, Anonymous</b></p> + +<p>The reader will be startled by the amazing truths set forth and, the +completeness of their revelations. Life behind the scenes is stripped +bare of all its glamor. Young women whom the stage attracts should read +this story. There is a ringing damnation in it.</p> + +<p><b>MRS. DRUMMOND'S VOCATION, by Mark Ryce</b></p> + +<p>Lily Drummond is an unmoral (not immoral) heroine. She was not a bad +girl at heart; but when chance opened up for her the view of a life she +had never known or dreamed of, her absence of moral responsibility did +the rest.</p> + +<p><b>DOWNWARD: "A Slice of Life," by Maud Churton Braby</b></p> + +<p>Author of "Modern Marriage and How to Bear It."</p> + +<p>"'Downward' belongs to that great modern school of fiction built upon +woman's downfall. * * * I cordially commend this bit of fiction to the +thousands of young women who are yearning to see what they call +life.'"—<i>James L. Ford in the N. Y. Herald</i>.</p> + +<p><b>TWO APACHES OF PARIS, by Alice and Claude Askew</b></p> + +<p>Authors of "The Shulamite," "The Rod of Justice," etc.</p> + +<p>All primal struggles originate with the daughters of Eve.</p> + +<p>This story of Paris and London tells of the wild, fierce life of the +flesh, of a woman with the beauty of consummate vice to whom a man gave +himself, body and soul.</p> + +<p><b>THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>One of Mrs. Glyn's biggest successes. Elizabeth is a charming young +woman who is always saying and doing droll and, daring things, both +shocking and amusing.</p> + +<p><b>BEYOND THE ROCKS, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>"One of Mrs. Glyn's highly sensational and somewhat erotic +novels."—<i>Boston Transcript</i>.</p> + +<p>The scenes are laid in Paris and London; and a country-house party also +figures, affording the author some daring situations, which she has +handled deftly.</p> + +<p><b>THE REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>The story of the awakening of a young girl, whose maidenly emotions are +set forth as Elinor Glyn alone knows how.</p> + +<p>"Gratitude and, power and self-control! * * * in nature I find there is +a stronger force than all these things, and that is the touch of the one +we love."—Ambrosine.</p> + +<p><b>THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>"One of Mrs. Glyn's most pungent tales of feminine idiosyncracy and +caprice."—Boston Transcript,</p> + +<p>Evangeline is a delightful heroine with glorious red hair and amazing +eyes that looked a thousand unsaid challenges.</p> + +<p><b>DAYBREAK: a Prologue to "Three Weeks"</b></p> + +<p>"Daybreak" is a prologue to "Three Weeks" and forms the first of the +series, although published last. It is a highly interesting account of a +love episode that took place during the youth of the famous Queen of +"Three Weeks."</p> + +<p>A story of the Balkans, this is one of the timely novels of the year.</p> + +<p><b>ONE DAY: a Sequel to "Three Weeks"</b></p> + +<p>"There is a note of sincerity in this book that is lacking in the +first."—Boston Globe.</p> + +<p>"One Day" is the sequel you have been waiting for since reading "Three +Weeks," and is a story which points a moral, a clear, well-written +exposition of the doctrine, "As ye sow, so shall ye reap."</p> + +<p><b>HIGH NOON: a New Sequel to "Three Weeks" A Modern Romeo and Juliet</b></p> + +<p>A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks."</p> + +<p><b>THE DIARY OF MY HONEYMOON</b></p> + +<p>A woman who sets out to unburden her soul upon intimate things is bound +to touch upon happenings which are seldom the subject of writing at all; +but whatever may be said of the views of the anonymous author, the +"Diary" is a work of throbbing and intense humanity, the moral of which +is sound throughout and plain to see.</p> + +<p><b>THE INDISCRETION OF LADY USHER: a Sequel to "The Diary of My +Honeymoon"</b></p> + +<p>"Another purpose novel dealing with the question of marriage and dealing +very plainly,—one of the most interesting among the many books on these +lines which are at present attracting so much attention."—Cleveland +Town Topics.</p> + +<p><i>Price 50 cents per copy; Postage 10 cents extra Order from your +Bookseller or from the Publishers</i></p> + +<p><b>THE MACAULAY COMPANY, 15 West 38th St., New York Send for Illustrated +Catalogue</b></p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13776 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc1c471 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13776 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13776) diff --git a/old/13776-8.txt b/old/13776-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e7d021 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13776-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6598 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: One Day + A sequel to 'Three Weeks' + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: October 18, 2004 [EBook #13776] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Steven Michaels and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + +ONE DAY + +A SEQUEL TO "THREE WEEKS" + +ANONYMOUS + + +Original Publication Date 1909, by The Macaulay Company + + +NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY 1912 + + + +THE SCHILLING PRESS NEW YORK + + + + +FOREWORD TO MY AMERICAN FRIENDS + + +Now after spending some very pleasant weeks in your interesting country, +I feel sure that this book will find many sympathetic readers in +America. Quite naturally it will be discussed; some, doubtless, will +censure it--and unjustly; others will believe with me that the tale +teaches a great moral lesson. + +Born as the Boy was born, the end which Fate forced upon him, to me, was +inevitable. Each word and act of the three weeks of his parents' +love-idyl must reflect in the character and life of the child. Little by +little the baby King grew before my mental vision until I saw at last +there was no escape from his importunity and I allowed the insistent +Boy--masterful even from his inception--to shape himself at his own +sweet will. Thus he became the hero of my study. + +This is not a book for children or fools--but for men and women who can +grasp the underlying principle of morality which has been uppermost in +my mind as I wrote. Those who can see beyond the outburst of +passion--the overmastering belief in the power of love to justify all +things, which the Boy inherited so naturally from his Queen mother--will +understand the forces against which the young Prince must needs fight a +losing battle. The transgression was unavoidable to one whose very +conception was beyond the law--the punishment was equally inevitable. + +In fairness to this book of mine--and to me--the great moral lesson I +have endeavored to teach must be considered in its entirety, and no +single episode be construed as the book's sole aim. The verdict on my +two years' work rests with you, dear Reader, but at least you may be +sure that I have only tried to show that those who sow the wind shall +reap the whirlwind. + +--THE AUTHOR. + + + + +ONE DAY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Prince tore the missive fiercely from its envelope, and scowled at +the mocking glint of the royal crown so heavily embossed at the top of +the paper. What a toy it was, he thought, to cost so much, and +eventually to mean so little! Roughly translated, the letter ran as +follows: + +"Your Royal Highness will be gratified to learn that at last a +satisfactory alliance has been arranged between the Princess Elodie of +Austria and your royal self. It is the desire of both courts and +councils that the marriage shall be solemnized on the fifteenth of the +May following your twenty-first birthday, at which time the coronation +ceremony takes place that is to place the crown of the kingdom upon the +head of the son of our beloved and ever-to-be-regretted Imperatorskoye. +The Court and Council extend greetings and congratulations upon the not +far distant approach of both auspicious events to your Royal Highness, +which cannot fail to afford the utmost satisfaction in every detail to +the ever-beautiful-and-never-to-be-sufficiently beloved Prince Paul. + +"Imperator-to-be, we salute thee. We kiss thy feet." + +The letter was sealed with the royal crest and signed by the Regent--the +Boy's uncle--the Grand Duke Peter, his mother's brother, who had been +his guardian and protector almost from his birth. The young prince knew +that his uncle loved him, knew that the Grand Duke desired nothing on +earth so much as the happiness of his beloved sister's only son--and yet +at this crisis of the Boy's life, even his uncle was as powerless to +help as was Paul Verdayne, the Englishman. + +"The Princess Elodie!" he grumbled. "Who the devil is this Princess +Elodie, anyway? Austrian blood has no particular charm for me! They +might at least have told me something a little more definite about the +woman they have picked out to be the mother of my children. A man +usually likes to look an animal over before he purchases!" + +Known to London society as Monsieur Zalenska, the Prince had come up to +town with the Verdaynes, and was apparently enjoying to the utmost the +frivolities of London life. + +At a fashionable garden party he sat alone, in a seclusion he had long +sought and had finally managed to secure, behind a hedge of hawthorn +where none but lovers, and men and women troubled as he was troubled, +cared to conceal themselves. + +The letter, long-expected and dreaded, had finally crossed the continent +to his hand. It was only the written confirmation of the sentence Fate +had pronounced upon him, even as it had pronounced similar sentences +upon princes and potentates since the beginning of thrones and kingdoms. + +While the Prince--or Paul Zalenska, as I will now call him--sat in his +brooding brown study, clutching the imperial letter tightly in his young +hand, his attention was arrested by the sound of voices on the other +side of the hawthorn hedge. + +He listened idly, at first, to what seemed to be a one-sided +conversation, in a dull, emotionless feminine voice--a discourse on +fashion, society chit-chat, and hopeless nonentities, interspersed with +bits of gossip. Could women never talk about anything else? he thought +impatiently. + +But his displeasure did not seem to affect the course of things at all. +The voice, completely unconscious of the aversion it aroused in the +invisible listener, continued its dreary, expressionless monotone. + +"What makes you so silent, Opal? You haven't said a word to-day that you +didn't absolutely have to say. If all American girls are as dreamy as +you, I wonder why our English lords are so irresistibly attracted across +the water when in search of brides!" + +And then the Boy on the other side of the hedge felt his sluggish pulse +quicken, and almost started to his feet, impelled by a sudden thrill of +delight; for another voice had spoken--a voice of such infinite charm +and sweetness and vitality, yet with languorous suggestion of emotional +heights and depths, that he felt a vague sense of disappointment when +the magnetic notes finally died away. + +"Brides?" the voice echoed, with a lilt of girlish laughter running +through the words. "You mean '_bribes_,' don't you? For I assure you, +dear cousin, it is the metallic clink of American gold, and nothing +else, that lures your great men over the sea. As for my silence, _ma +belle_, I have been uncommunicative because there really seemed nothing +at all worth saying. I can't accustom myself to small-talk--I can't even +listen to it patiently. I always feel a wild impulse to fly far, far +away, where I can close my ears to it all and listen to my own thoughts. +I'm sorry if I disappoint you, Alice--I seem to disappoint everybody +that I would like to please--but I assure you, laugh at my dreams as you +may, to me my dream-life is far more attractive and beautiful than what +you term Life. Forgive me if I hurt you, cousin. I'm peculiarly +constituted, perhaps, but I don't like this twaddle, and I can't help +it! Everything in England is so beautiful, and yet its society seems +so--so hopelessly unsatisfactory to one who longs to _live!_" + +"To live, Opal? We are not dead, surely! What do you mean by life?" + +And so her name was Opal! How curiously the name suited the voice! The +Boy, as he listened, felt that no other name could possibly have +matched that voice--the opal, that glorious gem in which all the fires +of the sun, the iridescent glories of the rainbow, and the cold +brilliance of ice and frost and snow seemed to blend and crystallize. +All this, and more, was in that mysteriously fascinating voice. + +"To live, Alice?" echoed the voice again. "To live? Why, to live is to +_feel!_--to feel every emotion of which the human soul is capable, to +rise to the heights of love, and knowledge, and power; to sink--if need +be--to the deepest depths of despair, but, at all costs, at all hazards, +to _live!_--to experience in one's own nature all the reality and +fullness of the deathless emotions of life!" + +The voice sank almost to the softness of a whisper, yet even then was +vibrant, alive, intense. + +"Ah, Alice, from my childhood up, I have dreamed of life and longed for +it. What life really is, each must decide for himself, must he not? +Some, they say, sleep their way through a dreamless existence, and +never, never wake to realities. Alice, I have sometimes wondered if that +was to be my fate, have wondered and wondered until I have cried out in +real terror at the hideous prospect! Surely Fate could not be so cruel +as to implant such a desperate desire in a soul that never was to know +its fulfilment. Could it, Alice? Tell me, _could_ it?" + +The Boy held his breath now. + +Who was this girl, anyhow, who seemed to express his own thoughts as +accurately as he himself could have done? He was bored no longer. He was +roused, stirred, awakened--and intensely interested. It was as though +the voice of his own soul spoke to him in a dream. + +The cold, lifeless voice now chimed in again. In his impatience the Boy +clenched his fists and shut his teeth together hard. Why didn't she keep +still? He didn't want to miss a single note he might have caught of the +voice--that other! Why did this nonentity--for one didn't have to see +her to be sure that she was that--have to interrupt and rob him of his +pleasure? + +"I don't understand you, Opal," she was saying. (Of course she didn't, +thought the Boy--how could she?) "I am sure that I live. And yet I have +never felt that way--thank goodness! It's vulgar to feel too deeply, +Mamma used to say, and as I have grown older, I can see that she was +right. The best people never show any excess of emotion. That is for +tragedy queens, operatic stars, and--the women we do not talk about! +Ladies cultivate repose!" + +("Repose!--_mon Dieu!_" thought Paul, behind the hedge. He wished that +she would!) + +"And yet, Alice, you are--married!" + +"Married?--of course!--why not?" and the eavesdropper fancied he could +see the wide-open gaze of well-bred English surprise that accompanied +the words. "One has to marry, of course. That is what we are created +for. But one doesn't make a fuss about it. It's only a custom--a +ceremony--and doesn't change existence much for most women, if they +choose sensibly. Of course there is always the chance of a +_mésalliance_! A woman has to risk that." + +"And you don't--love?" + +The Boy was struck by a note that was almost horror in the opaline voice +so near him. + +"Love? Why, Opal, of course we do! It's easy to love, you know, when a +man is decent and half-way good to one. I am sure I think a great deal +of Algernon; but I dare say I should have thought as much of any other +man I had happened to marry. That is a wife's duty!" + +"_Duty!_--and you call that love?" The horror in the tones had now +changed to scorn. + +"You have strange ideas of life, Opal. I should be afraid to indulge +them if I were you--really I should! You have lived so much in books +that you seem to have a very garbled idea of the world. Fiction is apt +to be much of a fairy tale, a crazy exaggeration of what living really +consists of!" + +"_Afraid?_ Why should I be afraid? I am an American girl, remember, and +Americans are afraid of nothing--nothing! Come, cousin, tell to me, if +you can, why I should be afraid." + +"Oh, I don't know! really I don't!" There was a troubled, perplexed note +in the English voice now. "Such notions are apt to get girls into +trouble, and lead them to some unhappy fate. Too much 'life'--as you +call it--must mean suffering, and sorrow, and many tears--and maybe, +_sin_!" + +There was a shocked note in the voice of the young English matron as +she added the last word, and her voice sank to a whisper. But Paul +Zalenska heard, and smiled. + +"Suffering, and sorrow, and many tears," repeated the American girl, +musingly, "and maybe--sin!" Then she went on, firmly, "Very well, +Alice, give me the suffering and sorrow, and many tears--and the sin, +too, if it must be, for we are all sinners of greater or less +degree--but at any rate, give me life! My life may still be far off in +the future, but when the time comes, I shall certainly know, and--I +shall _live_!" + +"You are a peculiar girl, Opal, and--we don't say those things in +England." + +"No, you don't say those things, you cold English women! You do not even +_feel_ them! As for sin, Alice, to my mind there can be no worse sin +under heaven than you commit when you give yourself to a man whom you do +not love better than you could possibly love any other. Oh, it is a +sin--it _must_ be--to sell yourself like that! It's no wonder, I think, +that your husbands are so often driven to 'the women we do not talk +about' for--consolation!" + +"Opal! Opal! hush! What _are_ you saying? You really--but see! isn't +that Algernon crossing the terrace? He is probably looking for us." + +"And like a dutiful English wife, you mustn't fail to obey, I suppose! +Lead the way, cousin mine, and I'll promise to follow you with due +dignity and decorum." + +And the rustle of silken skirts heralded the departure of the ladies +away from the hedge and beyond Paul's hearing. + +Then he too started at an eager, restless pace for the centre of the +crowd. He had quite forgotten the future so carefully arranged for him, +and was off in hot pursuit of--what? He did not know! He only knew that +he had heard a voice, and--he followed! + +As he rejoined the guests, he looked with awakened interest into every +face, listened with eager intensity to every voice. But all in vain. It +did not occur to him that he might easily learn from his hostess the +identity of her American guest; and even if the thought had presented +itself to him, he would never have acted upon it. The experience was +his alone, and he would have been unwilling to share it with any one. + +He was no longer bored as earlier in the afternoon, and he carried the +assurance of enthusiasm and interest in his every glance and motion. +People smiled at the solitary figure, and whispered that he must have +lost Verdayne. But for once in his life, the Boy was not looking for his +friend. + +But neither did he find the voice! + +Usually among the first to depart on such occasions as these, this time +he remained until almost all the crowd had made their adieux. And it was +with a keen sense of disappointment that he at last entered his carriage +for the home of the Verdaynes. He was hearing again and again in the +words of the voice, as it echoed through his very soul, "When my time +comes, I shall certainly know, and I shall--_live!_" + +The letter in his pocket no longer scorched the flesh beneath. He had +forgotten its very existence, nor did he once think of the Princess +Elodie of Austria. What had happened to him? + +Had he fallen in love with a--voice? + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was May at Verdayne Place, and May at Verdayne Place was altogether +different from May in any other part of the world. The skies were of a +far deeper and richer blue; the flowers reached a higher state of +fragrant and rainbow-hued perfection; the sun shining through the green +of the trees was tempered to just the right degree of shine and shadow. +To an Englishman, home is the beginning and the end of the world, and +Paul Verdayne was a typical Englishman. + +To be sure, it had not always been so, but Paul had outlived his +vagabond days and had become thoroughly domesticated; yet there had been +a time in his youth when the wandering spirit had filled his soul, when +the love of adventure had lent wings to his feet, and the glory of +romance had lured him to the lights and shadows of other skies than +these. But Verdayne was older now, very much older! He had lived his +life, he said, and settled down! + +In the shade of the tall trees of the park, two men were drinking in the +beauties of the season, in all the glory and splendor of its +ever-changing, yet ever-enduring loveliness. One of them was past forty, +the ripeness of middle age and the general air of a well-spent, +well-directed, and fully-developed life lending to his face and form an +unusual distinction--even in that land of distinguished men. His +companion was a boy of twenty, straight and tall and proud, carrying +himself with the regal grace of a Greek god. He was a strong, handsome, +healthy, well-built, and well-instructed boy, a boy at whom any one who +looked once would be sure to look the second time, even though he could +not tell exactly wherein the peculiar charm lay. Both men were fair of +hair and blue-eyed, with clear, clean skins and well-bred English faces, +and the critical observer could scarcely fail to notice how curiously +they resembled each other. Indeed, the younger of the pair might easily +have been the replica of the elder's youth. + +When they spoke, however, the illusion of resemblance disappeared. In +the voice of the Boy was a certain vibrant note that was entirely +lacking in the deeper tones of the man--not an accent, nor yet an +inflection, but still a quality that lent a subtle suggestion of foreign +shores. It was an expressive voice, neither languorous nor unduly +forceful, but strangely magnetic, and adorably rich and full, and +musical, thrilling its hearers with its suggestion of latent physical +and spiritual force. + +On the afternoon of which I write, those two were facing a crisis that +made them blind to everything of lesser import. Paul Verdayne--the man +--realized this to the full. His companion--the Boy--was dimly but just +as acutely conscious of it. The question had come at last--the question +that Paul Verdayne had been dreading for years. + +"Uncle Paul," the Boy was saying, "what relation are you to me? You are +not really my uncle, though I have been taught to call you so after this +quaint English fashion of yours. I know it is something of a secret, but +I know no more! We are closer comrades, it seems to me--you and I--than +any others in all the world. We always understand each other, somehow, +almost without words--is it not so? I even bear your name, and I am +proud of it, because it is yours. But why must there be so much mystery +about our real relationship? Won't you tell me just what I am to you?" + +The question, long-looked-for as it was, found the elder man all +unprepared. Is any one ever ready for any dire calamity, however +certainly expected? He paced up and down under the tall trees of the +park and for a time did not answer. Then he paused and laid his hand +upon the shoulder of the Boy with a tenderness of touch that proved +better than any words how close was the bond between them. + +"Tell you what you are to me! I could never, never do that! You are +everything to me, everything!" + +The Boy made a motion as if to speak, but the man forestalled him. + +"We're jolly good friends, aren't we--the very best of companions? In +all the world there is no man, woman or child that is half so near and +dear to me as you. Men don't usually talk about these things to one +another, you know, Boy; but, though I am a bachelor, you see, I feel +toward you as most men feel toward their sons. What does the mere +defining of the relationship matter? Could we possibly be any more to +each other than we are?" + +Paul Verdayne seated himself on a little knoll beneath the shade of a +giant oak. The Boy looked at him with the wistfulness of an infinite +question in his gaze. + +"No, no, Boy! Some time, perhaps--yes, certainly--you shall know all, +all! But that time has not yet come, and for the present it is best that +things should rest as they are. Trust us, Boy--trust me--and be +patient!" + +"Patient!" The Boy laughed a full, ringing laugh, as he threw himself on +the grass at his companion's feet. "I have never learned the word! Could +you be patient, Uncle Paul, when youth was all on fire in your heart, +with your own life shrouded in mystery? Could you, I say, be patient +then?" + +Verdayne laughed indulgently as his strong fingers stroked the Boy's +brown curls. + +"Perhaps not, Boy, perhaps not! But it is for you," he continued, "for +you, Boy, to make the best of that life of yours, which you are pleased +to think clouded in such tantalizing mystery. It is for you to develop +every God-given faculty of your being that all of us that love you may +have the happiness of seeing you perform wisely and well the mission +upon which you have been sent to this kingdom of yours to accomplish. +Boy! every true man is a king in the might of his manhood, but upon you +is bestowed a double portion of that universal royalty. This is a +throne-worshipping world we are living in, Paul, and it means even more +than you can realize to be a prince of the blood!" + +The Boy looked around the park apprehensively. What if someone heard? +For this straight young sapling, who was only the "Boy" to Paul +Verdayne, was to the world at large an heir to a throne, a king who had +been left in infancy the sole ruler of his kingdom. + +His visits to Verdayne Place were _incognito_. He did like to throw +aside the purple now and then and be the real live boy he was at heart. +He did enjoy to the full his occasional opportunities, unhampered by +the trappings and obligations of royalty. + +"A prince of the blood!" he echoed scornfully. "Bah!--what is that? +Merely an accident of birth!" + +"No, not an accident, Paul! Nothing in the world ever is that. Every +fragment of life has its completing part somewhere, given its place in +the scheme of the universe by intricate design--always by _design!_ As +for the duties of your kingdom, my Prince, it is not like you to take +them so lightly." + +"I know! I know! Yet everybody might have been born a prince. It is far +more to be a man!" + +"True enough, Boy! yet everybody might not have been born to your +position. Only you could have been given the heritage that is yours! My +Boy, yours is a mission, a responsibility, from the Creator of Life +Himself. Everybody can follow--but only God's chosen few can lead! And +you--oh, Boy! yours is a birthright above that of all other princes--if +you only knew!" + +The young prince looked wistfully upward into the eyes of the elder man. + +"Tell me, Uncle Paul! Dmitry always speaks of my birth with a reverence +and awe quite out of proportion to its possible consequence--poor old +man. And once even the Grand Duke Peter spoke of my 'divine origin' +though he could not be coaxed or wheedled into committing his wise self +any further. Now you, yourself the most reserved and secretive of +individuals when it pleases you to be so, have just been surprised into +something of the same expression. Do you wonder that I long to unravel +the mystery that you are all so determined to keep from me? I can learn +nothing at home--absolutely nothing! They glorify my mother--God bless +her memory! Everyone worships her! But they never speak of you, and they +are silent, too, about my father. They simply won't tell me a thing +about him, so I don't imagine that he could have been a very good king! +_Was_ he, Uncle Paul? Did you know him?" + +"I never knew the king, Boy!--never even saw him!" + +"But you must have heard--" + +"Nothing, Boy, that I can tell you--absolutely nothing!" + +Verdayne had risen again and was once more pacing back and forth under +the trees, as was his wont when troubled with painful memories. + +"But my mother--you knew _her_!" + +"Yes, yes--I knew your mother!" + +"Tell me about her!" + +A dull, hopeless agony came into the eyes of the older man. And so his +Gethsemane had come to him again! Every life has this garden to pass +through--some, alas! again and yet again! And Paul Verdayne had thought +that he had long since drained his cup of misery to the dregs. He knew +better now. + +"Yes, I will tell you of your mother, Boy," he said, and there was a +strained, guarded note in his voice which his companion's quick ear did +not fail to catch. "But you must be patient if you wish to hear what +little there is, after all, that I can tell you. You must remember, my +Boy, that it is a long time since your mother--died--and men of my age +sometimes--forget!" + +"I will remember," the Boy said, gently. + +But as he looked up into the face of his friend, something in his heart +told him that Paul Verdayne did _not_ forget! And somehow the older man +felt confident that the Boy knew, and was strangely comforted by the +silent sympathy between them which both felt, but neither could express. + +"Your mother, Boy, was the noblest and most beautiful woman that ever +graced a throne. Everyone who knew her must have said that! You are very +like her, Paul--not in appearance, a mistake of Fate to be everlastingly +deplored, but in spirit you are her living counterpart. Ah! you have a +great example to live up to, Boy, in attempting to follow her footsteps! +There was never a queen like her--never!" + +The young prince followed with the deepest absorption the words of the +man who had known his mother, hanging upon the story with the breathless +interest of a child in some fairy tale. + +"She knew life as it is given few women to know it. She was not more +than thirty-five, I think, when you were born, but she had crowded into +those years more knowledge of the world, in all its myriad phases, than +others seem to absorb during their allotted three score and ten. And her +knowledge was not of the world alone, but of the heart. She was full of +ideals of advancement, of growth, of doing and being something worthy +the greatest endeavor, exerting every hope and ambition to the utmost +for the future splendor of her kingdom--your kingdom now. How she loved +you!--what splendid achievements she expected of you! how she prayed +that you might be grand, and great, and true!" + +"Did you always know her?" + +"Always?--no. Only for three weeks, Boy!" + +"Three weeks!--three little weeks! How strange, then, that you should +have learned so much about her in that short space of time! She must +indeed have made a strong impression upon you!" + +"Impression, you say? Boy, all that I am or ever expect to become--all +that I know or ever expect to learn--all that I have done or ever expect +to accomplish--I owe to your mother. She was the one inspiration of my +life. Until I knew her, I was a nonentity. It was she who awakened +me--who taught me how to live! Three weeks! Child! child!--" + +He caught himself sharply and bit his lip, forcing back the impetuous +words he had not meant to say. The silence of years still shrouded those +mysterious three weeks, and the time had not yet come when that silence +could be broken. What had he said? What possessed the Boy to-day to +cling so persistently to this hitherto forbidden subject? + +"Where did you meet her, Uncle?" + +"At Lucerne!" + +"Lucerne!" echoed the Boy, his blue eyes growing dreamy with musing. +"That says nothing to me--nothing! and yet--you will laugh at me, I +know, but I sometimes get the most tantalizing impression that I +remember my mother. It is absurd, of course--I suppose I could not +possibly remember her--and yet there is such a haunting, vague sense of +close-clinging arms, of an intensely white and tender face bending over +me--sometimes in the radiance of day and again in the soft shadows of +night, but always, always alight with love--of kisses, soft and warm, +and yet often tearful--and of black, lustrous hair, over which there +always seems to shine a halo--a very coronet of triumphant motherhood." + +Verdayne's lips moved, but no sound came from them to voice the +passionate cry in his heart, "My Queen, my Queen!" + +"I suppose it is only a curious dream! It must be, of course! But it is +a very real vision to me, and I would not part with it for the world. +Uncle, do you know, I can never look upon the pictured face of a Madonna +without being forcibly reminded of this vision of my mother--the mother +I can see only in dreams!" + +Verdayne found it growing harder and harder for him to speak. + +"I do not think that strange, Boy. Others would not understand it, but I +do. She was so intensely a mother that the spirit of the great Holy +Mother must have been at all times hovering closely about her! Her +deepest desires centred about her son. You were the embodiment of the +greatest, sweetest joys--if not the only real joys--of her strangely +unhappy life, and her whole thought, her one hope, was for you. In your +soul must live all the unrealized hopes and crucified ideals of the +woman who, always every inch a queen, was never more truly regal than in +the supreme hour that crowned her your mother." + +"And am I like her, Uncle Paul? Am I really like her?" + +"So much so, Boy, that she sometimes seems to live again in you. Like +her, you believe so thoroughly in the goodness and greatness of a +God--in the beauty and glory of the world fraught with lessons of life +and death--in the omnipotence of Fate--in the truth and power and +grandeur of overmastering love. You believe in the past, in all the +dreams and legends of the Long Ago still relived in the Now, in the +capabilities of the human mind, the kingship of the soul. Your voice is +hers, every tone and cadence is as her own voice repeating her own +words. Be glad, Paul, that you are like your mother, and hope that with +the power to think her thoughts and dream lier dreams, you may also have +the power to love as she loved, and, if need be, die her death!" + +"But you think the same thoughts, Uncle Paul. You believe all I +believe!" + +"Because she taught me, Paul--because she taught me! I slept the sleep +of the blind and deaf and soulless until her touch woke my soul into +being. You have always been alive to the joy of the world and the beauty +of living. Your soul was born with your body and lived purposefully from +the very beginning of things. You were born for a purpose and that +purpose showed itself even in infancy." + +A silence fell between the two men. A long time they sat in that +sympathetic communion, each busy with his own thoughts. The older Paul +was lost in memories of the past, for his life lay all behind him--the +younger Paul was indulging in many dreams of a roseate future, for his +life was all ahead of him. + +It was a friendship that the world often wondered about--this strange +intimacy between Paul Verdayne, the famous Member of Parliament, and the +young man from abroad who called himself Paul Zalenska. None knew +exactly where Monsieur Zalenska came from, and as they had long ago +learned the futility of questioning either of the men about personal +affairs, had at last reconciled themselves to never finding out. +Everyone suspected that the Boy was a scion of rank--and some went so +far as to say of royalty, but beyond the fact that every May he came +with his faithful, foreign-looking attendant to Verdayne Place and spent +the summer months with the Verdayne family, nothing definite was +actually known. His elderly attendant certainly spoke some beastly +foreign jargon and went by the equally beastly foreign name of Vasili. +He was known to worship his young master and to attend him with the most +marked servility, but he was never questioned, and had he been, would +certainly have told no tales. + +The parents of Paul Verdayne--Sir Charles and Lady Henrietta--were very +fond of their young guest, and made much of his annual visits. As for +Paul himself, he never seemed to be perfectly happy anywhere if the +young fellow were out of his sight. + +He had made himself very much distinguished, had this Paul Verdayne. He +had found out how to get the most out of his life and accomplish the +utmost good for himself and his England with the natural endowments of +his energetic and ambitious personality. He had become a famous orator, +a noted statesman, a man of brain as well as brawn. People were glad to +listen when he talked. He inspired them with the idea--so nearly extinct +in this day and age of the world--that life after all was very much +worth the living. He stirred languid pulses with a dormant enthusiasm. +He roused torpid brains to thought. He had ideas and had also a way of +making other people share those ideas. England was proud of Paul +Verdayne, as she had good reason to be. And he was only forty-three +years old even now. What might he not accomplish in the future for the +land to which he devoted all his talents, his tireless, well-directed +activities? + +He had given himself up so thoroughly to political interests that he had +not taken time to marry. This was a great disappointment to his mother, +Lady Henrietta, who had set her heart upon welcoming a daughter-in-law +and a houseful of merry, romping grandchildren before the sun of her +life had gone down forever. It was also a secret source of +disappointment to certain younger feminine hearts as well, who in the +days of his youth, and even in the ripeness of later years, had regarded +Paul Verdayne with eyes that found him good to look upon. But the young +politician had never been a woman's man. He was chivalrous, of course, +as all well-bred Englishmen are, but he kept himself as aloof from all +society as politeness would permit, and the attack of the most +skillfully aimed glances fell harmless, even unheeded, upon his +impenetrable armor. He might have married wherever he had willed, but +Society and her fair votaries sighed and smiled in vain, and finally +decided to leave him alone, to Verdayne's infinite relief. + +As for the Boy, he was always, as I have said, a mystery, always a topic +for the consideration of the gossips. Every year since he was a little +fellow six years old he had come to Verdayne Place for the summer; at +first, accompanied by his nurse, Anna, and a silver-haired servant, +curiously named Dmitry. Later the nurse had ceased to be a necessity, +and the old servant had been replaced by Vasili, a younger, but no less +devoted attendant. As the Boy grew older, he had learned to hunt and +took long rides with his then youthful host across the wide stretch of +English country that made up the Verdayne estates and those of the +neighboring gentry. Often they cruised about in distant waters, for the +young fellow from his earliest years shared with the elder an absorbing +love of nature in all her varied and glorious forms; and in February, +always in February, Verdayne found time to steal away from England for a +brief visit to that far-off country in the south of Europe from which +the Boy came. Many remembered that Verdayne, like an uncle of his, Lord +Hubert Aldringham, had been much given to foreign travel in his younger +days and had made many friends and acquaintances among the nobility and +royalty of other lands, and although it was strange, they thought it was +not at all improbable that the lad was connected with some one of those +great families across the Channel. + +As for Paul and the Boy, they knew not what people thought or said, and +cared still less. There was too strong a bond of _camaraderie_ between +them to be disturbed by the murmurings of a wind that could blow neither +of them good or ill. + +And the Boy was now twenty years of age. + +Suddenly Paul Zalenska broke their long silence. + +"Do you know, Uncle, I sometimes have a queer feeling of fear that my +father must have done something terrible in his life--something to make +strong men shrink and shudder at the thought--something--_criminal_! Oh, +I dare not think of that!" he went on hastily. "I dare not--I dare not! +I think the knowledge of it would drive me mad!" + +His voice sank to a half-whisper and there was a note of horror in his +words. + +"But, what a king he must have been!--what a miserable apology for all +that royalty should be by every law, human or divine! Why isn't his name +heralded over the length and breadth of the kingdom in paeans of praise? +Why isn't the whole world talking of his valor, his beneficence, his +statesmanship? What is a king created a king for, if not to make +history?" + +He fought silently for a moment to regain his self-control, forcing the +hideous idea from him and at last speaking with an air of finality +beyond his years. + +"No, I won't think of it! May the King of the world endow me with the +strength of the gods and the wisdom of the ancient seers, that I may +make up by my efficiency for all my father's deplorable lack, and become +all that my mother meant me to be when she gave me to the world!" + +He stretched out his arms in a passionate appeal to Heaven, and Paul +Verdayne, looking up at him, realized as he had never before that the +Boy certainly had within him the stuff of which kings should be made. + +The Boy was not going to disappoint him. He was going to justify the +high hopes cherished for him so long. He was going to be a man after his +mother's own heart. + +"Uncle," went on the Boy, wrought up to a high pitch of emotion, and +throwing himself down again at Verdayne's feet, "I feel with Louis XVI, +'I am too young to reign!' Why haven't I ever had a father to teach and +train me in the way I should go? Every boy needs a good father, princes +most of all, so much more is expected of us poor royal devils than of +more ordinary and more fortunate mortals! I know I shouldn' be +complaining like this--certainly not to you, Uncle Paul, who have been +all most fathers are to most boys! But there are times, you know, when +you persist in keeping me at arm's length as you keep everyone else! +When you put up that sign, 'Thus far and no further!' I feel myself +almost a stranger! Won't you let me come nearer? Won't you take down +that barrier between us and let me have a father--at least, in name? I'm +tired of calling you 'Uncle' who uncle never was and never could be! +You're far more of a father--really you are! Let me call you in name +what you have always been in spirit. Let me say 'Father Paul!' I like +the sound of it, don't you? 'Father Paul!'--'Father Paul!'" + +Paul Verdayne felt every drop of blood leave his face. He felt as if the +Boy had inadvertently laid a cold hand upon his naked heart, chilling, +paralyzing its every beat. What did he mean? The Boy was just then +looking thoughtfully at the setting sun and did not see the change that +his words called into his companion's face--thank heaven for that!--but +what _could_ he mean? + +"You can call yourself my 'Father Confessor,' you know, if you entertain +any scruples as to the propriety of a staid old bachelor's fathering a +stray young cub like me--that will make it all right, surely! You will +let me, won't you? In all the world there is no one so close to me as +you, and such dreams as I may happily bring to fulfillment will be, more +than you know, because of your guidance, your inspiration. You are the +father of my spirit, whoever may have been the father of my flesh! Let +it be hereafter, then, not 'Uncle,' but 'Father Paul'!" + +And the older man, rising and standing by the Boy, threw his arm around +the young shoulders, and gazing far off to the distant west, felt +himself shaken by a strange emotion as he answered, "Yes, Boy, hereafter +let it be 'Father Paul!'" + +And as the sun travelled faster and faster toward the line of its +crossing between the worlds of night and day, its rays reflected a new +radiance upon the faces of the two men who sat in the silent shadows of +the park, feeling themselves drawn more closely together than ever +before, thinking, thinking, thinking-in the eyes of the man a great +memory, in the eyes of the Boy a great longing for life! + + * * * * * + +The two friends ran up to London for the theatre that night, to see a +famous actor in a popular play, but neither was much interested in the +performance. Something had kindled in the heart of the man a reminiscent +fire and the Boy was thinking his own thoughts and listening, ever +listening. + +"I'm several kinds of a fool," he thought, "but I'd like to hear that +voice again and get a glimpse of the face that goes with it. I dare say +she is anything but attractive in the flesh--if she is really in the +flesh at all, which I am beginning to doubt--so I should be disenchanted +if I were to see her, I suppose. But I'd like to _know_!" Yet, after +all, he could not comprehend how such a voice could accompany an +unattractive face. The spirit that animated those tones must needs light +up the most ordinary countenance with character, if not with beauty, he +thought; but he saw no face in the vast audience to which he cared to +assign it. No, _she_ wasn't there. He was sure of that. + +But as they left the building and stood upon the pavement, awaiting +their carriage, his blood mounted to his face, dyeing it crimson. In the +sudden silence that mysteriously falls on even vast crowds, sometimes, +he heard that voice again! + +It was only a snatch of mischievous laughter from a brougham just being +driven away from the curb, but it was unmistakably _the_ voice. Had the +Boy been alone he would have followed the brougham and solved the +mystery then and there. + +The laugh rang out again on the summer evening air. It was like a lilt +of fairies' merriment in the moonlit revels of Far Away! It was the note +of a siren's song, calling, calling the hearts and souls of men! It +was--But the Boy stopped and shook himself free from the "sentimental +rot" he was indulging in. + +He turned with a question on his lips, but Verdane had noticed nothing +and the Boy did not speak. + +Still that laugh thrilled and mocked him all the way to Berkeley Square +and lured him on and on through the night's mysterious dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +In the drawing room of her mansion on Grosvenor Square, Lady Alice +Mordaunt was pouring tea, and talking as usual the same trifling +commonplaces that had on a previous occasion excited her cousin's +disdain. Opposite her sat her mother, Lady Fletcher, a perfect model of +the well-bred English matron, while Opal Ledoux, in the daintiest and +fluffiest of summer costumes, was curled up like a kitten in a corner of +the window-seat, apparently engrossed in a book, but in reality watching +the passers-by. + +From her childhood up she had lived in a Castle of Dreams, which she had +peopled with the sort of men and women that suited her own fanciful +romantic ideas, and where she herself was supposed to lie asleep until +her ideal knight, the Prince Charming of the story, came across land +and sea to storm the Castle and wake her with a kiss. + +It was made up of moonbeams and rays of sunshine and +rainbow-gleams--this dream--woven by fairy fingers into so fragile a +cobweb that it seemed absurd to think it could stand the winds and +torrents of Grown-Up Land; but Opal, in spite of her eighteen years, was +still awaiting the coming of her ideal knight, though the stage setting +of the drama, and her picture of just how the Prince Charming of her +dreams was to look, and what he would say, had changed materially with +the passing of the years. + +If sometimes she wove strange lines of tragedy throughout the dreams, +out of the threads of shadow that flitted across the sunshine of her +life, she did not reject them. She felt they belonged there and did not +shrink, even when her young face paled at the curious self-pity the +passing of the thought invoked. + +Hers was a strange mixture, made up of an unusual intermingling of many +bloods. Born in New Orleans, of a father who was a direct descendant of +the early French settlers of Louisiana, and of a Creole mother, who +might have traced her ancestry back to one of the old grandees of Spain, +she yet clung with a jealous affection to the land of her birth and +called herself defiantly "a thorough-bred American!" Her mother had died +in giving her birth, and her father, while she was still too young to +remember, had married a fair Englishwoman who had tried hard to be a +mother to the strange little creature whose blood leaped and danced +within her veins with all the fire and romance of foreign suns. Gay and +pleasure-mad as she usually appeared, there was always the shadow of a +heartache in her eye, and one felt the possibility of a tragedy in her +nature. In fact one felt intuitively sorry--almost afraid--for her lest +her daring, adventurous spirit should lead her too close to the +precipice along the rocky pathway of life. + +She was thinking many strange thoughts as she sat looking out of the +window. Her English cousins, related to her only through her stepmother, +yet called kin for courtesy's sake, had given up trying to understand +her complexities, as she had likewise given up trying to explain +herself. If they were pleased forever to consider her in the light of a +conundrum, she thought, why--let them! + +After a while the ladies at the tea-table began to chat in more +confidential tones. Opal was not too oblivious to her surroundings to +notice, nor to grasp the fact that they were discussing her, but that +knowledge did not interest her. She was so used to being considered a +curiosity that it had ceased to have any special concern for her. She +only hoped that they would sometime succeed in understanding her better +than she had yet learned to understand herself. It might have interested +her, however, had she overheard this particular conversation, for it +shed a great light upon certain shades of character she had discovered +in herself and often wondered about, but had never had explained to her. + +But she did not hear. + +"I am greatly concerned about Opal," Lady Alice was saying. "She is the +most difficult creature, Mamma--you've no idea how peculiar--with the +most dangerous, positively _immoral_ ideas. I do wish she were safely +married, for then--well, there is really no knowing what might happen to +a girl who thinks and talks as she does. I used to think it might be a +sort of American pose--put on for startling effect, you know--but I +begin to think she actually means it!" + +"Yes, she means it," replied Lady Fletcher, lowering her voice +discreetly, till it was little more than a whisper. "She has always had +just such notions. It gives Amy a great deal of trouble and worry to +keep her straight. You know--or perhaps you didn't know, for we don't +talk of these things often, especially when they are in one's +family--but there is a bad strain in her blood and they are always +looking for it to crop out somewhere. Her mother married happily--and +escaped the curse--but for several generations back the women of her +family have been of peculiar temperament and--they've usually gone wrong +sometime in their lives. It seems to be in the blood. They can't help +it. Mr. Ledoux told Amy all about it at the time of their marriage, and +that is the reason they have tried to keep Opal as secluded as possible +from the usual free-and-easy associations of American girls, and are so +anxious to marry her off wisely." + +"And speedily," put in Alice--"the sooner the better!" + +"Yes, yes--speedily!" + +Lady Fletcher gave an uneasy glance in Opal's direction before she +continued. + +"You are too young to have heard the story, Alice, but her +grandmother--a black-eyed Spanish lady of high rank--was made quite +unpleasantly notorious by her associations with a brother of Lady +Henrietta Verdayne. He was an unprincipled roué--this Lord Hubert +Aldringham--a libertine who openly boasted of the conquests he had made +abroad. Being appointed to many foreign posts in the diplomatic service, +he was naturally on intimate terms with people of rank and royalty. They +say he was very fascinating, with the devil's own eye, and ten times as +devilish a heart--" + +"Why, Mamma!" + +Alice was shocked. + +"I am only repeating what they said, child," apologized the elder woman +meekly. "Women will be fools, you know, over a handsome face and a +tender voice--some women, I mean--and that's what Opal has to fight +against." + +"Poor Opal," murmured Alice, "I did not know!" + +"Some even go so far as to say--" + +Again Lady Fletcher looked up apprehensively, but Opal was still +absorbed in her dreams. + +"To say--what, Mother?" + +"Well, of course it's only talk--nobody can actually _know,_ I suppose, +and I wouldn't, of course, be quoted as saying anything for the world, +dear knows; but they say that it is more than probable that Opal's +mother was ... _Lord Hubert's own daughter!"_ + +"Oh, Mother! If it is true--if it _could_ be true--what a fight for +her!" + +"Yes, and the worst of it is with Opal, she won't fight. She has been +rigidly trained in the principles of virtue and propriety from her very +birth, and yet she horrifies every one at times by shocking ideas--that +no one knows where she gets, nor, worse yet, where they may lead!" + +"But she is good, Mother. She has the noblest ideas of charity and +kindness and altruism, of the advancement of all that's good and true in +the world, of the attainment of knowledge, of the beauties and +consolation of religion. It's fine to hear her talk when she's +inspired--not a bit preachy, you know--she's certainly far enough from +that--but more like reading some beautiful poem you can but half +understand, or listening to music that makes you wish you were better, +whether you take in its full meaning or not." + +This was a long speech for Lady Alice. Her mother looked at her in +amazement. There certainly must be something out of the ordinary in this +peculiar American cousin to wake Alice from her customary languor. + +Alice smiled at her mother's surprise. + +"Strange, isn't it, Mother?" she asked, half ashamed of her unusual +enthusiasm. "But it's true. She'd help some good man to be a power in +the world. I feel it so often when she talks. I didn't know women ever +thought such things as she does. I-I-I believe we can trust her, Mother, +to steer clear of everything!" + +"I hope so, Alice; I am sure I hope so, but--I don't know. I am afraid +it was a mistake to keep her so much alone. It gives her more unreal +ideas of life than actual contact with the world would have done." + +Opal Ledoux left the window and sauntered down the long drawing-room +toward the table where the speakers were sitting. + +"What are you talking about?--me?" + +The cousins were surprised and showed it by blushing guiltily. + +Opal laughed merrily. + +"Dreary subject for a dreary day! I hope you found it more interesting +than I have!" And she stretched her small figure to its utmost height, +which was not a bit above five foot, and shrugged her shoulders lazily. + +"What are you reading, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher, in an effort to +change the subject, looking with some interest at the volume that the +girl carried. + +"Don't ask me--all twaddle and moonshine! I ought not to waste my +valuable time with such trash. There isn't a real character in the book, +not one. When I write a book, and I presume I shall some time, if I live +long enough, I shall put people into it who have real flesh and blood in +them and who do startling things. But I'll have to live it all first!" + +"Live the startling things, Opal? God forbid!" + +"Surely! Why not?" + +And Opal dropped listlessly into a chair, tossed the offending book on a +table, and taking a cup of tea from the hand of her cousin, began to sip +it with an air of languid indifference, which sat strangely on her +youthful, almost childlike figure. + +"By the way, Alice," she asked carelessly, "who was the young man who +stared at us so rudely last night as we drove away from the theatre?" + +"I saw no young man staring, Opal. Where was he?" + +"Why, he stood on the pavement, waiting, I suppose, for his carriage, +and as we drove away he looked at me as though he thought I had no right +to live, and still less to laugh--I believe I was laughing--and as we +turned the corner I peeped back through the curtain, and he still stood +there in the full glare of the light, staring. It's impolite, +cousins--_very! Gentlemen_ don't stare at girls in America!" + +"What did he look like, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher. + +"Like a Greek god!" answered the girl, without a second's hesitation. + +"What!" + +Both women gasped, simultaneously. They were dismayed. + +"Oh, don't be shocked! He had the full panoply of society war-paint on. +He was certainly properly clothed, but as to his being in his right +mind, I have my doubts--serious doubts! He stared!" + +"I hope you didn't stare at him, Opal!" + +"Well, I did! What could he expect? And I laughed at him, too! But I +don't believe he saw me at all, more's the pity. I am quite sure he +would have fallen in love with me if he had!" + +"Opal!" + +Opal was thoroughly enjoying herself now. She did enjoy shocking people +who were so delightfully shockable! + +"Why, _'Opal'?"_ and her mimicry was irresistible. "Don't you think I'm +a bit lovable, cousin?--not a bit? You discourage me! I'm doomed to be a +spinster, I suppose! Ah, me! And I'd far rather be the spinster's cat! +Cats aren't worried about the conventions and all that sort of thing. +Happy animals! While we poor two-footed ones they call human--only we +aren't really more than half so--have to keep our claws well hidden and +purr hypocritically, no matter how roughly the world rubs our fur the +wrong way, nor how wild we are to scratch and spit and bristle! Wouldn't +you like to be a cat, Alice?" + +"Goodness, child! What an idea! I am very well contented, Opal, with +the sphere of life into which I have been placed!" + +"Happy, happy Alice! May that state of mind endure forever! But come! +Haven't you an idea, either of you, who my Knight of the Stare can be?" + +"You didn't describe him, Opal." + +Opal opened her eyes in wide surprise. + +"Didn't I? Why, I thought I did, graphically! A Greek god, dressed _en +règle_. What more do you want? I am sure anyone ought to recognize him +by that." + +Her listeners looked at her in real consternation, which she was quick +to see. Her eyes danced. + +"Well, if you insist upon details, I can supply a few, I guess, if I +try. I am really dying of curiosity to know who he is and why he stared. +Of course I didn't look at him very closely. It wouldn't have +been--er--what do you call it?--proper. And of course I could not see +clearly at night, anyway. But I did notice he was about six feet tall. +Imagine me, poor little me, looking up to six feet! With broad +shoulders; an athletic, muscular figure, like a young Hercules; a +well-shaped head, like Apollo's, covered with curls of fair hair; a +smooth, clear skin, with the tint of the rose in his cheek that deepened +to blood-red when his blue eyes, in which the skies of all the world +seemed to be mirrored, stared with an expression like that of a man upon +whom the splendor of some glorious Paradise was just dawning. He looked +like an Englishman, yet something in his attitude and general appearance +made me think that he was not. His hands--" + +"Opal! Opal! What do you mean? How could you see so much of a young man +in so short a time? And at night, too?" + +Opal pouted. + +"You wanted a detailed description. I was trying to give it to you. As I +told you at the start, I couldn't see much. But anyway, he stared!" + +"And I dare say he wasn't the only one who stared!" put in Lady Alice in +dry tones of reprehension. "I can't imagine who it could be, can you, +mother?" + +"Not unless it was that strange young Monsieur Zalenska--_Paul_ +Zalenska, I believe he calls himself--Paul Verdayne's guest. I rather +think, from the description, that it must have been he!" + +"Zalenska? What a name! I wonder if he won't let me call him 'Paul!'" +said the incorrigible Opal, musingly. "I shall ask him the first time I +see him. Paul's a pretty name! I like that--but I'll never, never be +able to twist my tongue around the other. He'd get out of hearing before +I could call him and that would never do at all! But 'Monsieur,' you +say? Why 'Monsieur'? He certainly doesn't look at all like a Frenchman!" + +"No one knows what he is, Opal; nor who. That is, no one but the +Verdaynes. He has always made a mystery of himself." + +Opal clapped her small hands childishly. + +"Charming! My ideal knight in the flesh! But how shall I attract him?" + +She knitted her brows and pondered as seriously as though the fate of +nations depended upon her decision. + +"Shall I send him my card, Alice, and ask him to call? Or would it be +better to make an appointment with him for the Park? Perhaps a +'personal' in the _News_ would answer my purpose--do you think he reads +the _News_, or would the _Times_ be better? Come, cousins, what do you +think? I am so young, you know! Please advise me." + +She clasped her hands in a charming gesture of helpless appeal and the +ladies looked at one another in horrified silence. What unheard of thing +would this impossible girl propose next! They would be thankful when +they saw her once more safely embarked for the "land of the free," and +out from under their chaperonage, they hoped, forever. They realized +that she was quite beyond their restraining powers. Had she no sense of +decency at all? + +The door opened, callers were announced, and the day was saved. + +Opal straightened up, put on what she called her "best dignity" and +comported herself in so very well-bred and amiable a manner that her +cousins quite forgave all her past delinquencies and smiled approval +upon the charming courtesy she extended to their guests. She could be +_such_ a lady when she would! No one could resist her! And yet they felt +themselves sitting upon the crater of a volcano liable to erupt at any +moment. One never felt quite safe with Opal. + +But, much to their surprise and relief, everything went beautifully, and +the guests departed, delighted with Lady Alice's "charming American +cousin, so sweet, so dainty, so witty, so brilliant, and altogether +lovely--really quite a dear, you know!" + +But for all that, Lady Alice Mordaunt and Lady Fletcher were far from +feeling easy over their guest, and ardently wished that the girl's +father would cut short his visit to France and return to take her back +with him to America. And while these two worthy ladies worried and +fretted, Opal Ledoux laughed and dreamed. + +And in a big mansion over in Berkeley Square Monsieur Paul Zalenska +wondered--and listened. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was a whole two weeks after the Boy's experience at the theatre, and +though the echoes of that mysterious voice still rang through all his +dreams at night, and most of his waking hours, he had not heard its lilt +again. + +Paul Verdayne smiled to himself to note the youngster's sudden interest +in society. He had not--strange as it may seem--been told a word of the +experience, but he was not curious. He certainly knew the world, if +anyone knew it, and though he was sure he recognized the symptoms, he +had too much tact to ask, "Who is the girl?" + +"Let the Boy have his little secrets," he thought, remembering his own +callow days. "They will do him good." + +And though the Boy felt an undue sense of guilt, he continued to keep +his lips closed and his eyes and ears open, though it often seemed so +utterly useless to do so. Sometimes he wondered if he had dropped to +sleep, there behind the hawthorn hedge that afternoon, and dreamed it +all. + +Verdayne and the Boy were sitting at luncheon at the Savoy. Sir Charles +and Lady Henrietta had gone down to Verdayne Place for a week, and the +two men were spending most of their time away from the lonely house in +Berkeley Square. + +That day they were discussing the Boy's matrimonial prospects as +proposed by the Grand Duke Peter--indeed, they were usually discussing +them. The Boy had written, signifying his acceptance and approval of the +arrangements as made. Nothing else was expected of him for the present, +but his nature had not ceased its revolt against the decree of Fate, and +Paul Verdayne shared his feeling of repugnance to the utmost. Perhaps +Verdayne felt it even more acutely than the young Prince himself, for he +knew so much better all that the Boy was sacrificing. But he also knew, +as did the poor royal victim himself, that it was inevitable. + +"I don't wonder at the court escapades that occasionally scandalize all +Europe," said the Boy. "I don't wonder at all! The real wonder is that +more of the poor slaves to royalty do not snap the chains that bind +them, and bolt for freedom. It would be like me,--very like me!" + +And Verdayne could say nothing. He knew of more reasons than one why it +would be very like the Boy to do such a thing, and he sighed as he +thought that some time, perhaps, he might do it. And yet he could not +blame him! + +"Father Paul," went on the Boy, his thoughts taking a new turn, "you are +a bachelor--a hopeless old bachelor--and you have never told me why. Of +course there's a woman or two in it! We have talked about everything +else under the sun, I think--you and I--but, curiously enough, we have +never talked of love! Yet I feel sure that you believe in it. Don't you, +Father Paul? Come now, confess! I am in a mood for sentiment to-day, and +I want to hear what drove you to a life of single blessedness--what made +my romantic old pal such a confirmed old celibate! I don't believe that +you object to matrimony on general principles. Tell me your love-story, +please, Father Paul." + +"What makes you so certain that I have had one, Boy?" + +"Oh, I don't know just why, but I am certain! It's there in your lips +when you smile, in your eyes when you are moved, in your voice when you +allow yourself to become reminiscent. You are full of memories that you +have never spoken of to me. And now, Father Paul--now is the accepted +time!" + +For a moment Verdayne was nonplussed. What could he reply? There was +only one love-story in his life, and that one would end only with his +own existence, but he could not tell that story to the Boy--yet! +Suddenly, however, an old, half-forgotten memory flashed across his +mind. Of course he had a love-story. He would tell the Boy the story of +Isabella Waring. + +So, as they sat together over their coffee and cigarettes, Verdayne told +his young guest about the Curate's daughter, who had all unconsciously +wielded such an influence over the events of his past life. He told of +the girl's kindness to him when he had broken his collarbone; of her +assistance so freely offered to his mother; of her jolly, lively +spirits, her amiable disposition and general gay good-fellowship; and +then of the unlucky kiss that had aroused the suspicion and august +displeasure of Lady Henrietta, and had sent her erring son a wanderer +over the face of Europe--to forget! + +He painted his sadness at leaving home--and Isabella--in pathetic +colors. Indeed, he became quite affecting when he pictured his parting +with Isabella, and when in repeating his parting words, he managed to +get just the right suspicion of a tremble into his voice, he really felt +quite proud of his ability as a story-teller. + +The Boy was plainly touched. + +"What foolishness to think that such a love as yours could be cured +merely by sending you abroad!" he said. + +"Just what I thought, Boy--utter folly!" + +"Of course it didn't cure you, Father Paul. You didn't learn to forget, +did you? Oh, it was cruel to send you away when you loved her like +that! I didn't think it of Aunt Henrietta--I didn't indeed!" + +"Oh, you mustn't blame mother, Boy. She meant it for the best, just as +your Uncle Peter now means it for the best for you and yours. She +thought I would forget." + +"Was she very, very beautiful, Father Paul? But of course she was, if +_you_ loved her!" + +"She was pretty, Boy--at least I thought so." + +"Big or little?" + +"Tall--very tall." + +"I like tall, magnificent women. There's something majestic about them. +I hope the Princess Elodie"--and the Boy made a wry face--"will be +quite six foot tall. I could never love a woman small either in body or +mind. I am sure I should have liked your Isabella, Father Paul. Majestic +women of majestic minds for me, for there you have the royal stamp of +nature that makes some women born to the purple. Yes, I am sure I should +have liked Isabella. Tell me more." + +Paul Verdayne smiled. He should hardly have considered Isabella Waring +in any degree "majestic"--but he did not say so. + +"She was charmingly healthy and robust--athletic, you know, and all +that--with light fluffy hair. I believe she used to wear it in a net. +Blue eyes, of course--thoroughly English, you know--and a fine comrade. +Liked everything that I liked, as most girls at that age didn't, +naturally. Of course, mother couldn't appreciate her. She wasn't her +style at all. And she naturally thought--mother did, I mean--that when +she sent me away 'for my health'"--the Boy smiled--"that I'd forget all +about her." + +Verdayne began to think he wasn't telling it well after all. He looked +out of the window. It was getting hard to meet the frank look in the +Boy's blue eyes. + +"Forget!" and there was a fine scorn in the tones of the young +enthusiast. "But you didn't! you didn't! I'm sure you didn't!" + +The romantic story appealed strongly to the Boy's mood. + +"But why didn't you marry her when you came back, Father Paul? Did she +die?" + +"No, she didn't die. She is still living, I believe." + +"Then why didn't you marry her, Father Paul? Did they still oppose it? +Surely when you came home and they saw you had not forgotten, it was +different. Tell me how it was when you came home." + +And Paul Verdayne, in a voice he tried his best to make very sad and +heart-broken, replied with downcast eyes, "When I came home, Boy, I +found Isabella Waring ready to marry a curate, and happy over the +prospect of an early wedding. So, you see, my share in her life was +over." + +The Boy's face fell. He had not anticipated this ending to the romance. +How could any woman ever have proved faithless to his Father Paul! And +how could he, poor man, still keep his firm, dauntless belief in the +goodness and truth of human nature after so bitter an experience as +this! It shocked his sense of right and justice--this story. He wished +he had not asked to hear it. + +"Thank you for telling me, Father Paul. It was kind of you to open your +past life to me like this, and very unkind of me to ask what I should +have known would cost you such pain to tell. I am truly sorry for it +all, Father Paul. Thank you again--and forgive me!" + +"It's a relief to open one's heart, sometimes, to one who can +sympathize," replied Verdayne, with a deep sigh. But he felt like a +miserable hypocrite. + +Poor Isabella Waring! He had hardly given her a passing thought in +twenty years. And now he had vilified her to help himself out of a tight +corner. Well, she was always a good sort. She wouldn't mind being +used--or even misused--to help out her "old pal" this way. Still it made +him feel mean, and he was glad when the Boy dropped the subject and +turned again to his own difficulties. + +But the mind of the young prince was restive, that day. Nothing held his +attention long. It seemed, like his eye, to be roving hither and +thither, seeking something it never could find. + +"You have been to America, Father Paul, haven't you?" he asked. + +America? Yes, Verdayne had been to America. It was in America that he +had passed one season of keenest anguish. He had good reason to remember +it--such good reason that in all their wanderings about the world he had +never seen fit to take the Boy there. + +But something had aroused the young fellow's passing interest, and now +nothing would satisfy him save that he must hear all about America; and +so, for a full hour, as best he could, Verdayne described the country of +the far West as he remembered it. + +"Nothing in America appealed to me so strongly as the gigantic +prairies," he said at last. "You were so deeply moved by our trip to +Africa, Boy, that you must remember the impression of vastness and +infinity the great desert made upon us. Well, in the glorious West of +America it is as if the desert had sprung to life, and from every grain +of sand had been born a blade of grass, waving and fluttering with the +joy of new birth. Oh, it is truly wonderful, Paul! Once I went there +with the soil of my heart scorched as dry and lifeless as the burning +sands of Sahara, but in that revelation of a new creation, some pulse +within me sprang mysteriously into being again. It could never be the +same heart that it once was, but it would now know the semblance of a +new existence. And I took up the burden of life again--albeit a strange, +new life--and came home to fight it out. The prairies did all that for +me, Boy!" He paused for a moment, and then spoke in a sadder tone. "It +was soon after that, Paul, that I first found you." + +Paul Zalenska thought that he understood. That, of course, was after +Isabella Waring had wrecked his life. Cruel, heartless Isabella! He had +never even heard her name before to-day, but he hated her, wherever she +might be! + +"There is a legend they tell out there that is very pretty and +appropriate," went on Verdayne, dreamily. "They say that when the +Creator made the world, He had indiscriminately strewn continents and +valleys, mountains and seas, islands and lakes, until He came to the +western part of America, and despite His omnipotence, was puzzled to +know what new glories He could possibly contrive for this corner of the +earth. Something majestic and mighty it must be, He thought, and yet of +an altogether different beauty from that in the rest of the +universe--something individual, distinctive. The seas still overflowed +the land, as they had through past eternities, awaiting His touch to +call into form and being the elements still sleeping beneath the +water--the living representation of His thought. Suddenly stretching out +His rod, He bade the waters recede--and they did so, leaving a vast +extent of grassy land where the majestic waves had so lately rolled and +tossed. And it is said that the land retains to this day the memory of +the sea it then was, while the grasses wave with a subtle suggestion of +the ocean's ebb and flow beneath the influence of a wind that is like no +other wind in the world so much as an ocean breeze; while the gulls, +having so well learned their course, fly back and forth as they did +before the mystic change from water into earth. Indeed, the first +impression one receives of the prairie is that of a vast sea of growing +vegetation!" + +The Boy's eyes sparkled. This was the fanciful Father Paul that he +loved best of all. + +"Some time we must go there, Father Paul. Is it not so?" + +"Yes, Boy, some time!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Rebellious thoughts were flitting through the brain of Paul Zalenska as +he rode forth the next morning, tender and fanciful ones, too, as he +watched the sun's kisses fall on leaf and flower and tree, drying with +their soft, insistent warmth the tears left by the dew of night, and +wooing all Nature to awake--to look up with glorious smiles, for the +world, after all, is beautiful and full of love and laughter. + +Why should _not_ Paul be happy? Was he not twenty, and handsome, and +rich, and popular, and destined for great things? Was there a want in +the world that he could not easily have satisfied, had he so desired? +And was he not officially betrothed to the Princess Elodie of Austria-- + +"Damn the Princess Elodie!" he thought, with more emphasis than +reverence, and he rode along silently, slowly, a frown clouding his +fresh, boyish brow, face to face with the prose of the existence he +would fain have had all romance and poetry. + +It had all been arranged for him by well-meaning minds--minds that could +never see how the blessing they had intended to bestow might by any +chance become a curse. + +The Boy came of age in February next--February nineteenth--but it had +been the strongly expressed wish of his mother that his coronation +should not take place until May. + +For was it not in May that she had met her Paul? + +She had felt, from the birth of the young Prince, a presentiment of her +own early death, and had formed many plans and voiced many preferences +for his future. No one knew what personal reasons the Imperatorskoye had +for the wish, but she had so definitely and unmistakably made the desire +known to all her councillors that none dreamed of disobeying the mandate +of their deceased and ever-to-be-lamented Queen. Her slightest wish had +always been to them an Unassailable law. + +So the coronation ceremonies were to take place in the May following the +Prince's birthday, and the Regent had arranged that the marriage should +also be celebrated at that time. Of course, the Boy had acquiesced. He +saw no reason to put it off any longer. It was always best to swallow +your bitterest pill first, he thought, and get the worst over and the +taste out of your mouth as soon as possible. + +Until that eventful time, the Prince was free to go where he pleased, +and to do whatever he wished. He had insisted upon this liberty, and the +Regent, finding him in all other respects so amenable to his leading, +gladly made the concession. This left him a year--that is, nearly a +year, for it was June now--of care-free bachelorhood; a year for one, +who was yet only a dreamy boy, to acquire the proper spirit for a happy +bridegroom; a year of Father Paul! + +He rode along aimlessly for a short distance, scarcely guiding his +horse, and only responding to the greetings of acquaintances he chanced +to meet with absent-minded, though still irreproachable, courtesy. He +was hardly thinking at all, now--at least consciously. He was simply +glad to be alive, as Youth is glad--in spite of any possible, or +impossible, environment. + +Suddenly his eyes fell upon a feminine rider some paces in advance, who +seemed to attract much attention, of which she was--apparently +--delightfully unconscious. Paul marked the faultless proportions of her +horse. + +"What a magnificent animal!" he thought. Then, under his breath, he +added, "and what a stunning rider!" + +She was only a girl--about eighteen or nineteen, he should judge by her +figure and the girlish poise of her small head--but she certainly knew +how to ride. She sat her horse as though a part of him, and controlled +his every motion as she would her own. + +"Just that way might she manage a man," Paul thought, and then laughed +aloud at the absurdity of the thought. For he had never seen the girl +before. + +Paul admired a good horsewoman--they are so pitifully few. And he +followed her, at a safe distance, with an interest unaccountable, even +to him. Finally she drew rein before one of the houses facing the Row, +dismounted, and throwing the train of her habit gracefully over her arm, +walked to the door with a brisk step. Paul instantly likened her to a +bird, so lightly tripping over the walk that her feet scarcely seemed to +touch the ground. She was a wee thing--certainly not more than five foot +tall--and _petite_, almost to an extreme. The Boy had expressed a +preference, only a few days before, for tall, magnificent women. Now he +suddenly discovered that the woman for a man to love should by all means +be short and small. He wondered why it had never occurred to him in that +light before, and thought of Jacques' question about Rosalind, "What +stature is she of?" and Orlando's reply, "As high as my heart!" + +The girl who had aroused this train of thought had reached the big stone +steps by this time, and suddenly turning to look over her shoulder, just +as he passed the gate, met his gaze squarely. Gad! what eyes those +were!--full of mystery and magnetism, and--possibilities! + +For an instant their eyes clung together in that strange mingling of +glances that sometimes holds even utter strangers spell-bound by its +compelling force. + +Then she turned and entered the house, and Paul rode on. + +But that glance went with him. It tormented him, troubled him, perplexed +him. He felt a mad desire to turn back, to follow her into that house, +and compel her to meet his eyes again. Did she know the power of her own +eyes? Did she know a look like that had almost the force of a caress? + +He told himself that they were the most beautiful eyes that he had ever +seen--and yet he could not have told the color of them to save his soul. +He began to wonder about that. It vexed him that he could not remember. + +"Eyes!" he thought, "those are not eyes! They are living magnets, +drawing a fellow on and on, and he never stops to think what color they +are--nor _care!_" + +And then he pulled himself up sharply, and declared himself a madman +for raving on the street in broad daylight over the mere accidental +meeting with a pair of pretty eyes. He--the uncrowned king of a +to-be-glorious throne! He--the affianced husband of the Princess Elodie +of--Hell! He refused to think of it! And again the horse he rode and the +Park trees heard a bit of Paul Zalenska's English profanity that should +have made them hide in shame over the depravity of youth. + +But the strangest thing of all was that the Boy, for the nonce, was not +thinking of--nor listening for--the voice! + +He turned as he reached the end of the Row and rode slowly back. But the +horses and groom had already gone from the gate. And inwardly cursing +his slowness, he started on a trot for Berkeley Square. + +He was not very far from the Verdayne house, when, turning a sudden +corner, he came upon the girl again, riding at a leisurely pace in the +opposite direction. Startled by his unexpected appearance, she glanced +back over her shoulder as she passed, surprising him--and perhaps +herself, too, for girls do that sometimes--by a ringing and tantalizing +laugh! + +That laugh! Wonder upon wonders, it was _the voice_! + +It was she--Opal! + +He wheeled his horse sharply, but swift as he was, she was yet swifter +and was far down the street before he was fairly started in pursuit. His +one desire of the moment was to catch and conquer the sprite that +tempted him. + +Her veil fluttered out behind her on the breeze, like a signal of +no-surrender, and once--only once--she looked back over her shoulder. +She was too far ahead for him to catch the glint of her eye, but he +heard the echo of that laugh--that voice--and it spurred him on and on. + +Suddenly, by some turn known only to herself, she eluded him and escaped +beyond his vision--and beyond his reach. He halted his panting horse at +the crossing of several streets, and swore again. But though he looked +searchingly in every possible direction, there was no trace of the +fugitive to be seen. It was as though the earth had opened and +swallowed horse and rider in one greedy gulp. + +Baffled and more disappointed than he cared to own, Paul rode slowly +back to Berkeley Square, his heart bounding with the excitement of the +chase and yet thoroughly vexed over his failure, at himself, his horse, +the girl. + +At the house he found letters from the Regent awaiting him, recalling to +him his position and its unwelcome responsibilities. One of them +enclosed a full-length photograph of his future bride. + +Fate had certainly been kind to him by granting his one expressed wish. +The Princess Elodie was what he had desired, "quite six-foot tall." Yet +he pushed the portrait aside with an impatient gesture, and before his +mental vision rose a little figure tripping up the steps, with a +backward glance that still seemed to pierce his very soul. + +He was not thinking, as he certainly should have been, of the Princess +Elodie! And he had not even noticed whether she had any eyes or not! + +He looked again at the picture of the Austrian princess, lying face +upward upon the pile of letters. With disgust and loathing he swept the +offending portrait into a drawer, and summoning Vasili, began to make a +hasty toilet. + +Vasili had never seen his young master in such bad humor. He was +unpardonably late for luncheon, but that would not disturb him, surely +not to such an extent as this! + +He was greatly disturbed by something. There was no denying that. + +He had found the voice, but-- + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was the next morning at the breakfast table that Paul Zalenska, +listlessly looking over the "Society Notes" in the _Times_, came upon +this significant notice: + + "Mr. Gilbert Ledoux and daughter, Miss Opal Ledoux, of New Orleans, + accompanied by Henri, Count de Roannes, of Paris, have taken + passage on the Lusitania, which sails for New York on July 3rd." + +It was _she_, of course!--who else could it be? Surely there could not +be more than one Opal in America! + +"Father Paul, I notice that the Lusitania is to sail for America on the +third of July. Can't we make it?" + +Verdayne smiled quietly at the suddenness of the proposal, but was not +unduly surprised. He remembered many unaccountable impulses of his own +when his life was young and his blood was hot. He remembered too with a +tender gratitude how his father had humored him and--was he not "Father +Paul"? + +"I see no reason why not, Boy." + +"You see, I have already lost a whole month out of my one free year. I +am unwilling to waste a single hour of it, Father Paul--wouldn't you be? +And we _must_ see America together, you and I, before I go back +to--prison!" + +"Certainly, Boy, certainly. My time is yours--when you want it, and +where you want it, the whole year through!" + +"I know that, Father Paul, and--I thank you!" + +It was more difficult to arrange matters with Lady Henrietta. She was +not so young as she once was and she still adored her son, as only the +mother of but one child can adore, and could not bear the idea of having +him away from her. Old and steady as he had now become, he was still her +boy, the idol of her heart. Yet she felt, as her son did, that the Boy +was entitled to the few months of liberty left him, and she did not +greatly object, though there was a wistful look in her eyes as they +rested on her son that told how keenly she felt every separation from +him. + +As for Sir Charles, he had not lost the knowing twinkle of the eye. +Moreover, he knew far better than his wife how real was the claim their +young guest had upon their son. And he bade them go with a hearty grasp +of the hand and a bluff Godspeed. + +So it was settled that Verdayne and the Boy, attended only by Vasili, +were to sail for America on the third of July, and passage was +immediately secured on the Lusitania. + + * * * * * + +On the morning of the day appointed, Paul Zalenska from an upper deck +watched the party he had been awaiting, as they mounted the gang-plank. + +Gilbert Ledoux he scarcely noticed. The Count de Roannes, too, +interested him no longer when, with a hasty glance, he had assured +himself that the Frenchman was as old as Ledoux and not the gay young +dandy in Opal's train that he had feared to find him. + +He had eyes alone for the girl, and he watched her closely as she +tripped up the gang-plank, clinging to her father's arm and chattering +gayly in that voice he so well remembered. + +She was not so small at close range as she had appeared at a distance, +but possessed an exquisite roundness of figure and softness of outline +well in proportion to the shortness of her stature. + +He had been proud of his kingship--very proud of his royal blood and his +mission to his little kingdom. But of late he had known some rebellious +thoughts, quite foreign to his mental habit. + +And to-day, as he looked at Opal Ledoux, he thought, "After all, how +much of a real man can I ever be? What am I but a petty pawn on the +chessboard of the world, moved hither and yon, to gain or to lose, by +the finger of Fate!" + +As Opal Ledoux passed him, she met his glance, and slightly flushed by +the _rencontre_, looked back over her shoulder at him and--smiled! And +_such_ a smile! She passed on, leaving him tingling in every fibre with +the thrill of it. + +It was Fate. He had felt it from the very first, and now he was sure of +it. + +How would it end? How _could_ it end? + +Paul Zalenska was very young--oh, very young, indeed! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next day Verdayne and his young companion were introduced to Mr. +Ledoux and his guest. + +Gilbert Ledoux, a reserved man evidently descended from generations of +thinking people, was apparently worried, for his face bore unmistakable +signs of some mental disturbance. Paul Zalenska was struck by the +haunted expression of what must naturally have been a grave countenance. +It was not guilt, for he had not the face of a man pursued by +conscience, but it certainly was fear--a real fear. And Paul wondered. + +As for the Count de Roannes, the Boy dismissed him at once as unworthy +of further consideration. He was brilliantly, even artificially +polished--glaringly ultra-fashionable, ostentatiously polite and suave. +In the lines of his bestial face he bore the records of a lifetime's +profligacy and the black tales of habitual self-indulgence. Paul hated +him instinctively and wondered how a man of Ledoux's unmistakable +refinement could tolerate him for a moment. + +It was not until the middle of the following afternoon that Opal Ledoux +appeared on deck, when her father, with an air of pride, mingled with a +certain curious element of timidity, presented to her in due form both +the Englishman and his friend. + +The eyes of the two young people flashed a recognition that the lips of +each tacitly denied as they responded conventionally to the +introduction. + +Paul noticed that the shadow of her father's uneasiness was reflected +upon her in a somewhat lesser but all too evident degree. And again he +wondered. + +A few moments of desultory conversation that was of no interest to +Paul--and then the Count proposed a game of _écarté_, to which Verdayne +and Ledoux assented readily enough. + +But not so our Boy! + +_Ecarté!_ Bah! When did a boy of twenty ever want to play cards within +sound of the rustle of a petticoat?--and _such_ a petticoat! + +When the elderly gallant noted the attitude of the young fellow he cast +a quick glance of suspicion at Opal. He would have withdrawn his +proposal had he been able to find any plausible excuse. But it was too +late. And with an inward invective on his own blundering, he followed +the other gentlemen to the smoking-room. + +And Paul and Opal were at last face to face--and alone! + +He turned as the sound of the retreating steps died away and looked long +and searchingly into her face. If the girl intended to ignore their +former meeting, he thought, he would at once put that idea beyond all +question. She bore his scrutiny with no apparent embarrassment. She was +an American girl, and as she would have expressed it, she was "game!" + +"Well?" she said at last, questioningly. + +"Yes," he responded, "well--well, indeed, _at last_!" + +She bowed mockingly. + +"And," he went on, "I have been searching for you a long time, Opal!" + +He had not intended to say that, but having said it, he would not take +it back. + +Then she remembered that she had said that she would call him "Paul" the +first time she met him, and she smiled. + +"Searching for me? I don't understand." + +"Of course not! Neither do I! Why should we? The best things in life are +the things we don't--and can't--understand. Is it not so?" + +"Perhaps!" doubtfully. She had never thought of it in just that light +before, but it might be true. It was human nature to be attracted by +mystery. "But you have been looking for me, you say! Since when?--our +race?" And her laugh rang out on the air with its old mocking rhythm. + +And the Boy felt his blood tingle again at the memory of it. + +"But what did you say, Monsieur Zalenska--pardon me--Paul, I mean," and +she laughed again, "what did you say as you rode home again?" + +The Boy shook his head with affected contrition. + +"Unfit to tell a lady!" he said. + +And the girl laughed again, pleased by his frankness. + +"Vowed eternal vengeance upon my luckless head, I suppose!" + +"Oh, not so bad as that, I think," said Paul, pretending to reflect upon +the matter--"I am sure it was not quite so bad as that!" + +"It would hardly have done, would it, to vow what you were not at all +sure you would ever be able to fulfil? Take my advice, and never bank a +_sou_ upon the move of any woman!" + +"You're not a woman," he laughed in her eyes; "you're just an +abbreviation!" + +But Opal was not one whit sensitive upon the subject of her height. Not +she! + +"Well, some abbreviations are more effective than the words they stand +for," she retorted. "I shall cling to the flattering hope that such may +be my attraction to the reader whose 'only books are woman's looks!'" + +"But why did you run away?" + +"Just--because!" Then, after a pause, "Why did you follow?" + +"I don't know, do you? Just--because, I suppose!" + +And then they both laughed again. + +"But I know why you ran. You were afraid!" said Paul. + +Her eyes flashed and there was a fine scorn in her tones. + +"Afraid--of what, pray?" + +"Of being caught--too easily! Come, now--weren't you?" + +"I wouldn't contradict you for the world, Paul." + +She lingered over his name with a cadence in her tone that made it +almost a caress. It thrilled him again as it had from the beginning. + +"But I'll forgive you for running away from me, since I am so fortunate +as to be with you now where you can't possibly run very far! Strange, +isn't it, how Fate has thrown us together?" + +"Very!" + +There was a dry sarcasm in the tones, and a mockery in the glance, that +told him she was not blind to his manoeuvres. Their eyes met and they +laughed again. Truly, life just then was exceedingly pleasant for the +two on the deck of the Lusitania. + +"But I was looking for you before that, Opal--long before that--weeks!" + +The girl was truly surprised now and turned to him wonderingly. Then, +without question, he told her of his overhearing her at the garden +party--what a long time ago it seemed!--and his desire, ever since, to +meet her. + +He told her, too, of his hearing her laugh at the theatre that night; +but the girl was silent, and said not a word of having seen him there. +Confidences were all right for a man, she thought, but a girl did well +to keep some things to herself. + +He did not say that he was deliberately following her to America, but +the girl had her own ideas upon the subject and smiled to herself at the +lively development of affairs since that tiresome garden party she had +found so unbearable. Here was an adventure after her own heart. + +And yet Opal Ledoux had much on her mind just then. The Boy had read the +signs upon her face correctly. She was troubled. + +For a long time they sat together, and looking far out over the vast +expanse of dancing blueness, they spoke of life--and the living of it. +And both knew so little of either! + +It was a strange talk for the first one--so subtly intimate, with its +flashes of personality and freedom from conventions, that it seemed like +a meeting of old friends, rather than of strangers. Some intimacies are +like the oak, long and steady of growth; others spring to full maturity +in an hour's time. And these two had bridged the space of years in a few +moments of converse. They understood each other so well. + +This same idea occurred to them simultaneously, as she looked up at him +with eyes glowing with a quick appreciation of some well-expressed and +worthy thought. Something within him stirred to sudden life--something +that no one else had ever reached. + +He looked into her eyes and thought he had never looked into the eyes of +a woman before. She smiled--and he was sure it was the first time he had +ever seen a woman smile! + +"I am wild to be at home again," she was saying, "fairly crazy for +America! How I love her big, broad, majestic acres--the splendid sweep +of her meadows--the massive grandeur of her mountain peaks--the glory of +her open skies! You too, I believe, are a wanderer on strange seas. You +can hardly fail to understand my longing for the homeland!" + +"I do understand, Opal. I am on my first visit to your country. Tell me +of her--her institutions, her people! Believe me, I am greatly +interested!" + +And he was--in _her_! Nothing else counted at that moment. But the girl +did not understand that--then! + +For half an hour, perhaps, she lost herself in an eloquent eulogy of +America, while the Boy sat and watched her, catching the import of but +little that she said, it must be confessed, but drinking in every detail +of her expressive countenance, her flashing, lustrous eyes, her red, +impulsive lips and rounded form, and her white, slender hands, always +employed in the expression of a thought or as the outlet for some +passing emotion. He caught himself watching for the occasional glimpses +of her small white teeth between the rose of her lips. He saw in her +eyes the violet sparks of smouldering fires, kindled by the volcanic +heart sometimes throbbing and threatening so close to the surface. When +the eruption came!--Fascinated he watched the rise and sweep of her +white arm. Every line and curve of her body was full of suggestion of +the ardent and restless and impulsive temperament with which nature had +so lavishly endowed her. She was alive with feeling--alive to the +finger-tips with the joy of life, the fullness of a deep, emotional +nature. + +It occurred to Paul that nature had purposely left her body so small, +albeit so beautifully rounded, that it might devote all its powers to +the building therein of a magnificent, flaming soul--that her inner +nature might always triumph. But Opal had never been especially +conscious of a soul--scarcely of a body. She had not yet found herself. + +Paul's emotions were in such chaotic rebellion that the thunder of his +heart-beats mingled with the pulse hammering through his brain and made +him for the first time in his life curiously deaf to his own thoughts. + +As she met his eye, expressing more than he realized of the storm +within, her own fell with a sudden sense of apprehension. She rose and +looked far out over the restless waves with a sudden flush on her +dimpled cheek, a subtle excitement in her rapid words. + +"As for our men, Paul, they are only human beings, but mighty with that +strength of physique and perfect development of mind that makes for +power. They are men of dauntless purpose. They are men of pure thoughts +and lofty ideals. They know what they want and bend every ambition and +energy to its attainment. Of course I speak of the average American--the +_type_! The normal American is a born fighter. Yes, that is the key-note +of American supremacy! We never give up! never! In my country, what men +want, they get!" + +She raised her hand in a quaint, expressive gesture, and the loose +sleeve fell back, leaving her white arm bare. He sprang to his feet, his +eyes glowing. + +"And in my country, what men want, they _take_!" he responded +fiercely--almost brutally and without a second's warning Paul threw his +arms about her and crushed her against his breast. He pressed his lips +mercilessly upon her own, holding them in a kiss that seemed to Opal +would never end. + +"How--how dare you!" she gasped, when at last she escaped his grasp and +faced him in the fury of outraged girlhood. "I--I--hate you!" + +"Dare? When one loves one dares anything!" was his husky response. "I +shall have had my kiss and you can never forget that! Never! never!" + +And Paul's voice grew exultant. + +Opal had heard of the brutality, the barbarism of passion, but her life +had flowed along conventional channels as peacefully as a quiet river. +She had longed to believe in the fury of love--in that irresistible +attraction between men and women. It appealed to her as it naturally +appeals to all women who are alive with the intensity of life. But she +had _seen_ nothing of it. + +Now she looked living Passion in the face for the first time, and was +appalled--half frightened, half fascinated--by the revelation. That kiss +seemed to scorch her lips with a fire she had never dreamed of. With +the universal instinct of shamed womanhood, she pressed her handkerchief +to her lips, rubbing fiercely at the soiled spot. He divined her thought +and laughed, with a note of exultation that stirred her Southern blood. + +In defiance she raised her eyes and searched his face, seeking some +solution of the mystery of her own heart's strange, rebellious +throbbing. What could it mean? + +Paul took another step toward her, his face softening to tenderness. + +"What is it, Opal?" he breathed. + +"I was--trying--to understand you." + +"I don't understand myself sometimes--certainly not to-day!" + +"I thought you were a gentleman!" + +(I wonder if Eve didn't say that to Adam in the garden!) + +"I have been accustomed to entertain that same idea myself," he said, +"but, after all, what is it to be a gentleman? All men can be gentle +when they get what they want. That's no test of gentility. It takes +circumstances outside the normal to prove man's civilization. When his +desires meet with opposition the brute comes to the surface--that's +all." + +Another rush of passion lighted his eyes and sought its reflection in +hers. Opal turned and fled. + + * * * * * + +In the seclusion of her stateroom Opal faced herself resolutely. A +sensation of outrage mingled with a strange sense of guilt. Her +resentment seemed to blend with something resembling a strange, fierce +joy. She tried to fight it down, but it would not be conquered. + +Why was he so handsome, so brilliant, this strange foreign fellow whom +she felt intuitively to be more than he claimed to be? What was the +secret of his power that even in the face of this open insult she could +not be as angry as she knew she should have been? + +She looked in the mirror apprehensively. No, there was no sign of that +terrible kiss. And yet she felt as though all the world must have seen +had they looked at her--felt that she was branded forever by the burning +touch of his lips! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It was not until the dinner hour on the following day that Paul and Opal +met again. One does not require an excuse for keeping to one's stateroom +during an ocean voyage--especially during the first few days--and the +girl, though in excellent health and a capital sailor, kept herself +secluded. + +She wanted to understand herself and to understand this stranger who was +yet no stranger. For a girl who had looked upon life as she had she felt +woefully unsophisticated. But the Boy? He was certainly not a man of the +world, who through years of lurid experience had learned to look upon +all women as his legitimate quarry. If he had been that sort, she told +herself, she would have been on her guard instinctively from the very +first. But she knew he was too young for that--far too young--- and his +eyes were frank and clear and open, with no dark secrets behind their +curtained lids. But what was he--and who? + +When the day was far spent, she knew that she was no nearer a solution +than she had been at dawn, so she resolved to join the group at table +and put behind her the futile labor of self-examination. She would not, +of course, deign to show any leniency toward the offender--indeed not! +She would not vouchsafe one unnecessary word for his edification. + +But she took elaborate care with her toilet, selected her most becoming +gown and drove her maid into a frenzy by her variations of taste and +temper. + +It was truly a very bewitching Opal who finally descended to the _salon_ +and joined the party of four masculine incapables who had spent the day +in vain search for amusement. Paul Zalenska rose hastily at her entrance +and though she made many attempts to avoid his gaze she was forced at +last to meet it. The electric spark of understanding flashed from eye to +eye, and both thrilled in answer to its magnetic call. In the glance +that passed between them was lurking the memory of a kiss. + +Opal blushed faintly. How dare he remember! Why, his very eyes echoed +that triumphant laugh she could not forget. She stole another glance at +him. Perhaps she had misjudged him--but-- + +She turned to respond to the greeting of her father and the other two +gentlemen, and soon found herself seated at the table opposite the Boy +she had so recently vowed to shun. Well, she needn't talk to him, that +was one consolation. Yet she caught herself almost involuntarily +listening for what he would say at this or that turn of the conversation +and paying strict--though veiled--attention to his words. + +It was a strange dinner. No one felt at ease. The air was charged with +something that all felt too tangibly oppressive, yet none could define, +save the two--who would not. + + * * * * * + +For Paul the evening was a dismal failure. Try as he would, he could not +catch Opal's eye again, nor secure more than the most meagre replies +even to his direct questions. She was too French to be actually +impolite, but she interposed between them those barriers only a woman +can raise. She knew that Paul was mad for a word with her; she knew that +she was tormenting and tantalizing him almost beyond endurance; she felt +his impatience in every nerve of her, with that mysterious sixth sense +some women are endowed with, and she rejoiced in her power to make him +suffer. He deserved to suffer, she said. Perhaps he'd have some idea of +the proper respect due the next girl he met! These foreigners! _Mon +Dieu_! She'd teach him that American girls were a little different from +the kind they had in his country, where "what men want, they take," as +he had said. What kind of heathen was he? + +And she watched him surreptitiously from under her long lashes with a +curious gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. She had always known she had +this power over men, but she had never cared quite so much about using +it before and had been more annoyed than gratified by the effect her +personality had had upon her masculine world. + +So she smiled at the Count, she laughed with the Count and made eyes +most shamelessly at the disgusting old gallant till something in his +face warned her that she had reached a point beyond which even her +audacity dared not go. + +Heavens! how the old monster would _devour_ a woman, she thought, with a +thrill of disgust. There were awful things in his face! + +And the Boy glared at de Roannes with unspeakable profanity in his eyes, +while the girl laughed to herself and enjoyed it all as girls do enjoy +that sort of thing. + +It was delightful, this game of speaking eyes and lips. + + "Oh, the little more, and how much it is! + And the little less, and what worlds away!" + +But it was, as she could dimly see, a game that might prove exceedingly +dangerous to play, and the Count had spoiled it all, anyway. And a +curious flutter in her heart, as she watched the Boy take his punishment +with as good grace as possible, pled for his pardon until she finally +desisted and bade the little company good night. + +At her departure the men took a turn at bridge, but none of them seemed +to care much for the cards that night and the Boy soon broke away. He +was about to withdraw to his stateroom in chagrin when quite +unexpectedly he found Opal standing by the rail, wrapped in a long +cloak. She was gazing far out toward the distant horizon, the light of +strange, puzzling thoughts in the depths of her eyes. She did not notice +him until he stood by her side, when she turned and faced him defiantly. + +"Opal," he said, "there was one poet of life and love whom we did not +quote in our little discussion to-night. Do you remember Tennyson's +words, + + "'A man had given all earthly bliss + And all his worldly worth for this, + To waste his whole heart in one kiss + Upon her perfect lips?' + +Let them plead for me the pardon I know no better way to sue for--or +explain!" + +The girl was silent. That little flutter in her heart was pleading for +him, but her head was still rebellious, and she knew not which would +triumph. She put one white finger on her lip, and wondered what to say +to him. She would not look into his eyes--they bothered her quite beyond +all reason--so she looked at the deck instead, as though hoping to find +some rule of conduct there. + +"I am sorry, Opal," went on the pleading tones, "that is, sorry that it +offended you. I can't be sorry that I did it--yet!" + +After a moment of serious reflection, she looked up at him sternly. + +"It was a very rude thing to do, Paul! No one ever--" + +"Don't you suppose I know that, Opal? Did you think that I thought--" + +"How was I to know what you thought, Paul? You didn't know me!" + +"Oh, but I do. Better than you know yourself!" + +She looked up at him quickly, a startled expression in her soft, +lustrous eyes. + +"I--almost--believe you do--Paul." + +"Opal!" He paused. She was tempting him again. Didn't she know it? + +"Opal, can't--won't you believe in me? Don't you feel that you know +me?" + +"I'm not sure that I do--even yet--after--that! Oh, Paul, are you sure +that you know yourself?" + +"No, not sure, but I'm beginning to!" + +She made no reply. After a moment, he said softly, "You haven't said +that you forgive me, yet, Opal! I know there is no plausible excuse for +me, but--listen! I couldn't help it--I truly couldn't! You simply must +forgive me!" + +"Couldn't help it?"--Oh, the scorn of her reply. "If there had been any +man in you at all, you could have helped it!" + +"No, Opal, you don't understand! It is because I _am_ a man that I +couldn't help it. It doesn't strike you that way now, I know, but--some +day you will see it!" + +And suddenly she did see it. And she reached out her hand to him, and +whispered, "Then let's forget all about it. I am willing to--if you +will!" + +Forget? He would not promise that. He did not wish to forget! And she +looked so pretty and provoking as she said it, that he wanted to--! But +he only took her hand, and looked his gratitude into her eyes. + +The Count de Roannes came unexpectedly and unobserved upon the climax of +the little scene, and read into it more significance than it really had. +It was not strange, perhaps, that to him this meeting should savour of +clandestine relations and that he should impute to it false motives and +impulses. The Count prided himself upon his tact, and was therefore very +careful to use the most idiomatic English in his conversation. But at +this sudden discovery--for he had not imagined that the acquaintance had +gone beyond his own discernment--he felt the English language quite +inadequate to the occasion, and muttered something under his breath that +sounded remarkably like "_Tison d'enfer!_" as he turned on his heel and +made for his stateroom. + +And the Boy, unconscious and indifferent to all this by-play, had only +time to press to his lips the little hand she had surrendered to him +before the crowd was upon them. + +But the waves were singing a Te Deum in his ears, and the skies were +bluer in the moonlight than ever sea-skies were before. Paul felt, with +a thrill of joy, that he was looking far off into the vaster spaces of +life, with their broader, grander possibilities. He felt that he was +wiser, nobler, stronger--nearer his ideal of what a brave man should be. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +When two are young, and at sea, and in love, and the world is beautiful +and bright, it is joyous and wonderful to drift thoughtlessly with the +tide, and rise and fall with the waves. Thus Paul Zalenska and Opal +Ledoux spent that most delightful of voyages on the Lusitania. They were +not often alone. They did not need to be. Their intimacy had at one +bound reached that point when every word and movement teemed with tender +significance and suggestion. Their first note had reached such a high +measure that all the succeeding days followed at concert pitch. It was a +voyage of discovery. Each day brought forth revelations of some new +trait of character--each unfolding that particular something which the +other had always admired. + +And so their intimacy grew. + +Paul Verdayne saw and smiled. He was glad to see the Boy enjoying +himself. He knew his chances for that sort of thing were all too +pathetically few. + +Mr. Ledoux looked on, troubled and perplexed, but he saw no chance, and +indeed no real reason, for interfering. + +The Count de Roannes was irritated, at times even provoked, but he kept +his thoughts to himself, hiding his annoyance, and his secret explosions +of "_Au diable!_" beneath his usual urbanity. + +There was nothing on the surface to indicate more than the customary +familiarity of young people thrown together for a time, and yet no one +could fail to realize the undercurrent of emotion below the gaiety of +the daily ripple of amusement and pleasurable excitement and converse. + +They read together, they exchanged experiences of travel, they discussed +literature, music, art and the stage, with the enthusiastic partisanship +of zealous youth. They talked of life, with its shade and shadow, its +heights and depths of meaning, and altogether became very well +acquainted. Each day anew, they discovered an unusual congeniality in +thoughts and opinions. They shared in a large measure the same exalted +outlook upon life--the same lofty ambitions and dreams. + +And the more Paul learned of the character of this strange girl, the +more he felt that she was the one woman in the world for him. To be +sure, he had known that, subconsciously, the first time he had heard her +voice. Now he knew it by force of reason as well, and he cursed the fate +that denied him the right to declare himself her lover and claim her +before the world. + +One thing that impressed Paul about the girl was the generous charity +with which she viewed the frailties of human nature, her sincere pity +for all forms of human weakness and defeat, her utter freedom from petty +malice or spite. Rail at life and its hypocrisies, as she often did, she +yet felt the tragedy in its pitiful short-comings, and looked with the +eye of real compassion upon its sins and its sinners, condoning as far +as possible the fault she must have in her very heart abhorred. + +"We all make mistakes," she would say, when someone retailed a bit of +scandal. "No human being is perfect, nor within a thousand miles of +perfection. What right then have we to condemn any fellow-creature for +his sins, when we break just as important laws in some other direction? +It's common hypocrisy to say, 'We never could have done this terrible +thing!' and draw our mantle of self-righteousness closely about us lest +it become contaminated. Perhaps we couldn't! Why? Because our +temptations do not happen to lie in that particular direction, that's +all! But we are all law-breakers; not one keeps the Ten Commandments to +the letter--not one! Attack us on our own weak point and see how quickly +we run up the flag of surrender--and perhaps the poor sinner we denounce +for his guilt would scorn just as bitterly to give in to the weakness +that gets the best of us. _Sin is sin_, and one defect is as hideous as +another. He who breaks one part of the code of morality and +righteousness is as guilty--just exactly as guilty--as he who breaks +another. Isn't the first commandment as binding as the other nine? And +how many of us do not break that every day we live?" + +And there was the whole creed of Opal Ledoux. + +But as intimate as she and the Boy had become, they yet knew +comparatively little of each other's lives. + +Opal guessed that the Boy was of rank, and bound to some definite course +of action for political reasons. This much she had gained from odds and +ends of conversation. But beyond that, she had no idea who he was, nor +whence he came. She would not have been a woman had she not been +curious--and as I have said before, Opal Ledoux was, every inch of her +five feet, a woman--but she never allowed herself to wax inquisitive. + +As for the Boy, he knew there was some evil hovering with threatening +wings over the sunshine of the girl's young life--some shadow she tried +to forget, but could not put aside--and he grew to associate this shadow +with the continued presence of the French Count, and his intimate air of +authority. Paul knew not why he should thus connect these two, but +nevertheless the impression grew that in some way de Roannes exercised a +sinister influence over the life of the girl he loved. + +He hated the Count. He resented every look that those dissolute eyes +flashed at the girl, and he noticed many. He saw Opal wince sometimes, +and then turn pale. Yet she did not resent the offense. + +But Paul did. + +"Such a look from a man like that is the grossest insult to any woman," +he thought, writhing in secret rage. "How can she permit it? If she were +my--my _sister_, I'd shoot him if he once dared to turn his damned eyes +in her direction!" + +And thus matters stood throughout the brief voyage. Paul and Opal, +though conscious of the double barrier between them, tried to forget its +existence for the moment, and, at intervals, succeeded admirably. + +For were they not in the spring-time of youth, and in love? + +And Paul Zalenska talked to this girl as he had never talked to anyone +before--not even Paul Verdayne! + +She brought out the latent best in him. She developed in him a quickness +of perception, a depth of thought and emotion, a facility of speech +which he had never known. She stimulated every faculty, and gave him new +incentive--a new and firmer resolve to aspire and fight for all that he +held dear. + +"I always feel," he said to Opal, once, "as though my soul stood always +at attention, awaiting the inevitable command of Fate! All Nature seems +to tell me at times that there is a purpose in my living, a work for me +to do, and I feel so thoroughly _alive_--so ready to listen to the call +of duty--and to obey!" + +"A dreamer!" she laughed, "as wild a dreamer as I!" + +"Why not?" he returned. "All great deeds are born of dreams! It was a +dreamer who found this America you are so loyal to! And who knows but +that I too may find my world?" + +"And a fatalist, too!" + +"Why, of course! Everyone is, to a greater or a less extent, though +most dare not admit it!" + +"But yesterday you said--what _did_ you say, Paul, about the power of +the human will over environment and fate?" + +"I don't remember. That was yesterday. I'm not the same to-day, at all. +And to-morrow I may be quite different." + +"Behold the consistency of man. But Fate, Paul--what makes Fate? I have +always been taught to believe that the world is what we make it!" + +"And it is true, too, that in a way we may make the world what we will, +each creating it anew for himself, after his own pattern--but after all, +Opal, that is Fate. For what we _are_, we put into these worlds of ours, +and what we are is what our ancestors have made us--and that is what I +understand by destiny." + +"Ah, Paul, you have so many noble theories of life." + +His boyish face grew troubled and perplexed. + +"I _thought_ I had, Opal--till I knew you! Now I do not know! Fate seems +to have taken a hand in the game and my theories are cast aside like +worthless cards. I begin to see more clearly that we cannot always +choose our paths." + +"Can one ever, Paul?" + +"Perhaps not! Once I believed implicitly in the omnipotence of the human +will to make life just what one wished. Now"--and he searched her +eyes--"I know better." + +"Unlucky Opal, to cross your path!" she sighed. "Are you superstitious, +Paul? Do you know that opals bring bad luck to those who come beneath +the spell of their influence?" + +"I'll risk the bad luck, Opal!" + +And she smiled. + +And he thought as he looked at her, how well she understood him! What an +inspiration would her love have brought to such a life as he meant his +to be! What a Récamier or du Barry she would have made, with her +_piquante_, captivating face, her dark, lustrous, compelling eyes, her +significant gestures, which despite many wayward words and phrases, +expressed only lofty and majestic thoughts! Her whole regal little +body, with its irresistible power and charm, was so far beyond most +women! She was life and truth and ambition incarnate! She was the spirit +of dreams and the breath of idealism and the very soul of love and +longing. + +Would she feel insulted, he wondered, had she known he had dared to +compare her, even in his own thoughts, with a king's mistress? He meant +no insult--far from it! But would she have understood it had she known? + +Paul fancied that she would. + +"They may not have been moral, those women," he thought, "that is, what +the world calls 'moral' in the present day, but they possessed power, +marvellous power, over men and kingdoms. Opal Ledoux was created to +exert power--her very breath is full of force and vitality!" + +"Yes," he repeated aloud after due deliberation, "I'll risk the bad luck +if you'll be good tome!" + +"Am I not?" + +"Not always." + +"Well, I will be to-day. See! I have a new book--a sad little +love-tale, they say--just the thing for two to read at sea," and with a +heightened color she began to read. + +She had pulled her deck-chair forward, until she sat in a flood of +sunshine, and the bright rays, falling on her mass of rich brown hair, +heightened all the little glints of red-gold till they looked like +living bits of flame. Oh the vitality of that hair! the intense glow of +those eyes in whose depths the flame-like glitter was reflected as the +voice, too, caught fire from the fervid lines! + +Soon the passion and charm of the poem cast its spell over them both as +they followed the fate of the unhappy lovers through the heart-ache of +their evanescent dream. + +Their eyes met with a quick thrill of understanding. + +"It is--Fate, again," Paul whispered. "Read on, Opal!" + +She read and again they looked, and again they understood. + +"I cannot read any more of it," she faltered, a real fear in her voice. +"Let us put it away." + +"No, no!" he pleaded. "It's true--too true. Read on, please, dear!" + +"I cannot, Paul. It is too sad!" + +"Then let me read it, Opal, and you can listen!" + +And he took the book gently from her hand, and read until the sun was +smiling its farewell to the laughing waters. + + * * * * * + +That evening a strong wind was playing havoc with the waves, and the +fury of the maddened spray was beating a fierce accompaniment to their +hearts. + +"How I love the wind," said Opal. "More than all else in Nature I love +it, I think, whatever its mood may be. I never knew why--probably +because I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is +tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and +wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and +passionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of +the wind!" + +"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count, +drily. "It might be disastrous!" + +"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind +hope, Count de Roannes." + +And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved! + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her +stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face +appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her. + +"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!" + +"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded. + +She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally. + +"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night." + +"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated. + +"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone--really alone--and this is our +last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part--perhaps forever--who +knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!" + +His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response. + +"Well--perhaps!" she said. + +"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you +afraid?" + +"Afraid?--I dare anything--to-night!" + +"Then come!" + +"I will--if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him +a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!" + +Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come. + +And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the +deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his +beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware. + +"Well, ... I'm here," she said. + +"I see you are, Opal and--thank you." + +He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked +at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood! + +"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed. + +"No, I'm not; I am--angry!" + +"With me?" + +"No!--not you." + +"Whom, then?" + +"With--myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously. + +Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you +are so sorry?" + +"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd +have some self-respect!" + +Paul looked at her deliberately, taking in every little detail of her +appearance, his eyes full of admiration. Then he added, with an air of +finality, "But _I_ respect you!" + +She softened, and laid her hand on his arm. Paul instantly took +possession of it. + +"Do you really?" she asked, searching his face, almost wistfully. "A +girl who will do ...what I am doing to-night!" + +"But what _are_ you doing, Opal?" he asked in the most innocent +surprise. "Merely keeping a wakeful man company beneath the stars!" + +"Is that ...all?" + +"All ..._now!_" + +They stood silently for a minute, hand still in hand, looking far out +over the moonlit waters, each conscious of the trend of the other's +thoughts--the beating of the other's heart. The deck was deserted by all +save their two selves--they two alone in the big starlit universe. At +last she spoke. + +"This is interesting, isn't it?" + +"Of course!--holding your hand!" + +She snatched it from him. "I forgot you had it," she said. + +"Forget again!" + +"No, I won't!... Is it always interesting?... holding a girl's hand?" + +"It depends upon the girl, I suppose! I was enjoying it immensely just +then." + +He took her hand again. + +And again that perilously sweet silence fell between them. + +At last, "Promise me, Paul!" she said. + +"I will--what is it?" + +"Promise me to forget anything I may say or do to-night ... not to think +hard of me, however rashly I may act! I'm not accountable, really! I'm +liable to say ...anything! I feel it in my blood!" + +"I understand, Opal! See! the winds are boisterous and unruly enough. +You may be as rash and reckless as you will!" + +Suddenly the wind blew her against his breast. The perfume of her hair, +and all the delicious nearness of her, intoxicated him. He laughed a +soft, caressing little lover-laugh, and raising her face to his, kissed +her lips easily, naturally, as though he had the right. She struggled, +helplessly, as he held her closely to him, and would not let her go. + +"You are a--" She bit her lip, and choked back the offensive word. + +"A--what? Say it, Opal!" + +"A--a--_brute_! There! let me go!" + +But he only held her closer and laughed again softly, till she +whispered, "I didn't--quite--_mean_ that, you know!" + +"Of course you didn't!" + +She drew away from him and pointed her finger at him accusingly, her +eyes full of reproof. + +"But--you _said_ you wouldn't! You promised!" + +"Wouldn't what?" + +"Wouldn't do--what you did--again!" + +"Did I?" insinuatingly. + +"How dare you ask that? You----" + +"'Brute' again? Quite like old married folk!" + +"Old married folk? They never kiss!" + +"Don't they?" + +"Not each other!... other people's husbands or wives!" + +"Is that it?" + +"Surely---- + + 'Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, + He would have written sonnets all his life?' + +O no! not he!" + +"I'm learning many new things, Opal! Let's play we're married, then--to +someone else!" + +"But--haven't you any conscience at all?" + +"Conscience?--what a question! Of course I have!" + +"You certainly aren't using it to-night!" + +"I'm too busy! Kiss me!" + +"The very idea!" + +"Please!" + +"Certainly not!" + +"Then let me kiss you!" + +_"No!!!"_ + +"Why not?--Don't you like to be loved?" + +And his arms closed around her, and his lips found hers again, and held +them. + +At last, "Silly Boy!" + +"Why?" + +"Oh! to make such a terrible fuss about something he doesn't really +want, and will be sorry he has after he gets it!" + +And Paul asked her wickedly, what foolish boy she was talking about now? +_He_ knew what he really wanted--always--and was not sorry when he had +it. Not he! He was sorry only for the good things he had let slip, never +for those he had taken! + +"But--do let me go, Paul! I don't belong to you!" + +"Yes you do--for a little while!" He held her close. + +Belong to him! How she thrilled at the thought! Was this what it meant +to be--loved? And _did_ she belong to him--if only, as he said, for a +little while? She certainly didn't belong to herself! Whatever this +madness that had suddenly taken possession of her, it was stronger than +herself. She couldn't control it--she didn't even want to! At all +events, she was _living_ to-night! Her blood was rushing madly through +her body. She was deliciously, thoroughly alive! + +"Paul!--are you listening?" + +"Yes, dear!" the answer strangely muffled. + +And then she purred in his ear, all the time caressing his cheek with +her small white fingers: "You see, Paul, I knew I had made some sort of +impression upon you. I must have done so or you wouldn't have--done +that! But any girl can make an impression on shipboard, and an affair at +sea is always so--evanescent, that no one expects it to last more than +a week. I don't want to make such a transitory impression upon you, +Paul. I wanted you to remember me longer. I wanted--oh, I wanted to give +you something to remember that was just a little bit different than +other girls had given you--some distinct impression that must linger +with you--always--always! I'm not like other women! Do you see, Paul? It +was all sheer vanity. I wanted you to remember!" + +"And did you think I could forget?" + +"Of course! All men forget a kiss as soon as their lips cease tingling!" + +Paul laughed. "Wise girl! Who taught you so much? Come, confess!" + +"Oh, I've known _you_ a whole week, Paul, and you----" + +But their lips met again and the sentence was never finished. + +At last she put her hands on each side of his face and looked up into +his eyes. + +"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Paul?" + +"Of course not!" + +"Of course you are!" + +"You misunderstood me!--I said _'Not'_! But why? Are you ashamed of +me?" + +"I ought to be, oughtn't I? But--I don't believe you can help it!" + +His lips crushed hers again, fiercely. "I can't, Opal--I can't!" + +She turned away her head, but he buried his face in her neck, kissing +the soft flesh again and again. + +"Such a slip of a girl!" Paul murmured in her ear, when he again found +his voice. "Such a tiny, little girl! I am almost afraid you will vanish +if I don't hold you tight!" + +Opal was thoroughly aroused now--no longer merely passive--quite +satisfactorily responsive. + +"I won't, Paul! I won't! But hold me closer, closer! Crush this terrible +ache out of my heart if you can, Paul!" + +There were tears in her voice. He clasped her to him and felt her heart +throbbing out its pain against its own, as he whispered, "Opal, am I a +brute?" + +"N-o-o-o-o!" A pause. At last, "Let me go now, Paul! This is sheer +insanity!" + +But he made no move to release her until she looked up into his eyes in +an agony of appeal, and pleaded, "Please, Paul!" + +"Are you sure you want to go?" + +"No, I'm not sure of that, but I'm quite sure that I _ought_ to go! I +must! I must!" + +And Paul released her. Where was this madness carrying them? Was he +acting the part of the man he meant to be, or of a cad--an unprincipled +bounder? He did not know. He only knew he wanted to kiss her--_kiss_ +her.... + +She turned on him in a sudden flash of indignation. "Why have you such +power over me?" she demanded. + +"What power over you, Opal!" + +"What's the use of dodging the truth, you professor of honesty? You make +me do things we both know I'll be sorry for all the rest of my life. +_Why_ do you do it?" + +Her eyes blazed with a real anger that made her _piquante_ face more +alluring than ever to the eyes of the infatuated Boy who watched her. He +was fighting desperately for self-control, but if she should look at +him as she had looked sometimes--! + +"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew I was capable of +being foolish--wicked, perhaps--for a _grande passion_. I could forgive +myself that, I think! But for a mere caprice--a _penchant_ like this! +Oh, Paul! what can you think of me?" + +His voice was hoarse--heavy with emotion. + +"Think of you, Opal? I am sure you must know what I think. I've never +had an opportunity to tell you--in so many words--but you must have seen +what I have certainly taken no pains to conceal. Shall I try to tell +you, Opal?" + +"No, no! I don't want to hear a word--not a word! Do you understand? I +forbid you!" + +Paul bowed deferentially. She laughed nervously at the humility in his +obeisance. + +"Don't be ridiculous!" she commanded. "This is growing too melodramatic, +and I hate a scene. But, really, Paul, you mustn't--simply mustn't! +There are reasons--conditions--and--you must not tell me, and I must +not, _will_ not listen!" + +"I mustn't make love to you, you mean?" + +"I mean ... just that!" + +"Why not?" + +"Never mind the 'why.' There are plenty of good and sufficient reasons +that I might give if I chose, but--I don't choose! The only reason that +you need to know is--that I forbid you!" + +She turned away with that regal air of hers that made one forget her +child-like stature. + +"Are you going, Opal?" + +"Yes!--what did I come out here for? I can't remember. Do you know?" + +"To wish me good-night, of course! And you haven't done it!" + +She looked back over her shoulder, a mocking laugh in those inscrutable +eyes. Then she turned and held out both hands to him. + +"Good-night, Paul, good-night!... You seem able to do as you please with +me, in spite of--everything--and I just want to stay in your arms +forever--forever ..." + +Paul caught her to him, and their lips melted in a clinging kiss. + +At last she drew away from his embrace. + +"The glitter of the moonlight and the music of the wind-maddened waves +must have gone to my brain!" She laughed merrily, pulled his face down +to hers for a last swift kiss, and ran from him before he could detain +her. + + * * * * * + +The next morning they met for a brief moment alone. + +Opal shook hands with the Boy in her most perfunctory manner. + +Paul, after a moment's silent contemplation of her troubled face, bent +over her, saying, "Have I offended you, Opal? Are you angry with me?" + +She opened her eyes wide and asked with the utmost innocence "For what?" + +Paul was disconcerted. "Last night!" he said faintly. + +She colored, painfully. + +"No, Paul, listen! I don't blame you a bit!--not a bit! A man would be a +downright fool not to take--what he wanted---- But if you want to +be--friends with me, you'll just forget all about--last night--or at any +rate, ignore it, and never refer to it again." + +He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it for the briefest +possible instant. + +And then their _tête-à-tête_ was interrupted, and they sat down for +their last breakfast at sea. + +Opal Ledoux was not visible again until the Lusitania docked in New +York, when she waved her _companion de voyage_ a smiling but none the +less reluctant _au revoir_! + +But Paul was too far away to see the tears in her eyes, and only +remembered the smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +New York's majestic greatness and ceaseless, tireless activity speedily +engrossed the Boy and opened his eager eyes to a wider horizon than he +had yet known. There was a new influence in the whir and hum of this +metropolis of the Western world that set the wheels of thought to a more +rapid motion, and keyed his soul to its highest tension. + +It was not until his first letter from the homeland had come across the +waters that he paused to wonder what the new factor in his life meant +for his future. He had not allowed his reason to assert itself until the +force of circumstances demanded that he look his soul in the face, and +learn whither he was drifting. Paul was no coward, but he quailed before +the ominous clouds that threatened the happiness of himself and the girl +he loved. + +For now he knew that he loved Opal Ledoux. It was Fate. He had guessed +it at the first sound of her voice; he had felt it at the first glance +of her eye; and he had known it beyond the peradventure of a doubt at +the first touch of her lips. + +Yet this letter from his kingdom was full of suggestions of duties to be +done, of responsibilities to be assumed, of good still to be brought out +of much that was petty and low, and of helpless, miserable human beings +who were so soon to be dependent upon him. + +"I will make my people happy," he thought. "Happiness is the birthright +of every man--be he peasant or monarch." And then the thought came to +him, how could he ever succeed in making them truly happy, when he +himself had so sorely missed the way! There was only one thing to do, he +knew that--both for Opal's sake and for his own--and that was to go far +away, and never see the face again that had bewitched him so. + +Perhaps, if he did this, he might forget the experience that was, after +all, only an episode in a man's life and--other men forget! He might +learn to be calmly happy and contented with his Princess. It was only +natural for a young man to make love to a pretty girl, he thought, and +why should he be any exception? He had taken the good the gods provided, +as any live man would--now he could go his way, as other men did, +and--forget! Why not? And yet the mere thought of it cast such a gloom +over his spirits that he knew in his heart his philosophic attempt to +deceive himself was futile and vain. He might run away, of +course--though it was hardly like him to do that--but he would scarcely +be able to forget. + +And then Verdayne joined him with an open note in his hand--a formal +invitation from Gilbert Ledoux for them to dine with him in his Fifth +Avenue house on the following evening. He wished his family to meet the +friends who had so pleasantly attracted himself and his daughter on +shipboard. + +Was it strange how speedily the Boy's resolutions vanished? Run away! +Not he! + +"Accept the invitation, Father Paul, by all means!" + + * * * * * + +It was a cordial party in which Paul Verdayne and his young companion +found themselves on the following evening--a simple family gathering, +graciously presided over by Opal's stepmother. + +Gilbert Ledoux's wife was one of those fashion-plate women who strike +one as too artificial to be considered as more than half human. You +wonder if they have also a false set of emotions to replace those they +wore out in their youth--_c'est à dire_ if they ever had any! Paul +smiled at the thought that Mr. Ledoux need have no anxiety over the +virtue of his second wife--whatever merry dance the first might have led +him! + +Opal was not present when the gentlemen were announced, and the bevy of +aunts and uncles and cousins were expressing much impatience for her +presence--which Paul Zalenska echoed fervently in his heart. It was +truly pleasant--this warm blood-interest of kinship. He liked the +American clannishness, and he sighed to think of the utter lack of +family affection in his own life. + +The drawing-room, where they were received, was furnished in good taste, +the Boy thought. The French touch was very prominent--the blend of color +seemed to speak to him of Opal. Yes, he liked the room. The effect grew +on one with the charm of the real home atmosphere that a dwelling place +should have. But he wasn't so much interested in that, after all! In +fact, it was rather unsatisfactory--without Opal! These people were +_her_ people and, of course, of more than ordinary interest to him on +her account, but still-- + +And at last, when the Boy was beginning to acknowledge himself slightly +bored, and to resent the familiar footing on which he could see the +Count de Roannes already stood in the family circle, Opal entered, and +the gloomy, wearisome atmosphere seemed suddenly flooded with sunlight. + +She came in from the street, unconventionally removing her hat and +gloves as she entered. + +"Where have you been so long, Opal?" asked Mrs. Ledoux, with +considerable anxiety. + +"At the Colony Club, _ma mère_--I read a paper!" + +"_Mon Dieu!_" put in the Count, in an amused tone. "On what subject?" + +"On 'The Modern Ethical Viewpoint,' _Comte_," she answered, nodding her +little head sagely. "It was very convincing! In fact, I exploded a bomb +in the camp that will give them all something sensational to talk about +till--till--the next scandal!" + +The Count gave a low chuckle of appreciation, while Mr. Ledoux asked, +seriously, "But to what purpose, daughter?" + +"Why, papa, don't you know? I had to teach Mrs. Stuyvesant Moore, Mrs. +Sanford Wyckoff, and several other old ladies how to be good!" + +And in the general laugh that followed, she added, under her breath, +"Oh, the irony of life!" + +Paul watched her in a fever of boyish jealousy as she passed through the +family circle, bestowing her kisses left and right with impartial favor. +She made the rounds slowly, conscientiously, and then, with an air of +supreme indifference, moved to the Boy's side. + +He leaned over her. + +"Where are my kisses?" he asked softly. + +She clasped her hands behind her back, child-fashion, and looked up at +him, a coquettish daring in her eyes. + +"Where did you put them last?" she demanded. + +"You ought to know!" + +"True--I ought. But, as a matter of fact, I haven't the slightest idea. +It depends altogether upon what girl you saw last." + +"If you think that of me----" + +"What else can I think? Our first meeting did not leave much room for +conjecture. And, of course----" + +"Opal! You have just time to dress for dinner! And the Count is very +anxious to see the new orchid, you know!" + +There was a suggestion of reproof in Mrs. Ledoux's voice. The girl's +face clouded as she turned away in response to the summons. But she +threw the Boy a challenge over her shoulder--a hint of that mischief +that always seemed to lurk in the corner of her eye. + +Paul bit his lip. He was not a boy to be played with, as Opal Ledoux +would find out. And he sulked in a corner, refusing to be conciliated, +until at last she re-entered the room, leaning on the Count's +"venerable" arm. She had doubtless been showing him the orchid. Humph! +What did that old reprobate know--or care--about orchids? + + "A primrose by the river's brim, + A yellow primrose was to him, + And nothing more." + +As the evening passed, there came to the Boy no further opportunity to +speak to Opal alone. She not only avoided him herself, but the entire +party seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to keep him from her. It +roused all the fight in his Slavic blood, and he determined not to be +outwitted by any such high-handed proceeding. He crossed the room and +boldly broke into the conversation of the group in which she stood. + +"Miss Ledoux," he said, "pardon me, but as we are about to leave, I +must remind you of your promise to show me the new orchid. I am very +fond of orchids. May I not see it now?" + +Opal had made no such promise, but as she looked up at him with an +instinctive denial, she met his eyes with an expression in their depths +she dared not battle. There was no knowing what this impetuous Boy might +say or do, if goaded too far. + +"Please pardon my forgetfulness," she said, with a propitiating smile, +as she took his arm. "We will go and see it." + +And the Boy smiled. He had not found his opportunity--he had made one! + +With a malicious smile on his thin, wicked lips the Count de Roannes +watched them as they moved across the room toward the conservatory--this +pair so finely matched that all must needs admire. + +It was rather amusing in _les enfants_, he told Ledoux, this "_Paul et +Virginie_" episode. Somewhat _bourgeois_, of course--but harmless, he +hoped. This with an expressive sneer. But--_mon Dieu!_--and there was a +sinister gleam in his evil eyes--it mustn't go too far! The girl was a +captivating little witch--the old father winced at the significance in +the tone--and she must have her fling! He rather admired her the more +for her _diablerie_--but she must be careful! + +But he need not have feared to-night. Paul Zalenska's triumph was +short-lived. When once inside the conservatory, the girl turned and +faced him, indignantly. + +"What an utterly shameless thing to do!" she exclaimed. + +"Why?" he demanded. "You were not treating me with due respect and +'self-preservation is the first law of nature,' you know. I am so little +accustomed to being--snubbed, that I don't take it a bit kindly!" + +"I did not snub you," she said, "at least, not intentionally. But of +course my friends have prior claims on my time and attention. I can't +put them aside for a mere stranger." + +"A stranger?" he echoed. "Then you mean----" + +"I mean what?" + +"To ignore our former--acquaintance--altogether?" + +"I do mean just that! One has many desperate flirtations on board ship, +but one isn't in any way bound to remember them. It is not +always--convenient. You may have foolishly remembered. I +have--forgotten!" + +"You have not forgotten. I say you have not, Opal." + +"We use surnames in society, Monsieur Zalenska?" + +"Opal!" appealingly. + +"Why such emotion, Monsieur?" mockingly. + +The Boy was taken aback for a moment, but he met her eyes bravely. + +"Why? Because I love you, Opal, and in your heart you know it!" + +"Why?" + +"Why do I love you? Because I can't help it! Who knows, really, why +anything happens or does not happen in this topsy-turvy world?" + +The girl looked at him steadily for a moment, and then spoke +indifferently, almost lightly. + +"Have you looked at the orchid you wished so much to see, Monsieur +Zalenska? Mamma is very proud of it!" + +"Opal!" + +But she went on, heedless of his interruption, "Because, if you haven't, +you must look at it hastily--you have wasted some time quite foolishly +already--and I have promised to join the Count in a few moments, and--" + +"Very well. I understand, Opal!" Paul stiffened. "I will relieve you of +my presence. But don't think you will always escape so easily because I +yield now. You have not meant all you have said to me to-night, and I +know it as well as you do. You have tried to play with me--" + +"I beg your pardon!" + +"You knew the tiger was in my blood--you couldn't help but know it!--and +yet you deliberately awakened him!" She gave him a startled glance, her +eyes appealing for mercy, but he went on relentlessly. "Yes, after the +manner of women since the world began, you lured him on and on! Is it my +fault--or yours--if he devour us both?" + +Paul Verdayne, strangely restless and ill at ease, was passing beneath +the window and thus became an involuntary listener to these mad words +from the lips of his young friend. + +Straightway there rose to his mental vision a picture--never very far +removed--a picture of a luxurious room in a distant Swiss hotel, the +foremost figure in which was the slender form of a royally fascinating +woman, reclining with reckless abandon upon a magnificent tiger skin, +stretched before the fire. He saw her lavishing her caresses upon the +inanimate head. He heard her purr once more in the vibrant, appealing +tones so like the Boy's. + +The stately Englishman passed his hand over his eyes to shut out the +maddening vision, with its ever-fresh pangs of poignant anguish, its +persistent, unconquered and unconquerable despair! + +"God help the Boy!" he prayed, as he strolled on into the solitude of +the moonlit night. "No one else can! It is the call of the blood--the +relentless lure of his heritage! From it there is no escape, as against +it there is no appeal. It is the mad blood of youth, quickened and +intensified in the flame of inherited desire. I cannot save him!" + +And then, with a sudden flood of tender, passionate, sacred memories, he +added in his heart, + +"And I would not, if I could!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Paul Verdayne had many acquaintances and friends in New York, and much +against their inclination he and the Boy soon found themselves absorbed +in the whirl of frivolities. They were not very favorably impressed. It +was all too extravagant for their Old World tastes--not too magnificent, +for they both loved splendor--but it shouted its cost too loudly in +their ears, and grated on their nerves and shocked their aesthetic +sense. + +The Boy was a favorite everywhere, even more so, perhaps, than in +London. American society saw no mystery about him, and would not have +cared if it had. If his face seemed somewhat familiar, as it often had +to Opal Ledoux, no one puzzled his brains over it or searched the +magazines to place it. New York accepted him, as it accepts all +distinguished foreigners who have no craving for the limelight of +publicity, for his face value, and enjoyed him thoroughly. Women petted +him, because he was so witty and chivalrous and entertaining, and always +as exquisitely well-groomed as any belle among them; men were attracted +to him because he had ideas and knew how to express them. He was worth +talking to and worth listening to. He had formed opinions of his own +upon most subjects. He had thought for himself and had the courage of +his convictions, and Americans like that. + +Naturally enough, before many days, at a fashionable ball at the Plaza +he came into contact with Opal Ledoux again. + +It was a new experience, this, to see the girl he loved surrounded by +the admiration and attention of other men. In his own infatuation he had +not realized that most men would be affected by her as he was, would +experience the same maddening impulses--the same longing--the same +thirst for possession of her. Now the fact came home to him with the +force of an electric shock. He could not endure the burning glances of +admiration that he saw constantly directed toward her. What right had +other men to devour her with their eyes? + +He hastened to meet her. She greeted him politely but coldly, expressing +some perfunctory regret when he asked for a dance, and showing him that +her card was already filled. And then her partner claimed her, and she +went away on his arm, smiling up into his face in a way she had that +drove men wild for her. "The wicked little witch!" Paul thought. "Would +she make eyes at every man like that? Dare she?" + +A moment after, he heard her name, and instantly was all attention. The +two men just behind him were discussing her rather freely--far too +freely for the time and the place--and the girl, in Paul's estimation. +He listened eagerly. + +"Bold little devil, that Ledoux girl!" said one. "God! how she is +playing her little game to-night! They say she is going to marry that +old French Count, de Roannes! That's the fellow over there, watching her +with the cat's eyes. I guess he thinks she means to have her fling +first--and I guess she thinks so too! As usual, it's the spectator who +sees the best of the game. What a curious girl she is--a living +paradox!" + +"How's that?" + +"Spanish, you know. Ought to have black hair instead of red--black eyes +instead of--well, chestnut about expresses the color of hers. I call +them witch's eyes, they're so full of fire and--the devil!" + +"She's French, too, isn't she? That accounts for the eyes. The _beauté +du diable_, hers is! Couldn't she make a heaven for a man if she +would--or a hell?" + +"Yes, it's in her! She's doomed, you know! Her grandmothers before her +were bad women--regular witches, they say, with a good, big streak of +yellow. Couldn't keep their heads on their shoulders--couldn't be +faithful to any one man. Don't know as they tried!" + +"I'll bet they made it interesting for the fellow while it did last, +anyway! But this one will never be happy. She has a tragedy in her face, +if ever a woman had. But she's a man's woman, all right, and she'd make +life worth living if a fellow had any red blood in him. She's one of +those women who are born for nothing else in the world but to love, and +be loved. Can't you shoot the Count?" + +"The Count!--Hell! He won't be considered at all after a little! She'll +find plenty of men glad to wake the devil in her--just to keep her from +yawning! But she's not very tractable even now, though her sins all lie +ahead of her! She's altogether too cool on the surface for her make-up, +but--well, full of suggestion, and one feels a volcano surging and +steaming just below the mask she wears, and has an insane desire to wake +it up! That kind of woman simply can't help it." + +A third voice broke in on the conversation--an older voice--the voice of +a man who had lived and observed much. + +"I saw her often as a child," he said, "a perilously wilful child, +determined upon her own way, and possessed of her own fancies about +this, that, and the other, which were seldom, if ever, the ideas of +anyone else. There was always plenty of excitement where she was--always +that same disturbing air! Even with her pigtails and pinafores, one +could see the woman in her eyes. But she was a provoking little +creature, always dreaming of impossible romances. Her father had his +hands full." + +"As her husband will have, poor devil! If he's man enough to hold her, +all right. If he is not," with a significant shrug of the shoulders, +"it's his own lookout!" + +"That old French _roué_ hold her? You're dreaming! She won't be faithful +to him a week--if he has a handsome valet, or a half-way manly groom! +How could she?" And they laughed coarsely. + +The Boy gave them a look that should have annihilated all three, but +they weren't noticing the Boy. He could have throttled them! How dared +such lips as these pollute his darling's name! And yet these were +society men--they could dance with her, clasp her to them, and look into +those "witch eyes"--oh, the ignominy of it! + +He looked across at Opal. How beautiful she was in her pale green gown, +her white shoulders and arms glistening beneath the electric light with +the sheen of polished marble, her red-brown hair glowing with its fiery +lure, while even across the room her eyes sparkled like diamonds, +lighting up her whole face. She was certainly enjoying herself--this +Circe who had tempted him across the seas. She seemed possessed of the +very spirit of mischief--and Paul forgot himself. + +The orchestra was playing a Strauss waltz--it fired his blood. He walked +across the room with his masterful, authoritative air--the manner of a +man born to command. "Miss Ledoux," he said, and the crowd around her +instinctively made way for him, "this is our waltz, I believe!" and +whirled her away before she could answer. + +Ah! it was delicious, that waltz! In perfect rhythm they clung together, +gliding about the polished floor, her bare shoulder pressing his arm, +her head with its bewildering perfume so near his lips, their hearts +throbbing fiercely in the ecstasy of their nearness--which was Love. + +Oh to go on forever! forever! + +The sweet cadence of the music died away, and they looked into each +other's eyes, startled. + +"You seem to be acquiring the habit," she pouted, but her lips quivered, +and in response he whispered in her ear, "Whose waltz was it, +sweetheart?" + +"I don't know, Paul--nor care!" + +That was enough. + +They left the room together. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In a secluded corner adjoining the ballroom, Paul and Opal stood hand in +hand, conscious only of being together, while their two hearts beat a +tumultuous acknowledgment of that =world-old= power whose name, in +whatever guise it comes to us, is Love! + +"I said I wouldn't, Paul!" at last she said. + +"Wouldn't what?" + +"See you again--like this!" + +Paul smiled tenderly. + +"My darling," he whispered, "what enchantment have you cast over me that +all my resolutions to give you up fade away at the first glimpse of your +face? I resolve to be brave and remember my duty--until I see you--and +then I forget everything but you--I want nothing but you!" + +"What do you want with me, Paul?" + +"Opal!" he cried impetuously. "After seeing these gay Lotharios making +eyes at you all the evening, can you ask me that? I want to take you +away and hide you from every other man's sight--that's what I want! It +drives me crazy to see them look at you that way! But you have such a +way of keeping a fellow at arm's length when you want to," he went on, +ruefully, "in spite of the magic call of your whole tempting +personality. You know '_Die Walküre_,' don't you?--but of course you do. +If I believed in the theory of reincarnation, I should feel sure that +you were Brünhilde herself, surrounded by the wall of fire!" + +"I wish I were! I wish every woman had some such infallible way of +_proving_ every man who seeks her!" + +"You have, Opal! You have your own womanly instincts--every woman's +impassable wall of fire, if she will only hide behind them. _You_ could +never love unworthily!" + +"But, Paul, don't you know? Haven't they told you? I shall probably +marry the Count de Roannes!" + +Paul was astounded. + +"Opal! No! No! Not that, surely not that! I heard it, yes--a moment ago. +But I could not believe it. The idea was too horrible. It could not be +true!" + +"But it is true, Paul! It is all too true!" + +"It is a crime," he fairly groaned. + +She shrank from him. "Don't say that, Paul!" + +"But you know it is true! Opal, just think! If you give your sweet self +to him--and that is all you can give him, as you and I know--if you give +yourself to him, I say, I--I shall go mad!" + +"Yet women have loved him," she began, bravely, attempting to defend +herself. "Women--some kinds of women--really love him now. He has a +power of--compelling--love--even yet!" + +"And such women," Paul cried hoarsely, "are more to be honored than you +if you consent to become his property with no love in your heart! Don't +plead extenuating circumstances. There can be no extenuating +circumstances in all the world for such a thing." + +She winced as though he had struck her, for she knew in her heart that +what he said was true, brutally true. The Boy was only voicing her own +sentiments--the theory to which she had always so firmly clung. + +As Paul paused, a sudden realization of his own future overwhelmed him +and locked his lips. He smiled sadly. Who was he that he should talk +like that? Was not he, too, pleading extenuating circumstances? True, he +was a man and she was a woman, and the world has two distinct +standards--but--no less than she--he was selling himself for gain. + +"Paul, Paul! I'm afraid you don't understand! It isn't _money_. Surely +you don't think that! It isn't money--it is honor--_honor_, do you hear? +My dead mother's honor, and my father's breaking heart!" + +The secret was out, at last. This, then, was the shadow that had cast +its gloom over the family ever since he had come in contact with them. +It was even worse than he had thought. That she--the lovely Opal--should +have to sacrifice her own honor to save her mother's! + +Honor! honor! how many crimes are committed in thy name! + +"Tell me about it," he said sympathetically. + +And she told him, sparing herself details, as far as possible, of the +storm of scandal about to burst upon the family--a storm from which only +the sacrifice of herself could save the family name of Ledoux, and her +mother's memory. It might, or might not, be true, but the Count de +Roannes claimed to be able--and ready--to bring proof. And, if it were +true, she was not a Ledoux at all, and her father was not her father at +all, except in name. No breath of ill-fame had ever reached her mother's +name before. They had thought she had happily escaped the curse of her +mother before her. But the Count claimed to know, and--well, he wanted +her--Opal--and, of course, it _was_ possible, and of course he would do +anything to protect the good name of his wife, if Opal became his wife, +and---- + +"So, you see, Paul--in the end, I shall have to--submit!" + +She had not told it at all well, she thought, but Paul little cared how +the story was told. + +"I do not see it that way at all, Opal. It seems to me--well, +diabolical, and may God help you, dear girl, when you, with your +high-keyed sensitive nature, first wake to the infamy of it! I have no +right to interfere--no right at all. Not even my love for you, which is +stronger than myself, gives me that right. For I am betrothed! I tell +you this because I see where my folly has led us. There is only one +thing to do. We must part--and at once. I am sorry"--then he thought of +that first meeting on board the liner, "no, I am _not_ sorry we met! I +shall never be that! But I am going to be a man. I am going to do my +duty. Help me, Opal--help me!" + +It was the old appeal of the man to the helpmeet God had created for +him, and the woman in her responded. + +"Paul, I will!" and her little fingers closed over his. + +"Of course he loves you--in his way, but----" + +"Don't, Paul, don't! He has never once pretended that--he has been too +wise." + +"He will break your spirit, dear--it's his nature. And then he will +break your heart!" + +She raised her head, defiantly. + +"Break my spirit, Paul? He could not. And as for my heart--that will +never be his to break!" + +Their eyes met with the old understanding that needs no words. Then she +pointed to the heavens. + +"See the stars, Paul, smiling down so calmly. How can they when hearts +are aching? When I was a child, I loved the stars. I fancied, too, that +they loved me, and I would run out under their watchful eyes, singing +for very joy, sure they were guiding my life and that some day I would +be happy, gloriously happy. Somehow, Paul, I always expected to be +happy--always!--till now! Now the stars seem to mock me. I must have +been born under a baleful conjunction, I guess. Oh, I told you, Paul, +that Opals were unlucky. I warned you--didn't I warn you? I may have +tempted you, too, but--I didn't mean to do it!" + +"Bless your dear heart, girl, you weren't to blame!" + +"But you said--that night--about the tiger----" + +"Forgive me, Opal, I was not myself. I was--excited. I didn't mean +that." + +After a moment, she said, musingly, "It is just as I said, Paul. I was +born to go to the devil, so it is well--well for you, I mean--and +perhaps for me--that you and I cannot marry." He shook his head, but she +went on, unheeding. "Paul, if I am destined to be a disgrace to +someone--and they say I am--I'd rather bring reproach upon his name than +on yours!" + +"But why marry at all, if you feel like that? Why, it's--it's damnable!" + +"Don't you see, Paul, I am foreordained to evil--marked a bad woman from +the cradle! Marriage is the only salvation, you know, for girls with my +inheritance. It's the sanctuary that keeps a woman good and 'happy ever +after.'" + +"It would be more apt, in my opinion, to drive one to forbidden wine! A +marriage like that, I mean--for one like you." + +"But at least a married woman has a _name_--whatever she may do. +She's--protected. She isn't----" + +But Paul would hear no more. + +"Opal, _we_ were made for each other from the beginning--surely we were. +Some imp has slipped into the scheme of things somewhere and turned it +upside down." + +He paused. She looked up searchingly into his eyes. + +"Paul, do you love me?" + +"Yes, dearest!" + +"Are you sure?" + +"As sure as I am of my own existence! With all my heart, Opal--with all +my soul!" + +"Then we mustn't see each other any more!" + +"Not any more. You are right, Opal, not any more!" + +"But what shall we do, Paul? We shall be sure to meet often. You expect +to stay the summer through, do you not? And we are not going to New +Orleans for several weeks yet--and then?" + +"We are going West, Father Paul and I--out on the prairies to rough it +for a while. We were going before long, anyway, and a few weeks sooner +or later won't make any difference. And then--home, back over the sea +again, to face life, to work, to try to be--strong, I suppose." + +Paul paused and looked at her passionately. + +"Why are you so alluring to-night, Opal?" + +Her whole body quivered, caught fire from the flame in his eyes. What +was there about this man that made her always so conscious she was a +woman? Why could she never be calm in his presence, but was always so +fated to _feel, feel, feel!_ + +Her voice trembled as she looked up at him and answered, "Am I wicked, +Paul? I wanted to be happy to-night--just for to-night! I wanted to +forget the fate that was staring me so relentlessly in the face. But--I +couldn't, Paul!" + +Then she glanced through the curtains into the ballroom and shuddered. + +"The Count is looking for me," she said. The Boy winced, and she went on +rapidly, excitedly. "We must part. As well now as any time, I suppose, +since it has to be. But first, Paul, let me say it once--just once--_I +love you!_" + +He snatched her to him--God! that any one else should ever have the +right! + +"And I--worship you, Opal! Even that seems a weak word, to-night. +But--you understand, don't you? I didn't know at sea whether it was love +or what it was that had seized me as nothing ever had before. But I know +now! And listen, Opal--this isn't a vow, nor anything of that kind--but +I feel that I want to say it. I shall always love you just this +way--always--I feel it, I know it!--as long as I live! Will you +remember, darling?--remember--everything?" + +"Yes--yes! And you, Paul?" + +"Till death!" And his lips held hers, regardless of ten thousand Counts +and their claims upon her caresses. + +And they clung together again in the anguish of parting that comes at +some time, or another into the lives of all who know love. + +Then like mourners walking away from the graves of their loved ones, +they returned to the ballroom, with the dull ache of buried happiness in +their hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Out--far out--in the great American West, the Boy wandered. And Paul +Verdayne, understanding as only he could understand, felt how little use +his companionship and sympathy really were at this crisis of the Boy's +life. + +All through the month of August they travelled, the Boy looking upon the +land he had been so eager to see with eyes that saw nothing but his own +disappointment, and the barrenness of his future. The hot sun beat down +upon the shadeless prairies with the intensity of a living flame. But it +seemed as nothing to the heat of his own passion--his own fiery +rebellion against the decree of destiny--altogether powerless against +the withering despair that had choked all the aspirations and ambitions +which, his whole life long, he had cultivated and nourished in the soil +of his developing soul. + +He thought again and again of the glories so near at hand--the glories +that had for years been the goal of his ambition. He pictured the +pageant to come--the glitter of armor and liveries, the splendor and +sparkle of jewels and lights, and all the dazzling gorgeousness of royal +equipments--the throngs of courtiers and beautiful women bowing before +him, proud of the privilege of doing him homage--him, a mere boy--yet +the king--the absolute monarch of his little realm, and supreme in his +undisputed sway over the hearts of his people--his people who had +worshipped his beautiful mother and, if only for her sake, made an idol +of her son. He saw himself crowned by loving hands with the golden +circlet he loved and reverenced, and meant to redeem from the stigma of +a worthless father's abuse and desecration; he saw his own young hands, +strong, pure, and undefiled by any form of bribery or political +corruption, wielding the sceptre that should--please God!--bring +everlasting honor and fame to the little principality. He saw all this, +and yet it did not thrill him any more! It was all Dead Sea fruit, dust +and ashes in his hand. He wanted but one thing now--and his whole +kingdom did not weigh one pennyweight against it. + +But in spite of his preoccupation the freedom and massiveness of the +West broadened the Boy's mental vision. He absorbed the spirit of the +big world it typified, and he saw things more clearly than in the +crowded city. And yet he suffered more, too. He could not often talk +about his sorrow and his loss, but he felt all the time the unspoken +sympathy in Verdayne's companionship, and was grateful for the +completeness of the understanding between them. + +Once, far out in a wide expanse of sparsely settled land, the two came +upon a hut--a little rough shanty with a sod roof, and probably but two +tiny rooms at most. It was nearing evening, and the red rays of the +setting sun fell upon a young woman, humbly clad, sitting on a bench at +the doorway, and cuddling upon her knee a little baby dressed in coarse, +but spotlessly white garments. A whistle sounded on the still air, and +through the waving grain strode a stalwart man, an eager, expectant +light in his bronzed face. The girl sprang to meet him with an +inarticulate cry of joy, and wife and baby were soon clasped close to +his breast. + +Paul could not bear it. He turned away with a sob in his throat and +looked into Verdayne's eyes with such an expression of utter +hopelessness that the older man felt his own eyes moisten with the +fervor of his sympathy. That poor, humble ranchman possessed something +that was denied the Boy, prince of the blood though he was. + +And the two men talked of commonplace subjects that night in subdued +tones that were close to tears. Both hearts were aching with the +consciousness of unutterable and irreparable loss. + + * * * * * + +Through the long nights that followed, out there in the primitive, Paul +thought of the hideousness of life as he saw it now, with a loathing +that time seemed only to increase. He pictured Opal--his love--as the +wife of that old French libertine, till his soul revolted at the very +thought. Such a thing was beyond belief. + +Once he said to Verdayne, thinking of the conversation he had had with +Opal on the night of the ball at the Plaza, + +"Father Paul, who was Lord Hubert Aldringham? The name sounds so +familiar to me--yet I can't recall where I heard it." + +"Why, he was my uncle, Boy, my mother's brother. A handsome, wicked, +devil-may-care sort of fellow to whom nothing was sacred. You must have +heard us speak of him at home, for mother was very fond of him." + +"And you, Father Paul?" + +"I--detested him, Boy!" + +And then the Boy told him something that Opal had said to him of the +possibility--nay, the probability--of Lord Hubert's being her own +grandfather. Verdayne was pained--grieved to the heart--at the terrible +significance of this--if it were true. And there was little reason, +alas, to doubt it! How closely their lives were woven together--Paul's +and Opal's! How merciless seemed the demands of destiny! + +What a juggler of souls Fate was! + + * * * * * + +And the month of August passed away. And September found the two men +still wandering in an aimless fashion about the prairie country, and yet +with no desire for change. The Boy was growing more and more +dissatisfied, less and less resigned to the decrees of destiny. + +At last, one dull, gray, moonless night, when neither could woo coveted +sleep to his tired eyes, the Boy said to his companion, "Father Paul, +I'm going to be a man--a man, do you hear? I am going to New +Orleans--you know Mr. Ledoux asked us to come in September--and I'm +going to marry Opal, whatever the consequences! I will not be bound to a +piece of flesh I abhor, for the sake of a mere kingdom--not for the sake +of a world! I will not sell my manhood! I will not sacrifice myself, nor +allow the girl I love to become a burnt-offering for a mother's sin. I +will not! Do you remember away off there," and he pointed off to the +south of them, "the little shack, and the man and the woman and--the +baby? Father Paul, I want--that! And I'm going to have it, too! Do you +blame me?" + +And Verdayne threw his arm around the Boy's neck, and said, "Blame you? +No, Boy, no! And may God bless and speed you!" + +And the next day they started for the South. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +It was early in the morning, a few days later, when Paul Verdayne and +his young friend reached New Orleans. Immediately after breakfast--he +would have presented himself before had he dared--the Boy called at the +home of the Ledouxs. Verdayne had important letters to write, as he +informed the Boy with a significant smile, and begged to be allowed to +remain behind. + +And the impatient youth, blessing him mentally for his tact, set forth +alone. + +The residence that he sought was one of the most picturesque and +beautiful of the many stately old mansions of the city. It was enclosed +by a high wall that hid from the passers-by all but the most tantalizing +glimpses of a fragrant, green tropical garden, and gave an air of +exclusiveness to the habitation of this proud old family. As the Boy +passed through the heavy iron gate, and his eye gazed in appreciation +upon the tints of foliage no autumn chills had affected, and the glints +of sun and shadow that only heightened the splendor of blossom, and +shrub, and vine, which were pouring their incense upon the air, he felt +that he was indeed entering the Garden of Eden--the Garden of Eden with +no French serpents to tempt from him the woman that had been created his +helpmeet. + +He found Opal, and a tall, handsome young man in clerical vestments, +sitting together upon the broad vine-shaded veranda. The girl greeted +him cordially and introduced him to the priest, Father Whitman. + +At first Paul dared not trust himself to look at Opal too closely, and +he did not notice that her face grew ashen at his approach. She had +recovered her usual self-possession when he finally looked at her, and +now the only apparent sign of unusual agitation was a slight flush upon +her cheek--an excited sparkle in her eye--which might have been the +effect of many causes. + +He watched the priest curiously. How noble-looking he was! He felt sure +that he would have liked him in any other garb. What did his presence +here portend? + +Paul had supposed that Opal was a Catholic; indeed had been but little +concerned what she professed. She had never appeared to him to be +specially religious, but, if she was, that absurd idea of self-sacrifice +for a dead mother she had never known might appeal to the love of +penance which is inherent in all of Catholic faith, and she might not +surrender to her great love for him. + +The priest rose. + +"Must you go, Father?" asked Opal. + +"Yes!... I will call to-morrow, then?" + +"Yes--tomorrow! And"--she suddenly threw herself upon her knees at his +feet--"your blessing, Father" she begged. + +The priest laid a hand upon her head, and raised his eyes to Heaven. +Then, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead, he took her hands +in his, and gently raised her to her feet. She clung to his hands +imploringly. + +"Absolution, Father," she pleaded. + +He hesitated, his face quivering with emotions his eyes lustrous with +tears, a world of feeling in every line of his countenance. + +"Child," he said hoarsely, "child! Don't tempt me!" + +"But you _must_ say it, you know, or what will happen to me?" + +The priest still hesitated, but her eyes would not release him till he +whispered, "_Absolvo te_, my daughter, and--God bless you!" + +And releasing her hands, he bowed formally to Paul and hurried down the +broad stone steps and through the gate. + +Opal watched him, a smile, half-remorseful and half-triumphant, upon her +face. + +"What does it all mean?" asked Paul as he laid his hand upon her arm. + +She laughed nervously. "Oh--nothing! Only--when I see one of those +long, clerical cassocks, I am immediately seized with an insane desire +to find the _man_ inside the priest!" + +"Laudable, certainly! And you always succeed, I suppose?" + +"Yes, usually!--why not?" And she laughed again. "Don't, Paul! I don't +want to quarrel with you!" + +"We won't quarrel, Opal," he said. But the thought of the priest annoyed +him. + +He seated himself beside her. "Have you no welcome for me?" he said. + +She looked up at him, her eyes sweetly tender. + +"Of course, Paul! I'm very glad to see you again--if you are a bad boy!" + +He looked at her in amazement. "I, bad?--No," he said. And they laughed +again. But it was not the care-free laughter they had known at sea. +There was a strained note in the tones of the girl that grated strangely +upon the Boy's sensitive ear. What had happened? he wondered. What was +the new barrier between them? Was it the priest? Again the thought of +the priest worried him. + +"Where is my friend, the Count de Roannes?" he ventured at last. + +"He sailed for Paris last week." + +Paul's heart leaped. Surely then their legal betrothal had not taken +place. + +"What happened, Opal?" + +"The inevitable!" + +And again his heart bounded for joy! The inevitable! Surely that meant +that the girl's better nature had triumphed, had shown her the ignominy +of such a union in time to save her. He looked at her for further +information, but seeing her evident embarrassment, forbore to pursue the +question further. + +They wandered out through the luxurious garden, and the spell of its +enchantment settled upon them both. + +He pulled a crimson rose from a bush and began listlessly to strip the +thorns from the stalk. "Roses in September," he said, "are like love in +the autumn of life." + +And they both thought again of the Count and a chill passed over their +spirits. The girl watched him curiously. + +"Do you always cut the thorns from your roses?" she asked. + +"Certainly-sooner or later. Don't you?" + +"O no! I am a woman, you see, and I only hold my rose tightly in my +fingers and smile in spite of the pricks as if to convince the world +that my rose has no thorns." + +"Is that honest?" + +"Perhaps not--but--yes, I think it is! If one really loves a rose, you +see, one forgets that it has thorns--really forgets!". + +"Until too late!" + +But there was some undercurrent of hidden meaning even in this subject, +and Paul tried another. + +He asked her about the books she had read since they parted and told her +of his travels. He painted for her a picture of the little cabin on the +western prairie, with its man and its woman and its baby, and she +listened with a strange softness in her eyes. He felt that she +understood. + +There was a tiny lake in the garden, and they sat upon the shore and +looked into the water, at an unaccountable loss for words. At last Paul, +with a boyish laugh, relieved the situation by rolling up his sleeve and +dabbling for pebbles in the sand at the bottom. + +There was not much said--only a word now and then, but both, in spite of +their consciousness of the barrier between them, were rejoicing in the +fact that they were together, while Paul, happy in his new-born +resolution, was singing in his heart. + +Should he tell her now? + +He looked up quickly. + +"Opal," he said, "you knew I would come." + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Because--I love you!" + +The girl tried to laugh away the serious import of his tone. + +"I am not looking for men to love me, Paul," she said. + +"No, that's the trouble. You never have to." + +He turned away again and for a few moments had no other apparent aim in +life than a careful scrutiny of the limpid water. + +Somehow he felt a chill underlying her most casual words to-day. What +had become of the freemasonry between them they had both so readily +recognized on shipboard? + +Just then Gilbert Ledoux and his wife strolled into the garden. They +were genuinely pleased to see Paul and insisted on keeping him for +luncheon. The conversation drifted to his western trip and other less +personal things and not again did he have an opportunity to talk alone +with Opal. + +Paul took his departure soon after, promising to return for dinner, and +to bring Verdayne with him. Then, he resolved to himself, he would tell +Opal why he had come. Then he would claim her as his wife--his queen! + + * * * * * + +And Paul kept his word. + +That evening they found themselves alone in a deep-recessed window +facing the dimly-lighted street. + +"Opal," said Paul, "do you know why I have come to New Orleans? Can't +you imagine, dear?" + +She instantly divined the tenor of his thoughts, and shook her head in a +tremor of sudden fright. + +"I have come to tell you that I have fought it all out and that I cannot +live without you. Though I am breaking my plighted troth, I ask you to +become my wife!" + +Her eyes glistened with a strange lustre. + +"Oh, Paul! Paul!" she murmured, faintly. "Why did you not say this +before--or--why do you tell me now?" + +"Because now I know I love you more than all the world--more than my +duty--more than my life! Is that enough?" + +And Paul was about to break into a torrent of passionate appeal, when +Gilbert Ledoux joined them and, shortly after, Mrs. Ledoux called Opal +to her side. + +Opal looked miserably unhappy. Why was she not rejoicing? Paul knew that +she loved him. Nothing could ever make him doubt that. As he stood +wondering, idly exchanging platitudes with his genial host, Mrs. Ledoux +spoke in a tone of ringing emphasis that lingered in Paul's ears all the +rest of his life, "I think, Opal, it is time to share our secret!" + +And then, as the girl's face paled, and her frail form trembled with the +force of her emotion, her mother hastened to add, "Gentlemen, you will +rejoice with us that our daughter was last week formally betrothed to +the Count de Roannes!" + +The inevitable _had_ happened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +How the remainder of the evening passed, Paul Zalenska never knew. As he +looked back upon it, during the months that followed, it seemed like +some hideous dream from which he was struggling to awake. He talked, he +smiled, he even laughed, but scarcely of his own volition; it was as +though another personality acted through him. + +He was a temperate boy, but that night he drank more champagne than was +good for him. Paul Verdayne was grieved. Not that he censured the lad. +He knew only too well the anguish the Boy was suffering, and he could +not find it in his heart to blame him for the dissipation. And yet +Verdayne also knew how unavailing were all such attempts to drown the +sorrow that had so shocked the Boy's sensitive spirit. + +As he gazed regretfully at the Boy across the dinner table, the butler +placed a cablegram before him. Receiving a nod of permission from his +hostess, he hastily tore open the envelope and paled at its contents. + +The message was signed by the Verdaynes' solicitor, and read: + + _Sir Charles very ill. Come immediately._ + + * * * * * + +Before they left the house, Paul sought Opal for a few last words. There +were no obstacles placed in his way now by anxious parental authority. +He smiled cynically as he noticed how clear the way was made for him, +now that Opal was "safeguarded" by her betrothal. + +She drew him to one side, whispering, "Before you judge me too harshly, +Paul, please listen to what I have to say. I feel I have the right to +make this explanation, and you have the right to hear it. Under the +French law, I am legally bound to the Count de Roannes. Fearing that I +might not remain true to a mere verbal pledge--you knew we were engaged, +Paul, for I told you that, last summer--the Count asked that the +betrothal papers be executed before his unavoidable return to Paris. +Knowing no real reason for delay, since it had to come some time, I +consented; but I stipulated that I was to have six months of freedom +before becoming his wife. Arrangements have been made for us all to go +abroad next spring, and we shall be married in Paris. Paul, I did not +tell you this, this afternoon--I could not! I wanted to see you--the +real you--just once more, before you heard the bitter news, for I knew +that after you had heard, you would never look or speak the same to me +again. Oh, Paul, pity me! Pity me when I tell you that I asked for those +six months simply that I might dedicate them to you, and to the burial, +in my memory, of our little dream of love! It was only my little fancy, +Paul! I wanted to play at being constant that long to our dream. I +wanted to wear my six-months' mourning for our still-born love. I +thought it was only a little game of 'pretend' to you, Paul--why should +it be anything else? But it was very real to me." + +Her voice broke, and the Boy took her hand in his, tenderly, for his +resentment had long since died away. + +"Opal," he faltered, "I no longer know nor care who or what I am. This +experience has taken me out of myself, and set my feet in strange paths. +I had a life to live, Opal, but I have forgotten it in yours. I had +theories, ideals, hopes, aspirations--but I don't know where they are +now, Opal. They are gone--gone with your smile--" + +Opal's eyes grew soft with caresses. + +"They will come back, Paul--they must come back! They were born in +you--of Truth itself, not of a mere woman. You will forget me, Boy, and +your life will not be the pitiful waste you think. It must not be!" + +"I used to think that, Opal. It never seemed to me that life could ever +be an utter waste so long as a man had work to do and the strength and +skill to do it. But now--I'm all at sea! I only know--how--I shall miss +_you!_" + +Opal grew thoughtful. + +"And how will it be with me?" she said sadly. "I have never learned to +wear a mask. I can't pose. I can't wear 'false smiles that cover an +aching heart.' Perhaps the world may teach me now--but I'm not a +hypocrite--yet!" + +"I believe you, Opal! I love you because you are you!" + +"And I love you, Paul, because you are you!" + +And even then he did not clasp her in his arms, nor attempt it. She was +another's now, and his hands were tied. He must try to control his one +great weakness--the longing for her. + +And in the few moments left to them, they talked and cheered each other, +as intimate friends on the eve of a long separation. They both knew now +that they loved--but they also knew that they must part--and forever! + +"I love you, Paul," said Opal, "even as you love me. I do not hesitate +to confess it again, because--well, I am not yet his wife. And I want to +give you this one small comfort to help to make you strong to fight and +conquer, and--endure!" + +"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can +I face the world without you?" + +"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me +always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me, +as men do weary of their wives!" + +"Opal! Never!" + +"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose." + +"But it is not _my_ nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not +capricious. Why should you think so?" + +"But it's human nature, Paul; there is no denying that. To think, Paul, +that we could grow to clasp hands like this--that we could +kiss--actually kiss, Paul, _calmly_, as women kiss each other--that we +could ever rest in each other's arms and grow weary!" + +But Paul would not listen. He always would have loved her, always! He +loved her, anyway, and always would, were she a thousand times the +Countess de Roannes, but it was too late! too late! + +"Always remember, Paul, wherever you are and whatever you do," went on +Opal, "that I love you. I know it now, and I know how much! Let the +memory of it be an inspiration to you when your spirits flag, and a +consolation when skies are gray, and--Paul--oh, I love you--love +you--that's all! Kiss me--just once--our last goodbye! There can be no +harm in that, when it's for the last time!" + +And Paul, with a heart-breaking sob, clasped her in his arms and pressed +his lips to hers as one kisses the face of his beloved dead. He wondered +vaguely why he felt no passion--wondered at the utter languor of the +senses that did not wake even as he pressed his lips to hers. It was not +a woman's body in his arms--but as the sexless form of one long dead and +lost to him forever. It was not passion now--it was love, stripped of +all sensuality, purged of all desire save the longing to endure. + +It was the hour of love's supremest triumph--renunciation! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Back in England again--England in the fall of the year--England in the +autumn of life, for Sir Charles Verdayne was nearing his end. The Boy +spent a few weeks at Verdayne Place, and then left to pay his first +visit to his fiancée. Paul Verdayne was prevented by his father's ill +health from accompanying him to Austria, as had been the original plan. + +Opal had asked of the Boy during that last strange hour they had spent +together that he should make this visit, and bow obediently to the call +of destiny--as she had done. She did not know who he really was, nor +what station in life his fiancée graced, but she did know that it was +his duty bravely and well to play his part in the drama of life, +whatever the role. She would not have him shirk. It was a horrible +thing, she had said with a shudder--none knew it better than she--but +she would be glad all her life to think that he had been no coward, and +had not cringed beneath the bitterest blow of fate, but had been strong +because she loved him and believed in him. + +And so, since Paul Verdayne could not be absent from his father's side, +with many a reluctant thought the Boy set forth for Austria alone. + +During his absence, Isabella--she who had been Isabella Waring--returned +from Blackheath a widow with two grown daughters--two more modern +editions of the original Isabella. The widow herself was graver and more +matronly, yet there was much of the old Isabella left, and Verdayne was +glad to see her. Lady Henrietta gave her a cordial invitation to visit +Verdayne Place, which she readily accepted, passing many pleasant hours +with the friend of her youth and helping to while away the long days +that Verdayne found so tiresome when the Boy was away from him. + +Isabella was still "a good sort," and made life much less unbearable +than it might have been, but Verdayne often smiled to think of the +"puppy-love" he had once felt for her. It was amusing, now, and they +both laughed over it--though Isabella would not have been a woman had +she not wondered at times why her "old pal" had never married. There had +been chances, lots of them, for the girls had always liked the +blue-eyed, manly boy he had been, and petted and flattered and courted +him all through his youth. Why hadn't he chosen one of them? Had he +really cared so much for her--Isabella? And she often found herself +looking with much pitying tenderness upon the lonely man, whose heart +seemed so empty of the family ties it should have fostered--and +wondering. + +Lady Henrietta, too, was set to thinking as the days went by, and +turning, one night, to her son, "Paul," she said, "I begin to think that +perhaps I was wrong in separating you from the girl you loved, and so +spoiling your life. Isabella would have made you a fairly good wife, I +believe, as wives go, and you must forgive your mother, who meant it for +the best. She did not see the way clearly, then, and so denied you the +one great desire of your heart" + +She looked at him closely, but his heart was no longer worn upon his +sleeve, and finding his face non-committal, she went on slowly, feeling +her way carefully as she advanced. + +"Perhaps it is not too late now, my son. Don't let my prejudices stand +in your way again, for you are still young enough to be happy, and I +shall be truly glad to welcome any wife--any!" + +Verdayne did not reply. His eyes were studying the pattern of the rug +beneath his feet. His mother's face flushed with embarrassment at the +delicacy of the subject, but she stumbled on bravely. + +"Paul," she said, "Isabella is young yet, and you are not so very old. +It may not, even now, be too late to hold a little grandchild on my knee +before I die. I have been so fond of Paul--he is so very like you when +you were a boy--and have wished--oh, you don't know how a mother feels, +Paul--I have often wished that he were your son, or that I might have +had a grandson just like him. Do you know, Paul, I have often fancied +that your son, had you had one, would have been very like this dear +Boy." + +Verdayne choked back a sob. If his mother could only understand as some +women would have understood! If he could have told her the truth! But, +no, he never could. Even now it would have been a terrible shock to her, +and she could never have forgiven, never held up her head again, if she +had known. + +As for marrying Isabella--could he? After all, was it right to let the +old name die out for want of an heir? Was it just to his father? And +Isabella would not expect to be made love to. There was never that sort +of nonsense about her, and she would make all due allowance for his age +and seriousness. + +His mother felt she had been very kind and generous in renouncing the +old objection of twenty years' standing, and, too, she felt that it was +only right, after spoiling her son's life for so long, to do her best to +atone for the mistake. It must be confessed she could not see what there +was about Isabella to hold the love and loyalty of a man like Paul for +so long, but then--and she sighed at the thought of the wasted +years--"Love is blind," they say--and so's a lover! And her motherly +heart longed for grandchildren--Paul's children--as it had always longed +for them. + +Paul Verdayne sat opposite his penitent mother and pondered. The scent +from a bowl of red roses on his mother's table almost overpowered him +with memories. + +He thought of the couch of deep red roses on which he had lain, caressed +by the velvet petals. He could inhale their fragrance even yet--he could +look into her eyes and breathe the incense of her hair--her whole +glorious person--that was like none other in all the world. Yes, she had +been happy--and he would remember! She would be happier yet could she +know that he had been faithful to his duty--and surely this was his duty +to his race. His Queen would have it so, he felt sure. + +Rising, he bent over his mother, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and +kissed her calmly upon the brow. Then he walked quietly from the room. +His resolution was firmly fixed. + +He would marry Isabella! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Sir Charles Verdayne lingered for several weeks, no stronger, nor yet +perceptibly weaker. He took a sudden fancy to see his old friend, +Captain Grigsby, and the old salt was accordingly sent for. His presence +acted as a tonic upon the dying man, and the two old friends spent many +pleasant hours together, talking--as old people delight in talking--of +the days of the distant past. + +"Is this widow the Isabella who once raised the devil with your Paul?" +asked Grigsby. + +"Same wench!" answered Sir Charles, a twinkle in his eye. + +"Hum!" said the Captain--and then said again, "Hum!" Then he added +meditatively, "Blasted unlucky kiss that! Likely wench enough, +but--never set the Thames on fire!--nor me!" + +"Oh the kiss didn't count," said Sir Charles. "As I said to the boy's +mother at the time, a man isn't obliged to marry every woman he kisses! +Mighty good thing, too--eh, Grig? Besides, a kiss like that is an insult +to any flesh and blood woman!" + +"An insult?" + +"The worst kind! You see, Grig, no woman likes to be kissed that way. +Whether she's capable of feeling a single thrill of passion herself or +not, she likes to be sure that she can inspire it in a man. And a kiss +like that--well, it rouses all her fighting blood! Makes her feel she's +no woman at all in the man's eye--merely a doll to be kissed. D'ye see? +It's damned inconsistent, of course, but it's the woman of it!" + +"The devil of it, you mean!" the old Captain chuckled in response. Then, +"Paul had a lucky escape," he said, as he looked furtively around the +room for listening ears, "mighty lucky escape! And an experience right +on the heels of it to make up for the loss of a hundred such wenches +and--say, Charles, he's got a son to be proud of! The Boy is certainly +worth all the price!" + +"Any price--any price, Grig!" Then the old man went on, "If Henrietta +only knew! She thinks the world of the youngster, you know--no one could +help that--but what if she knew? Paul's been mighty cautious. I often +laugh when I see them out together--him and the Boy--and think what a +sensation one could spring on the public by letting the cat out of the +bag. And the woman would suffer. Wouldn't she, just! Wouldn't they tear +her to pieces!" + +"Yes, they would," said the Captain, "they certainly would. This is a +world of hypocrites, Charles, damned rotten hypocrites!" + +"That's what it is, Grig! Not one of those same old hens who would have +said, 'Ought we to visit her?' and denounced the whole 'immoral' affair, +and all that sort of thing--not one of them, I say, but would--" + +"Give her very soul to know what such a love means! O they would, +Charles--they would--every damned old cat of them, who would never get +an opportunity to play the questionable--no, not one in a thousand +years--if they searched for it forever!" + +"Yet women are made so, Grigsby--they can't help it! Henrietta would +faint at the mere suggestion of accepting as a daughter-in-law a woman +with a past!" + +And the old man sighed. + +"I'd have given my eyes--yes, I would, Grig--to have seen that woman +just once! God! the man she made out of my boy! Of course it may have +been for the best that it turned out as it did, but--damn it all, Grig, +she was worth while! There's no dodging that!" + +"Nobody wants to dodge it, Charles! She was over-sexed, perhaps--but +better that than undersexed--eh?" + + * * * * * + +But the exhilaration caused by the coming of his old friend gradually +wore itself away, and Sir Charles began to grow weaker. And at last the +end came. He had grown anxious to see the Boy again, and the young +fellow had returned and spent much time with the old man, who loved the +sound of his voice as it expressed his fresh, frank ideas. + +But Sir Charles spent his last hours with his son. + +"Paul," he said, in a last confidential whisper, touching upon the theme +that had never been mentioned between them before, "I +understand--everything--you know, and I'm proud of you--and him! I have +wanted to say something, or do something for you--often--often--to help +you--but it's the sort of thing a chap has to fight out for himself, +and I thought I'd better keep out of it! But I wanted you to +know--_now_--that I've known it all--all along--and been proud of +you--both!" + +And their hands clasped closely, and the eyes of both were wet, but even +on the brink of death the lips of the younger man were sealed. The ++silence of one-and-twenty years remained unbroken. +It was not a +foolish reticence that restrained him--but simply that he could not find +words to voice the memories that grew more and more sacred with the +passing of the years. + +And at evening, when the family had gathered about him, the old man lay +with his son's hand in his, but his eyes looked beyond and rested on the +face of the Boy, who seemed the renewal of hit son's youth, when life +was one glad song! And thus he passed to the Great Beyond. + +And his son was Sir Paul Verdayne, the last of his race. + +That night, the young baronet and the Boy sat alone over their cigars. +The Boy spoke at some length of his extensive Austrian visit. The +Princess Elodie would make him a good wife, he said. She was of good +sturdy stock, healthy, strong--and, well, a little heavy and dull, +perhaps, but one couldn't expect everything! At least, her honor would +never be called into question. He would always feel sure that his name +was safe with her! He was glad he went to Austria. There were political +complications that he had not understood before which made the marriage +an absolute necessity for the salvation of his country's position among +the kingdoms of the world, and he was more resigned to it now. Yes, +indeed, he was far more resigned. The princess wasn't by any means +impossible--not a half bad sort--and--yes, he was resigned! He said it +over and over, but without convincing Sir Paul--or deceiving himself! + +As for the elder man, he said but little. He had been wondering +throughout that dinner-hour whether he could ever really make Isabella +his wife. The Boy thought of Isabella, too, and was anxious to know +whether his Father Paul was going to be happy at last. He had been very +curious to see the woman who could play so cruel a part toward the man +he loved. If he had been Verdayne, he thought, he would never forgive +her--never! Still, if Father Paul loved the woman--as he certainly must +to have remained single for her sake so long--it put a different face on +the matter, and of course it was Verdayne's affair, not his! The Boy had +been disappointed in Isabella's appearance and attractions--she was not +at all the woman he had imagined his Father Paul would love--but of +course she was older now, and age changes some women, and, and--well, he +only hoped that his friend would be happy--happy in his own way, +whatever that might be. + +At last, he summoned Vasili to him and called for his own particular +yellow wine--the Imperial Tokayi--and the old man filled the glasses. It +was too much for Verdayne--and all thoughts of Isabella were consigned +to eternal oblivion as he remembered the time when _he_ had sipped that +wine with his Queen in the little hotel on the Bürgenstock. + +She would have no cause for jealousy--his darling! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +It was November when Sir Charles died, and Lady Henrietta betook herself +to her sister's for consolation, while Sir Paul and the Boy, with a +common impulse, departed for India. + +They spent Christmas in Egypt, the winter months in the desert, and at +last spring came, with its remembrance of duties to be done. And to the +elder man England made its insistent call, as it always did in March. +For was it not in England, and in March, the tidings reached him that +unto him a son was born? + +He must go back. + +So at last, acting upon a pre-arrangement to which the young Prince had +not been a party, they made their way back to their own world of men and +women. + + * * * * * + +"Boy," said Sir Paul, one day, "the time has come when many questions +you have asked and wondered about are to be answered, as is your due. It +was your mother's wish that you should go, at the beginning of May, +alone, to Lucerne. There you will find letters awaiting you--from +her--from your Uncle Peter--yes, even from myself--telling you the whole +secret of your birth, the story of your inheritance." + +"Why Lucerne, Father Paul?" + +"It was your mother's wish--and mine!" + +Then, with a rush of tenderness, the older man threw his arm around the +Boy's shoulders. "Boy," he said, "be charitable and lenient and +kind--whatever you read!" + +"And what are you going to do, Father Paul? I have not quite two weeks +of freedom left, and I begrudge every day I am forced to spend away from +you. You will go with me to see me crowned--and married?" + +"Certainly, Boy! You are to stay in Lucerne only until you are sure you +understand all the revelations of these letters, and their full import. +It may be a week--it may be a day--it may be but a few hours, but--I +can't go with you, and you must not ask me to! It is an experience you +must face alone. I will await you in Venice, Paul, and be sure that when +you want me, Boy, I will come!" + +The Boy's sensitive nature was stirred to the depths by the emotion in +Sir Paul's face--emotion that all his life long he had never seen there +before. He grasped his hand-- + +"Father Paul," he began, but Sir Paul shook his head at the unspoken +appeal in his face and bade him be patient just a little longer and +await his letters, for he could tell him nothing. + +And thus they parted; the Boy to seek in Lucerne the unveiling of his +destiny, the man to wait in Venice, a place he had shunned for +one-and-twenty years, but which was dearer to him than any other city in +the world. It was there that he had lived the climax of his love-life, +with its unutterable ecstasy--and unutterable pain. + +Vasili had preceded his young master to Lucerne with the letters that +had been too precious, and of too secret a nature, to be entrusted to +the post. Who can define the sensations of the young prince as he held +in his hand the whole solution of the mystery that had haunted all his +years? He trembled--paled. What was this secret--perhaps this terrible +secret--which was to be a secret no longer? + +Alone in his apartment, he opened the little packet and read the note +from the Regent, which enclosed the others, and then--he could read no +further. The few words of information that there stared him in the face +drove every other thought from his mind, every other emotion from his +heart. His father! Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he known? A thousand +significant memories rushed over him in the light of the startling +revelation. How blind he had been! And he sat for hours, unheeding the +flight of time, thinking only the one thought, saying over and over +again the one name, the name of his father, his own father, whom he had +loved so deeply all his life-- + +_Paul Verdayne!_ + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +At last, when he felt that he could control his scattered senses, he +turned over the letters in the packet and found his mother's. How his +boyish heart thrilled at this message from the dead!--a message that he +had waited for, and that had been waiting for him, one-and-twenty years! +The letter began: + +"Once, my baby, thy father--long before he was thy father--had a +presentiment that if he became my lover my life would find a tragic end. + +"Once, likewise, I told thy father, before he became my lover, that the +price we might have to pay, if we permitted ourselves to love, would be +sorrow and death! For, my baby, these are so often the terrible cost of +such a love as ours. That he has been my lover--my beloved--heart of my +heart--thine own existence is the living proof; and something--an +intangible something--tells me that the rest of his prophecy will +likewise be fulfilled. We have known the sorrow--aye, as few others +have--and even now I feel that we shall also know death! + +"It is because of this curious presentiment of mine that I write down +for thee, my baby--my baby Paul--this story of thy father and thy +mother, and the great love that gave thee to the world. It is but right, +before thou comest into thy kingdom, that thou shouldst know--thou and +thou alone--the secret of thy birth, that thou mayst carry with thee +into the big world thy birthright--the sweetness of a supreme love." + +Then briefly, but as completely and vividly as the story could be +written, she pictured for him the beautiful idyl she and her lover had +lived, here in this very spot, two-and-twenty years ago; told him, in +her own quaint words, of the beautiful boy she had found in Lucerne, +that glorious May so long ago, and how it had been her caprice to waken +him, until the caprice had become her love, and afterwards her life; +told him how she had seen the danger, and had warned the boy to leave +Lucerne, while there was yet time, but that he had answered that he +would chance the hurt, because he wished to live, and he knew that only +she could teach him how--only she could prove to him the truth of her +own words, that _life was love!_ + +She told how weary and unhappy she had been, picturing with no light +fingers the misery of her life--married when a mere child to a vicious +husband--and all the insults and brutality she was forced to endure; and +then, for contrast, told him tenderly how she had been young again for +this boy she had found in Lucerne. + +There was not one little detail of that idyllic dream of love omitted +from the picture she drew for him of these two--and their sublime three +weeks of life on the Bürgenstock with their final triumphant, but bitter +culmination in Venice. She told him of what they had been pleased to +call their wedding--the wedding of their souls--nor did she seek to +lessen the enormity of their sin. + +She touched with the tenderest of fingers upon the first dawn in their +hearts of the hope of the coming of a child--a child who would hold +their souls together forever--a child who would immortalize their love +till it should live on, and on, and on, through countless generations +perhaps--till who could say how much the world might be benefited and +helped just because they two had loved! + +And then she told him--sweetly, as a mother should--of all her dreams +for her son--all her hopes and ambitions that were centered around his +little life--the life of her son who was to redeem the land--told him +how ennobled and exalted she had felt that this strong, manly Englishman +was her lover, and how sure she had been that their child would have a +noble mind. + + "Thou wilt think my thoughts, my baby Paul--thou wilt dream my + dreams, and know all my ambitions and longings. Thou canst not be + ignoble or base, for thou wert born of a love that makes all other + unions mean and low and sordid by comparison." + +Then, after telling, as only she could tell it, of the bitterness of +that parting in Venice, when, because of the threatening danger, from +which there was no escape, she left her lover to save his life, she went +on: + + "Dost thou know yet, when thou readest this, little Paul, with thy + father's eyes--dost thou know, I wonder, the meaning of that great + love which to the twain who realize it becomes a sacrament--dost + understand?--a sacrament holier even than a prayer. It was even so + with thy father and me--dost thou--canst thou understand? If not + yet, sometime thou wilt, and thou wilt then forgive thy mother for + her sin." + +She told of the taunts and persecutions to which she was forced to +submit upon her return to her kingdom. The king and his friends had +vilely commended her for her "patriotism" in finding an heir to the +throne. "Napoleon would have felt honored," her husband had sneered, "if +Josephine had adopted thy method of finding him the heir he desired!" +But through it all, she said, she had not faltered. She had held the one +thought supreme in her heart and remembered that however guilty she +might be in the eyes of the world, there was a higher truth in the words +of Mrs. Browning, "God trusts me with a child," and had dared to pray. + + "To pray for strength and grace and wisdom to give thee birth, my + baby, and to make thee all that thou shouldst be--to develop thee + into the man I and thy father would have thee become. I was not + only giving an heir to the throne of my realm. I was giving a son + to the husband of my soul. But the world did not know that. + Whatever it might suspect, it could actually know--nothing! The + secret was thy father's and mine--his and mine alone--and now it + is thine, as it needs must be! Guard it well, my baby, and let it + make thy life and thy manhood full of strength and power and + sweetness and glory and joy, and remember, as thou readest for the + first time this story of thy coming into the world, that thy mother + counted it her greatest, proudest glory to be the chosen love of + thy father, and the mother of his son." + +She had touched as lightly as she could upon the dark hours of her +baby's coming, when she was doomed to pass through that Valley of the +Shadow far away from the protecting and comforting love of him whose +right it was by every law of Nature to have been, then of all times, by +her side; but the Boy felt the pathos of it, and his eyes filled with +tears. His mother--the mother of his dreams--his glorious +queen-mother--to suffer all this for him--for him! + +And Father Paul!--his own father! What must this cross have been to him! +Surely he would love him all the rest of his life to make up for all +that suffering! + +Then he thought of the other letters and he read them all, his heart +torn between grief and anger--for they told him all the appalling +details of the tragedy that had taken his mother from him, and left his +father and himself bereaved of all that made life dear and worth the +living to man and boy. + +One of the letters was from Sir Paul, telling the story over again from +the man's point of view, and laying bare at last the great secret the +Boy had so often longed to hear. Nothing was kept back. Even every +note--every little scrap of his mother's writing--had been sacredly kept +and was now enclosed for the eyes of their son to read. The closed door +in Father Paul's life was unlocked now, and his son entered and +understood, wondering why he had been so blind that he had not seen it +all before. The writing on the wall had certainly been plain enough. And +he smiled to remember the readiness with which he had believed the +plausible story of Isabella Waring! + +And that man--the husband of his mother--the king who had taken her dear +life from her with a curse upon his lips! Thank God he was not his +father! No, in all the world of men, there was no one but Paul +Verdayne--no one--to whom he would so willingly have given the +title--and to him he had given it in his heart long before. + +He sat and read the letters through again, word by word, living in +imagination the life his mother had lived, feeling all she had felt. +God! the bliss, the agony of it all! + +And Paul Zalenska, surrounded by the messages from the past that had +given him being, and looking at the ruin of his own life with eyes newly +awakened to the immensity of his loss, bowed his face in his hands and +wept like a heart-broken child over the falling of his house of cards. + +Ah! his mother had understood--she had loved and suffered. She was older +than he, too, and had known her world as he could not possibly know it, +and yet she had bade him take the gifts of life when they came his way. + +And--God help him!--he had not done so! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The next morning, Paul Zalenska rose early. He had not slept well. He +was troubled with conflicting emotions, conflicting memories. The wonder +and sorrow of it all had been too much even for his youth and health to +endure. His mother had won so much from life, he thought--and he so +little! He thought of Opal--indeed, when was she ever absent from his +thoughts, waking or sleeping?--and the memory of his loss made him +frantic. Opal--his darling! And _they_ might have been just as happy as +his mother and father had been, but they had let their happiness slip +from them! What fools! Oh, what fools they had been! Not to have risked +anything--everything--for their happiness! And where was she now? In +Paris, in her husband's arms, no doubt, where he could hold her to him, +and caress her and kiss her at his own sweet will! God! It was +intolerable, unthinkable! And he--Paul, her lover--lying there alone, +who would have died a thousand deaths, if that were possible, to save +her from such a fate! + +At last he forced the thought of his own loss from him, and thought +again of his mother. Ah, but her death had been opportune! How glorious +to die when life and love had reached their zenith! in the fullness of +joy to take one's farewell of the world! + +And in the long watches of that wakeful night, he formed the resolution +that he put into effect at the first hint of dawn. He would spend one +entire day in solitude. He would traverse step by step the primrose +paths of his mother's idyllic dream; he would visit every scene, every +nook, she and her lover had immortalized in their memories; he would see +it all, feel it all--yes, _live_ it all, and become so impregnated with +its witchery that it would shed lustre and glory upon all the bleak +years to come. So well had she told her story, so perfect had been its +word-painting, he was sure that he would recognize every scene. + +He explored the ivy-terrace leading to his mother's room, he walked up +and down under the lime trees, and he sat on the bench still in position +under the ivy hanging from the balustrade, and looked up wistfully at +the windows of the rooms that had been hers. Then he engaged a launch +and crossed the lake, and was not satisfied until he had found among the +young beeches on the other side what he felt must have been the exact +spot where his mother had peeped through the leaves upon her ardent +lover, before she knew him. And he roamed about among the trees, feeling +a subtle sense of satisfaction in being in the same places that they had +been who gave him being, as though the spirits of their two natures must +still haunt the spot and leave some trace of their presence even yet. He +followed each of the three paths until he had decided to his own +satisfaction by which one his mother had escaped from her pursuer, that +day, and he laughed a buoyant, boyish laugh at the image it suggested of +Verdayne, the misogynist--his stately, staid old Father Paul--actually +"running after a woman!" Truly the Boy was putting aside his own sorrow +and discontent to-day. He was living in the past, identifying himself +with every phase of it, living in imagination the life of these two so +dear to him, and rejoicing in their joy. Life had certainly been one +sweet song to them, for a brief space, a duet in Paradise, broken +up--alas for the Boy!--before it had become the trio it should have +developed into, by every law of Nature. + +He sought the little village that they had visited before him, and +lunched at the same little hotel. He drove out to the little farmhouse +where the lovers had had their first revelation of him--their baby--and +he wept over the loss of the glorious mother she would have been to him. +He even climbed the mountain and looked with her eyes out over the +landscape. He was young and strong, and he determined to let nothing +escape him--to let no sense of fatigue deter him--but to crowd the day +full of memories of her. + +The Boy, as his mother had been before him, was enraptured by all that +he saw. The beauty of the snow-capped mountains against the blue of the +sky and the golden glamour of the sunshine appealed to him keenly, and +he watched the reflection of it all in the crystal lake in a trance of +delight. + +"Ah," he thought, "had they deliberately searched the world over for a +fitting setting for their idyl, they could not have selected a retreat +more perfect than this. It was made for lovers who love as they did." + +And at last, under the witchery of the star-studded skies, wearied and +hungry, but filled and thrilled with the fragrance and glory of the +memories of the mother whom his young heart idealized, he left the +launch at the landing by the terrace steps and started blithely for the +little restaurant, dreaming, always dreaming, not of the future--but of +the past. + +For him, alas, the future held no promise! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +During the Boy's absence that day a new guest had arrived at the little +hotel. A capricious American lady, who had come to Lucerne, "for a day +or two's rest," she said, before proceeding to Paris where an impatient +Count awaited her and his wedding-day. + +Yes, Opal was actually in Lucerne, and the suite of rooms once occupied +by the mysterious Madame Zalenska were now given over to the little lady +from over the seas, who, in spite of her diminutive stature, contrived +to impress everybody with a sense of her own importance. She had just +received a letter from her fiancé, an unusually impatient communication, +even from him. He was anxious, he said, for her and his long-delayed +honeymoon. Honeymoon! God help her! Her soul recoiled in horror from the +hideous prospect. Only two days more, she thought, pressing her lips +tightly together. Oh, the horror of it! She dared not think of it, or +she would go mad! But she would not falter. She had told herself that +she was now resigned. She was going to defeat Fate after all! + +She had partaken of her dinner, and was standing behind the ivy that +draped the little balcony, watching the moon in its setting of Swiss +skies and mystic landscape. How white and calm and spotless it appeared! +It was not a man's face she saw there--but that of a woman--the face of +a nun in its saintly, virgin purity, suggesting only sweet inspiring +thoughts of the glory of fidelity to duty, of the comfort and peace and +rest that come of renunciation. + +Opal clasped her hands together with a thrill of exultation at her own +victory over the love and longings that were never to be fulfilled. A +song of prayer and thanksgiving echoed in her heart over the thought +that she had been strong enough to do her duty and bear the cross that +life had so early laid upon her shoulders. She felt so good--so true--so +pure--so strong to-night. She would make her life, she thought--her life +that could know no personal love--abound in love for all the world, and +be to all it touched a living, breathing benediction. + +As she gazed she suddenly noticed a lighted launch on the little lake, +and an inexplicable prescience disturbed the calm of her musings. She +watched, with an intensity she could not have explained, the gradual +approach of the little craft. What did that boat, or its passenger, +matter to her that she should feel such an acute interest in its +movements? Yet something told her it did matter much, and though she +laughed at her superstition, nevertheless her heart listened to it, and +dared not gainsay its insistent whisper. + +A young man, straight and tall and lithe, bounded from the launch and +mounted the terrace steps. She saw his clean-cut profile, his +well-groomed appearance, which even in the moonlight was plainly +evident. She noted the regal bearing of his well-knit figure, and she +caught the delicious aroma of the particular brand of cigar Paul always +smoked, as he passed beneath the balcony where she stood. + +She turned in very terror and fled to her rooms, pulling the curtains +closer. She shrank like a frightened child upon the couch, her face +white and drawn with fear--of what, she did not know. + +After a time--long, terrible hours, it seemed to her--she parted the +curtains with tremulous fingers and looked out again at the sky, and +shuddered. The virgin nun-face had mysteriously changed--the moon that +had looked so pure and spotless was now blood-red with passion. + +Opal crept back, pulling the curtains together again, and threw herself +face downward upon the couch. God help her! + + * * * * * + +Paul Zalenska lingered long over his dinner that night. He was tired and +thoughtful. And he enjoyed sitting at that little table where his father +perhaps sat the night he had first seen her who became his love. + +And Paul pictured to himself that first meeting. He tried to imagine +that he was Paul Verdayne, and that shortly his lady would come in with +her stately tread, and take her seat, and be waited upon by her elderly +attendant. Perhaps she would look at him through those long dark lashes +with eyes that seemed not to see. But there was no special table, +to-night, and the Boy felt that the picture was woefully +incomplete--that he had been left out of the scheme of things entirely. + +After finishing his meal, he went out, as his father had done, out under +the stars and sat on the little bench under the ivy, and smoked a cigar. +He felt a curious thrill of excitement, quite out of keeping with his +loneliness. Was it just the memory of that old love-story that had +stirred his blood? Why did his pulse leap, his blood race through his +veins like this, his heart rise to his throat and hammer there so +fiercely, so strangely. Only one influence in all the world had ever +done this to him--only one influence--_one woman_--and she was miles and +miles away! + +Suddenly, impelled by some force beyond his power of resistance--a sense +of someone's gaze fixed upon him, he raised his eyes to the ivy above +him. There, faint and indistinct in the shadow of the leaves, but quite +unmistakable, he saw the white, frightened face of the girl he loved, +her luminous eyes looking straight down into his. + +He sprang to his feet, and pulled himself up by the ivy to the level of +the terrace, but she had vanished and the watching stars danced +mockingly overhead. Was he dreaming? Had that strange old love-story +taken away from him the last remaining shred of sanity? Surely he hadn't +seen Opal! She was in Paris--damn it!--and he clenched his teeth at the +thought--certainly not at Lucerne! + +He looked at the windows of that enchanted room. All was darkness and +silence. Cursing himself for a madman, he strode into the hall and +examined the Visitors' List. Suddenly the blood leaped to his face--his +head reeled--his heart beat to suffocation. He was not dreaming, for +there, as plainly as words could be written, was the entry: + +_Miss Ledoux and maid, New Orleans, U. S. A._ + +She was there--in Lucerne!--his Opal! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +How Paul reached his room, he never knew. He was in an ecstasy--his +young blood surging through his veins in response to the leap of the +seething passions within. + +Have you never felt it, Reader? If you have not, you had better lay +aside this book, for you will never, never understand what +followed--what _must_ follow, in the very nature of human hearts. + +Fate once more had placed happiness in his grasp--should he fling it +from him? Never! never again! He remembered his mother and her great +love, as she had bade him. + +This day, following as it did his mother's letter, had been a revelation +to him of the possibilities of life, and of his own capacity for +enjoying it. In one week, only one week more, he must take upon his +shoulders the burdens of a kingdom. Should he let a mistaken sense of +right and duty defraud him a second time? Was this barrier--which a +stronger or a weaker man would have brushed aside without a second +thought--to wreck his life, and Opal's? He laughed exultingly. His whole +soul was on fire, his whole body aflame. + +Beyond the formality of the betrothal, Opal had not yet been bound to +the Count. She was not his--yet! She could not be Paul's wife--Fate had +made that forever impossible--but she should be _his_, as he knew she +already was at heart. + +They loved, and was not love--everything! + +He paced the floor in an excitement beyond his control. Opal should give +him, out of her life, one day--one day in the little hotel on the +Bürgenstock, where his mother and her lover had been so happy. They, +too, should be happy--as happy as two mating birds in a new-built +nest--for one day they would forget all yesterdays and all to-morrows. +He would make that one day as glorious and shadowless for her as a day +could possibly be made--one day in which to forget that the world was +gray--- one day which should live in their memories throughout all the +years to come as the one ray of sunshine in two bleak and dreary lives! + +And tempted, as he admitted to himself, quite beyond all reason, he +swore by all that he held sacred to risk everything--brave +everything--for the sake of living one day in Paradise. + +"We have a right to be happy," he said. "Everyone has a right to be +happy, and we have done no wrong to the world. Why should we two, who +have the capability of making so much of our lives and doing so much for +the world, as we might have, together--why should we be sentenced to the +misery of mere existence, while men and women far less worthy of +happiness enjoy life in its utmost ecstasy?" + +One thing he was firmly resolved upon. Opal should not know his real +rank. She should give herself to Paul Zalenska, the man--not to Paul the +Prince! His rank should gloss over nothing--nothing--and for all she +knew now to the contrary, her future rank as Countess de Roannes was +superior to his own. + +And then as silence fell about the little hotel, unbroken save by some +strolling musicians in the square near at hand who sent the most tender +of Swiss love-melodies out upon the evening air, Paul walked out to the +terrace, passed through the little gate, and reaching the balcony, +knocked gently but imperatively upon the door of the room that was once +his mother's. + +The door was opened cautiously. + +Paul stepped inside, and closed it softly behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +In the moonlit room, Paul and Opal faced each other in a silence heavy +with emotion. + +It had been months since they parted, yet for some moments neither +spoke. Opal first found her voice. + +"Paul! You-saw me!" + +"I felt your eyes!" + +"Oh, why did I come!" + +Opal had begun to prepare for the night and had thrown about her +shoulders a loose robe of crimson silk. Her lustrous hair, like waves of +burnished copper, hung below her waist in beautiful confusion. With +trembling fingers she attempted to secure it. + +"Your hair is wonderful, Opal! Please leave it as it is," Paul said +softly. And, curiously enough, she obeyed in silence. + +"Paul," she said at last, with a little nervous laugh, as she recovered +her self-possession and seated herself on the couch, "don't stand +staring at me! I'm not a tragedy queen! You're too melodramatic. Sit +down and tell me why you've come here at this hour." + +Paul obeyed mechanically, his gaze still upon her. She shrank from the +expression of his eyes--it was the old tiger-look again! + +"I came because I had to, Opal. I could not have done otherwise. I have +something to tell you." + +"Something to tell me?" she repeated. + +"Yes. The most interesting story in the world to me, Opal--a letter from +my mother--a letter to me alone, which I can share with only one woman +in the world--the woman I love!" + +Her eyes fell. As she raised her hand abstractedly to adjust the +curtain, Paul saw the flash of her betrothal ring. He caught her hand in +his and quietly slipped the ring from her finger. She seized the jewel +with her free hand and tried to thrust it into her bosom. + +"No! no!--not there!" he remonstrated, and was not satisfied until she +had crossed the room and hidden it from his sight. + +"Does that please your majesty?" she asked, with a curious little +tremble in her voice. + +Paul started, and stared at her with a world of wonder in his eyes. +Could she know? + +"Your majesty--" he stammered. + +"Why not?" she laughed. "You speak as though you had but to command to +be obeyed." + +"Forgive me, dear," he answered softly. + +And Opal became her sympathetic self again. + +"Tell me about your mother, Paul," she said. + +And Paul, beginning at the very beginning, told her the whole story as +it had been told to him, reading much of his mother's letter to her, +reserving only such portions of it as would reveal the identity he was +determined to keep secret until she was his. The girl was moved to the +depths of her nature by the beauty and pathos of it all, and then the +thought came to her, "This, then, is Paul's heritage--his birthright! +He, like me, is doomed!" + +And her heart ached for him--and for herself! + +But Paul did not give her long to muse. Sitting down beside her for the +first time, he told her the plan he had been turning over in his mind +for their one day together. + +"Surely," he said, "it is not too much to ask out of a lifetime of +misery--one little day of bliss! Just one day in which there shall be no +yesterday, and no to-morrow--one day of Elysium against years of +Purgatory! Let us have our idyl, dear, as my mother and father had +theirs--even though it must be as brief as a butterfly's existence, let +us not deny ourselves that much. I ask only one day! + +"You love me, Opal. I love you. You are, of all the world of women, my +chosen one, as I--no, don't shake your head, for you can't honestly deny +it--am yours! We know we must soon part forever. Won't it be easier for +both of us--both, I say--if for but one day, we can give to each other +all! Won't all our lives be better for the memory of one perfect day? +Think, Opal--to take out of all eternity just a few hours--and yet out +of those few hours may be born sufficient courage for all the life to +come! Don't you see? Can't you? Oh, I can't argue--I can't reason! I +only want you to be mine--all mine--yes, if only for a few hours--all +mine!" + +"Paul, you are mad," she began, but he would not listen. + +"Just one day," he pleaded--"no yesterday, and no to-morrow!" + +He looked at her tenderly. + +"Opal, it simply has to be--it's Fate! If it wasn't meant to be, why +have we met here like this? Do you think we two are mere toys in the +grip of circumstances? Or do you believe the gods have crossed our paths +again just to tantalize us? Is that why we are here, Opal, you and +I--_together_?" + +"Why, I came to rest--to see Lucerne! Most tourists come to Lucerne! +It's a--pretty--place--very!" she responded, lamely. + +"Well, then, account for the rest of it. Why did _I_ come?--and at the +same time?--and find you here in my mother's room? Simply a coincidence? +Answer me that! Chance plays strange freaks sometimes, I'll admit, but +Fate is a little more than mere chance. Why did I hear your voice, that +time? Why did I see you, and follow? Why did we find ourselves so near +akin--so strangely, so irresistibly drawn to each other? Answer me, +Opal! Why was it, if we weren't created to be--_one_?" + +After a moment of waiting he said, "Listen to the music, Opal! Only +listen! Doesn't it remind you of dreams and visions--of fairyland, of +happiness, and--love?" + +But she could not answer. + +At last she said slowly, "Oh, it's too late, Paul--too late!" + +"Too late?" he echoed. "It's never too late to take the good the gods +send! Never, while love lasts!" + +"But the Count, Paul--and your fiancée! Think, Paul, think!" + +"I can't think! What does the Count matter, Opal! Nothing--nothing makes +any difference when you are face to face with destiny and your soul-mate +calls! It has to be--_it has to be!_--can't you--won't you--see it?" + +"_God help all poor souls lost in the dark!_" She did see it. It stared +her relentlessly in the face and tugged mercilessly at her heart with +fingers of red-hot steel! She covered her face with her hands, but she +could not shut out the terrible image of advancing Death that held for +her all the charm of a serpent's eye. She struggled, as virgin woman has +always struggled. But in her heart she knew that she would yield. What +was her weak woman's nature after all, when pitted against the strength +of the man she loved! + +"Oh, I was feeling so pure--so good--so true--to-night! Are there not +thousands of beautiful women in the world who might be yours for the +asking? Could you not let the poor Count have his wife and his honeymoon +in peace?" + +Honeymoon! She shuddered at the thought. + +"Sweetheart," he whispered, "by every God-made law of Nature you are +mine--mine--mine! What care we for the foolish, man-made conventions of +this or any other land? There is only one law in the universe--the +divine right of the individual to choose for himself his mate!" + +Then his whisper became softer--more enticing--more resistless in its +passionate appeal. + +He was pleading with his whole soul--this prince who with one word could +command the unquestioning obedience of a kingdom! But the woman in his +arms did not know that, and it would have made no difference if she had! +In that supreme moment it was only man and woman. + +Opal gazed in amazement at this revelation of a new Paul. How splendid +he was! What a king among all the men she knew! What a god in his +manhood's glory!--a god to make the hearts of better and wiser women +than she ache--and break--with longing! Her hand stole to her heart to +still the fury of its beating. + +"Opal," he breathed, "I have wanted you ever since that mad moment in +gray old London when I first caught the lure in your glorious eyes--do +you remember, sweetheart? I know you are mine--and you know it--girl! + +His voice sank lower and lower, growing more and more intense with +suppressed passion. Opal was held spell-bound by the subtle charm of his +languorous eyes. She wanted to cry out, but she could not speak--she +could not think--the spell of his fascination overpowered her. + +She felt her eyes grow humid. Her heart seemed to struggle upward, till +it caught in her throat like a huge lump of molten lead and threatened +to choke her with its wild, hot pulsations. + +"I love you, Opal! I love you! and I want you! God! how I want you!" +Paul stammered on, with a catch in his boyish voice it made her heart +leap to hear. "I want your eyes, Opal--your hair--your lips--your +glorious self! I want you as man never wanted woman before!" + +He paused, dazed by his own passion, maddened by her lack of +response--blinded by a mist of fire that made his senses swim and his +brain reel, and crazed by the throbbing of the pulse that cried out from +every vein in his body with the world-old elemental call. Was she going +to close the gates of Paradise in his very face and in the very hour of +his triumph rob him of the one day--his little day? + +It was too much. + +More overwhelmed by her lack of response than by any words she could +have uttered, Paul hesitated. Then, speech failing him, half-dazed, he +stumbled toward the door. + +"Paul!... Paul!" + +He heard her call as one in dreamland catches the far-off summons of +earth's realities. He turned. She stretched out her arms to him--those +round, white arms. + +"I understand you, Paul! I do understand." She threw her arms around his +neck and drew his face down to hers. "Yes, I love you, Paul, I love you! +Do you hear, I love you! I am yours--utterly--heart, mind, soul, and +body! Don't you know that I am yours?" + +She was in his arms now, weeping strange, hot tears of joy, her heart +throbbing fiercely against his own. + +"Paul--Paul--I am mad, I think!--we are both mad, you and I!" + +And as their lips at last met in one long, soul-maddening kiss, and the +intoxication of the senses stole over them, she murmured in the fullness +of her surrender, "Take me! Crush me! Kiss me! My love--my love!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +The morning dawned. The morning of their one day. + +Nature had done her best for them and made it all that a May day should +be. There was not one tint, nor tone, nor bit of fragrance lacking. +Silver-throated birds flooded the world with songs of love. The very air +seemed full of beauty and passion and the glory and joy of life in the +dawn of its fullness. + +Their arrangements had been hasty, but complete. Paul had stolen away +from Lucerne in the middle of the night, to be ready to welcome his +darling at the-first break of the morning; and it was at a delightfully +early hour that they met at the little hotel on the Bürgenstock where +his mother's love-dream had waxed to its idyllic perfection, +one-and-twenty years ago. They sat on the balcony and ate their simple +breakfast, looking down to where the reflection of the snow-crowned +mountains trembled in the limpid lake. + +Opal had never before looked so lovely, he thought. She was gowned in +the simplest fashion in purest white, as a bride should be, her glorious +hair arranged in a loose, girlish knot, while her lustrous eyes were +cast down, shyly, and her cheeks were flushed--flushed with the +revelations and memories of the night just passed--flushed with the +promise of the day just dawning--flushed with love, with slumbering, +smouldering passion--with wifehood! + +How completely she was his when she had once surrendered! + +In their first kiss of greeting, they bridged over, in one ecstatic +moment, the hours of their brief separation. When he finally withdrew +his lips from hers, with a deep sigh of momentary satisfaction, she +looked up into his eyes with something of the old, capricious mischief +dancing in her own. + +"Let us make the most of our day, darling, our one day!" she said. "We +must not waste a single minute of it." + +Opal had stolen away from Lucerne and had come up the mountain +absolutely unattended. She would share her secret with no one, she said, +and Paul had acquiesced. And now he took her up in his arms as one would +carry a little child, and bore her off to the suite he had engaged for +them. What a bit of a thing she was to wield such an influence over a +man's whole life! + +A pert little French maid waited upon them. She eyed with great favor +the _distingué_ young monsieur, and his _charmante épouse!_ There was a +knowing twinkle in her eye--she had not been a _femme de chambre_ even a +little while without learning to scent a _lune de miel!_ And this +promised to be especially _piquante_. But Paul would have none of her, +and she tripped away disappointed of her coveted _divertissement_. + +Paul was very jealous and exacting and even domineering this morning, +and would permit no intrusion. He would take care of madame, he had +informed the girl, and when she had taken herself away, he repeated it +emphatically. Opal was his little girl, he said, and he was going to pet +and coddle her himself. _Femme de chambre_ indeed! Wasn't he worth a +dozen of the impertinent French minxes! Wanted to coquette with him, +most likely--thought he might be ready to yawn over madame's charms! She +could keep her pretty ankles out of his sight--he wasn't interested in +them! + +How Paul thrilled at the touch of everything Opal wore! Soft delicious +things they were, and he handled them with an awkward reverence that +brought tears to her eyes. They spoke a strange, shy language of their +own--these little, filmy bits of fine linen. + +Oh, but it was good, thought Opal, to be taken care of like this!--to be +on these familiar terms with the Boy she loved--to give him the right to +love her and do these little things, so sacred in a woman's life. And to +Paul it meant more than even she guessed. It was such a new world to +him. He felt that he was treading on holy ground, and, for the moment, +was half-afraid. + +And thus began their one day--the one day that was to know no yesterday, +and no tomorrow! + +They found it hard to remember that part of it at all times. He would +grow reminiscent for an instant, and begin, "Do you remember--" and she +would catch him up quickly with a whispered, "No yesterday, Paul!" And +again, it would be his turn, for a troubled look would cloud the joy of +her eyes, and she would start to say, "What shall I do--" or "When I go +to Paris--" and Paul would snatch her to his heart and remind her that +there was "No tomorrow!" + +All the forenoon she lay in his arms, crying out with little +inarticulate gurgles of joy under his caresses, lavishing a whole +lifetime's concentrated emotion upon him in a ferocity of passion that +seemed quenchless. + +And Paul was in the seventh heaven--mad with love! He was learning that +there were tones in that glorious voice that he had never heard before, +depths in those eyes that he had never fathomed--and those tones, those +depths, were all for him, for him alone--aye, had been waiting there +through all eternity for his awakening touch. + +"Opal," he said, earnestly, "perhaps it was here--on this very spot, it +may be, who knows--that my mother gave herself to my father! + +But she could only smile at him through fast-gathering tears--strange +tears of mingled joy and wonder and pain. + +And he covered her face, her neck, her shoulders with burning kisses, +and cried out in an ecstasy of bliss, "Oh, my love! My life!" + +And thus the morning hours died away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +And behold, it was noon! + +The day and their love stood still together. The glamour of the day, the +resistless force of their masterful love that seemed to them so unlike +all other loves of which they had ever heard or dreamed, held them in a +transport of delight that could only manifest itself in strange, +bitter-sweet caresses, in incoherent murmurings. + +This, then, was love! Aye, this was Love! + +The thoughts of the two returned with a tender, persistent recollection +to the love-tale of the past--the delicious idyl of love that had given +birth to this boy. Here, even here, had been spent those three maddest +and gladdest of weeks--that dream of an ideal love realized in its +fullness, as it is given to few to realize. + +Yes, that was Love! + +It was youth eternal--youth and fire, power and passion. + +It was May! May! + + * * * * * + +It was mid-afternoon before they awakened, to look into each other's +eyes with a new understanding. Surely never since the world began had +two souls loved each other as did these! + +And what should they do with the afternoon? Such a little while remained +for them--such a little while! + +Paul drew out his mother's letter, and together they read it, +understanding now, as they had not been able to understand before, its +whole wonderful significance. + +When they read of the first dawn of the hope of parentage in the hearts +of these long-ago lovers, their eyes met, heavy with the wistfulness of +renunciation. That consolation, alas! was not for them. Only the joy of +loving could ever be theirs. + +And then, drawing out the other letters that had accompanied his +mother's, Paul revealed to his darling the whole mystery of his +identity. + +At first she was startled--almost appalled--at the thought that she had +given herself to a Prince of the Purple--a real king of a real +kingdom--and for a moment felt a strange awe of him. + +But Paul, reading her unspoken thought in her eyes, with that sweet +clairvoyance that had always existed between them, soothed and petted +and caressed her till the smiles returned to her face and she nestled in +his arms, once more happy and content. + +She was the queen of his soul, he told her, whoever might wear the crown +and bear the title before the world. Then, very carefully, lest he +should wound her, he told her the whole story of the Princess Elodie. + +Opal moved across the room and stood drumming idly by the long, open +window. He watched her anxiously. + +"Paul, did you go to see her as you promised--and is she ...pretty?" + +"She is a cow!" + +"Paul!" Opal laughed at his tone. + +"Oh, but she is! Fancy loving a cow!" + +Opal's heart grew heavy with a great pity for this poor, unfortunate +royal lady who was to be Paul's wife--the mother of his children--but +never, never his Love! + +"But, Paul, you'll be good to her, won't you? I know you will! You +couldn't be unkind to any living thing." + +And she ran into his arms, and clasped his neck tight! And the poor +Princess Elodie was again forgotten! + +"You--Opal--are my real wife," Paul assured her, "the one love of my +soul, the mate the gods have formed for me--my own forever!" + +Opal wept for pity of him, and for herself, but she faced the future +bravely. She would always be his guiding star, to beckon him upward! + +"And, Opal, my darling," Paul went on, "I promise you to live henceforth +a life of which you shall be proud. I will be brave and true and noble +and great and pure--to prove my gratitude to the gods for giving me this +one day--for giving me you, dearest--and your love--your wonderful love! +I _will_ be worthy, dear--I will! I'll be your knight--your +Launcelot--and you shall be my Guenevere! I will always wear your colors +in my heart, dear--the red-brown of your hair, the glorious hazel of +your eyes, the flush of your soft cheek, the rose of your sweet lips, +the virgin whiteness of your soul!" + +Opal looked at him with eyes brimming with pride. Young as he was, he +was indeed every inch a king. + +And she had crowned him king of her heart and soul and life before she +had known! Oh, the wonder of it!--the strange, sweet wonder of it! _He_, +who might have loved and mated where he would, had chosen her to be his +love! She could not realize it. It was almost beyond belief, she +thought, that she--plain little Opal Ledoux--could stir such a nature as +his to such a depth as she knew she had stirred it. + +Ah, the gods had been good to her! They had sent her the Prince +Charming, and he had wakened her with his kiss--that first kiss--how +well she remembered it--and how utterly she belonged to him! + +Then she remembered that, however much they tried to deceive themselves, +there was a to-morrow--a to-morrow that would surely come--a to-morrow +in which they would not belong to each other at all. He would belong to +the world. She would belong to a-- + +She sprang up at the recollection, and drew the curtains of the window +closer together. + +"We will shut out the cold, inquisitive, prying old world," she said. +"It shall not look, shall not listen! It is a hard, cruel world, my +Paul. It would say that I must not put my arms around your neck--like +this--must not lay my cheek against yours--so--must not let my heart +feel the wild throbbing of yours--and why? Because I do not wear your +ring, Paul--that's all!" + +She held up her white hand for his inspection, and surveyed it +critically. + +"See, Paul--there is no glittering, golden fetter to hold me to you with +the power of an iron band, and so I must not--let you hold me to you at +all" + +They both laughed merrily, and then Paul, pulling her down on his knee +and holding her face against his own, whispered, "What care we for the +old world? It is as sad and mad and bad as we are--if we only knew! And +who knows how much worse? It has petty bickerings, damning lies of spite +and malice, trickery and thievery and corruption on its conscience. Let +the little people of the world prate of their little things! We are +free, dearest--and we defy it, don't we? Our ideals are never lost. And +ideals are the life of love. Is love--a love like ours--a murderer of +life?" + +"Sometimes, Paul--sometimes! I fear it--I do fear it!" + +"Never fear, Opal, my beloved! You need not fear anything--anywhere! I +will stand between you and the world, dear--between you and hell itself! +My God, girl, how I love you! Opal! My Opal! My heart aches with the +immensity of it! Come, my love, my queen, my treasure, come! We have not +many more hours to--live! And I want you close, close--all mine! Ah, +Opal, we are masters of life and death! All earth, all heaven, and--hell +itself, cannot take you from me now!" + +Oh, if scone moments in life could only be eternal! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +And the day--died! + +The sun sank beneath the western horizon; the moon cast her silvery +sheen over the weary world; the twinkling stars appeared in the jewelled +diadem of night; and the silence of evening settled over mountain and +lake and swaying tree, while the two who had dared all things for the +sake of this one day, looked into each other's eyes now with a sudden +realization of the end. + +They had not allowed themselves once to think of the hour of separation. + +And now it was upon them! And they were not ready to part. + +"How do people say good-by forever, Paul?--people who love as we love? +How do they say it, dear? Tell me!" + +"But it is not forever, Opal. Don't you know that you will always be +part of my life--my soul-life, which is the only true one--its +sanctifying inspiration? You must not forget that--never, never!" + +"No, I won't forget it, my King!" She delighted in giving him his title +now. "That satisfaction I will hold to as long as I live!" + +"But, Opal, am I never to see you?--never? Surely we may meet +sometimes--rarely, of course, at long intervals, when life grows gray +and gloomy, and I am starving for one ray of the sunshine of your +smile?" + +"It would be dangerous, Paul, for both of us!" + +"But the world is only a little place after all, beloved. We shall be +thrown together again by Fate--as we have been this time." + +Then she smiled at him archly. "Ah, Paul, I know you so well! Your eyes +are saying that you will often manage to see me 'by chance'--but you +must not, dear, you must not" + +"Girl, I can never forget one word you have uttered, one caress you have +given--one tone of your voice--one smile of your lips--one glance of +your eye--never, never in God's world!" + +"Hold me closer, Paul, and teach me to be brave!" + +They clung together in an agony too poignant for words, too mighty for +tears! And of the unutterable madness and anguish of those last bitter +kisses of farewell, no mortal pen can write! + +But theirs had been from the beginning a mad love--a mad, hopeless, +fatal love--and it could bring neither of them happiness nor +peace--nothing but the bitterness of eternal regret! + +And thus the day--their one day of life--came to an end! + + * * * * * + +That evening, from the hotel at Lucerne, two telegrams flashed over the +wires. One was addressed to the Count de Roannes, Paris, and read as +follows: + +"_Shall reach Paris Monday afternoon.--Opal._" + +The other was addressed to Sir Paul Verdayne, at Venice, and was not +signed at all, saying simply, + +"_A son awaits his father in Lucerne_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +That night a sudden storm swept across Lucerne. + +The thunder crashed like the boom of a thousand cannon; like menacing +blades the lightning flashed its tongues of savage flame; the winds +raved in relentless fury, rocking the giant trees like straws in the +majesty of their wrath. Madness reigned in undisputed sovereignty, and +the earth cowered and trembled beneath the anger of the threatening +heavens. + +Opal crouched in her bed, and buried her head in the pillows. She had +never before known the meaning of fear, but now she was alone, and the +consciousness of guilt was upon her--the acute agony of their separation +mingled with the despairing prospect of a long, miserable loveless--yes, +_shameful,_--life as the legal slave of a man she abhorred. + +She did not regret the one day she had given to her lover. Whatever the +cost, she would never, never regret, she said to herself, for it had +been well worth any price that might be required of her. She gloried in +it, even now, while the storm raged outside. + +And the thunders crashed like the falling of mighty rocks upon the roof +over her head. Should she summon Céleste, her maid? + +Suddenly, as the tempest paused as if to catch its breath, she heard +footsteps in the corridor outside. It was very late--who could be +prowling about at this hour? She listened intently, every nerve and +sense keenly alert. Nearer and nearer the steps came, and then she +remembered with a start that in the excitement of her stealthy return to +the hotel and the anguish and madness of their parting, she had +forgotten to fasten her door. + +There came a light tap on the panel. She did not speak or move--hardly +breathed. Then the door opened, noiselessly, cautiously, and he--her +lover, her king--entered, the dim light of her room making his form, as +it approached, appear of even more than its usual majestic height and +power. + +"Paul!" she whispered. + +He seemed in a strange daze. Had the storm gone to his head and driven +him mad? + +"Yes, it is I," he said hoarsely. "It is Paul. Don't cry out. See, I am +calm!" and he laid his hand on hers. It was burning with fever. "I will +not hurt you, Opal!" + +Cry out? Hurt her? What did he mean? She had no thought of crying out. +Of course he would not hurt her--her lover, her lord, her king! Did she +not belong to him--now? + +He sat down and took her hands in his. + +"Opal," he muttered, "I've been thinking, thinking, thinking, till I +feel half-mad--yes, mad! Dearest, I cannot give you up like this--I +cannot! Let you go to _his_ arms--you who have been mine! Oh, Opal, I've +pictured it all to myself--seen you in his arms--seen his lips on +yours--seen--seen--Can't you imagine what it means to me? It's more than +I can stand, dearest! I may be crazy--I believe I am--but wouldn't it be +better for you and me to--to--cease forever this mockery of life, +and--forget?" + +She did not understand him. + +"Forget?" she murmured, holding his hand against her cheek, while her +free arm pulled his head down to hers. "Forget?" + +He pressed his burning lips to her cool neck, and then, after a moment, +went on, "Yes, beloved, to forget. Think, Opal, think! To forget all +ambition, all restlessness, all disappointment, all longing for what can +never be, all pain, all suffering, all thought of responsibility or +growth or desire, all success or failure--all life, all death--to +forget! to forget! Ah, dearest, one must have loved as we have loved, +and lost as we have lost, to wish to--forget!" + +"But there is no such respite for us, Paul. We are not the sort who can +put memory aside. To live will be to remember!" + +"Yes, that is it. To live _is_ to remember. But why should we live +longer? We've lived a lifetime in one day, have we not, sweetheart? What +more has life to give us?" + +He was calmer now, but it was the calmness of determination. + +"Let us die, dear--let us die! Virginius slew his daughter to save her +honor. You are more to me than a thousand daughters. You are my wife, +Opal!--Opal, my very own!" + +His eyes softened again, as the storm outside lulled for a moment. + +"My darling, don't be afraid! I will save you from him. I will keep you +mine--mine!" + +The thunder crashed again, and again the fury leaped to his eyes. He +drew from his pocket a curious foreign dagger, engraved with quaint +designs, and glittering with encrusted gold. Opal recognized it at once. +She had toyed with it the day before, admiring the richness of its +material and workmanship. + +"She--has been--mine--my wife," he muttered to himself, wildly, +disconnectedly, yet with startling distinctness. "She shall never, never +lie in his arms!" + +He passed his hand across his eyes, as if to brush away a veil. + +"Oh, the red! the red! the red! It's blood and fire and hell! It glares +in my eyes! It screams in my ears! Bidding me kill! kill!" + +He clasped her to him fiercely. + +"To see you, after all this--to see you go from me--and know you were +going to him--_him_--while I went ... Oh, beloved! beloved! God never +meant that! Surely He never meant that when He created us the creatures +that we are!" + +She kissed his hot, quivering lips. She had not loved him so much in all +their one mad day as she loved him now. + +"Paul," she whispered, "beloved!--what would you do?" + +There was only a great wonder in her eyes, not the faintest sign of +fear. Even in his anguish the Boy noticed that. + +"What would I do? Listen, Opal, my darling. Don't you remember, you said +it was not life but death--and I said it was both! And it is! it is! I +thought I was strong enough to brave hell! Opal--though you are +betrothed to the Count de Roannes you are _my wife_! And our +wedding-journey shall be eternal--through stars, Opal, and +worlds--far-off, glimmering worlds--our freed spirits together, always +together--together!" + +She watched him, fascinated, spell-bound. + +"Dear heart, Nature will not repulse us," Paul continued. "She will +gather us to her great, warm, peaceful heart, beloved!" + +Opal held him close to her breast, almost maternally, with a great +longing to soothe and calm his troubled spirit. + +"Think," he continued, "of what my poor, unhappy mother said was the +cost of love--'_Sorrow and death!_' We have had the sorrow, God knows! +And now for death! Kiss me, dearest, dearest! Kiss me for time and for +eternity, Opal, for in life and in death we can never part more!" + +She kissed him--obediently, solemnly--and then, holding her to him, +drinking in all the love that still shone for him in those eyes that had +driven him to desperation, he suddenly plunged the little dagger to its +hilt through her heart. + +She did not cry out. She did not even shudder. But looking at him with +"the light that never was on sea or land" in her still brilliant eyes, +she murmured, "In--life--and--in--death ... beloved! beloved!" + +And while he whispered between his set lips, "Sleep, my beloved, sleep," +her little head dropped back against his arm with a long, peaceful sigh. + +He held her form tenderly to his heart, murmuring senseless, meaningless +words of comfort and love, like a mother crooning her babe to sleep. And +he still clasped her there till the new day peeped through the blinds. +And the storm raged at intervals with all the ferocity of unspent +passion. But _his_ passion was over now, and he laughed a savage laugh +of triumph. + +No one could take her from him now--no one! His darling was his--his +wife--in life and in death! + +He laid her down upon the bed and arranged the blankets over her +tenderly, hiding the hideous, gaping wound, with its unceasing flow; +carefully from sight. He closed her eyes, kissing them as he did so, and +folded her little white hands together, and then he pulled out the +disarranged lace at her throat and smoothed it mechanically, till it lay +quite to his satisfaction. Opal was so fastidious, he thought--so +particular about these little niceties of dress. She would like to look +well when they found her--dear Heaven!--to-morrow! + +"No to-morrow!" he thought. They had spoken more wisely than they knew. +There would be no to-morrow for her--nor for him! + +There was a tiny spot of blood upon the frill of her sleeve, and he +carefully turned it under, out of sight. He looked at the ugly stains +upon his own garments with a thrill of satisfaction. She was his! Was it +not quite right and proper that her blood should be upon him? + +But even then, frenzied as he was, he had a singular care for +appearances, a curious regard for detail, and busied himself in removing +all signs of his presence from her chamber--all tell-tale traces of the +storm of passion that swept away her life--and his! He felt himself +already but the ghost of his former self, and laughed a weird, half-mad +laugh at the thought as it came to him. + +He bent over her again. He would have given much to have lain down +beside her and slept his last sleep in her cold, lifeless arms. But no! +Even this was denied him! + +He wound a tress of her hair about his fingers, and it clung and twined +there as her white fingers had been wont to twine. Oh, the pity of her +stillness--her silence--who was never still nor silent--never +indifferent to his presence! She looked so like a sleeping child in her +whiteness and tranquillity, her red-brown hair in disordered waves about +her head, her eyes closed in the last long sleep. And he wept as he +pressed his burning lips to hers, so cold, so pitifully cold, and for +the first time unresponsive. Oh, God, unresponsive forever! + +"Poor little girl!" he moaned, between sobs of hopeless pain. "Poor +little passionate girl!... Poor little tired Opal!" + +And with a dry sob of unutterable anguish, he picked up the dagger--the +cruel, kind little dagger--and crept to his own room. + +The dagger was still wet with her blood. "Her blood!--Oh, God!-her +blood!--hers! All mine in life, and yet never so much mine as now--mine +in death!--all mine! mine! And she was not afraid--not the least afraid! +Her eyes had room only for her overwhelming love--love--just love, no +fear, even that hour when face to face with the Great Mystery. And this +was her blood--_hers!_" + +He believed that she had been glad to die. He believed--oh, he was sure, +that death in his arms--and from his hand--had been sweeter than life +could have been--with that wretch--and always without him--her lover! +Yes, she had been glad to die. She had been grateful for her escape! And +again the dagger drew his fascinated gaze and wrung from his lips the +cry, "Her blood--hers! God in Heaven! Her blood!--hers!" + +He put his hand to his head with an inarticulate cry of bewilderment. +Then, with one supreme effort, he began to stagger hastily but +noiselessly about the room. The servants of the house were already +astir, and the day would soon be here. He put his sacred letters +carefully away, and destroyed all worthless papers, mechanically, but +still methodically. + +Then he hastily scribbled a few lines, and laid them beside his letters, +for Verdayne would be with him now in a few hours. His father--yes, his +own father! How he would like to see him once more--just once more--with +the knowledge of their relationship as a closer bond between them--to +talk about his mother--his beautiful, queenly mother--and her wonderful, +wonderful love! Yet--and he sighed as he thought of his deserted +kingdom--after all, all in vain--in vain! It was not to be--all that +glory--that triumph! Fate had willed differently. He was obeying the +Law! + +And his mother would not fail to understand. Verdayne must have loved +his mother like this! O God, Love was a fearful thing, he thought, to +wreck a life--a terrible thing, even a hideous thing--but in spite of +everything it was all that was worth living for--and dying for! + +The storm had spent its fury now, and only the steady drip, drip of the +rain reminded him of the falling of tears. + +"Opal!" he groaned, "Opal!" And he threw himself upon the bed, clasping +his dagger in uncontrollable agony. "O life is cruel, hard, bitter! I'll +none of it!--we'll none of it, you and I!" His voice grew triumphant in +its raving. "It was worth all the cost--even the sorrow and death! But +the end has come! Opal! Opal! I am coming, sweet!--coming!" + +And the dagger, still red with the blood of his darling, found its +unerring way to his own heart; and Paul Zalenska forgot his dreams, his +ambitions, his love, his passion, and his despair in the darkness and +quiet of eternal sleep. + +"_Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord._" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Sir Paul Verdayne reached Lucerne on the afternoon of the next day. He +was as eager as a boy for the reunion with his son. How he loved the +Boy--his Boy--the living embodiment of a love that seemed to him greater +than any other love the world had ever known. + +The storm had ceased and in the brilliancy of the afternoon sunshine +little trace of the fury of the night could be seen. Nature smiled +radiantly through the tear-drops still glistening on tree and shrub and +flower, like some capricious coquette defying the world to prove that +she had ever been sad. + +To Sir Paul, the place was hallowed with memories of his Queen, and his +heart and soul were full of her as he left the train. At the station +Vasili awaited him with the news of the double tragedy that had +horrified Lucerne. + +In that moment, Sir Paul's heart broke. He grasped at the faithful +servitor for a support the old man was scarce able to give. He looked up +into the pitying face, grown old and worn in the service of the young +King and his heart thrilled, as it ever thrilled, at the sight of the +long, cruel scar he remembered so well--the scar which the Kalmuck had +received in the service of his Queen, long years before. + +Sir Paul loved Vasili for that--loved him even more for the service he +had done the world when he choked to death the royal murderer of his +Queen, on the fatal night of that tragedy so cruelly alive in his +memory. He looked again at the scar on the swarthy face, and yet he knew +it was as nothing to the scar made in the old man's heart that day. + +In some way--they never knew how--they managed to reach the scene of the +tragedy, and Sir Paul, at his urgent request, was left alone with the +body of his son. + +Oh, God! Could he bear this last blow--and live? + +After a time, when reason began to re-assert itself, he searched and +found the letters that had told the Boy-king the story of his birth. Was +there no word at all for him--his father?--save the brief telegram he +had received the night before? + +Ah, yes! here was a note. His Boy had thought of him, then, even at the +last. He read it eagerly. + + "Father--dear Father--you who alone of all the world can + understand--forgive and pity your son who has found the cross too + heavy--the crown too thorny--to bear! I go to join my unhappy + mother across the river that men call death--and there together we + shall await the coming of the husband and father we could neither + of us claim in this miserable, gray old world. Father Paul--dearest + and best and truest of fathers, your Boy has learned with you the + cost of love, and has gladly paid the price--'sorrow and death!'" + +He bent again over the cold form, he pushed aside the clustering curls, +and kissed again and again, with all the fervor and pain of a lifetime's +repression, the white marble face of his son. + +And a few words of that little note rang in his ears +unceasingly--"dearest, and best, and _truest_ of fathers!" _Truest of +fathers_! Ah, yes! The Boy--his Boy--had understood! + +And the scalding tears came that were his one salvation, for they washed +away for a time some of the deadly ache from his bereaved heart. + + * * * * * + +When the force of his outburst was spent, Sir Paul Verdayne mastered +himself resolutely. There was much to be done. It was indeed a double +torture to find such an affliction here, of all places under Heaven, but +he told himself that his Queen would have him brave and strong, and +master his grief as an English gentleman should. And her wishes were +still, as they had ever been, the guide of his every thought and action. + +One thing he was determined upon. The world must never know the truth. + +To be sure, Sir Paul himself did not know the secret of that one day. He +could only surmise. Even Vasili did not know. The Boy had cleverly +managed to have the day, as he had the preceding one, "all to himself," +as he had informed Vasili, and Opal had been equally skillful in +escaping the attendance of her maid. They had left the hotel separately +at night, in different directions, returning separately at night. Who +was there to suspect that they had passed the day together, or had even +met each other at all? Surely--no one! + +And what was there for the world to know, in the mystery of their death? +Nothing! They were each found alone, stabbed to the heart, and the +dagger that had done the deed had not even been withdrawn from the body +of the Boy, when they found him. Sir Paul and Vasili had recognized it, +but who would dare to insinuate that the same dagger had drunk the blood +of the young American lady, or to say whose hand had struck either blow? +It was all a mystery, and Sir Paul was determined that it should remain +so. + +Money can accomplish anything, and though all Europe rang with the +story, no scandal--nor hint of it--besmirched the fair fame of the +unhappy Boy and girl who had loved "not wisely, but too well!" + +There had, indeed, been for them, as they had playfully said--"No +to-morrow!" + +And Sir Paul Verdayne, kneeling by the bier, with its trappings of a +kingdom's mourning, which hid beneath its rich adornment all the joy +that life for twenty years had held for him, felt for the first time a +sense of guilt, as he looked back upon his past. + +He did not regret his love. He could never do that! Truly, a man and a +woman had a right to love and mate as they would, if the consequences of +their deeds rested only upon their own heads. But to bring children into +the world, the fruit of such a union, to suffer and die, "for the sins +of the fathers," as his son had suffered and died--there was the sin--a +selfish, unpardonable sin! "And the wages of sin is death." + +He had never felt the truth before. He had been so happy in his Boy, and +so proud of his future, that there had never been a question in his +mind. But now he was face to face with the terrible consequences. + +"Oh, God!" he cried, "truly my punishment is just--but it is greater +than I can bear!" + + * * * * * + +_And Paul Verdayne--what of him? Of course you want to know. Read the +sequel_ + +=_HIGH NOON_= + +A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." You can get this book from your bookseller, or +for 60c., carriage paid, from the publishers + +The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_, 15 W. 38th St., New York + + + + +Successful Novels _from_ Famous Plays + +=TO-DAY= + +By George H. Broadhurst and Abraham S. Schomer. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +This novel tells what follows in the wake of the average American +woman's desire to keep up with the social procession. All the human +emotions are dealt with in a masterly way in this great book. + +=THE FAMILY CUPBOARD= + +By Owen Davis. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +A work of fiction which presents a frank treatment of the domestic +problems of to-day. It tells what happens in many homes when the wife +devotes herself wholly to society, to the exclusion of her own husband. +Mere man sometimes revolts, when regarded only as a money-making +machine. + +=AT BAY= + +From the drama by George Scarborough. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +This stirring detective story holds the attention of the reader from the +very start. It is full of action, presenting a baffling situation, the +solving of which carries one along in a whirlwind of excitement. Through +the story runs a love plot that is interwoven with the mystery of a +secret-service case. + +=The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_= + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +The Night of Temptation + +By VICTORIA CROSS + +Author of + +"LIFE'S SHOP WINDOW," "FIVE NIGHTS," etc. + + * * * * * + +This book takes for its keynote the self-sacrifice of woman in her love. +Regina, the heroine, gives herself to a man for his own sake, for the +happiness she can give him. He is her hero, her god, and she declines to +marry him until she is satisfied that he cannot live without her. + +The London _Athenaeum_ says: "Granted beautiful, rich, perfect, +passionate men and women, the author is capable of working out their +destiny." + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +The Macaulay Company, Publishers + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +The Secret of the Night + +By GASTON LEROUX + +Author of "THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM," etc. + + * * * * * + +Another thrilling mystery story in which the famous French detective +hero, Joseph Rouletabille, makes his appearance before the public again. +This character has won a place in the hearts of novel readers as no +other detective has since the creation of Sherlock Holmes. + +Thousands upon thousands of people in two continents await eagerly every +book by Gaston Leroux that relates the adventures of the hero of "The +Mystery of the Yellow Room" and "The Perfume of the Lady in Black." + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +The Macaulay Company, Publishers + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +Guardian Angels + +By MARCEL PRÉVOST + +Member of the Académie Française, Officer of the Legion of Honour + +Author of "SIMPLY WOMEN," Etc. + + * * * * * + +Every married woman ought to read this novel, if only to be forewarned +against a danger that may one day invade her own home. It is a story of +the double life led by the governesses of many young girls, showing the +dangers of such companionships. + +It is no exaggeration to say that "Guardian Angels" is one of the most +remarkable novels that have been issued in any language during recent +years. + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +=The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_ + +15 West 38th Street New York= + + + + +The Crown Novels + +FAMOUS BOOKS AT POPULAR PRICES + +=HER SOUL AND HER BODY, By Louise Closser Hale= + +The struggle between the spirit and the flesh of a young girl early in +life compelled to make her own way. Exposed to the temptations of life +in a big city, the contest between her better and lower natures is +described with psychological analysis and tender sympathy. Absorbingly +interesting. + +=HELL'S PLAYGROUND, by Ida Vera Simonton= + +This book deals with primal conditions in a land where "there ain't no +ten commandments"; where savagery, naked and unashamed, is not confined +to the blacks. It is a record of the life in the African tropics and it +is a powerful and fascinating story of a scene that has rarely been +depicted in fiction. + +=THE MYSTERY OF No. 47, by J. Storer Clouston= + +This is a most ingenious detective story--a thriller in every sense of +the word. The reader is led cleverly on until he is at a loss to know +what to expect, and, completely baffled, is unable to lay the book down +until he has finished the story and satisfied his perplexity. + +=THE SENTENCE OF SILENCE, by Reginald Wright Kauffman= + +Author of "The House of Bondage;" etc. + +By "The Sentence of Silence" is meant that sentence of reticence +pronounced upon the subject of sex. That which means the continuance of +the human race is the one thing of which no one is permitted to speak. +In this book the subject is dealt with frankly. + +=THE GIRL THAT GOES WRONG, by Reginald Wright Kauffman= + +Author of "The House of Bondage." + +The inexpressible conditions of human bondage of many young girls and +women in our cities demand fearless and uncompromising warfare. The +terrible peril that lingers just around the corner from every American +home must be stamped out with relentless purpose. + +=TO-MORROW, by Victoria Cross= + +Author of "Life's Shop Window." etc. + +Critics agree that this is Victoria Cross' greatest novel. Those who +have read "Life's Shop Window," "Five Nights," "Anna Lombard," and +similar books by this author will ask no further recommendation. +"To-morrow" is a real novel--not a collection of short stories. + +=SIMPLY WOMEN, by Marcel Prévost= + +"Like a motor-car or an old-fashioned razor, this book should be in the +hands of mature persons only."--_St. Louis Post-Dispatch._ + +"Marcel Prévost. of whom a critic remarked that his forte was the +analysis of the souls and bodies of a type half virgin and half +courtesan, is now available in a volume of selections admirably +translated by R.I. Brandon-Vauvillez."--_San Francisco Chronicle._ + +=THE ADVENTURES OF A NICE YOUNG MAN, by Aix= =Joseph and Potiphar's Wife +Up-to-Date= + +A handsome young, man, employed as a lady's private secretary, is bound, +to meet with interesting adventures. + +"Under a thin veil the story unquestionably sets forth actual episodes +and conditions in metropolitan circles."--- _Washington Star._ + +=HER REASON, Anonymous= + +This startling anonymous work of a well-known English novelist is a +frank exposure of Modern Marriage. "Her Reason" shows the deplorable +results of the process at work to-day among the rich, whose daughters +are annually offered for sale in the markets of the world. + +=THE COUNTERPART, by Horner Cotes= + +One of the best novels of the Civil War ever written. John Luther Loag, +the well-known writer, says of this book--"It is a perfectly bully story +and full of a fine sentiment. I have read it all--and with great +interest." + +=THE PRINCESS OF FORGE, by George C. Shedd= + +The tale of a man, and a maid, and a gold-mine--a stirring, romantic +American novel of the West. _The Chicago Inter-Ocean_ says--"Unceasing +action is the word for this novel. From the first to the last page there +is adventure." + +=OUR LADY OF DARKNESS, by Albert Dorrington and A. G. Stephens= + +A story of the Far East. _The Grand Rapids Herald_ says of the +book--"'Our Lady of Darkness' is entitled to be classed with 'The Count +of Monte Cristo.' It is one of the greatest stories of mystery and +deep-laid plot and its masterly handling must place it in the front rank +of modern fiction." + +=THE DUPLICATE DEATH, by A. C. Fox-Davies= + +A first-rate detective story--one that will keep you thrilled to the +very end. _The New York Tribune's_ verdict on the book is this--"We need +only commend it as a puzzling and readable addition to the fiction of +crime." + +=THE DANGEROUS AGE, by Karin Michaelis= + +Here is a woman's soul laid bare with absolute frankness. Europe went +mad about the book, which has been translated into twelve languages. It +betrays the freemasonry of womanhood. + +=MY ACTOR HUSBAND, Anonymous= + +The reader will be startled by the amazing truths set forth and, the +completeness of their revelations. Life behind the scenes is stripped +bare of all its glamor. Young women whom the stage attracts should read +this story. There is a ringing damnation in it. + +=MRS. DRUMMOND'S VOCATION, by Mark Ryce= + +Lily Drummond is an unmoral (not immoral) heroine. She was not a bad +girl at heart; but when chance opened up for her the view of a life she +had never known or dreamed of, her absence of moral responsibility did +the rest. + +=DOWNWARD: "A Slice of Life," by Maud Churton Braby= + +Author of "Modern Marriage and How to Bear It." + +"'Downward' belongs to that great modern school of fiction built upon +woman's downfall. * * * I cordially commend this bit of fiction to the +thousands of young women who are yearning to see what they call +life.'"--_James L. Ford in the N. Y. Herald_. + +=TWO APACHES OF PARIS, by Alice and Claude Askew= + +Authors of "The Shulamite," "The Rod of Justice," etc. + +All primal struggles originate with the daughters of Eve. + +This story of Paris and London tells of the wild, fierce life of the +flesh, of a woman with the beauty of consummate vice to whom a man gave +himself, body and soul. + +=THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH, by Elinor Glyn= + +One of Mrs. Glyn's biggest successes. Elizabeth is a charming young +woman who is always saying and doing droll and, daring things, both +shocking and amusing. + +=BEYOND THE ROCKS, by Elinor Glyn= + +"One of Mrs. Glyn's highly sensational and somewhat erotic +novels."--_Boston Transcript_. + +The scenes are laid in Paris and London; and a country-house party also +figures, affording the author some daring situations, which she has +handled deftly. + +=THE REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE, by Elinor Glyn= + +The story of the awakening of a young girl, whose maidenly emotions are +set forth as Elinor Glyn alone knows how. + +"Gratitude and, power and self-control! * * * in nature I find there is +a stronger force than all these things, and that is the touch of the one +we love."--Ambrosine. + +=THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE, by Elinor Glyn= + +"One of Mrs. Glyn's most pungent tales of feminine idiosyncracy and +caprice."--Boston Transcript, + +Evangeline is a delightful heroine with glorious red hair and amazing +eyes that looked a thousand unsaid challenges. + +=DAYBREAK: a Prologue to "Three Weeks"= + +"Daybreak" is a prologue to "Three Weeks" and forms the first of the +series, although published last. It is a highly interesting account of a +love episode that took place during the youth of the famous Queen of +"Three Weeks." + +A story of the Balkans, this is one of the timely novels of the year. + +=ONE DAY: a Sequel to "Three Weeks"= + +"There is a note of sincerity in this book that is lacking in the +first."--Boston Globe. + +"One Day" is the sequel you have been waiting for since reading "Three +Weeks," and is a story which points a moral, a clear, well-written +exposition of the doctrine, "As ye sow, so shall ye reap." + +=HIGH NOON: a New Sequel to "Three Weeks" A Modern Romeo and Juliet= + +A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." + +=THE DIARY OF MY HONEYMOON= + +A woman who sets out to unburden her soul upon intimate things is bound +to touch upon happenings which are seldom the subject of writing at all; +but whatever may be said of the views of the anonymous author, the +"Diary" is a work of throbbing and intense humanity, the moral of which +is sound throughout and plain to see. + +=THE INDISCRETION OF LADY USHER: a Sequel to "The Diary of My +Honeymoon"= + +"Another purpose novel dealing with the question of marriage and dealing +very plainly,--one of the most interesting among the many books on these +lines which are at present attracting so much attention."--Cleveland +Town Topics. + +_Price 50 cents per copy; Postage 10 cents extra Order from your +Bookseller or from the Publishers_ + +=THE MACAULAY COMPANY, 15 West 38th St., New York Send for Illustrated +Catalogue= + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY *** + +***** This file should be named 13776-8.txt or 13776-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/7/13776/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Steven Michaels and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: One Day + A sequel to 'Three Weeks' + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: October 18, 2004 [EBook #13776] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Steven Michaels and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>ONE DAY</h1> + +<h2>A SEQUEL TO "THREE WEEKS"</h2> + +<h2>ANONYMOUS</h2> +<br /> + +<h4>Original Publication Date 1909, by The Macaulay Company</h4> +<br /> + +<h4>NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY 1912</h4> + +<br /> + +<h4>THE SCHILLING PRESS NEW YORK</h4> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<a href='#FOREWORD_TO_MY_AMERICAN_FRIENDS'><b>FOREWORD TO MY AMERICAN FRIENDS</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_I'><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_II'><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_III'><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_IV'><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_V'><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_VI'><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_VII'><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_VIII'><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_IX'><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_X'><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XI'><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XII'><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XIII'><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XIV'><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XV'><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XVI'><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XVII'><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII'><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XIX'><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XX'><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXI'><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXII'><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXIII'><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXIV'><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXV'><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXVI'><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXVII'><b>CHAPTER XXVII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXVIII'><b>CHAPTER XXVIII</b></a><br /> + <a href='#CHAPTER_XXIX'><b>CHAPTER XXIX</b></a><br /> + <br /> + <a href='#Successful_Novels_from_Famous_Plays'><b>Successful Novels from Famous Plays</b></a><br /> + <a href='#The_Night_of_Temptation'><b>The Night of Temptation</b></a><br /> + <a href='#The_Secret_of_the_Night'><b>The Secret of the Night</b></a><br /> + <a href='#Guardian_Angels'><b>Guardian Angels</b></a><br /> + <a href='#The_CROWN_NOVELS'><b>The Crown Novels</b></a><br /> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='FOREWORD_TO_MY_AMERICAN_FRIENDS'></a><h2>FOREWORD TO MY AMERICAN FRIENDS</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Now after spending some very pleasant weeks in your interesting country, +I feel sure that this book will find many sympathetic readers in +America. Quite naturally it will be discussed; some, doubtless, will +censure it—and unjustly; others will believe with me that the tale +teaches a great moral lesson.</p> + +<p>Born as the Boy was born, the end which Fate forced upon him, to me, was +inevitable. Each word and act of the three weeks of his parents' +love-idyl must reflect in the character and life of the child. Little by +little the baby King grew before my mental vision until I saw at last +there was no escape from his importunity and I allowed the insistent +Boy—masterful even from his inception—to shape himself at his own +sweet will. Thus he became the hero of my study.</p> + +<p>This is not a book for children or fools—but for men and women who can +grasp the underlying principle of morality which has been uppermost in +my mind as I wrote. Those who can see beyond the outburst of +passion—the overmastering belief in the power of love to justify all +things, which the Boy inherited so naturally from his Queen mother—will +understand the forces against which the young Prince must needs fight a +losing battle. The transgression was unavoidable to one whose very +conception was beyond the law—the punishment was equally inevitable.</p> + +<p>In fairness to this book of mine—and to me—the great moral lesson I +have endeavored to teach must be considered in its entirety, and no +single episode be construed as the book's sole aim. The verdict on my +two years' work rests with you, dear Reader, but at least you may be +sure that I have only tried to show that those who sow the wind shall +reap the whirlwind.</p> + +<p>—THE AUTHOR.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<h2>ONE DAY</h2> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_I'></a><h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The Prince tore the missive fiercely from its envelope, and scowled at +the mocking glint of the royal crown so heavily embossed at the top of +the paper. What a toy it was, he thought, to cost so much, and +eventually to mean so little! Roughly translated, the letter ran as +follows:</p> + +<p>"Your Royal Highness will be gratified to learn that at last a +satisfactory alliance has been arranged between the Princess Elodie of +Austria and your royal self. It is the desire of both courts and +councils that the marriage shall be solemnized on the fifteenth of the +May following your twenty-first birthday, at which time the coronation +ceremony takes place that is to place the crown of the kingdom upon the +head of the son of our beloved and ever-to-be-regretted Imperatorskoye. +The Court and Council extend greetings and congratulations upon the not +far distant approach of both auspicious events to your Royal Highness, +which cannot fail to afford the utmost satisfaction in every detail to +the ever-beautiful-and-never-to-be-sufficiently beloved Prince Paul.</p> + +<p>"Imperator-to-be, we salute thee. We kiss thy feet."</p> + +<p>The letter was sealed with the royal crest and signed by the Regent—the +Boy's uncle—the Grand Duke Peter, his mother's brother, who had been +his guardian and protector almost from his birth. The young prince knew +that his uncle loved him, knew that the Grand Duke desired nothing on +earth so much as the happiness of his beloved sister's only son—and yet +at this crisis of the Boy's life, even his uncle was as powerless to +help as was Paul Verdayne, the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"The Princess Elodie!" he grumbled. "Who the devil is this Princess +Elodie, anyway? Austrian blood has no particular charm for me! They +might at least have told me something a little more definite about the +woman they have picked out to be the mother of my children. A man +usually likes to look an animal over before he purchases!"</p> + +<p>Known to London society as Monsieur Zalenska, the Prince had come up to +town with the Verdaynes, and was apparently enjoying to the utmost the +frivolities of London life.</p> + +<p>At a fashionable garden party he sat alone, in a seclusion he had long +sought and had finally managed to secure, behind a hedge of hawthorn +where none but lovers, and men and women troubled as he was troubled, +cared to conceal themselves.</p> + +<p>The letter, long-expected and dreaded, had finally crossed the continent +to his hand. It was only the written confirmation of the sentence Fate +had pronounced upon him, even as it had pronounced similar sentences +upon princes and potentates since the beginning of thrones and kingdoms.</p> + +<p>While the Prince—or Paul Zalenska, as I will now call him—sat in his +brooding brown study, clutching the imperial letter tightly in his young +hand, his attention was arrested by the sound of voices on the other +side of the hawthorn hedge.</p> + +<p>He listened idly, at first, to what seemed to be a one-sided +conversation, in a dull, emotionless feminine voice—a discourse on +fashion, society chit-chat, and hopeless nonentities, interspersed with +bits of gossip. Could women never talk about anything else? he thought +impatiently.</p> + +<p>But his displeasure did not seem to affect the course of things at all. +The voice, completely unconscious of the aversion it aroused in the +invisible listener, continued its dreary, expressionless monotone.</p> + +<p>"What makes you so silent, Opal? You haven't said a word to-day that you +didn't absolutely have to say. If all American girls are as dreamy as +you, I wonder why our English lords are so irresistibly attracted across +the water when in search of brides!"</p> + +<p>And then the Boy on the other side of the hedge felt his sluggish pulse +quicken, and almost started to his feet, impelled by a sudden thrill of +delight; for another voice had spoken—a voice of such infinite charm +and sweetness and vitality, yet with languorous suggestion of emotional +heights and depths, that he felt a vague sense of disappointment when +the magnetic notes finally died away.</p> + +<p>"Brides?" the voice echoed, with a lilt of girlish laughter running +through the words. "You mean '<i>bribes</i>,' don't you? For I assure you, +dear cousin, it is the metallic clink of American gold, and nothing +else, that lures your great men over the sea. As for my silence, <i>ma +belle</i>, I have been uncommunicative because there really seemed nothing +at all worth saying. I can't accustom myself to small-talk—I can't even +listen to it patiently. I always feel a wild impulse to fly far, far +away, where I can close my ears to it all and listen to my own thoughts. +I'm sorry if I disappoint you, Alice—I seem to disappoint everybody +that I would like to please—but I assure you, laugh at my dreams as you +may, to me my dream-life is far more attractive and beautiful than what +you term Life. Forgive me if I hurt you, cousin. I'm peculiarly +constituted, perhaps, but I don't like this twaddle, and I can't help +it! Everything in England is so beautiful, and yet its society seems +so—so hopelessly unsatisfactory to one who longs to <i>live!</i>"</p> + +<p>"To live, Opal? We are not dead, surely! What do you mean by life?"</p> + +<p>And so her name was Opal! How curiously the name suited the voice! The +Boy, as he listened, felt that no other name could possibly have +matched that voice—the opal, that glorious gem in which all the fires +of the sun, the iridescent glories of the rainbow, and the cold +brilliance of ice and frost and snow seemed to blend and crystallize. +All this, and more, was in that mysteriously fascinating voice.</p> + +<p>"To live, Alice?" echoed the voice again. "To live? Why, to live is to +<i>feel!</i>—to feel every emotion of which the human soul is capable, to +rise to the heights of love, and knowledge, and power; to sink—if need +be—to the deepest depths of despair, but, at all costs, at all hazards, +to <i>live!</i>—to experience in one's own nature all the reality and +fullness of the deathless emotions of life!"</p> + +<p>The voice sank almost to the softness of a whisper, yet even then was +vibrant, alive, intense.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Alice, from my childhood up, I have dreamed of life and longed for +it. What life really is, each must decide for himself, must he not? +Some, they say, sleep their way through a dreamless existence, and +never, never wake to realities. Alice, I have sometimes wondered if that +was to be my fate, have wondered and wondered until I have cried out in +real terror at the hideous prospect! Surely Fate could not be so cruel +as to implant such a desperate desire in a soul that never was to know +its fulfilment. Could it, Alice? Tell me, <i>could</i> it?"</p> + +<p>The Boy held his breath now.</p> + +<p>Who was this girl, anyhow, who seemed to express his own thoughts as +accurately as he himself could have done? He was bored no longer. He was +roused, stirred, awakened—and intensely interested. It was as though +the voice of his own soul spoke to him in a dream.</p> + +<p>The cold, lifeless voice now chimed in again. In his impatience the Boy +clenched his fists and shut his teeth together hard. Why didn't she keep +still? He didn't want to miss a single note he might have caught of the +voice—that other! Why did this nonentity—for one didn't have to see +her to be sure that she was that—have to interrupt and rob him of his +pleasure?</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, Opal," she was saying. (Of course she didn't, +thought the Boy—how could she?) "I am sure that I live. And yet I have +never felt that way—thank goodness! It's vulgar to feel too deeply, +Mamma used to say, and as I have grown older, I can see that she was +right. The best people never show any excess of emotion. That is for +tragedy queens, operatic stars, and—the women we do not talk about! +Ladies cultivate repose!"</p> + +<p>("Repose!—<i>mon Dieu!</i>" thought Paul, behind the hedge. He wished that +she would!)</p> + +<p>"And yet, Alice, you are—married!"</p> + +<p>"Married?—of course!—why not?" and the eavesdropper fancied he could +see the wide-open gaze of well-bred English surprise that accompanied +the words. "One has to marry, of course. That is what we are created +for. But one doesn't make a fuss about it. It's only a custom—a +ceremony—and doesn't change existence much for most women, if they +choose sensibly. Of course there is always the chance of a +<i>mésalliance</i>! A woman has to risk that."</p> + +<p>"And you don't—love?"</p> + +<p>The Boy was struck by a note that was almost horror in the opaline voice +so near him.</p> + +<p>"Love? Why, Opal, of course we do! It's easy to love, you know, when a +man is decent and half-way good to one. I am sure I think a great deal +of Algernon; but I dare say I should have thought as much of any other +man I had happened to marry. That is a wife's duty!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Duty!</i>—and you call that love?" The horror in the tones had now +changed to scorn.</p> + +<p>"You have strange ideas of life, Opal. I should be afraid to indulge +them if I were you—really I should! You have lived so much in books +that you seem to have a very garbled idea of the world. Fiction is apt +to be much of a fairy tale, a crazy exaggeration of what living really +consists of!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Afraid?</i> Why should I be afraid? I am an American girl, remember, and +Americans are afraid of nothing—nothing! Come, cousin, tell to me, if +you can, why I should be afraid."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know! really I don't!" There was a troubled, perplexed note +in the English voice now. "Such notions are apt to get girls into +trouble, and lead them to some unhappy fate. Too much 'life'—as you +call it—must mean suffering, and sorrow, and many tears—and maybe, +<i>sin</i>!"</p> + +<p>There was a shocked note in the voice of the young English matron as +she added the last word, and her voice sank to a whisper. But Paul +Zalenska heard, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Suffering, and sorrow, and many tears," repeated the American girl, +musingly, "and maybe—sin!" Then she went on, firmly, "Very well, +Alice, give me the suffering and sorrow, and many tears—and the sin, +too, if it must be, for we are all sinners of greater or less +degree—but at any rate, give me life! My life may still be far off in +the future, but when the time comes, I shall certainly know, and—I +shall <i>live</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You are a peculiar girl, Opal, and—we don't say those things in +England."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't say those things, you cold English women! You do not even +<i>feel</i> them! As for sin, Alice, to my mind there can be no worse sin +under heaven than you commit when you give yourself to a man whom you do +not love better than you could possibly love any other. Oh, it is a +sin—it <i>must</i> be—to sell yourself like that! It's no wonder, I think, +that your husbands are so often driven to 'the women we do not talk +about' for—consolation!"</p> + +<p>"Opal! Opal! hush! What <i>are</i> you saying? You really—but see! isn't +that Algernon crossing the terrace? He is probably looking for us."</p> + +<p>"And like a dutiful English wife, you mustn't fail to obey, I suppose! +Lead the way, cousin mine, and I'll promise to follow you with due +dignity and decorum."</p> + +<p>And the rustle of silken skirts heralded the departure of the ladies +away from the hedge and beyond Paul's hearing.</p> + +<p>Then he too started at an eager, restless pace for the centre of the +crowd. He had quite forgotten the future so carefully arranged for him, +and was off in hot pursuit of—what? He did not know! He only knew that +he had heard a voice, and—he followed!</p> + +<p>As he rejoined the guests, he looked with awakened interest into every +face, listened with eager intensity to every voice. But all in vain. It +did not occur to him that he might easily learn from his hostess the +identity of her American guest; and even if the thought had presented +itself to him, he would never have acted upon it. The experience was +his alone, and he would have been unwilling to share it with any one.</p> + +<p>He was no longer bored as earlier in the afternoon, and he carried the +assurance of enthusiasm and interest in his every glance and motion. +People smiled at the solitary figure, and whispered that he must have +lost Verdayne. But for once in his life, the Boy was not looking for his +friend.</p> + +<p>But neither did he find the voice!</p> + +<p>Usually among the first to depart on such occasions as these, this time +he remained until almost all the crowd had made their adieux. And it was +with a keen sense of disappointment that he at last entered his carriage +for the home of the Verdaynes. He was hearing again and again in the +words of the voice, as it echoed through his very soul, "When my time +comes, I shall certainly know, and I shall—<i>live!</i>"</p> + +<p>The letter in his pocket no longer scorched the flesh beneath. He had +forgotten its very existence, nor did he once think of the Princess +Elodie of Austria. What had happened to him?</p> + +<p>Had he fallen in love with a—voice?</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_II'></a><h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was May at Verdayne Place, and May at Verdayne Place was altogether +different from May in any other part of the world. The skies were of a +far deeper and richer blue; the flowers reached a higher state of +fragrant and rainbow-hued perfection; the sun shining through the green +of the trees was tempered to just the right degree of shine and shadow. +To an Englishman, home is the beginning and the end of the world, and +Paul Verdayne was a typical Englishman.</p> + +<p>To be sure, it had not always been so, but Paul had outlived his +vagabond days and had become thoroughly domesticated; yet there had been +a time in his youth when the wandering spirit had filled his soul, when +the love of adventure had lent wings to his feet, and the glory of +romance had lured him to the lights and shadows of other skies than +these. But Verdayne was older now, very much older! He had lived his +life, he said, and settled down!</p> + +<p>In the shade of the tall trees of the park, two men were drinking in the +beauties of the season, in all the glory and splendor of its +ever-changing, yet ever-enduring loveliness. One of them was past forty, +the ripeness of middle age and the general air of a well-spent, +well-directed, and fully-developed life lending to his face and form an +unusual distinction—even in that land of distinguished men. His +companion was a boy of twenty, straight and tall and proud, carrying +himself with the regal grace of a Greek god. He was a strong, handsome, +healthy, well-built, and well-instructed boy, a boy at whom any one who +looked once would be sure to look the second time, even though he could +not tell exactly wherein the peculiar charm lay. Both men were fair of +hair and blue-eyed, with clear, clean skins and well-bred English faces, +and the critical observer could scarcely fail to notice how curiously +they resembled each other. Indeed, the younger of the pair might easily +have been the replica of the elder's youth.</p> + +<p>When they spoke, however, the illusion of resemblance disappeared. In +the voice of the Boy was a certain vibrant note that was entirely +lacking in the deeper tones of the man—not an accent, nor yet an +inflection, but still a quality that lent a subtle suggestion of foreign +shores. It was an expressive voice, neither languorous nor unduly +forceful, but strangely magnetic, and adorably rich and full, and +musical, thrilling its hearers with its suggestion of latent physical +and spiritual force.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of which I write, those two were facing a crisis that +made them blind to everything of lesser import. Paul Verdayne—the man +—realized this to the full. His companion—the Boy—was dimly but just +as acutely conscious of it. The question had come at last—the question +that Paul Verdayne had been dreading for years.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Paul," the Boy was saying, "what relation are you to me? You are +not really my uncle, though I have been taught to call you so after this +quaint English fashion of yours. I know it is something of a secret, but +I know no more! We are closer comrades, it seems to me—you and I—than +any others in all the world. We always understand each other, somehow, +almost without words—is it not so? I even bear your name, and I am +proud of it, because it is yours. But why must there be so much mystery +about our real relationship? Won't you tell me just what I am to you?"</p> + +<p>The question, long-looked-for as it was, found the elder man all +unprepared. Is any one ever ready for any dire calamity, however +certainly expected? He paced up and down under the tall trees of the +park and for a time did not answer. Then he paused and laid his hand +upon the shoulder of the Boy with a tenderness of touch that proved +better than any words how close was the bond between them.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what you are to me! I could never, never do that! You are +everything to me, everything!"</p> + +<p>The Boy made a motion as if to speak, but the man forestalled him.</p> + +<p>"We're jolly good friends, aren't we—the very best of companions? In +all the world there is no man, woman or child that is half so near and +dear to me as you. Men don't usually talk about these things to one +another, you know, Boy; but, though I am a bachelor, you see, I feel +toward you as most men feel toward their sons. What does the mere +defining of the relationship matter? Could we possibly be any more to +each other than we are?"</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne seated himself on a little knoll beneath the shade of a +giant oak. The Boy looked at him with the wistfulness of an infinite +question in his gaze.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Boy! Some time, perhaps—yes, certainly—you shall know all, +all! But that time has not yet come, and for the present it is best that +things should rest as they are. Trust us, Boy—trust me—and be +patient!"</p> + +<p>"Patient!" The Boy laughed a full, ringing laugh, as he threw himself on +the grass at his companion's feet. "I have never learned the word! Could +you be patient, Uncle Paul, when youth was all on fire in your heart, +with your own life shrouded in mystery? Could you, I say, be patient +then?"</p> + +<p>Verdayne laughed indulgently as his strong fingers stroked the Boy's +brown curls.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not, Boy, perhaps not! But it is for you," he continued, "for +you, Boy, to make the best of that life of yours, which you are pleased +to think clouded in such tantalizing mystery. It is for you to develop +every God-given faculty of your being that all of us that love you may +have the happiness of seeing you perform wisely and well the mission +upon which you have been sent to this kingdom of yours to accomplish. +Boy! every true man is a king in the might of his manhood, but upon you +is bestowed a double portion of that universal royalty. This is a +throne-worshipping world we are living in, Paul, and it means even more +than you can realize to be a prince of the blood!"</p> + +<p>The Boy looked around the park apprehensively. What if someone heard? +For this straight young sapling, who was only the "Boy" to Paul +Verdayne, was to the world at large an heir to a throne, a king who had +been left in infancy the sole ruler of his kingdom.</p> + +<p>His visits to Verdayne Place were <i>incognito</i>. He did like to throw +aside the purple now and then and be the real live boy he was at heart. +He did enjoy to the full his occasional opportunities, unhampered by +the trappings and obligations of royalty.</p> + +<p>"A prince of the blood!" he echoed scornfully. "Bah!—what is that? +Merely an accident of birth!"</p> + +<p>"No, not an accident, Paul! Nothing in the world ever is that. Every +fragment of life has its completing part somewhere, given its place in +the scheme of the universe by intricate design—always by <i>design!</i> As +for the duties of your kingdom, my Prince, it is not like you to take +them so lightly."</p> + +<p>"I know! I know! Yet everybody might have been born a prince. It is far +more to be a man!"</p> + +<p>"True enough, Boy! yet everybody might not have been born to your +position. Only you could have been given the heritage that is yours! My +Boy, yours is a mission, a responsibility, from the Creator of Life +Himself. Everybody can follow—but only God's chosen few can lead! And +you—oh, Boy! yours is a birthright above that of all other princes—if +you only knew!"</p> + +<p>The young prince looked wistfully upward into the eyes of the elder man.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Uncle Paul! Dmitry always speaks of my birth with a reverence +and awe quite out of proportion to its possible consequence—poor old +man. And once even the Grand Duke Peter spoke of my 'divine origin' +though he could not be coaxed or wheedled into committing his wise self +any further. Now you, yourself the most reserved and secretive of +individuals when it pleases you to be so, have just been surprised into +something of the same expression. Do you wonder that I long to unravel +the mystery that you are all so determined to keep from me? I can learn +nothing at home—absolutely nothing! They glorify my mother—God bless +her memory! Everyone worships her! But they never speak of you, and they +are silent, too, about my father. They simply won't tell me a thing +about him, so I don't imagine that he could have been a very good king! +<i>Was</i> he, Uncle Paul? Did you know him?"</p> + +<p>"I never knew the king, Boy!—never even saw him!"</p> + +<p>"But you must have heard—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Boy, that I can tell you—absolutely nothing!"</p> + +<p>Verdayne had risen again and was once more pacing back and forth under +the trees, as was his wont when troubled with painful memories.</p> + +<p>"But my mother—you knew <i>her</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—I knew your mother!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me about her!"</p> + +<p>A dull, hopeless agony came into the eyes of the older man. And so his +Gethsemane had come to him again! Every life has this garden to pass +through—some, alas! again and yet again! And Paul Verdayne had thought +that he had long since drained his cup of misery to the dregs. He knew +better now.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will tell you of your mother, Boy," he said, and there was a +strained, guarded note in his voice which his companion's quick ear did +not fail to catch. "But you must be patient if you wish to hear what +little there is, after all, that I can tell you. You must remember, my +Boy, that it is a long time since your mother—died—and men of my age +sometimes—forget!"</p> + +<p>"I will remember," the Boy said, gently.</p> + +<p>But as he looked up into the face of his friend, something in his heart +told him that Paul Verdayne did <i>not</i> forget! And somehow the older man +felt confident that the Boy knew, and was strangely comforted by the +silent sympathy between them which both felt, but neither could express.</p> + +<p>"Your mother, Boy, was the noblest and most beautiful woman that ever +graced a throne. Everyone who knew her must have said that! You are very +like her, Paul—not in appearance, a mistake of Fate to be everlastingly +deplored, but in spirit you are her living counterpart. Ah! you have a +great example to live up to, Boy, in attempting to follow her footsteps! +There was never a queen like her—never!"</p> + +<p>The young prince followed with the deepest absorption the words of the +man who had known his mother, hanging upon the story with the breathless +interest of a child in some fairy tale.</p> + +<p>"She knew life as it is given few women to know it. She was not more +than thirty-five, I think, when you were born, but she had crowded into +those years more knowledge of the world, in all its myriad phases, than +others seem to absorb during their allotted three score and ten. And her +knowledge was not of the world alone, but of the heart. She was full of +ideals of advancement, of growth, of doing and being something worthy +the greatest endeavor, exerting every hope and ambition to the utmost +for the future splendor of her kingdom—your kingdom now. How she loved +you!—what splendid achievements she expected of you! how she prayed +that you might be grand, and great, and true!"</p> + +<p>"Did you always know her?"</p> + +<p>"Always?—no. Only for three weeks, Boy!"</p> + +<p>"Three weeks!—three little weeks! How strange, then, that you should +have learned so much about her in that short space of time! She must +indeed have made a strong impression upon you!"</p> + +<p>"Impression, you say? Boy, all that I am or ever expect to become—all +that I know or ever expect to learn—all that I have done or ever expect +to accomplish—I owe to your mother. She was the one inspiration of my +life. Until I knew her, I was a nonentity. It was she who awakened +me—who taught me how to live! Three weeks! Child! child!—"</p> + +<p>He caught himself sharply and bit his lip, forcing back the impetuous +words he had not meant to say. The silence of years still shrouded those +mysterious three weeks, and the time had not yet come when that silence +could be broken. What had he said? What possessed the Boy to-day to +cling so persistently to this hitherto forbidden subject?</p> + +<p>"Where did you meet her, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"At Lucerne!"</p> + +<p>"Lucerne!" echoed the Boy, his blue eyes growing dreamy with musing. +"That says nothing to me—nothing! and yet—you will laugh at me, I +know, but I sometimes get the most tantalizing impression that I +remember my mother. It is absurd, of course—I suppose I could not +possibly remember her—and yet there is such a haunting, vague sense of +close-clinging arms, of an intensely white and tender face bending over +me—sometimes in the radiance of day and again in the soft shadows of +night, but always, always alight with love—of kisses, soft and warm, +and yet often tearful—and of black, lustrous hair, over which there +always seems to shine a halo—a very coronet of triumphant motherhood."</p> + +<p>Verdayne's lips moved, but no sound came from them to voice the +passionate cry in his heart, "My Queen, my Queen!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is only a curious dream! It must be, of course! But it is +a very real vision to me, and I would not part with it for the world. +Uncle, do you know, I can never look upon the pictured face of a Madonna +without being forcibly reminded of this vision of my mother—the mother +I can see only in dreams!"</p> + +<p>Verdayne found it growing harder and harder for him to speak.</p> + +<p>"I do not think that strange, Boy. Others would not understand it, but I +do. She was so intensely a mother that the spirit of the great Holy +Mother must have been at all times hovering closely about her! Her +deepest desires centred about her son. You were the embodiment of the +greatest, sweetest joys—if not the only real joys—of her strangely +unhappy life, and her whole thought, her one hope, was for you. In your +soul must live all the unrealized hopes and crucified ideals of the +woman who, always every inch a queen, was never more truly regal than in +the supreme hour that crowned her your mother."</p> + +<p>"And am I like her, Uncle Paul? Am I really like her?"</p> + +<p>"So much so, Boy, that she sometimes seems to live again in you. Like +her, you believe so thoroughly in the goodness and greatness of a +God—in the beauty and glory of the world fraught with lessons of life +and death—in the omnipotence of Fate—in the truth and power and +grandeur of overmastering love. You believe in the past, in all the +dreams and legends of the Long Ago still relived in the Now, in the +capabilities of the human mind, the kingship of the soul. Your voice is +hers, every tone and cadence is as her own voice repeating her own +words. Be glad, Paul, that you are like your mother, and hope that with +the power to think her thoughts and dream lier dreams, you may also have +the power to love as she loved, and, if need be, die her death!"</p> + +<p>"But you think the same thoughts, Uncle Paul. You believe all I +believe!"</p> + +<p>"Because she taught me, Paul—because she taught me! I slept the sleep +of the blind and deaf and soulless until her touch woke my soul into +being. You have always been alive to the joy of the world and the beauty +of living. Your soul was born with your body and lived purposefully from +the very beginning of things. You were born for a purpose and that +purpose showed itself even in infancy."</p> + +<p>A silence fell between the two men. A long time they sat in that +sympathetic communion, each busy with his own thoughts. The older Paul +was lost in memories of the past, for his life lay all behind him—the +younger Paul was indulging in many dreams of a roseate future, for his +life was all ahead of him.</p> + +<p>It was a friendship that the world often wondered about—this strange +intimacy between Paul Verdayne, the famous Member of Parliament, and the +young man from abroad who called himself Paul Zalenska. None knew +exactly where Monsieur Zalenska came from, and as they had long ago +learned the futility of questioning either of the men about personal +affairs, had at last reconciled themselves to never finding out. +Everyone suspected that the Boy was a scion of rank—and some went so +far as to say of royalty, but beyond the fact that every May he came +with his faithful, foreign-looking attendant to Verdayne Place and spent +the summer months with the Verdayne family, nothing definite was +actually known. His elderly attendant certainly spoke some beastly +foreign jargon and went by the equally beastly foreign name of Vasili. +He was known to worship his young master and to attend him with the most +marked servility, but he was never questioned, and had he been, would +certainly have told no tales.</p> + +<p>The parents of Paul Verdayne—Sir Charles and Lady Henrietta—were very +fond of their young guest, and made much of his annual visits. As for +Paul himself, he never seemed to be perfectly happy anywhere if the +young fellow were out of his sight.</p> + +<p>He had made himself very much distinguished, had this Paul Verdayne. He +had found out how to get the most out of his life and accomplish the +utmost good for himself and his England with the natural endowments of +his energetic and ambitious personality. He had become a famous orator, +a noted statesman, a man of brain as well as brawn. People were glad to +listen when he talked. He inspired them with the idea—so nearly extinct +in this day and age of the world—that life after all was very much +worth the living. He stirred languid pulses with a dormant enthusiasm. +He roused torpid brains to thought. He had ideas and had also a way of +making other people share those ideas. England was proud of Paul +Verdayne, as she had good reason to be. And he was only forty-three +years old even now. What might he not accomplish in the future for the +land to which he devoted all his talents, his tireless, well-directed +activities?</p> + +<p>He had given himself up so thoroughly to political interests that he had +not taken time to marry. This was a great disappointment to his mother, +Lady Henrietta, who had set her heart upon welcoming a daughter-in-law +and a houseful of merry, romping grandchildren before the sun of her +life had gone down forever. It was also a secret source of +disappointment to certain younger feminine hearts as well, who in the +days of his youth, and even in the ripeness of later years, had regarded +Paul Verdayne with eyes that found him good to look upon. But the young +politician had never been a woman's man. He was chivalrous, of course, +as all well-bred Englishmen are, but he kept himself as aloof from all +society as politeness would permit, and the attack of the most +skillfully aimed glances fell harmless, even unheeded, upon his +impenetrable armor. He might have married wherever he had willed, but +Society and her fair votaries sighed and smiled in vain, and finally +decided to leave him alone, to Verdayne's infinite relief.</p> + +<p>As for the Boy, he was always, as I have said, a mystery, always a topic +for the consideration of the gossips. Every year since he was a little +fellow six years old he had come to Verdayne Place for the summer; at +first, accompanied by his nurse, Anna, and a silver-haired servant, +curiously named Dmitry. Later the nurse had ceased to be a necessity, +and the old servant had been replaced by Vasili, a younger, but no less +devoted attendant. As the Boy grew older, he had learned to hunt and +took long rides with his then youthful host across the wide stretch of +English country that made up the Verdayne estates and those of the +neighboring gentry. Often they cruised about in distant waters, for the +young fellow from his earliest years shared with the elder an absorbing +love of nature in all her varied and glorious forms; and in February, +always in February, Verdayne found time to steal away from England for a +brief visit to that far-off country in the south of Europe from which +the Boy came. Many remembered that Verdayne, like an uncle of his, Lord +Hubert Aldringham, had been much given to foreign travel in his younger +days and had made many friends and acquaintances among the nobility and +royalty of other lands, and although it was strange, they thought it was +not at all improbable that the lad was connected with some one of those +great families across the Channel.</p> + +<p>As for Paul and the Boy, they knew not what people thought or said, and +cared still less. There was too strong a bond of <i>camaraderie</i> between +them to be disturbed by the murmurings of a wind that could blow neither +of them good or ill.</p> + +<p>And the Boy was now twenty years of age.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Paul Zalenska broke their long silence.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Uncle, I sometimes have a queer feeling of fear that my +father must have done something terrible in his life—something to make +strong men shrink and shudder at the thought—something—<i>criminal</i>! Oh, +I dare not think of that!" he went on hastily. "I dare not—I dare not! +I think the knowledge of it would drive me mad!"</p> + +<p>His voice sank to a half-whisper and there was a note of horror in his +words.</p> + +<p>"But, what a king he must have been!—what a miserable apology for all +that royalty should be by every law, human or divine! Why isn't his name +heralded over the length and breadth of the kingdom in paeans of praise? +Why isn't the whole world talking of his valor, his beneficence, his +statesmanship? What is a king created a king for, if not to make +history?"</p> + +<p>He fought silently for a moment to regain his self-control, forcing the +hideous idea from him and at last speaking with an air of finality +beyond his years.</p> + +<p>"No, I won't think of it! May the King of the world endow me with the +strength of the gods and the wisdom of the ancient seers, that I may +make up by my efficiency for all my father's deplorable lack, and become +all that my mother meant me to be when she gave me to the world!"</p> + +<p>He stretched out his arms in a passionate appeal to Heaven, and Paul +Verdayne, looking up at him, realized as he had never before that the +Boy certainly had within him the stuff of which kings should be made.</p> + +<p>The Boy was not going to disappoint him. He was going to justify the +high hopes cherished for him so long. He was going to be a man after his +mother's own heart.</p> + +<p>"Uncle," went on the Boy, wrought up to a high pitch of emotion, and +throwing himself down again at Verdayne's feet, "I feel with Louis XVI, +'I am too young to reign!' Why haven't I ever had a father to teach and +train me in the way I should go? Every boy needs a good father, princes +most of all, so much more is expected of us poor royal devils than of +more ordinary and more fortunate mortals! I know I shouldn' be +complaining like this—certainly not to you, Uncle Paul, who have been +all most fathers are to most boys! But there are times, you know, when +you persist in keeping me at arm's length as you keep everyone else! +When you put up that sign, 'Thus far and no further!' I feel myself +almost a stranger! Won't you let me come nearer? Won't you take down +that barrier between us and let me have a father—at least, in name? I'm +tired of calling you 'Uncle' who uncle never was and never could be! +You're far more of a father—really you are! Let me call you in name +what you have always been in spirit. Let me say 'Father Paul!' I like +the sound of it, don't you? 'Father Paul!'—'Father Paul!'"</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne felt every drop of blood leave his face. He felt as if the +Boy had inadvertently laid a cold hand upon his naked heart, chilling, +paralyzing its every beat. What did he mean? The Boy was just then +looking thoughtfully at the setting sun and did not see the change that +his words called into his companion's face—thank heaven for that!—but +what <i>could</i> he mean?</p> + +<p>"You can call yourself my 'Father Confessor,' you know, if you entertain +any scruples as to the propriety of a staid old bachelor's fathering a +stray young cub like me—that will make it all right, surely! You will +let me, won't you? In all the world there is no one so close to me as +you, and such dreams as I may happily bring to fulfillment will be, more +than you know, because of your guidance, your inspiration. You are the +father of my spirit, whoever may have been the father of my flesh! Let +it be hereafter, then, not 'Uncle,' but 'Father Paul'!"</p> + +<p>And the older man, rising and standing by the Boy, threw his arm around +the young shoulders, and gazing far off to the distant west, felt +himself shaken by a strange emotion as he answered, "Yes, Boy, hereafter +let it be 'Father Paul!'"</p> + +<p>And as the sun travelled faster and faster toward the line of its +crossing between the worlds of night and day, its rays reflected a new +radiance upon the faces of the two men who sat in the silent shadows of +the park, feeling themselves drawn more closely together than ever +before, thinking, thinking, thinking-in the eyes of the man a great +memory, in the eyes of the Boy a great longing for life!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The two friends ran up to London for the theatre that night, to see a +famous actor in a popular play, but neither was much interested in the +performance. Something had kindled in the heart of the man a reminiscent +fire and the Boy was thinking his own thoughts and listening, ever +listening.</p> + +<p>"I'm several kinds of a fool," he thought, "but I'd like to hear that +voice again and get a glimpse of the face that goes with it. I dare say +she is anything but attractive in the flesh—if she is really in the +flesh at all, which I am beginning to doubt—so I should be disenchanted +if I were to see her, I suppose. But I'd like to <i>know</i>!" Yet, after +all, he could not comprehend how such a voice could accompany an +unattractive face. The spirit that animated those tones must needs light +up the most ordinary countenance with character, if not with beauty, he +thought; but he saw no face in the vast audience to which he cared to +assign it. No, <i>she</i> wasn't there. He was sure of that.</p> + +<p>But as they left the building and stood upon the pavement, awaiting +their carriage, his blood mounted to his face, dyeing it crimson. In the +sudden silence that mysteriously falls on even vast crowds, sometimes, +he heard that voice again!</p> + +<p>It was only a snatch of mischievous laughter from a brougham just being +driven away from the curb, but it was unmistakably <i>the</i> voice. Had the +Boy been alone he would have followed the brougham and solved the +mystery then and there.</p> + +<p>The laugh rang out again on the summer evening air. It was like a lilt +of fairies' merriment in the moonlit revels of Far Away! It was the note +of a siren's song, calling, calling the hearts and souls of men! It +was—But the Boy stopped and shook himself free from the "sentimental +rot" he was indulging in.</p> + +<p>He turned with a question on his lips, but Verdane had noticed nothing +and the Boy did not speak.</p> + +<p>Still that laugh thrilled and mocked him all the way to Berkeley Square +and lured him on and on through the night's mysterious dreams.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_III'></a><h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br /> + +<p>In the drawing room of her mansion on Grosvenor Square, Lady Alice +Mordaunt was pouring tea, and talking as usual the same trifling +commonplaces that had on a previous occasion excited her cousin's +disdain. Opposite her sat her mother, Lady Fletcher, a perfect model of +the well-bred English matron, while Opal Ledoux, in the daintiest and +fluffiest of summer costumes, was curled up like a kitten in a corner of +the window-seat, apparently engrossed in a book, but in reality watching +the passers-by.</p> + +<p>From her childhood up she had lived in a Castle of Dreams, which she had +peopled with the sort of men and women that suited her own fanciful +romantic ideas, and where she herself was supposed to lie asleep until +her ideal knight, the Prince Charming of the story, came across land +and sea to storm the Castle and wake her with a kiss.</p> + +<p>It was made up of moonbeams and rays of sunshine and +rainbow-gleams—this dream—woven by fairy fingers into so fragile a +cobweb that it seemed absurd to think it could stand the winds and +torrents of Grown-Up Land; but Opal, in spite of her eighteen years, was +still awaiting the coming of her ideal knight, though the stage setting +of the drama, and her picture of just how the Prince Charming of her +dreams was to look, and what he would say, had changed materially with +the passing of the years.</p> + +<p>If sometimes she wove strange lines of tragedy throughout the dreams, +out of the threads of shadow that flitted across the sunshine of her +life, she did not reject them. She felt they belonged there and did not +shrink, even when her young face paled at the curious self-pity the +passing of the thought invoked.</p> + +<p>Hers was a strange mixture, made up of an unusual intermingling of many +bloods. Born in New Orleans, of a father who was a direct descendant of +the early French settlers of Louisiana, and of a Creole mother, who +might have traced her ancestry back to one of the old grandees of Spain, +she yet clung with a jealous affection to the land of her birth and +called herself defiantly "a thorough-bred American!" Her mother had died +in giving her birth, and her father, while she was still too young to +remember, had married a fair Englishwoman who had tried hard to be a +mother to the strange little creature whose blood leaped and danced +within her veins with all the fire and romance of foreign suns. Gay and +pleasure-mad as she usually appeared, there was always the shadow of a +heartache in her eye, and one felt the possibility of a tragedy in her +nature. In fact one felt intuitively sorry—almost afraid—for her lest +her daring, adventurous spirit should lead her too close to the +precipice along the rocky pathway of life.</p> + +<p>She was thinking many strange thoughts as she sat looking out of the +window. Her English cousins, related to her only through her stepmother, +yet called kin for courtesy's sake, had given up trying to understand +her complexities, as she had likewise given up trying to explain +herself. If they were pleased forever to consider her in the light of a +conundrum, she thought, why—let them!</p> + +<p>After a while the ladies at the tea-table began to chat in more +confidential tones. Opal was not too oblivious to her surroundings to +notice, nor to grasp the fact that they were discussing her, but that +knowledge did not interest her. She was so used to being considered a +curiosity that it had ceased to have any special concern for her. She +only hoped that they would sometime succeed in understanding her better +than she had yet learned to understand herself. It might have interested +her, however, had she overheard this particular conversation, for it +shed a great light upon certain shades of character she had discovered +in herself and often wondered about, but had never had explained to her.</p> + +<p>But she did not hear.</p> + +<p>"I am greatly concerned about Opal," Lady Alice was saying. "She is the +most difficult creature, Mamma—you've no idea how peculiar—with the +most dangerous, positively <i>immoral</i> ideas. I do wish she were safely +married, for then—well, there is really no knowing what might happen to +a girl who thinks and talks as she does. I used to think it might be a +sort of American pose—put on for startling effect, you know—but I +begin to think she actually means it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she means it," replied Lady Fletcher, lowering her voice +discreetly, till it was little more than a whisper. "She has always had +just such notions. It gives Amy a great deal of trouble and worry to +keep her straight. You know—or perhaps you didn't know, for we don't +talk of these things often, especially when they are in one's +family—but there is a bad strain in her blood and they are always +looking for it to crop out somewhere. Her mother married happily—and +escaped the curse—but for several generations back the women of her +family have been of peculiar temperament and—they've usually gone wrong +sometime in their lives. It seems to be in the blood. They can't help +it. Mr. Ledoux told Amy all about it at the time of their marriage, and +that is the reason they have tried to keep Opal as secluded as possible +from the usual free-and-easy associations of American girls, and are so +anxious to marry her off wisely."</p> + +<p>"And speedily," put in Alice—"the sooner the better!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—speedily!"</p> + +<p>Lady Fletcher gave an uneasy glance in Opal's direction before she +continued.</p> + +<p>"You are too young to have heard the story, Alice, but her +grandmother—a black-eyed Spanish lady of high rank—was made quite +unpleasantly notorious by her associations with a brother of Lady +Henrietta Verdayne. He was an unprincipled roué—this Lord Hubert +Aldringham—a libertine who openly boasted of the conquests he had made +abroad. Being appointed to many foreign posts in the diplomatic service, +he was naturally on intimate terms with people of rank and royalty. They +say he was very fascinating, with the devil's own eye, and ten times as +devilish a heart—"</p> + +<p>"Why, Mamma!"</p> + +<p>Alice was shocked.</p> + +<p>"I am only repeating what they said, child," apologized the elder woman +meekly. "Women will be fools, you know, over a handsome face and a +tender voice—some women, I mean—and that's what Opal has to fight +against."</p> + +<p>"Poor Opal," murmured Alice, "I did not know!"</p> + +<p>"Some even go so far as to say—"</p> + +<p>Again Lady Fletcher looked up apprehensively, but Opal was still +absorbed in her dreams.</p> + +<p>"To say—what, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of course it's only talk—nobody can actually <i>know,</i> I suppose, +and I wouldn't, of course, be quoted as saying anything for the world, +dear knows; but they say that it is more than probable that Opal's +mother was ... <i>Lord Hubert's own daughter!"</i></p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother! If it is true—if it <i>could</i> be true—what a fight for +her!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and the worst of it is with Opal, she won't fight. She has been +rigidly trained in the principles of virtue and propriety from her very +birth, and yet she horrifies every one at times by shocking ideas—that +no one knows where she gets, nor, worse yet, where they may lead!"</p> + +<p>"But she is good, Mother. She has the noblest ideas of charity and +kindness and altruism, of the advancement of all that's good and true in +the world, of the attainment of knowledge, of the beauties and +consolation of religion. It's fine to hear her talk when she's +inspired—not a bit preachy, you know—she's certainly far enough from +that—but more like reading some beautiful poem you can but half +understand, or listening to music that makes you wish you were better, +whether you take in its full meaning or not."</p> + +<p>This was a long speech for Lady Alice. Her mother looked at her in +amazement. There certainly must be something out of the ordinary in this +peculiar American cousin to wake Alice from her customary languor.</p> + +<p>Alice smiled at her mother's surprise.</p> + +<p>"Strange, isn't it, Mother?" she asked, half ashamed of her unusual +enthusiasm. "But it's true. She'd help some good man to be a power in +the world. I feel it so often when she talks. I didn't know women ever +thought such things as she does. I-I-I believe we can trust her, Mother, +to steer clear of everything!"</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Alice; I am sure I hope so, but—I don't know. I am afraid +it was a mistake to keep her so much alone. It gives her more unreal +ideas of life than actual contact with the world would have done."</p> + +<p>Opal Ledoux left the window and sauntered down the long drawing-room +toward the table where the speakers were sitting.</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about?—me?"</p> + +<p>The cousins were surprised and showed it by blushing guiltily.</p> + +<p>Opal laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"Dreary subject for a dreary day! I hope you found it more interesting +than I have!" And she stretched her small figure to its utmost height, +which was not a bit above five foot, and shrugged her shoulders lazily.</p> + +<p>"What are you reading, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher, in an effort to +change the subject, looking with some interest at the volume that the +girl carried.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me—all twaddle and moonshine! I ought not to waste my +valuable time with such trash. There isn't a real character in the book, +not one. When I write a book, and I presume I shall some time, if I live +long enough, I shall put people into it who have real flesh and blood in +them and who do startling things. But I'll have to live it all first!"</p> + +<p>"Live the startling things, Opal? God forbid!"</p> + +<p>"Surely! Why not?"</p> + +<p>And Opal dropped listlessly into a chair, tossed the offending book on a +table, and taking a cup of tea from the hand of her cousin, began to sip +it with an air of languid indifference, which sat strangely on her +youthful, almost childlike figure.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Alice," she asked carelessly, "who was the young man who +stared at us so rudely last night as we drove away from the theatre?"</p> + +<p>"I saw no young man staring, Opal. Where was he?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he stood on the pavement, waiting, I suppose, for his carriage, +and as we drove away he looked at me as though he thought I had no right +to live, and still less to laugh—I believe I was laughing—and as we +turned the corner I peeped back through the curtain, and he still stood +there in the full glare of the light, staring. It's impolite, +cousins—<i>very! Gentlemen</i> don't stare at girls in America!"</p> + +<p>"What did he look like, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher.</p> + +<p>"Like a Greek god!" answered the girl, without a second's hesitation.</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>Both women gasped, simultaneously. They were dismayed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be shocked! He had the full panoply of society war-paint on. +He was certainly properly clothed, but as to his being in his right +mind, I have my doubts—serious doubts! He stared!"</p> + +<p>"I hope you didn't stare at him, Opal!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did! What could he expect? And I laughed at him, too! But I +don't believe he saw me at all, more's the pity. I am quite sure he +would have fallen in love with me if he had!"</p> + +<p>"Opal!"</p> + +<p>Opal was thoroughly enjoying herself now. She did enjoy shocking people +who were so delightfully shockable!</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>'Opal'?"</i> and her mimicry was irresistible. "Don't you think I'm +a bit lovable, cousin?—not a bit? You discourage me! I'm doomed to be a +spinster, I suppose! Ah, me! And I'd far rather be the spinster's cat! +Cats aren't worried about the conventions and all that sort of thing. +Happy animals! While we poor two-footed ones they call human—only we +aren't really more than half so—have to keep our claws well hidden and +purr hypocritically, no matter how roughly the world rubs our fur the +wrong way, nor how wild we are to scratch and spit and bristle! Wouldn't +you like to be a cat, Alice?"</p> + +<p>"Goodness, child! What an idea! I am very well contented, Opal, with +the sphere of life into which I have been placed!"</p> + +<p>"Happy, happy Alice! May that state of mind endure forever! But come! +Haven't you an idea, either of you, who my Knight of the Stare can be?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't describe him, Opal."</p> + +<p>Opal opened her eyes in wide surprise.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I? Why, I thought I did, graphically! A Greek god, dressed <i>en +règle</i>. What more do you want? I am sure anyone ought to recognize him +by that."</p> + +<p>Her listeners looked at her in real consternation, which she was quick +to see. Her eyes danced.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you insist upon details, I can supply a few, I guess, if I +try. I am really dying of curiosity to know who he is and why he stared. +Of course I didn't look at him very closely. It wouldn't have +been—er—what do you call it?—proper. And of course I could not see +clearly at night, anyway. But I did notice he was about six feet tall. +Imagine me, poor little me, looking up to six feet! With broad +shoulders; an athletic, muscular figure, like a young Hercules; a +well-shaped head, like Apollo's, covered with curls of fair hair; a +smooth, clear skin, with the tint of the rose in his cheek that deepened +to blood-red when his blue eyes, in which the skies of all the world +seemed to be mirrored, stared with an expression like that of a man upon +whom the splendor of some glorious Paradise was just dawning. He looked +like an Englishman, yet something in his attitude and general appearance +made me think that he was not. His hands—"</p> + +<p>"Opal! Opal! What do you mean? How could you see so much of a young man +in so short a time? And at night, too?"</p> + +<p>Opal pouted.</p> + +<p>"You wanted a detailed description. I was trying to give it to you. As I +told you at the start, I couldn't see much. But anyway, he stared!"</p> + +<p>"And I dare say he wasn't the only one who stared!" put in Lady Alice in +dry tones of reprehension. "I can't imagine who it could be, can you, +mother?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless it was that strange young Monsieur Zalenska—<i>Paul</i> +Zalenska, I believe he calls himself—Paul Verdayne's guest. I rather +think, from the description, that it must have been he!"</p> + +<p>"Zalenska? What a name! I wonder if he won't let me call him 'Paul!'" +said the incorrigible Opal, musingly. "I shall ask him the first time I +see him. Paul's a pretty name! I like that—but I'll never, never be +able to twist my tongue around the other. He'd get out of hearing before +I could call him and that would never do at all! But 'Monsieur,' you +say? Why 'Monsieur'? He certainly doesn't look at all like a Frenchman!"</p> + +<p>"No one knows what he is, Opal; nor who. That is, no one but the +Verdaynes. He has always made a mystery of himself."</p> + +<p>Opal clapped her small hands childishly.</p> + +<p>"Charming! My ideal knight in the flesh! But how shall I attract him?"</p> + +<p>She knitted her brows and pondered as seriously as though the fate of +nations depended upon her decision.</p> + +<p>"Shall I send him my card, Alice, and ask him to call? Or would it be +better to make an appointment with him for the Park? Perhaps a +'personal' in the <i>News</i> would answer my purpose—do you think he reads +the <i>News</i>, or would the <i>Times</i> be better? Come, cousins, what do you +think? I am so young, you know! Please advise me."</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands in a charming gesture of helpless appeal and the +ladies looked at one another in horrified silence. What unheard of thing +would this impossible girl propose next! They would be thankful when +they saw her once more safely embarked for the "land of the free," and +out from under their chaperonage, they hoped, forever. They realized +that she was quite beyond their restraining powers. Had she no sense of +decency at all?</p> + +<p>The door opened, callers were announced, and the day was saved.</p> + +<p>Opal straightened up, put on what she called her "best dignity" and +comported herself in so very well-bred and amiable a manner that her +cousins quite forgave all her past delinquencies and smiled approval +upon the charming courtesy she extended to their guests. She could be +<i>such</i> a lady when she would! No one could resist her! And yet they felt +themselves sitting upon the crater of a volcano liable to erupt at any +moment. One never felt quite safe with Opal.</p> + +<p>But, much to their surprise and relief, everything went beautifully, and +the guests departed, delighted with Lady Alice's "charming American +cousin, so sweet, so dainty, so witty, so brilliant, and altogether +lovely—really quite a dear, you know!"</p> + +<p>But for all that, Lady Alice Mordaunt and Lady Fletcher were far from +feeling easy over their guest, and ardently wished that the girl's +father would cut short his visit to France and return to take her back +with him to America. And while these two worthy ladies worried and +fretted, Opal Ledoux laughed and dreamed.</p> + +<p>And in a big mansion over in Berkeley Square Monsieur Paul Zalenska +wondered—and listened.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV'></a><h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was a whole two weeks after the Boy's experience at the theatre, and +though the echoes of that mysterious voice still rang through all his +dreams at night, and most of his waking hours, he had not heard its lilt +again.</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne smiled to himself to note the youngster's sudden interest +in society. He had not—strange as it may seem—been told a word of the +experience, but he was not curious. He certainly knew the world, if +anyone knew it, and though he was sure he recognized the symptoms, he +had too much tact to ask, "Who is the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Let the Boy have his little secrets," he thought, remembering his own +callow days. "They will do him good."</p> + +<p>And though the Boy felt an undue sense of guilt, he continued to keep +his lips closed and his eyes and ears open, though it often seemed so +utterly useless to do so. Sometimes he wondered if he had dropped to +sleep, there behind the hawthorn hedge that afternoon, and dreamed it +all.</p> + +<p>Verdayne and the Boy were sitting at luncheon at the Savoy. Sir Charles +and Lady Henrietta had gone down to Verdayne Place for a week, and the +two men were spending most of their time away from the lonely house in +Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>That day they were discussing the Boy's matrimonial prospects as +proposed by the Grand Duke Peter—indeed, they were usually discussing +them. The Boy had written, signifying his acceptance and approval of the +arrangements as made. Nothing else was expected of him for the present, +but his nature had not ceased its revolt against the decree of Fate, and +Paul Verdayne shared his feeling of repugnance to the utmost. Perhaps +Verdayne felt it even more acutely than the young Prince himself, for he +knew so much better all that the Boy was sacrificing. But he also knew, +as did the poor royal victim himself, that it was inevitable.</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder at the court escapades that occasionally scandalize all +Europe," said the Boy. "I don't wonder at all! The real wonder is that +more of the poor slaves to royalty do not snap the chains that bind +them, and bolt for freedom. It would be like me,—very like me!"</p> + +<p>And Verdayne could say nothing. He knew of more reasons than one why it +would be very like the Boy to do such a thing, and he sighed as he +thought that some time, perhaps, he might do it. And yet he could not +blame him!</p> + +<p>"Father Paul," went on the Boy, his thoughts taking a new turn, "you are +a bachelor—a hopeless old bachelor—and you have never told me why. Of +course there's a woman or two in it! We have talked about everything +else under the sun, I think—you and I—but, curiously enough, we have +never talked of love! Yet I feel sure that you believe in it. Don't you, +Father Paul? Come now, confess! I am in a mood for sentiment to-day, and +I want to hear what drove you to a life of single blessedness—what made +my romantic old pal such a confirmed old celibate! I don't believe that +you object to matrimony on general principles. Tell me your love-story, +please, Father Paul."</p> + +<p>"What makes you so certain that I have had one, Boy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know just why, but I am certain! It's there in your lips +when you smile, in your eyes when you are moved, in your voice when you +allow yourself to become reminiscent. You are full of memories that you +have never spoken of to me. And now, Father Paul—now is the accepted +time!"</p> + +<p>For a moment Verdayne was nonplussed. What could he reply? There was +only one love-story in his life, and that one would end only with his +own existence, but he could not tell that story to the Boy—yet! +Suddenly, however, an old, half-forgotten memory flashed across his +mind. Of course he had a love-story. He would tell the Boy the story of +Isabella Waring.</p> + +<p>So, as they sat together over their coffee and cigarettes, Verdayne told +his young guest about the Curate's daughter, who had all unconsciously +wielded such an influence over the events of his past life. He told of +the girl's kindness to him when he had broken his collarbone; of her +assistance so freely offered to his mother; of her jolly, lively +spirits, her amiable disposition and general gay good-fellowship; and +then of the unlucky kiss that had aroused the suspicion and august +displeasure of Lady Henrietta, and had sent her erring son a wanderer +over the face of Europe—to forget!</p> + +<p>He painted his sadness at leaving home—and Isabella—in pathetic +colors. Indeed, he became quite affecting when he pictured his parting +with Isabella, and when in repeating his parting words, he managed to +get just the right suspicion of a tremble into his voice, he really felt +quite proud of his ability as a story-teller.</p> + +<p>The Boy was plainly touched.</p> + +<p>"What foolishness to think that such a love as yours could be cured +merely by sending you abroad!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Just what I thought, Boy—utter folly!"</p> + +<p>"Of course it didn't cure you, Father Paul. You didn't learn to forget, +did you? Oh, it was cruel to send you away when you loved her like +that! I didn't think it of Aunt Henrietta—I didn't indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't blame mother, Boy. She meant it for the best, just as +your Uncle Peter now means it for the best for you and yours. She +thought I would forget."</p> + +<p>"Was she very, very beautiful, Father Paul? But of course she was, if +<i>you</i> loved her!"</p> + +<p>"She was pretty, Boy—at least I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Big or little?"</p> + +<p>"Tall—very tall."</p> + +<p>"I like tall, magnificent women. There's something majestic about them. +I hope the Princess Elodie"—and the Boy made a wry face—"will be +quite six foot tall. I could never love a woman small either in body or +mind. I am sure I should have liked your Isabella, Father Paul. Majestic +women of majestic minds for me, for there you have the royal stamp of +nature that makes some women born to the purple. Yes, I am sure I should +have liked Isabella. Tell me more."</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne smiled. He should hardly have considered Isabella Waring +in any degree "majestic"—but he did not say so.</p> + +<p>"She was charmingly healthy and robust—athletic, you know, and all +that—with light fluffy hair. I believe she used to wear it in a net. +Blue eyes, of course—thoroughly English, you know—and a fine comrade. +Liked everything that I liked, as most girls at that age didn't, +naturally. Of course, mother couldn't appreciate her. She wasn't her +style at all. And she naturally thought—mother did, I mean—that when +she sent me away 'for my health'"—the Boy smiled—"that I'd forget all +about her."</p> + +<p>Verdayne began to think he wasn't telling it well after all. He looked +out of the window. It was getting hard to meet the frank look in the +Boy's blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Forget!" and there was a fine scorn in the tones of the young +enthusiast. "But you didn't! you didn't! I'm sure you didn't!"</p> + +<p>The romantic story appealed strongly to the Boy's mood.</p> + +<p>"But why didn't you marry her when you came back, Father Paul? Did she +die?"</p> + +<p>"No, she didn't die. She is still living, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Then why didn't you marry her, Father Paul? Did they still oppose it? +Surely when you came home and they saw you had not forgotten, it was +different. Tell me how it was when you came home."</p> + +<p>And Paul Verdayne, in a voice he tried his best to make very sad and +heart-broken, replied with downcast eyes, "When I came home, Boy, I +found Isabella Waring ready to marry a curate, and happy over the +prospect of an early wedding. So, you see, my share in her life was +over."</p> + +<p>The Boy's face fell. He had not anticipated this ending to the romance. +How could any woman ever have proved faithless to his Father Paul! And +how could he, poor man, still keep his firm, dauntless belief in the +goodness and truth of human nature after so bitter an experience as +this! It shocked his sense of right and justice—this story. He wished +he had not asked to hear it.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for telling me, Father Paul. It was kind of you to open your +past life to me like this, and very unkind of me to ask what I should +have known would cost you such pain to tell. I am truly sorry for it +all, Father Paul. Thank you again—and forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"It's a relief to open one's heart, sometimes, to one who can +sympathize," replied Verdayne, with a deep sigh. But he felt like a +miserable hypocrite.</p> + +<p>Poor Isabella Waring! He had hardly given her a passing thought in +twenty years. And now he had vilified her to help himself out of a tight +corner. Well, she was always a good sort. She wouldn't mind being +used—or even misused—to help out her "old pal" this way. Still it made +him feel mean, and he was glad when the Boy dropped the subject and +turned again to his own difficulties.</p> + +<p>But the mind of the young prince was restive, that day. Nothing held his +attention long. It seemed, like his eye, to be roving hither and +thither, seeking something it never could find.</p> + +<p>"You have been to America, Father Paul, haven't you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>America? Yes, Verdayne had been to America. It was in America that he +had passed one season of keenest anguish. He had good reason to remember +it—such good reason that in all their wanderings about the world he had +never seen fit to take the Boy there.</p> + +<p>But something had aroused the young fellow's passing interest, and now +nothing would satisfy him save that he must hear all about America; and +so, for a full hour, as best he could, Verdayne described the country of +the far West as he remembered it.</p> + +<p>"Nothing in America appealed to me so strongly as the gigantic +prairies," he said at last. "You were so deeply moved by our trip to +Africa, Boy, that you must remember the impression of vastness and +infinity the great desert made upon us. Well, in the glorious West of +America it is as if the desert had sprung to life, and from every grain +of sand had been born a blade of grass, waving and fluttering with the +joy of new birth. Oh, it is truly wonderful, Paul! Once I went there +with the soil of my heart scorched as dry and lifeless as the burning +sands of Sahara, but in that revelation of a new creation, some pulse +within me sprang mysteriously into being again. It could never be the +same heart that it once was, but it would now know the semblance of a +new existence. And I took up the burden of life again—albeit a strange, +new life—and came home to fight it out. The prairies did all that for +me, Boy!" He paused for a moment, and then spoke in a sadder tone. "It +was soon after that, Paul, that I first found you."</p> + +<p>Paul Zalenska thought that he understood. That, of course, was after +Isabella Waring had wrecked his life. Cruel, heartless Isabella! He had +never even heard her name before to-day, but he hated her, wherever she +might be!</p> + +<p>"There is a legend they tell out there that is very pretty and +appropriate," went on Verdayne, dreamily. "They say that when the +Creator made the world, He had indiscriminately strewn continents and +valleys, mountains and seas, islands and lakes, until He came to the +western part of America, and despite His omnipotence, was puzzled to +know what new glories He could possibly contrive for this corner of the +earth. Something majestic and mighty it must be, He thought, and yet of +an altogether different beauty from that in the rest of the +universe—something individual, distinctive. The seas still overflowed +the land, as they had through past eternities, awaiting His touch to +call into form and being the elements still sleeping beneath the +water—the living representation of His thought. Suddenly stretching out +His rod, He bade the waters recede—and they did so, leaving a vast +extent of grassy land where the majestic waves had so lately rolled and +tossed. And it is said that the land retains to this day the memory of +the sea it then was, while the grasses wave with a subtle suggestion of +the ocean's ebb and flow beneath the influence of a wind that is like no +other wind in the world so much as an ocean breeze; while the gulls, +having so well learned their course, fly back and forth as they did +before the mystic change from water into earth. Indeed, the first +impression one receives of the prairie is that of a vast sea of growing +vegetation!"</p> + +<p>The Boy's eyes sparkled. This was the fanciful Father Paul that he +loved best of all.</p> + +<p>"Some time we must go there, Father Paul. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Boy, some time!"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_V'></a><h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Rebellious thoughts were flitting through the brain of Paul Zalenska as +he rode forth the next morning, tender and fanciful ones, too, as he +watched the sun's kisses fall on leaf and flower and tree, drying with +their soft, insistent warmth the tears left by the dew of night, and +wooing all Nature to awake—to look up with glorious smiles, for the +world, after all, is beautiful and full of love and laughter.</p> + +<p>Why should <i>not</i> Paul be happy? Was he not twenty, and handsome, and +rich, and popular, and destined for great things? Was there a want in +the world that he could not easily have satisfied, had he so desired? +And was he not officially betrothed to the Princess Elodie of Austria—</p> + +<p>"Damn the Princess Elodie!" he thought, with more emphasis than +reverence, and he rode along silently, slowly, a frown clouding his +fresh, boyish brow, face to face with the prose of the existence he +would fain have had all romance and poetry.</p> + +<p>It had all been arranged for him by well-meaning minds—minds that could +never see how the blessing they had intended to bestow might by any +chance become a curse.</p> + +<p>The Boy came of age in February next—February nineteenth—but it had +been the strongly expressed wish of his mother that his coronation +should not take place until May.</p> + +<p>For was it not in May that she had met her Paul?</p> + +<p>She had felt, from the birth of the young Prince, a presentiment of her +own early death, and had formed many plans and voiced many preferences +for his future. No one knew what personal reasons the Imperatorskoye had +for the wish, but she had so definitely and unmistakably made the desire +known to all her councillors that none dreamed of disobeying the mandate +of their deceased and ever-to-be-lamented Queen. Her slightest wish had +always been to them an Unassailable law.</p> + +<p>So the coronation ceremonies were to take place in the May following the +Prince's birthday, and the Regent had arranged that the marriage should +also be celebrated at that time. Of course, the Boy had acquiesced. He +saw no reason to put it off any longer. It was always best to swallow +your bitterest pill first, he thought, and get the worst over and the +taste out of your mouth as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>Until that eventful time, the Prince was free to go where he pleased, +and to do whatever he wished. He had insisted upon this liberty, and the +Regent, finding him in all other respects so amenable to his leading, +gladly made the concession. This left him a year—that is, nearly a +year, for it was June now—of care-free bachelorhood; a year for one, +who was yet only a dreamy boy, to acquire the proper spirit for a happy +bridegroom; a year of Father Paul!</p> + +<p>He rode along aimlessly for a short distance, scarcely guiding his +horse, and only responding to the greetings of acquaintances he chanced +to meet with absent-minded, though still irreproachable, courtesy. He +was hardly thinking at all, now—at least consciously. He was simply +glad to be alive, as Youth is glad—in spite of any possible, or +impossible, environment.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his eyes fell upon a feminine rider some paces in advance, who +seemed to attract much attention, of which she was—apparently +—delightfully unconscious. Paul marked the faultless proportions of her +horse.</p> + +<p>"What a magnificent animal!" he thought. Then, under his breath, he +added, "and what a stunning rider!"</p> + +<p>She was only a girl—about eighteen or nineteen, he should judge by her +figure and the girlish poise of her small head—but she certainly knew +how to ride. She sat her horse as though a part of him, and controlled +his every motion as she would her own.</p> + +<p>"Just that way might she manage a man," Paul thought, and then laughed +aloud at the absurdity of the thought. For he had never seen the girl +before.</p> + +<p>Paul admired a good horsewoman—they are so pitifully few. And he +followed her, at a safe distance, with an interest unaccountable, even +to him. Finally she drew rein before one of the houses facing the Row, +dismounted, and throwing the train of her habit gracefully over her arm, +walked to the door with a brisk step. Paul instantly likened her to a +bird, so lightly tripping over the walk that her feet scarcely seemed to +touch the ground. She was a wee thing—certainly not more than five foot +tall—and <i>petite</i>, almost to an extreme. The Boy had expressed a +preference, only a few days before, for tall, magnificent women. Now he +suddenly discovered that the woman for a man to love should by all means +be short and small. He wondered why it had never occurred to him in that +light before, and thought of Jacques' question about Rosalind, "What +stature is she of?" and Orlando's reply, "As high as my heart!"</p> + +<p>The girl who had aroused this train of thought had reached the big stone +steps by this time, and suddenly turning to look over her shoulder, just +as he passed the gate, met his gaze squarely. Gad! what eyes those +were!—full of mystery and magnetism, and—possibilities!</p> + +<p>For an instant their eyes clung together in that strange mingling of +glances that sometimes holds even utter strangers spellbound by its +compelling force.</p> + +<p>Then she turned and entered the house, and Paul rode on.</p> + +<p>But that glance went with him. It tormented him, troubled him, perplexed +him. He felt a mad desire to turn back, to follow her into that house, +and compel her to meet his eyes again. Did she know the power of her own +eyes? Did she know a look like that had almost the force of a caress?</p> + +<p>He told himself that they were the most beautiful eyes that he had ever +seen—and yet he could not have told the color of them to save his soul. +He began to wonder about that. It vexed him that he could not remember.</p> + +<p>"Eyes!" he thought, "those are not eyes! They are living magnets, +drawing a fellow on and on, and he never stops to think what color they +are—nor <i>care!</i>"</p> + +<p>And then he pulled himself up sharply, and declared himself a madman +for raving on the street in broad daylight over the mere accidental +meeting with a pair of pretty eyes. He—the uncrowned king of a +to-be-glorious throne! He—the affianced husband of the Princess Elodie +of—Hell! He refused to think of it! And again the horse he rode and the +Park trees heard a bit of Paul Zalenska's English profanity that should +have made them hide in shame over the depravity of youth.</p> + +<p>But the strangest thing of all was that the Boy, for the nonce, was not +thinking of—nor listening for—the voice!</p> + +<p>He turned as he reached the end of the Row and rode slowly back. But the +horses and groom had already gone from the gate. And inwardly cursing +his slowness, he started on a trot for Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>He was not very far from the Verdayne house, when, turning a sudden +corner, he came upon the girl again, riding at a leisurely pace in the +opposite direction. Startled by his unexpected appearance, she glanced +back over her shoulder as she passed, surprising him—and perhaps +herself, too, for girls do that sometimes—by a ringing and tantalizing +laugh!</p> + +<p>That laugh! Wonder upon wonders, it was <i>the voice</i>!</p> + +<p>It was she—Opal!</p> + +<p>He wheeled his horse sharply, but swift as he was, she was yet swifter +and was far down the street before he was fairly started in pursuit. His +one desire of the moment was to catch and conquer the sprite that +tempted him.</p> + +<p>Her veil fluttered out behind her on the breeze, like a signal of +no-surrender, and once—only once—she looked back over her shoulder. +She was too far ahead for him to catch the glint of her eye, but he +heard the echo of that laugh—that voice—and it spurred him on and on.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, by some turn known only to herself, she eluded him and escaped +beyond his vision—and beyond his reach. He halted his panting horse at +the crossing of several streets, and swore again. But though he looked +searchingly in every possible direction, there was no trace of the +fugitive to be seen. It was as though the earth had opened and +swallowed horse and rider in one greedy gulp.</p> + +<p>Baffled and more disappointed than he cared to own, Paul rode slowly +back to Berkeley Square, his heart bounding with the excitement of the +chase and yet thoroughly vexed over his failure, at himself, his horse, +the girl.</p> + +<p>At the house he found letters from the Regent awaiting him, recalling to +him his position and its unwelcome responsibilities. One of them +enclosed a full-length photograph of his future bride.</p> + +<p>Fate had certainly been kind to him by granting his one expressed wish. +The Princess Elodie was what he had desired, "quite six-foot tall." Yet +he pushed the portrait aside with an impatient gesture, and before his +mental vision rose a little figure tripping up the steps, with a +backward glance that still seemed to pierce his very soul.</p> + +<p>He was not thinking, as he certainly should have been, of the Princess +Elodie! And he had not even noticed whether she had any eyes or not!</p> + +<p>He looked again at the picture of the Austrian princess, lying face +upward upon the pile of letters. With disgust and loathing he swept the +offending portrait into a drawer, and summoning Vasili, began to make a +hasty toilet.</p> + +<p>Vasili had never seen his young master in such bad humor. He was +unpardonably late for luncheon, but that would not disturb him, surely +not to such an extent as this!</p> + +<p>He was greatly disturbed by something. There was no denying that.</p> + +<p>He had found the voice, but—</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI'></a><h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was the next morning at the breakfast table that Paul Zalenska, +listlessly looking over the "Society Notes" in the <i>Times</i>, came upon +this significant notice:</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Mr. Gilbert Ledoux and daughter, Miss Opal Ledoux, of New Orleans, + accompanied by Henri, Count de Roannes, of Paris, have taken + passage on the Lusitania, which sails for New York on July 3rd."</p></div> + +<p>It was <i>she</i>, of course!—who else could it be? Surely there could not +be more than one Opal in America!</p> + +<p>"Father Paul, I notice that the Lusitania is to sail for America on the +third of July. Can't we make it?"</p> + +<p>Verdayne smiled quietly at the suddenness of the proposal, but was not +unduly surprised. He remembered many unaccountable impulses of his own +when his life was young and his blood was hot. He remembered too with a +tender gratitude how his father had humored him and—was he not "Father +Paul"?</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why not, Boy."</p> + +<p>"You see, I have already lost a whole month out of my one free year. I +am unwilling to waste a single hour of it, Father Paul—wouldn't you be? +And we <i>must</i> see America together, you and I, before I go back +to—prison!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Boy, certainly. My time is yours—when you want it, and +where you want it, the whole year through!"</p> + +<p>"I know that, Father Paul, and—I thank you!"</p> + +<p>It was more difficult to arrange matters with Lady Henrietta. She was +not so young as she once was and she still adored her son, as only the +mother of but one child can adore, and could not bear the idea of having +him away from her. Old and steady as he had now become, he was still her +boy, the idol of her heart. Yet she felt, as her son did, that the Boy +was entitled to the few months of liberty left him, and she did not +greatly object, though there was a wistful look in her eyes as they +rested on her son that told how keenly she felt every separation from +him.</p> + +<p>As for Sir Charles, he had not lost the knowing twinkle of the eye. +Moreover, he knew far better than his wife how real was the claim their +young guest had upon their son. And he bade them go with a hearty grasp +of the hand and a bluff Godspeed.</p> + +<p>So it was settled that Verdayne and the Boy, attended only by Vasili, +were to sail for America on the third of July, and passage was +immediately secured on the Lusitania.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>On the morning of the day appointed, Paul Zalenska from an upper deck +watched the party he had been awaiting, as they mounted the gang-plank.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Ledoux he scarcely noticed. The Count de Roannes, too, +interested him no longer when, with a hasty glance, he had assured +himself that the Frenchman was as old as Ledoux and not the gay young +dandy in Opal's train that he had feared to find him.</p> + +<p>He had eyes alone for the girl, and he watched her closely as she +tripped up the gang-plank, clinging to her father's arm and chattering +gayly in that voice he so well remembered.</p> + +<p>She was not so small at close range as she had appeared at a distance, +but possessed an exquisite roundness of figure and softness of outline +well in proportion to the shortness of her stature.</p> + +<p>He had been proud of his kingship—very proud of his royal blood and his +mission to his little kingdom. But of late he had known some rebellious +thoughts, quite foreign to his mental habit.</p> + +<p>And to-day, as he looked at Opal Ledoux, he thought, "After all, how +much of a real man can I ever be? What am I but a petty pawn on the +chessboard of the world, moved hither and yon, to gain or to lose, by +the finger of Fate!"</p> + +<p>As Opal Ledoux passed him, she met his glance, and slightly flushed by +the <i>rencontre</i>, looked back over her shoulder at him and—smiled! And +<i>such</i> a smile! She passed on, leaving him tingling in every fibre with +the thrill of it.</p> + +<p>It was Fate. He had felt it from the very first, and now he was sure of +it.</p> + +<p>How would it end? How <i>could</i> it end?</p> + +<p>Paul Zalenska was very young—oh, very young, indeed!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII'></a><h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The next day Verdayne and his young companion were introduced to Mr. +Ledoux and his guest.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Ledoux, a reserved man evidently descended from generations of +thinking people, was apparently worried, for his face bore unmistakable +signs of some mental disturbance. Paul Zalenska was struck by the +haunted expression of what must naturally have been a grave countenance. +It was not guilt, for he had not the face of a man pursued by +conscience, but it certainly was fear—a real fear. And Paul wondered.</p> + +<p>As for the Count de Roannes, the Boy dismissed him at once as unworthy +of further consideration. He was brilliantly, even artificially +polished—glaringly ultra-fashionable, ostentatiously polite and suave. +In the lines of his bestial face he bore the records of a lifetime's +profligacy and the black tales of habitual self-indulgence. Paul hated +him instinctively and wondered how a man of Ledoux's unmistakable +refinement could tolerate him for a moment.</p> + +<p>It was not until the middle of the following afternoon that Opal Ledoux +appeared on deck, when her father, with an air of pride, mingled with a +certain curious element of timidity, presented to her in due form both +the Englishman and his friend.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the two young people flashed a recognition that the lips of +each tacitly denied as they responded conventionally to the +introduction.</p> + +<p>Paul noticed that the shadow of her father's uneasiness was reflected +upon her in a somewhat lesser but all too evident degree. And again he +wondered.</p> + +<p>A few moments of desultory conversation that was of no interest to +Paul—and then the Count proposed a game of <i>écarté</i>, to which Verdayne +and Ledoux assented readily enough.</p> + +<p>But not so our Boy!</p> + +<p><i>Ecarté!</i> Bah! When did a boy of twenty ever want to play cards within +sound of the rustle of a petticoat?—and <i>such</i> a petticoat!</p> + +<p>When the elderly gallant noted the attitude of the young fellow he cast +a quick glance of suspicion at Opal. He would have withdrawn his +proposal had he been able to find any plausible excuse. But it was too +late. And with an inward invective on his own blundering, he followed +the other gentlemen to the smoking-room.</p> + +<p>And Paul and Opal were at last face to face—and alone!</p> + +<p>He turned as the sound of the retreating steps died away and looked long +and searchingly into her face. If the girl intended to ignore their +former meeting, he thought, he would at once put that idea beyond all +question. She bore his scrutiny with no apparent embarrassment. She was +an American girl, and as she would have expressed it, she was "game!"</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said at last, questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he responded, "well—well, indeed, <i>at last</i>!"</p> + +<p>She bowed mockingly.</p> + +<p>"And," he went on, "I have been searching for you a long time, Opal!"</p> + +<p>He had not intended to say that, but having said it, he would not take +it back.</p> + +<p>Then she remembered that she had said that she would call him "Paul" the +first time she met him, and she smiled.</p> + +<p>"Searching for me? I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"Of course not! Neither do I! Why should we? The best things in life are +the things we don't—and can't—understand. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps!" doubtfully. She had never thought of it in just that light +before, but it might be true. It was human nature to be attracted by +mystery. "But you have been looking for me, you say! Since when?—our +race?" And her laugh rang out on the air with its old mocking rhythm.</p> + +<p>And the Boy felt his blood tingle again at the memory of it.</p> + +<p>"But what did you say, Monsieur Zalenska—pardon me—Paul, I mean," and +she laughed again, "what did you say as you rode home again?"</p> + +<p>The Boy shook his head with affected contrition.</p> + +<p>"Unfit to tell a lady!" he said.</p> + +<p>And the girl laughed again, pleased by his frankness.</p> + +<p>"Vowed eternal vengeance upon my luckless head, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not so bad as that, I think," said Paul, pretending to reflect upon +the matter—"I am sure it was not quite so bad as that!"</p> + +<p>"It would hardly have done, would it, to vow what you were not at all +sure you would ever be able to fulfil? Take my advice, and never bank a +<i>sou</i> upon the move of any woman!"</p> + +<p>"You're not a woman," he laughed in her eyes; "you're just an +abbreviation!"</p> + +<p>But Opal was not one whit sensitive upon the subject of her height. Not +she!</p> + +<p>"Well, some abbreviations are more effective than the words they stand +for," she retorted. "I shall cling to the flattering hope that such may +be my attraction to the reader whose 'only books are woman's looks!'"</p> + +<p>"But why did you run away?"</p> + +<p>"Just—because!" Then, after a pause, "Why did you follow?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, do you? Just—because, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>And then they both laughed again.</p> + +<p>"But I know why you ran. You were afraid!" said Paul.</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed and there was a fine scorn in her tones.</p> + +<p>"Afraid—of what, pray?"</p> + +<p>"Of being caught—too easily! Come, now—weren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't contradict you for the world, Paul."</p> + +<p>She lingered over his name with a cadence in her tone that made it +almost a caress. It thrilled him again as it had from the beginning.</p> + +<p>"But I'll forgive you for running away from me, since I am so fortunate +as to be with you now where you can't possibly run very far! Strange, +isn't it, how Fate has thrown us together?"</p> + +<p>"Very!"</p> + +<p>There was a dry sarcasm in the tones, and a mockery in the glance, that +told him she was not blind to his manoeuvres. Their eyes met and they +laughed again. Truly, life just then was exceedingly pleasant for the +two on the deck of the Lusitania.</p> + +<p>"But I was looking for you before that, Opal—long before that—weeks!"</p> + +<p>The girl was truly surprised now and turned to him wonderingly. Then, +without question, he told her of his overhearing her at the garden +party—what a long time ago it seemed!—and his desire, ever since, to +meet her.</p> + +<p>He told her, too, of his hearing her laugh at the theatre that night; +but the girl was silent, and said not a word of having seen him there. +Confidences were all right for a man, she thought, but a girl did well +to keep some things to herself.</p> + +<p>He did not say that he was deliberately following her to America, but +the girl had her own ideas upon the subject and smiled to herself at the +lively development of affairs since that tiresome garden party she had +found so unbearable. Here was an adventure after her own heart.</p> + +<p>And yet Opal Ledoux had much on her mind just then. The Boy had read the +signs upon her face correctly. She was troubled.</p> + +<p>For a long time they sat together, and looking far out over the vast +expanse of dancing blueness, they spoke of life—and the living of it. +And both knew so little of either!</p> + +<p>It was a strange talk for the first one—so subtly intimate, with its +flashes of personality and freedom from conventions, that it seemed like +a meeting of old friends, rather than of strangers. Some intimacies are +like the oak, long and steady of growth; others spring to full maturity +in an hour's time. And these two had bridged the space of years in a few +moments of converse. They understood each other so well.</p> + +<p>This same idea occurred to them simultaneously, as she looked up at him +with eyes glowing with a quick appreciation of some well-expressed and +worthy thought. Something within him stirred to sudden life—something +that no one else had ever reached.</p> + +<p>He looked into her eyes and thought he had never looked into the eyes of +a woman before. She smiled—and he was sure it was the first time he had +ever seen a woman smile!</p> + +<p>"I am wild to be at home again," she was saying, "fairly crazy for +America! How I love her big, broad, majestic acres—the splendid sweep +of her meadows—the massive grandeur of her mountain peaks—the glory of +her open skies! You too, I believe, are a wanderer on strange seas. You +can hardly fail to understand my longing for the homeland!"</p> + +<p>"I do understand, Opal. I am on my first visit to your country. Tell me +of her—her institutions, her people! Believe me, I am greatly +interested!"</p> + +<p>And he was—in <i>her</i>! Nothing else counted at that moment. But the girl +did not understand that—then!</p> + +<p>For half an hour, perhaps, she lost herself in an eloquent eulogy of +America, while the Boy sat and watched her, catching the import of but +little that she said, it must be confessed, but drinking in every detail +of her expressive countenance, her flashing, lustrous eyes, her red, +impulsive lips and rounded form, and her white, slender hands, always +employed in the expression of a thought or as the outlet for some +passing emotion. He caught himself watching for the occasional glimpses +of her small white teeth between the rose of her lips. He saw in her +eyes the violet sparks of smouldering fires, kindled by the volcanic +heart sometimes throbbing and threatening so close to the surface. When +the eruption came!—Fascinated he watched the rise and sweep of her +white arm. Every line and curve of her body was full of suggestion of +the ardent and restless and impulsive temperament with which nature had +so lavishly endowed her. She was alive with feeling—alive to the +finger-tips with the joy of life, the fullness of a deep, emotional +nature.</p> + +<p>It occurred to Paul that nature had purposely left her body so small, +albeit so beautifully rounded, that it might devote all its powers to +the building therein of a magnificent, flaming soul—that her inner +nature might always triumph. But Opal had never been especially +conscious of a soul—scarcely of a body. She had not yet found herself.</p> + +<p>Paul's emotions were in such chaotic rebellion that the thunder of his +heart-beats mingled with the pulse hammering through his brain and made +him for the first time in his life curiously deaf to his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>As she met his eye, expressing more than he realized of the storm +within, her own fell with a sudden sense of apprehension. She rose and +looked far out over the restless waves with a sudden flush on her +dimpled cheek, a subtle excitement in her rapid words.</p> + +<p>"As for our men, Paul, they are only human beings, but mighty with that +strength of physique and perfect development of mind that makes for +power. They are men of dauntless purpose. They are men of pure thoughts +and lofty ideals. They know what they want and bend every ambition and +energy to its attainment. Of course I speak of the average American—the +<i>type</i>! The normal American is a born fighter. Yes, that is the key-note +of American supremacy! We never give up! never! In my country, what men +want, they get!"</p> + +<p>She raised her hand in a quaint, expressive gesture, and the loose +sleeve fell back, leaving her white arm bare. He sprang to his feet, his +eyes glowing.</p> + +<p>"And in my country, what men want, they <i>take</i>!" he responded +fiercely—almost brutally and without a second's warning Paul threw his +arms about her and crushed her against his breast. He pressed his lips +mercilessly upon her own, holding them in a kiss that seemed to Opal +would never end.</p> + +<p>"How—how dare you!" she gasped, when at last she escaped his grasp and +faced him in the fury of outraged girlhood. "I—I—hate you!"</p> + +<p>"Dare? When one loves one dares anything!" was his husky response. "I +shall have had my kiss and you can never forget that! Never! never!"</p> + +<p>And Paul's voice grew exultant.</p> + +<p>Opal had heard of the brutality, the barbarism of passion, but her life +had flowed along conventional channels as peacefully as a quiet river. +She had longed to believe in the fury of love—in that irresistible +attraction between men and women. It appealed to her as it naturally +appeals to all women who are alive with the intensity of life. But she +had <i>seen</i> nothing of it.</p> + +<p>Now she looked living Passion in the face for the first time, and was +appalled—half frightened, half fascinated—by the revelation. That kiss +seemed to scorch her lips with a fire she had never dreamed of. With +the universal instinct of shamed womanhood, she pressed her handkerchief +to her lips, rubbing fiercely at the soiled spot. He divined her thought +and laughed, with a note of exultation that stirred her Southern blood.</p> + +<p>In defiance she raised her eyes and searched his face, seeking some +solution of the mystery of her own heart's strange, rebellious +throbbing. What could it mean?</p> + +<p>Paul took another step toward her, his face softening to tenderness.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Opal?" he breathed.</p> + +<p>"I was—trying—to understand you."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand myself sometimes—certainly not to-day!"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>(I wonder if Eve didn't say that to Adam in the garden!)</p> + +<p>"I have been accustomed to entertain that same idea myself," he said, +"but, after all, what is it to be a gentleman? All men can be gentle +when they get what they want. That's no test of gentility. It takes +circumstances outside the normal to prove man's civilization. When his +desires meet with opposition the brute comes to the surface—that's +all."</p> + +<p>Another rush of passion lighted his eyes and sought its reflection in +hers. Opal turned and fled.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the seclusion of her stateroom Opal faced herself resolutely. A +sensation of outrage mingled with a strange sense of guilt. Her +resentment seemed to blend with something resembling a strange, fierce +joy. She tried to fight it down, but it would not be conquered.</p> + +<p>Why was he so handsome, so brilliant, this strange foreign fellow whom +she felt intuitively to be more than he claimed to be? What was the +secret of his power that even in the face of this open insult she could +not be as angry as she knew she should have been?</p> + +<p>She looked in the mirror apprehensively. No, there was no sign of that +terrible kiss. And yet she felt as though all the world must have seen +had they looked at her—felt that she was branded forever by the burning +touch of his lips!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was not until the dinner hour on the following day that Paul and Opal +met again. One does not require an excuse for keeping to one's stateroom +during an ocean voyage—especially during the first few days—and the +girl, though in excellent health and a capital sailor, kept herself +secluded.</p> + +<p>She wanted to understand herself and to understand this stranger who was +yet no stranger. For a girl who had looked upon life as she had she felt +woefully unsophisticated. But the Boy? He was certainly not a man of the +world, who through years of lurid experience had learned to look upon +all women as his legitimate quarry. If he had been that sort, she told +herself, she would have been on her guard instinctively from the very +first. But she knew he was too young for that—far too young—- and his +eyes were frank and clear and open, with no dark secrets behind their +curtained lids. But what was he—and who?</p> + +<p>When the day was far spent, she knew that she was no nearer a solution +than she had been at dawn, so she resolved to join the group at table +and put behind her the futile labor of self-examination. She would not, +of course, deign to show any leniency toward the offender—indeed not! +She would not vouchsafe one unnecessary word for his edification.</p> + +<p>But she took elaborate care with her toilet, selected her most becoming +gown and drove her maid into a frenzy by her variations of taste and +temper.</p> + +<p>It was truly a very bewitching Opal who finally descended to the <i>salon</i> +and joined the party of four masculine incapables who had spent the day +in vain search for amusement. Paul Zalenska rose hastily at her entrance +and though she made many attempts to avoid his gaze she was forced at +last to meet it. The electric spark of understanding flashed from eye to +eye, and both thrilled in answer to its magnetic call. In the glance +that passed between them was lurking the memory of a kiss.</p> + +<p>Opal blushed faintly. How dare he remember! Why, his very eyes echoed +that triumphant laugh she could not forget. She stole another glance at +him. Perhaps she had misjudged him—but—</p> + +<p>She turned to respond to the greeting of her father and the other two +gentlemen, and soon found herself seated at the table opposite the Boy +she had so recently vowed to shun. Well, she needn't talk to him, that +was one consolation. Yet she caught herself almost involuntarily +listening for what he would say at this or that turn of the conversation +and paying strict—though veiled—attention to his words.</p> + +<p>It was a strange dinner. No one felt at ease. The air was charged with +something that all felt too tangibly oppressive, yet none could define, +save the two—who would not.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>For Paul the evening was a dismal failure. Try as he would, he could not +catch Opal's eye again, nor secure more than the most meagre replies +even to his direct questions. She was too French to be actually +impolite, but she interposed between them those barriers only a woman +can raise. She knew that Paul was mad for a word with her; she knew that +she was tormenting and tantalizing him almost beyond endurance; she felt +his impatience in every nerve of her, with that mysterious sixth sense +some women are endowed with, and she rejoiced in her power to make him +suffer. He deserved to suffer, she said. Perhaps he'd have some idea of +the proper respect due the next girl he met! These foreigners! <i>Mon +Dieu</i>! She'd teach him that American girls were a little different from +the kind they had in his country, where "what men want, they take," as +he had said. What kind of heathen was he?</p> + +<p>And she watched him surreptitiously from under her long lashes with a +curious gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. She had always known she had +this power over men, but she had never cared quite so much about using +it before and had been more annoyed than gratified by the effect her +personality had had upon her masculine world.</p> + +<p>So she smiled at the Count, she laughed with the Count and made eyes +most shamelessly at the disgusting old gallant till something in his +face warned her that she had reached a point beyond which even her +audacity dared not go.</p> + +<p>Heavens! how the old monster would <i>devour</i> a woman, she thought, with a +thrill of disgust. There were awful things in his face!</p> + +<p>And the Boy glared at de Roannes with unspeakable profanity in his eyes, +while the girl laughed to herself and enjoyed it all as girls do enjoy +that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>It was delightful, this game of speaking eyes and lips.</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"Oh, the little more, and how much it is!<br /></span> +<span>And the little less, and what worlds away!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But it was, as she could dimly see, a game that might prove exceedingly +dangerous to play, and the Count had spoiled it all, anyway. And a +curious flutter in her heart, as she watched the Boy take his punishment +with as good grace as possible, pled for his pardon until she finally +desisted and bade the little company good night.</p> + +<p>At her departure the men took a turn at bridge, but none of them seemed +to care much for the cards that night and the Boy soon broke away. He +was about to withdraw to his stateroom in chagrin when quite +unexpectedly he found Opal standing by the rail, wrapped in a long +cloak. She was gazing far out toward the distant horizon, the light of +strange, puzzling thoughts in the depths of her eyes. She did not notice +him until he stood by her side, when she turned and faced him defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he said, "there was one poet of life and love whom we did not +quote in our little discussion to-night. Do you remember Tennyson's +words,</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"'A man had given all earthly bliss<br /></span> +<span>And all his worldly worth for this,<br /></span> +<span>To waste his whole heart in one kiss<br /></span> +<span class='i2'>Upon her perfect lips?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Let them plead for me the pardon I know no better way to sue for—or +explain!"</p> + +<p>The girl was silent. That little flutter in her heart was pleading for +him, but her head was still rebellious, and she knew not which would +triumph. She put one white finger on her lip, and wondered what to say +to him. She would not look into his eyes—they bothered her quite beyond +all reason—so she looked at the deck instead, as though hoping to find +some rule of conduct there.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Opal," went on the pleading tones, "that is, sorry that it +offended you. I can't be sorry that I did it—yet!"</p> + +<p>After a moment of serious reflection, she looked up at him sternly.</p> + +<p>"It was a very rude thing to do, Paul! No one ever—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose I know that, Opal? Did you think that I thought—"</p> + +<p>"How was I to know what you thought, Paul? You didn't know me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I do. Better than you know yourself!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him quickly, a startled expression in her soft, +lustrous eyes.</p> + +<p>"I—almost—believe you do—Paul."</p> + +<p>"Opal!" He paused. She was tempting him again. Didn't she know it?</p> + +<p>"Opal, can't—won't you believe in me? Don't you feel that you know +me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that I do—even yet—after—that! Oh, Paul, are you sure +that you know yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No, not sure, but I'm beginning to!"</p> + +<p>She made no reply. After a moment, he said softly, "You haven't said +that you forgive me, yet, Opal! I know there is no plausible excuse for +me, but—listen! I couldn't help it—I truly couldn't! You simply must +forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't help it?"—Oh, the scorn of her reply. "If there had been any +man in you at all, you could have helped it!"</p> + +<p>"No, Opal, you don't understand! It is because I <i>am</i> a man that I +couldn't help it. It doesn't strike you that way now, I know, but—some +day you will see it!"</p> + +<p>And suddenly she did see it. And she reached out her hand to him, and +whispered, "Then let's forget all about it. I am willing to—if you +will!"</p> + +<p>Forget? He would not promise that. He did not wish to forget! And she +looked so pretty and provoking as she said it, that he wanted to—! But +he only took her hand, and looked his gratitude into her eyes.</p> + +<p>The Count de Roannes came unexpectedly and unobserved upon the climax of +the little scene, and read into it more significance than it really had. +It was not strange, perhaps, that to him this meeting should savour of +clandestine relations and that he should impute to it false motives and +impulses. The Count prided himself upon his tact, and was therefore very +careful to use the most idiomatic English in his conversation. But at +this sudden discovery—for he had not imagined that the acquaintance had +gone beyond his own discernment—he felt the English language quite +inadequate to the occasion, and muttered something under his breath that +sounded remarkably like "<i>Tison d'enfer!</i>" as he turned on his heel and +made for his stateroom.</p> + +<p>And the Boy, unconscious and indifferent to all this by-play, had only +time to press to his lips the little hand she had surrendered to him +before the crowd was upon them.</p> + +<p>But the waves were singing a Te Deum in his ears, and the skies were +bluer in the moonlight than ever sea-skies were before. Paul felt, with +a thrill of joy, that he was looking far off into the vaster spaces of +life, with their broader, grander possibilities. He felt that he was +wiser, nobler, stronger—nearer his ideal of what a brave man should be.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX'></a><h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>When two are young, and at sea, and in love, and the world is beautiful +and bright, it is joyous and wonderful to drift thoughtlessly with the +tide, and rise and fall with the waves. Thus Paul Zalenska and Opal +Ledoux spent that most delightful of voyages on the Lusitania. They were +not often alone. They did not need to be. Their intimacy had at one +bound reached that point when every word and movement teemed with tender +significance and suggestion. Their first note had reached such a high +measure that all the succeeding days followed at concert pitch. It was a +voyage of discovery. Each day brought forth revelations of some new +trait of character—each unfolding that particular something which the +other had always admired.</p> + +<p>And so their intimacy grew.</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne saw and smiled. He was glad to see the Boy enjoying +himself. He knew his chances for that sort of thing were all too +pathetically few.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ledoux looked on, troubled and perplexed, but he saw no chance, and +indeed no real reason, for interfering.</p> + +<p>The Count de Roannes was irritated, at times even provoked, but he kept +his thoughts to himself, hiding his annoyance, and his secret explosions +of "<i>Au diable!</i>" beneath his usual urbanity.</p> + +<p>There was nothing on the surface to indicate more than the customary +familiarity of young people thrown together for a time, and yet no one +could fail to realize the undercurrent of emotion below the gaiety of +the daily ripple of amusement and pleasurable excitement and converse.</p> + +<p>They read together, they exchanged experiences of travel, they discussed +literature, music, art and the stage, with the enthusiastic partisanship +of zealous youth. They talked of life, with its shade and shadow, its +heights and depths of meaning, and altogether became very well +acquainted. Each day anew, they discovered an unusual congeniality in +thoughts and opinions. They shared in a large measure the same exalted +outlook upon life—the same lofty ambitions and dreams.</p> + +<p>And the more Paul learned of the character of this strange girl, the +more he felt that she was the one woman in the world for him. To be +sure, he had known that, subconsciously, the first time he had heard her +voice. Now he knew it by force of reason as well, and he cursed the fate +that denied him the right to declare himself her lover and claim her +before the world.</p> + +<p>One thing that impressed Paul about the girl was the generous charity +with which she viewed the frailties of human nature, her sincere pity +for all forms of human weakness and defeat, her utter freedom from petty +malice or spite. Rail at life and its hypocrisies, as she often did, she +yet felt the tragedy in its pitiful short-comings, and looked with the +eye of real compassion upon its sins and its sinners, condoning as far +as possible the fault she must have in her very heart abhorred.</p> + +<p>"We all make mistakes," she would say, when someone retailed a bit of +scandal. "No human being is perfect, nor within a thousand miles of +perfection. What right then have we to condemn any fellow-creature for +his sins, when we break just as important laws in some other direction? +It's common hypocrisy to say, 'We never could have done this terrible +thing!' and draw our mantle of self-righteousness closely about us lest +it become contaminated. Perhaps we couldn't! Why? Because our +temptations do not happen to lie in that particular direction, that's +all! But we are all law-breakers; not one keeps the Ten Commandments to +the letter—not one! Attack us on our own weak point and see how quickly +we run up the flag of surrender—and perhaps the poor sinner we denounce +for his guilt would scorn just as bitterly to give in to the weakness +that gets the best of us. <i>Sin is sin</i>, and one defect is as hideous as +another. He who breaks one part of the code of morality and +righteousness is as guilty—just exactly as guilty—as he who breaks +another. Isn't the first commandment as binding as the other nine? And +how many of us do not break that every day we live?"</p> + +<p>And there was the whole creed of Opal Ledoux.</p> + +<p>But as intimate as she and the Boy had become, they yet knew +comparatively little of each other's lives.</p> + +<p>Opal guessed that the Boy was of rank, and bound to some definite course +of action for political reasons. This much she had gained from odds and +ends of conversation. But beyond that, she had no idea who he was, nor +whence he came. She would not have been a woman had she not been +curious—and as I have said before, Opal Ledoux was, every inch of her +five feet, a woman—but she never allowed herself to wax inquisitive.</p> + +<p>As for the Boy, he knew there was some evil hovering with threatening +wings over the sunshine of the girl's young life—some shadow she tried +to forget, but could not put aside—and he grew to associate this shadow +with the continued presence of the French Count, and his intimate air of +authority. Paul knew not why he should thus connect these two, but +nevertheless the impression grew that in some way de Roannes exercised a +sinister influence over the life of the girl he loved.</p> + +<p>He hated the Count. He resented every look that those dissolute eyes +flashed at the girl, and he noticed many. He saw Opal wince sometimes, +and then turn pale. Yet she did not resent the offense.</p> + +<p>But Paul did.</p> + +<p>"Such a look from a man like that is the grossest insult to any woman," +he thought, writhing in secret rage. "How can she permit it? If she were +my—my <i>sister</i>, I'd shoot him if he once dared to turn his damned eyes +in her direction!"</p> + +<p>And thus matters stood throughout the brief voyage. Paul and Opal, +though conscious of the double barrier between them, tried to forget its +existence for the moment, and, at intervals, succeeded admirably.</p> + +<p>For were they not in the spring-time of youth, and in love?</p> + +<p>And Paul Zalenska talked to this girl as he had never talked to anyone +before—not even Paul Verdayne!</p> + +<p>She brought out the latent best in him. She developed in him a quickness +of perception, a depth of thought and emotion, a facility of speech +which he had never known. She stimulated every faculty, and gave him new +incentive—a new and firmer resolve to aspire and fight for all that he +held dear.</p> + +<p>"I always feel," he said to Opal, once, "as though my soul stood always +at attention, awaiting the inevitable command of Fate! All Nature seems +to tell me at times that there is a purpose in my living, a work for me +to do, and I feel so thoroughly <i>alive</i>—so ready to listen to the call +of duty—and to obey!"</p> + +<p>"A dreamer!" she laughed, "as wild a dreamer as I!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he returned. "All great deeds are born of dreams! It was a +dreamer who found this America you are so loyal to! And who knows but +that I too may find my world?"</p> + +<p>"And a fatalist, too!"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course! Everyone is, to a greater or a less extent, though +most dare not admit it!"</p> + +<p>"But yesterday you said—what <i>did</i> you say, Paul, about the power of +the human will over environment and fate?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember. That was yesterday. I'm not the same to-day, at all. +And to-morrow I may be quite different."</p> + +<p>"Behold the consistency of man. But Fate, Paul—what makes Fate? I have +always been taught to believe that the world is what we make it!"</p> + +<p>"And it is true, too, that in a way we may make the world what we will, +each creating it anew for himself, after his own pattern—but after all, +Opal, that is Fate. For what we <i>are</i>, we put into these worlds of ours, +and what we are is what our ancestors have made us—and that is what I +understand by destiny."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Paul, you have so many noble theories of life."</p> + +<p>His boyish face grew troubled and perplexed.</p> + +<p>"I <i>thought</i> I had, Opal—till I knew you! Now I do not know! Fate seems +to have taken a hand in the game and my theories are cast aside like +worthless cards. I begin to see more clearly that we cannot always +choose our paths."</p> + +<p>"Can one ever, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not! Once I believed implicitly in the omnipotence of the human +will to make life just what one wished. Now"—and he searched her +eyes—"I know better."</p> + +<p>"Unlucky Opal, to cross your path!" she sighed. "Are you superstitious, +Paul? Do you know that opals bring bad luck to those who come beneath +the spell of their influence?"</p> + +<p>"I'll risk the bad luck, Opal!"</p> + +<p>And she smiled.</p> + +<p>And he thought as he looked at her, how well she understood him! What an +inspiration would her love have brought to such a life as he meant his +to be! What a Récamier or du Barry she would have made, with her +<i>piquante</i>, captivating face, her dark, lustrous, compelling eyes, her +significant gestures, which despite many wayward words and phrases, +expressed only lofty and majestic thoughts! Her whole regal little +body, with its irresistible power and charm, was so far beyond most +women! She was life and truth and ambition incarnate! She was the spirit +of dreams and the breath of idealism and the very soul of love and +longing.</p> + +<p>Would she feel insulted, he wondered, had she known he had dared to +compare her, even in his own thoughts, with a king's mistress? He meant +no insult—far from it! But would she have understood it had she known?</p> + +<p>Paul fancied that she would.</p> + +<p>"They may not have been moral, those women," he thought, "that is, what +the world calls 'moral' in the present day, but they possessed power, +marvellous power, over men and kingdoms. Opal Ledoux was created to +exert power—her very breath is full of force and vitality!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he repeated aloud after due deliberation, "I'll risk the bad luck +if you'll be good tome!"</p> + +<p>"Am I not?"</p> + +<p>"Not always."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will be to-day. See! I have a new book—a sad little +love-tale, they say—just the thing for two to read at sea," and with a +heightened color she began to read.</p> + +<p>She had pulled her deck-chair forward, until she sat in a flood of +sunshine, and the bright rays, falling on her mass of rich brown hair, +heightened all the little glints of red-gold till they looked like +living bits of flame. Oh the vitality of that hair! the intense glow of +those eyes in whose depths the flame-like glitter was reflected as the +voice, too, caught fire from the fervid lines!</p> + +<p>Soon the passion and charm of the poem cast its spell over them both as +they followed the fate of the unhappy lovers through the heart-ache of +their evanescent dream.</p> + +<p>Their eyes met with a quick thrill of understanding.</p> + +<p>"It is—Fate, again," Paul whispered. "Read on, Opal!"</p> + +<p>She read and again they looked, and again they understood.</p> + +<p>"I cannot read any more of it," she faltered, a real fear in her voice. +"Let us put it away."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" he pleaded. "It's true—too true. Read on, please, dear!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot, Paul. It is too sad!"</p> + +<p>"Then let me read it, Opal, and you can listen!"</p> + +<p>And he took the book gently from her hand, and read until the sun was +smiling its farewell to the laughing waters.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That evening a strong wind was playing havoc with the waves, and the +fury of the maddened spray was beating a fierce accompaniment to their +hearts.</p> + +<p>"How I love the wind," said Opal. "More than all else in Nature I love +it, I think, whatever its mood may be. I never knew why—probably +because I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is +tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and +wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and +passionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of +the wind!"</p> + +<p>"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count, +drily. "It might be disastrous!"</p> + +<p>"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind +hope, Count de Roannes."</p> + +<p>And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_X'></a><h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br /> + +<p>As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her +stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face +appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her.</p> + +<p>"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!"</p> + +<p>"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally.</p> + +<p>"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night."</p> + +<p>"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone—really alone—and this is our +last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part—perhaps forever—who +knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!"</p> + +<p>His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response.</p> + +<p>"Well—perhaps!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you +afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Afraid?—I dare anything—to-night!"</p> + +<p>"Then come!"</p> + +<p>"I will—if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him +a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!"</p> + +<p>Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come.</p> + +<p>And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the +deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his +beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware.</p> + +<p>"Well, ... I'm here," she said.</p> + +<p>"I see you are, Opal and—thank you."</p> + +<p>He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked +at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood!</p> + +<p>"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not; I am—angry!"</p> + +<p>"With me?"</p> + +<p>"No!—not you."</p> + +<p>"Whom, then?"</p> + +<p>"With—myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously.</p> + +<p>Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you +are so sorry?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd +have some self-respect!"</p> + +<p>Paul looked at her deliberately, taking in every little detail of her +appearance, his eyes full of admiration. Then he added, with an air of +finality, "But <i>I</i> respect you!"</p> + +<p>She softened, and laid her hand on his arm. Paul instantly took +possession of it.</p> + +<p>"Do you really?" she asked, searching his face, almost wistfully. "A +girl who will do ...what I am doing to-night!"</p> + +<p>"But what <i>are</i> you doing, Opal?" he asked in the most innocent +surprise. "Merely keeping a wakeful man company beneath the stars!"</p> + +<p>"Is that ...all?"</p> + +<p>"All ...<i>now!</i>"</p> + +<p>They stood silently for a minute, hand still in hand, looking far out +over the moonlit waters, each conscious of the trend of the other's +thoughts—the beating of the other's heart. The deck was deserted by all +save their two selves—they two alone in the big starlit universe. At +last she spoke.</p> + +<p>"This is interesting, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!—holding your hand!"</p> + +<p>She snatched it from him. "I forgot you had it," she said.</p> + +<p>"Forget again!"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't!... Is it always interesting?... holding a girl's hand?"</p> + +<p>"It depends upon the girl, I suppose! I was enjoying it immensely just +then."</p> + +<p>He took her hand again.</p> + +<p>And again that perilously sweet silence fell between them.</p> + +<p>At last, "Promise me, Paul!" she said.</p> + +<p>"I will—what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Promise me to forget anything I may say or do to-night ... not to think +hard of me, however rashly I may act! I'm not accountable, really! I'm +liable to say ...anything! I feel it in my blood!"</p> + +<p>"I understand, Opal! See! the winds are boisterous and unruly enough. +You may be as rash and reckless as you will!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly the wind blew her against his breast. The perfume of her hair, +and all the delicious nearness of her, intoxicated him. He laughed a +soft, caressing little lover-laugh, and raising her face to his, kissed +her lips easily, naturally, as though he had the right. She struggled, +helplessly, as he held her closely to him, and would not let her go.</p> + +<p>"You are a—" She bit her lip, and choked back the offensive word.</p> + +<p>"A—what? Say it, Opal!"</p> + +<p>"A—a—<i>brute</i>! There! let me go!"</p> + +<p>But he only held her closer and laughed again softly, till she +whispered, "I didn't—quite—<i>mean</i> that, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you didn't!"</p> + +<p>She drew away from him and pointed her finger at him accusingly, her +eyes full of reproof.</p> + +<p>"But—you <i>said</i> you wouldn't! You promised!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't what?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't do—what you did—again!"</p> + +<p>"Did I?" insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"How dare you ask that? You——"</p> + +<p>"'Brute' again? Quite like old married folk!"</p> + +<p>"Old married folk? They never kiss!"</p> + +<p>"Don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Not each other!... other people's husbands or wives!"</p> + +<p>"Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"Surely——</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>'Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife,<br /></span> +<span>He would have written sonnets all his life?'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>O no! not he!"</p> + +<p>"I'm learning many new things, Opal! Let's play we're married, then—to +someone else!"</p> + +<p>"But—haven't you any conscience at all?"</p> + +<p>"Conscience?—what a question! Of course I have!"</p> + +<p>"You certainly aren't using it to-night!"</p> + +<p>"I'm too busy! Kiss me!"</p> + +<p>"The very idea!"</p> + +<p>"Please!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!"</p> + +<p>"Then let me kiss you!"</p> + +<p><i>"No!!!"</i></p> + +<p>"Why not?—Don't you like to be loved?"</p> + +<p>And his arms closed around her, and his lips found hers again, and held +them.</p> + +<p>At last, "Silly Boy!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! to make such a terrible fuss about something he doesn't really +want, and will be sorry he has after he gets it!"</p> + +<p>And Paul asked her wickedly, what foolish boy she was talking about now? +<i>He</i> knew what he really wanted—always—and was not sorry when he had +it. Not he! He was sorry only for the good things he had let slip, never +for those he had taken!</p> + +<p>"But—do let me go, Paul! I don't belong to you!"</p> + +<p>"Yes you do—for a little while!" He held her close.</p> + +<p>Belong to him! How she thrilled at the thought! Was this what it meant +to be—loved? And <i>did</i> she belong to him—if only, as he said, for a +little while? She certainly didn't belong to herself! Whatever this +madness that had suddenly taken possession of her, it was stronger than +herself. She couldn't control it—she didn't even want to! At all +events, she was <i>living</i> to-night! Her blood was rushing madly through +her body. She was deliciously, thoroughly alive!</p> + +<p>"Paul!—are you listening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear!" the answer strangely muffled.</p> + +<p>And then she purred in his ear, all the time caressing his cheek with +her small white fingers: "You see, Paul, I knew I had made some sort of +impression upon you. I must have done so or you wouldn't have—done +that! But any girl can make an impression on shipboard, and an affair at +sea is always so—evanescent, that no one expects it to last more than +a week. I don't want to make such a transitory impression upon you, +Paul. I wanted you to remember me longer. I wanted—oh, I wanted to give +you something to remember that was just a little bit different than +other girls had given you—some distinct impression that must linger +with you—always—always! I'm not like other women! Do you see, Paul? It +was all sheer vanity. I wanted you to remember!"</p> + +<p>"And did you think I could forget?"</p> + +<p>"Of course! All men forget a kiss as soon as their lips cease tingling!"</p> + +<p>Paul laughed. "Wise girl! Who taught you so much? Come, confess!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've known <i>you</i> a whole week, Paul, and you——"</p> + +<p>But their lips met again and the sentence was never finished.</p> + +<p>At last she put her hands on each side of his face and looked up into +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you are!"</p> + +<p>"You misunderstood me!—I said <i>'Not'</i>! But why? Are you ashamed of +me?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to be, oughtn't I? But—I don't believe you can help it!"</p> + +<p>His lips crushed hers again, fiercely. "I can't, Opal—I can't!"</p> + +<p>She turned away her head, but he buried his face in her neck, kissing +the soft flesh again and again.</p> + +<p>"Such a slip of a girl!" Paul murmured in her ear, when he again found +his voice. "Such a tiny, little girl! I am almost afraid you will vanish +if I don't hold you tight!"</p> + +<p>Opal was thoroughly aroused now—no longer merely passive—quite +satisfactorily responsive.</p> + +<p>"I won't, Paul! I won't! But hold me closer, closer! Crush this terrible +ache out of my heart if you can, Paul!"</p> + +<p>There were tears in her voice. He clasped her to him and felt her heart +throbbing out its pain against its own, as he whispered, "Opal, am I a +brute?"</p> + +<p>"N-o-o-o-o!" A pause. At last, "Let me go now, Paul! This is sheer +insanity!"</p> + +<p>But he made no move to release her until she looked up into his eyes in +an agony of appeal, and pleaded, "Please, Paul!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you want to go?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not sure of that, but I'm quite sure that I <i>ought</i> to go! I +must! I must!"</p> + +<p>And Paul released her. Where was this madness carrying them? Was he +acting the part of the man he meant to be, or of a cad—an unprincipled +bounder? He did not know. He only knew he wanted to kiss her—<i>kiss</i> +her....</p> + +<p>She turned on him in a sudden flash of indignation. "Why have you such +power over me?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"What power over you, Opal!"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of dodging the truth, you professor of honesty? You make +me do things we both know I'll be sorry for all the rest of my life. +<i>Why</i> do you do it?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes blazed with a real anger that made her <i>piquante</i> face more +alluring than ever to the eyes of the infatuated Boy who watched her. He +was fighting desperately for self-control, but if she should look at +him as she had looked sometimes—!</p> + +<p>"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew I was capable of +being foolish—wicked, perhaps—for a <i>grande passion</i>. I could forgive +myself that, I think! But for a mere caprice—a <i>penchant</i> like this! +Oh, Paul! what can you think of me?"</p> + +<p>His voice was hoarse—heavy with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Think of you, Opal? I am sure you must know what I think. I've never +had an opportunity to tell you—in so many words—but you must have seen +what I have certainly taken no pains to conceal. Shall I try to tell +you, Opal?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! I don't want to hear a word—not a word! Do you understand? I +forbid you!"</p> + +<p>Paul bowed deferentially. She laughed nervously at the humility in his +obeisance.</p> + +<p>"Don't be ridiculous!" she commanded. "This is growing too melodramatic, +and I hate a scene. But, really, Paul, you mustn't—simply mustn't! +There are reasons—conditions—and—you must not tell me, and I must +not, <i>will</i> not listen!"</p> + +<p>"I mustn't make love to you, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean ... just that!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the 'why.' There are plenty of good and sufficient reasons +that I might give if I chose, but—I don't choose! The only reason that +you need to know is—that I forbid you!"</p> + +<p>She turned away with that regal air of hers that made one forget her +child-like stature.</p> + +<p>"Are you going, Opal?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!—what did I come out here for? I can't remember. Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"To wish me good-night, of course! And you haven't done it!"</p> + +<p>She looked back over her shoulder, a mocking laugh in those inscrutable +eyes. Then she turned and held out both hands to him.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Paul, good-night!... You seem able to do as you please with +me, in spite of—everything—and I just want to stay in your arms +forever—forever ..."</p> + +<p>Paul caught her to him, and their lips melted in a clinging kiss.</p> + +<p>At last she drew away from his embrace.</p> + +<p>"The glitter of the moonlight and the music of the wind-maddened waves +must have gone to my brain!" She laughed merrily, pulled his face down +to hers for a last swift kiss, and ran from him before he could detain +her.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The next morning they met for a brief moment alone.</p> + +<p>Opal shook hands with the Boy in her most perfunctory manner.</p> + +<p>Paul, after a moment's silent contemplation of her troubled face, bent +over her, saying, "Have I offended you, Opal? Are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes wide and asked with the utmost innocence "For what?"</p> + +<p>Paul was disconcerted. "Last night!" he said faintly.</p> + +<p>She colored, painfully.</p> + +<p>"No, Paul, listen! I don't blame you a bit!—not a bit! A man would be a +downright fool not to take—what he wanted—— But if you want to +be—friends with me, you'll just forget all about—last night—or at any +rate, ignore it, and never refer to it again."</p> + +<p>He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it for the briefest +possible instant.</p> + +<p>And then their <i>tête-à-tête</i> was interrupted, and they sat down for +their last breakfast at sea.</p> + +<p>Opal Ledoux was not visible again until the Lusitania docked in New +York, when she waved her <i>companion de voyage</i> a smiling but none the +less reluctant <i>au revoir</i>!</p> + +<p>But Paul was too far away to see the tears in her eyes, and only +remembered the smile.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>New York's majestic greatness and ceaseless, tireless activity speedily +engrossed the Boy and opened his eager eyes to a wider horizon than he +had yet known. There was a new influence in the whir and hum of this +metropolis of the Western world that set the wheels of thought to a more +rapid motion, and keyed his soul to its highest tension.</p> + +<p>It was not until his first letter from the homeland had come across the +waters that he paused to wonder what the new factor in his life meant +for his future. He had not allowed his reason to assert itself until the +force of circumstances demanded that he look his soul in the face, and +learn whither he was drifting. Paul was no coward, but he quailed before +the ominous clouds that threatened the happiness of himself and the girl +he loved.</p> + +<p>For now he knew that he loved Opal Ledoux. It was Fate. He had guessed +it at the first sound of her voice; he had felt it at the first glance +of her eye; and he had known it beyond the peradventure of a doubt at +the first touch of her lips.</p> + +<p>Yet this letter from his kingdom was full of suggestions of duties to be +done, of responsibilities to be assumed, of good still to be brought out +of much that was petty and low, and of helpless, miserable human beings +who were so soon to be dependent upon him.</p> + +<p>"I will make my people happy," he thought. "Happiness is the birthright +of every man—be he peasant or monarch." And then the thought came to +him, how could he ever succeed in making them truly happy, when he +himself had so sorely missed the way! There was only one thing to do, he +knew that—both for Opal's sake and for his own—and that was to go far +away, and never see the face again that had bewitched him so.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, if he did this, he might forget the experience that was, after +all, only an episode in a man's life and—other men forget! He might +learn to be calmly happy and contented with his Princess. It was only +natural for a young man to make love to a pretty girl, he thought, and +why should he be any exception? He had taken the good the gods provided, +as any live man would—now he could go his way, as other men did, +and—forget! Why not? And yet the mere thought of it cast such a gloom +over his spirits that he knew in his heart his philosophic attempt to +deceive himself was futile and vain. He might run away, of +course—though it was hardly like him to do that—but he would scarcely +be able to forget.</p> + +<p>And then Verdayne joined him with an open note in his hand—a formal +invitation from Gilbert Ledoux for them to dine with him in his Fifth +Avenue house on the following evening. He wished his family to meet the +friends who had so pleasantly attracted himself and his daughter on +shipboard.</p> + +<p>Was it strange how speedily the Boy's resolutions vanished? Run away! +Not he!</p> + +<p>"Accept the invitation, Father Paul, by all means!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was a cordial party in which Paul Verdayne and his young companion +found themselves on the following evening—a simple family gathering, +graciously presided over by Opal's stepmother.</p> + +<p>Gilbert Ledoux's wife was one of those fashion-plate women who strike +one as too artificial to be considered as more than half human. You +wonder if they have also a false set of emotions to replace those they +wore out in their youth—<i>c'est à dire</i> if they ever had any! Paul +smiled at the thought that Mr. Ledoux need have no anxiety over the +virtue of his second wife—whatever merry dance the first might have led +him!</p> + +<p>Opal was not present when the gentlemen were announced, and the bevy of +aunts and uncles and cousins were expressing much impatience for her +presence—which Paul Zalenska echoed fervently in his heart. It was +truly pleasant—this warm blood-interest of kinship. He liked the +American clannishness, and he sighed to think of the utter lack of +family affection in his own life.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room, where they were received, was furnished in good taste, +the Boy thought. The French touch was very prominent—the blend of color +seemed to speak to him of Opal. Yes, he liked the room. The effect grew +on one with the charm of the real home atmosphere that a dwelling place +should have. But he wasn't so much interested in that, after all! In +fact, it was rather unsatisfactory—without Opal! These people were +<i>her</i> people and, of course, of more than ordinary interest to him on +her account, but still—</p> + +<p>And at last, when the Boy was beginning to acknowledge himself slightly +bored, and to resent the familiar footing on which he could see the +Count de Roannes already stood in the family circle, Opal entered, and +the gloomy, wearisome atmosphere seemed suddenly flooded with sunlight.</p> + +<p>She came in from the street, unconventionally removing her hat and +gloves as she entered.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been so long, Opal?" asked Mrs. Ledoux, with +considerable anxiety.</p> + +<p>"At the Colony Club, <i>ma mère</i>—I read a paper!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" put in the Count, in an amused tone. "On what subject?"</p> + +<p>"On 'The Modern Ethical Viewpoint,' <i>Comte</i>," she answered, nodding her +little head sagely. "It was very convincing! In fact, I exploded a bomb +in the camp that will give them all something sensational to talk about +till—till—the next scandal!"</p> + +<p>The Count gave a low chuckle of appreciation, while Mr. Ledoux asked, +seriously, "But to what purpose, daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Why, papa, don't you know? I had to teach Mrs. Stuyvesant Moore, Mrs. +Sanford Wyckoff, and several other old ladies how to be good!"</p> + +<p>And in the general laugh that followed, she added, under her breath, +"Oh, the irony of life!"</p> + +<p>Paul watched her in a fever of boyish jealousy as she passed through the +family circle, bestowing her kisses left and right with impartial favor. +She made the rounds slowly, conscientiously, and then, with an air of +supreme indifference, moved to the Boy's side.</p> + +<p>He leaned over her.</p> + +<p>"Where are my kisses?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands behind her back, child-fashion, and looked up at +him, a coquettish daring in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where did you put them last?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know!"</p> + +<p>"True—I ought. But, as a matter of fact, I haven't the slightest idea. +It depends altogether upon what girl you saw last."</p> + +<p>"If you think that of me——"</p> + +<p>"What else can I think? Our first meeting did not leave much room for +conjecture. And, of course——"</p> + +<p>"Opal! You have just time to dress for dinner! And the Count is very +anxious to see the new orchid, you know!"</p> + +<p>There was a suggestion of reproof in Mrs. Ledoux's voice. The girl's +face clouded as she turned away in response to the summons. But she +threw the Boy a challenge over her shoulder—a hint of that mischief +that always seemed to lurk in the corner of her eye.</p> + +<p>Paul bit his lip. He was not a boy to be played with, as Opal Ledoux +would find out. And he sulked in a corner, refusing to be conciliated, +until at last she re-entered the room, leaning on the Count's +"venerable" arm. She had doubtless been showing him the orchid. Humph! +What did that old reprobate know—or care—about orchids?</p> + +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<span>"A primrose by the river's brim,<br /></span> +<span>A yellow primrose was to him,<br /></span> +<span>And nothing more."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As the evening passed, there came to the Boy no further opportunity to +speak to Opal alone. She not only avoided him herself, but the entire +party seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to keep him from her. It +roused all the fight in his Slavic blood, and he determined not to be +outwitted by any such high-handed proceeding. He crossed the room and +boldly broke into the conversation of the group in which she stood.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ledoux," he said, "pardon me, but as we are about to leave, I +must remind you of your promise to show me the new orchid. I am very +fond of orchids. May I not see it now?"</p> + +<p>Opal had made no such promise, but as she looked up at him with an +instinctive denial, she met his eyes with an expression in their depths +she dared not battle. There was no knowing what this impetuous Boy might +say or do, if goaded too far.</p> + +<p>"Please pardon my forgetfulness," she said, with a propitiating smile, +as she took his arm. "We will go and see it."</p> + +<p>And the Boy smiled. He had not found his opportunity—he had made one!</p> + +<p>With a malicious smile on his thin, wicked lips the Count de Roannes +watched them as they moved across the room toward the conservatory—this +pair so finely matched that all must needs admire.</p> + +<p>It was rather amusing in <i>les enfants</i>, he told Ledoux, this "<i>Paul et +Virginie</i>" episode. Somewhat <i>bourgeois</i>, of course—but harmless, he +hoped. This with an expressive sneer. But—<i>mon Dieu!</i>—and there was a +sinister gleam in his evil eyes—it mustn't go too far! The girl was a +captivating little witch—the old father winced at the significance in +the tone—and she must have her fling! He rather admired her the more +for her <i>diablerie</i>—but she must be careful!</p> + +<p>But he need not have feared to-night. Paul Zalenska's triumph was +short-lived. When once inside the conservatory, the girl turned and +faced him, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"What an utterly shameless thing to do!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he demanded. "You were not treating me with due respect and +'self-preservation is the first law of nature,' you know. I am so little +accustomed to being—snubbed, that I don't take it a bit kindly!"</p> + +<p>"I did not snub you," she said, "at least, not intentionally. But of +course my friends have prior claims on my time and attention. I can't +put them aside for a mere stranger."</p> + +<p>"A stranger?" he echoed. "Then you mean——"</p> + +<p>"I mean what?"</p> + +<p>"To ignore our former—acquaintance—altogether?"</p> + +<p>"I do mean just that! One has many desperate flirtations on board ship, +but one isn't in any way bound to remember them. It is not +always—convenient. You may have foolishly remembered. I +have—forgotten!"</p> + +<p>"You have not forgotten. I say you have not, Opal."</p> + +<p>"We use surnames in society, Monsieur Zalenska?"</p> + +<p>"Opal!" appealingly.</p> + +<p>"Why such emotion, Monsieur?" mockingly.</p> + +<p>The Boy was taken aback for a moment, but he met her eyes bravely.</p> + +<p>"Why? Because I love you, Opal, and in your heart you know it!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why do I love you? Because I can't help it! Who knows, really, why +anything happens or does not happen in this topsy-turvy world?"</p> + +<p>The girl looked at him steadily for a moment, and then spoke +indifferently, almost lightly.</p> + +<p>"Have you looked at the orchid you wished so much to see, Monsieur +Zalenska? Mamma is very proud of it!"</p> + +<p>"Opal!"</p> + +<p>But she went on, heedless of his interruption, "Because, if you haven't, +you must look at it hastily—you have wasted some time quite foolishly +already—and I have promised to join the Count in a few moments, and—"</p> + +<p>"Very well. I understand, Opal!" Paul stiffened. "I will relieve you of +my presence. But don't think you will always escape so easily because I +yield now. You have not meant all you have said to me to-night, and I +know it as well as you do. You have tried to play with me—"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon!"</p> + +<p>"You knew the tiger was in my blood—you couldn't help but know it!—and +yet you deliberately awakened him!" She gave him a startled glance, her +eyes appealing for mercy, but he went on relentlessly. "Yes, after the +manner of women since the world began, you lured him on and on! Is it my +fault—or yours—if he devour us both?"</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne, strangely restless and ill at ease, was passing beneath +the window and thus became an involuntary listener to these mad words +from the lips of his young friend.</p> + +<p>Straightway there rose to his mental vision a picture—never very far +removed—a picture of a luxurious room in a distant Swiss hotel, the +foremost figure in which was the slender form of a royally fascinating +woman, reclining with reckless abandon upon a magnificent tiger skin, +stretched before the fire. He saw her lavishing her caresses upon the +inanimate head. He heard her purr once more in the vibrant, appealing +tones so like the Boy's.</p> + +<p>The stately Englishman passed his hand over his eyes to shut out the +maddening vision, with its ever-fresh pangs of poignant anguish, its +persistent, unconquered and unconquerable despair!</p> + +<p>"God help the Boy!" he prayed, as he strolled on into the solitude of +the moonlit night. "No one else can! It is the call of the blood—the +relentless lure of his heritage! From it there is no escape, as against +it there is no appeal. It is the mad blood of youth, quickened and +intensified in the flame of inherited desire. I cannot save him!"</p> + +<p>And then, with a sudden flood of tender, passionate, sacred memories, he +added in his heart,</p> + +<p>"And I would not, if I could!"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Paul Verdayne had many acquaintances and friends in New York, and much +against their inclination he and the Boy soon found themselves absorbed +in the whirl of frivolities. They were not very favorably impressed. It +was all too extravagant for their Old World tastes—not too magnificent, +for they both loved splendor—but it shouted its cost too loudly in +their ears, and grated on their nerves and shocked their aesthetic +sense.</p> + +<p>The Boy was a favorite everywhere, even more so, perhaps, than in +London. American society saw no mystery about him, and would not have +cared if it had. If his face seemed somewhat familiar, as it often had +to Opal Ledoux, no one puzzled his brains over it or searched the +magazines to place it. New York accepted him, as it accepts all +distinguished foreigners who have no craving for the limelight of +publicity, for his face value, and enjoyed him thoroughly. Women petted +him, because he was so witty and chivalrous and entertaining, and always +as exquisitely well-groomed as any belle among them; men were attracted +to him because he had ideas and knew how to express them. He was worth +talking to and worth listening to. He had formed opinions of his own +upon most subjects. He had thought for himself and had the courage of +his convictions, and Americans like that.</p> + +<p>Naturally enough, before many days, at a fashionable ball at the Plaza +he came into contact with Opal Ledoux again.</p> + +<p>It was a new experience, this, to see the girl he loved surrounded by +the admiration and attention of other men. In his own infatuation he had +not realized that most men would be affected by her as he was, would +experience the same maddening impulses—the same longing—the same +thirst for possession of her. Now the fact came home to him with the +force of an electric shock. He could not endure the burning glances of +admiration that he saw constantly directed toward her. What right had +other men to devour her with their eyes?</p> + +<p>He hastened to meet her. She greeted him politely but coldly, expressing +some perfunctory regret when he asked for a dance, and showing him that +her card was already filled. And then her partner claimed her, and she +went away on his arm, smiling up into his face in a way she had that +drove men wild for her. "The wicked little witch!" Paul thought. "Would +she make eyes at every man like that? Dare she?"</p> + +<p>A moment after, he heard her name, and instantly was all attention. The +two men just behind him were discussing her rather freely—far too +freely for the time and the place—and the girl, in Paul's estimation. +He listened eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Bold little devil, that Ledoux girl!" said one. "God! how she is +playing her little game to-night! They say she is going to marry that +old French Count, de Roannes! That's the fellow over there, watching her +with the cat's eyes. I guess he thinks she means to have her fling +first—and I guess she thinks so too! As usual, it's the spectator who +sees the best of the game. What a curious girl she is—a living +paradox!"</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"Spanish, you know. Ought to have black hair instead of red—black eyes +instead of—well, chestnut about expresses the color of hers. I call +them witch's eyes, they're so full of fire and—the devil!"</p> + +<p>"She's French, too, isn't she? That accounts for the eyes. The <i>beauté +du diable</i>, hers is! Couldn't she make a heaven for a man if she +would—or a hell?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's in her! She's doomed, you know! Her grandmothers before her +were bad women—regular witches, they say, with a good, big streak of +yellow. Couldn't keep their heads on their shoulders—couldn't be +faithful to any one man. Don't know as they tried!"</p> + +<p>"I'll bet they made it interesting for the fellow while it did last, +anyway! But this one will never be happy. She has a tragedy in her face, +if ever a woman had. But she's a man's woman, all right, and she'd make +life worth living if a fellow had any red blood in him. She's one of +those women who are born for nothing else in the world but to love, and +be loved. Can't you shoot the Count?"</p> + +<p>"The Count!—Hell! He won't be considered at all after a little! She'll +find plenty of men glad to wake the devil in her—just to keep her from +yawning! But she's not very tractable even now, though her sins all lie +ahead of her! She's altogether too cool on the surface for her make-up, +but—well, full of suggestion, and one feels a volcano surging and +steaming just below the mask she wears, and has an insane desire to wake +it up! That kind of woman simply can't help it."</p> + +<p>A third voice broke in on the conversation—an older voice—the voice of +a man who had lived and observed much.</p> + +<p>"I saw her often as a child," he said, "a perilously wilful child, +determined upon her own way, and possessed of her own fancies about +this, that, and the other, which were seldom, if ever, the ideas of +anyone else. There was always plenty of excitement where she was—always +that same disturbing air! Even with her pigtails and pinafores, one +could see the woman in her eyes. But she was a provoking little +creature, always dreaming of impossible romances. Her father had his +hands full."</p> + +<p>"As her husband will have, poor devil! If he's man enough to hold her, +all right. If he is not," with a significant shrug of the shoulders, +"it's his own lookout!"</p> + +<p>"That old French <i>roué</i> hold her? You're dreaming! She won't be faithful +to him a week—if he has a handsome valet, or a half-way manly groom! +How could she?" And they laughed coarsely.</p> + +<p>The Boy gave them a look that should have annihilated all three, but +they weren't noticing the Boy. He could have throttled them! How dared +such lips as these pollute his darling's name! And yet these were +society men—they could dance with her, clasp her to them, and look into +those "witch eyes"—oh, the ignominy of it!</p> + +<p>He looked across at Opal. How beautiful she was in her pale green gown, +her white shoulders and arms glistening beneath the electric light with +the sheen of polished marble, her red-brown hair glowing with its fiery +lure, while even across the room her eyes sparkled like diamonds, +lighting up her whole face. She was certainly enjoying herself—this +Circe who had tempted him across the seas. She seemed possessed of the +very spirit of mischief—and Paul forgot himself.</p> + +<p>The orchestra was playing a Strauss waltz—it fired his blood. He walked +across the room with his masterful, authoritative air—the manner of a +man born to command. "Miss Ledoux," he said, and the crowd around her +instinctively made way for him, "this is our waltz, I believe!" and +whirled her away before she could answer.</p> + +<p>Ah! it was delicious, that waltz! In perfect rhythm they clung together, +gliding about the polished floor, her bare shoulder pressing his arm, +her head with its bewildering perfume so near his lips, their hearts +throbbing fiercely in the ecstasy of their nearness—which was Love.</p> + +<p>Oh to go on forever! forever!</p> + +<p>The sweet cadence of the music died away, and they looked into each +other's eyes, startled.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be acquiring the habit," she pouted, but her lips quivered, +and in response he whispered in her ear, "Whose waltz was it, +sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Paul—nor care!"</p> + +<p>That was enough.</p> + +<p>They left the room together.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>In a secluded corner adjoining the ballroom, Paul and Opal stood hand in +hand, conscious only of being together, while their two hearts beat a +tumultuous acknowledgment of that <b>world-old</b> power whose name, in +whatever guise it comes to us, is Love!</p> + +<p>"I said I wouldn't, Paul!" at last she said.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't what?"</p> + +<p>"See you again—like this!"</p> + +<p>Paul smiled tenderly.</p> + +<p>"My darling," he whispered, "what enchantment have you cast over me that +all my resolutions to give you up fade away at the first glimpse of your +face? I resolve to be brave and remember my duty—until I see you—and +then I forget everything but you—I want nothing but you!"</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Opal!" he cried impetuously. "After seeing these gay Lotharios making +eyes at you all the evening, can you ask me that? I want to take you +away and hide you from every other man's sight—that's what I want! It +drives me crazy to see them look at you that way! But you have such a +way of keeping a fellow at arm's length when you want to," he went on, +ruefully, "in spite of the magic call of your whole tempting +personality. You know '<i>Die Walküre</i>,' don't you?—but of course you do. +If I believed in the theory of reincarnation, I should feel sure that +you were Brünhilde herself, surrounded by the wall of fire!"</p> + +<p>"I wish I were! I wish every woman had some such infallible way of +<i>proving</i> every man who seeks her!"</p> + +<p>"You have, Opal! You have your own womanly instincts—every woman's +impassable wall of fire, if she will only hide behind them. <i>You</i> could +never love unworthily!"</p> + +<p>"But, Paul, don't you know? Haven't they told you? I shall probably +marry the Count de Roannes!"</p> + +<p>Paul was astounded.</p> + +<p>"Opal! No! No! Not that, surely not that! I heard it, yes—a moment ago. +But I could not believe it. The idea was too horrible. It could not be +true!"</p> + +<p>"But it is true, Paul! It is all too true!"</p> + +<p>"It is a crime," he fairly groaned.</p> + +<p>She shrank from him. "Don't say that, Paul!"</p> + +<p>"But you know it is true! Opal, just think! If you give your sweet self +to him—and that is all you can give him, as you and I know—if you give +yourself to him, I say, I—I shall go mad!"</p> + +<p>"Yet women have loved him," she began, bravely, attempting to defend +herself. "Women—some kinds of women—really love him now. He has a +power of—compelling—love—even yet!"</p> + +<p>"And such women," Paul cried hoarsely, "are more to be honored than you +if you consent to become his property with no love in your heart! Don't +plead extenuating circumstances. There can be no extenuating +circumstances in all the world for such a thing."</p> + +<p>She winced as though he had struck her, for she knew in her heart that +what he said was true, brutally true. The Boy was only voicing her own +sentiments—the theory to which she had always so firmly clung.</p> + +<p>As Paul paused, a sudden realization of his own future overwhelmed him +and locked his lips. He smiled sadly. Who was he that he should talk +like that? Was not he, too, pleading extenuating circumstances? True, he +was a man and she was a woman, and the world has two distinct +standards—but—no less than she—he was selling himself for gain.</p> + +<p>"Paul, Paul! I'm afraid you don't understand! It isn't <i>money</i>. Surely +you don't think that! It isn't money—it is honor—<i>honor</i>, do you hear? +My dead mother's honor, and my father's breaking heart!"</p> + +<p>The secret was out, at last. This, then, was the shadow that had cast +its gloom over the family ever since he had come in contact with them. +It was even worse than he had thought. That she—the lovely Opal—should +have to sacrifice her own honor to save her mother's!</p> + +<p>Honor! honor! how many crimes are committed in thy name!</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it," he said sympathetically.</p> + +<p>And she told him, sparing herself details, as far as possible, of the +storm of scandal about to burst upon the family—a storm from which only +the sacrifice of herself could save the family name of Ledoux, and her +mother's memory. It might, or might not, be true, but the Count de +Roannes claimed to be able—and ready—to bring proof. And, if it were +true, she was not a Ledoux at all, and her father was not her father at +all, except in name. No breath of ill-fame had ever reached her mother's +name before. They had thought she had happily escaped the curse of her +mother before her. But the Count claimed to know, and—well, he wanted +her—Opal—and, of course, it <i>was</i> possible, and of course he would do +anything to protect the good name of his wife, if Opal became his wife, +and——</p> + +<p>"So, you see, Paul—in the end, I shall have to—submit!"</p> + +<p>She had not told it at all well, she thought, but Paul little cared how +the story was told.</p> + +<p>"I do not see it that way at all, Opal. It seems to me—well, +diabolical, and may God help you, dear girl, when you, with your +high-keyed sensitive nature, first wake to the infamy of it! I have no +right to interfere—no right at all. Not even my love for you, which is +stronger than myself, gives me that right. For I am betrothed! I tell +you this because I see where my folly has led us. There is only one +thing to do. We must part—and at once. I am sorry"—then he thought of +that first meeting on board the liner, "no, I am <i>not</i> sorry we met! I +shall never be that! But I am going to be a man. I am going to do my +duty. Help me, Opal—help me!"</p> + +<p>It was the old appeal of the man to the helpmeet God had created for +him, and the woman in her responded.</p> + +<p>"Paul, I will!" and her little fingers closed over his.</p> + +<p>"Of course he loves you—in his way, but——"</p> + +<p>"Don't, Paul, don't! He has never once pretended that—he has been too +wise."</p> + +<p>"He will break your spirit, dear—it's his nature. And then he will +break your heart!"</p> + +<p>She raised her head, defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Break my spirit, Paul? He could not. And as for my heart—that will +never be his to break!"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met with the old understanding that needs no words. Then she +pointed to the heavens.</p> + +<p>"See the stars, Paul, smiling down so calmly. How can they when hearts +are aching? When I was a child, I loved the stars. I fancied, too, that +they loved me, and I would run out under their watchful eyes, singing +for very joy, sure they were guiding my life and that some day I would +be happy, gloriously happy. Somehow, Paul, I always expected to be +happy—always!—till now! Now the stars seem to mock me. I must have +been born under a baleful conjunction, I guess. Oh, I told you, Paul, +that Opals were unlucky. I warned you—didn't I warn you? I may have +tempted you, too, but—I didn't mean to do it!"</p> + +<p>"Bless your dear heart, girl, you weren't to blame!"</p> + +<p>"But you said—that night—about the tiger——"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Opal, I was not myself. I was—excited. I didn't mean +that."</p> + +<p>After a moment, she said, musingly, "It is just as I said, Paul. I was +born to go to the devil, so it is well—well for you, I mean—and +perhaps for me—that you and I cannot marry." He shook his head, but she +went on, unheeding. "Paul, if I am destined to be a disgrace to +someone—and they say I am—I'd rather bring reproach upon his name than +on yours!"</p> + +<p>"But why marry at all, if you feel like that? Why, it's—it's damnable!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see, Paul, I am foreordained to evil—marked a bad woman from +the cradle! Marriage is the only salvation, you know, for girls with my +inheritance. It's the sanctuary that keeps a woman good and 'happy ever +after.'"</p> + +<p>"It would be more apt, in my opinion, to drive one to forbidden wine! A +marriage like that, I mean—for one like you."</p> + +<p>"But at least a married woman has a <i>name</i>—whatever she may do. +She's—protected. She isn't——"</p> + +<p>But Paul would hear no more.</p> + +<p>"Opal, <i>we</i> were made for each other from the beginning—surely we were. +Some imp has slipped into the scheme of things somewhere and turned it +upside down."</p> + +<p>He paused. She looked up searchingly into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Paul, do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearest!"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"As sure as I am of my own existence! With all my heart, Opal—with all +my soul!"</p> + +<p>"Then we mustn't see each other any more!"</p> + +<p>"Not any more. You are right, Opal, not any more!"</p> + +<p>"But what shall we do, Paul? We shall be sure to meet often. You expect +to stay the summer through, do you not? And we are not going to New +Orleans for several weeks yet—and then?"</p> + +<p>"We are going West, Father Paul and I—out on the prairies to rough it +for a while. We were going before long, anyway, and a few weeks sooner +or later won't make any difference. And then—home, back over the sea +again, to face life, to work, to try to be—strong, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Paul paused and looked at her passionately.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so alluring to-night, Opal?"</p> + +<p>Her whole body quivered, caught fire from the flame in his eyes. What +was there about this man that made her always so conscious she was a +woman? Why could she never be calm in his presence, but was always so +fated to <i>feel, feel, feel!</i></p> + +<p>Her voice trembled as she looked up at him and answered, "Am I wicked, +Paul? I wanted to be happy to-night—just for to-night! I wanted to +forget the fate that was staring me so relentlessly in the face. But—I +couldn't, Paul!"</p> + +<p>Then she glanced through the curtains into the ballroom and shuddered.</p> + +<p>"The Count is looking for me," she said. The Boy winced, and she went on +rapidly, excitedly. "We must part. As well now as any time, I suppose, +since it has to be. But first, Paul, let me say it once—just once—<i>I +love you!</i>"</p> + +<p>He snatched her to him—God! that any one else should ever have the +right!</p> + +<p>"And I—worship you, Opal! Even that seems a weak word, to-night. +But—you understand, don't you? I didn't know at sea whether it was love +or what it was that had seized me as nothing ever had before. But I know +now! And listen, Opal—this isn't a vow, nor anything of that kind—but +I feel that I want to say it. I shall always love you just this +way—always—I feel it, I know it!—as long as I live! Will you +remember, darling?—remember—everything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes! And you, Paul?"</p> + +<p>"Till death!" And his lips held hers, regardless of ten thousand Counts +and their claims upon her caresses.</p> + +<p>And they clung together again in the anguish of parting that comes at +some time, or another into the lives of all who know love.</p> + +<p>Then like mourners walking away from the graves of their loved ones, +they returned to the ballroom, with the dull ache of buried happiness in +their hearts.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Out—far out—in the great American West, the Boy wandered. And Paul +Verdayne, understanding as only he could understand, felt how little use +his companionship and sympathy really were at this crisis of the Boy's +life.</p> + +<p>All through the month of August they travelled, the Boy looking upon the +land he had been so eager to see with eyes that saw nothing but his own +disappointment, and the barrenness of his future. The hot sun beat down +upon the shadeless prairies with the intensity of a living flame. But it +seemed as nothing to the heat of his own passion—his own fiery +rebellion against the decree of destiny—altogether powerless against +the withering despair that had choked all the aspirations and ambitions +which, his whole life long, he had cultivated and nourished in the soil +of his developing soul.</p> + +<p>He thought again and again of the glories so near at hand—the glories +that had for years been the goal of his ambition. He pictured the +pageant to come—the glitter of armor and liveries, the splendor and +sparkle of jewels and lights, and all the dazzling gorgeousness of royal +equipments—the throngs of courtiers and beautiful women bowing before +him, proud of the privilege of doing him homage—him, a mere boy—yet +the king—the absolute monarch of his little realm, and supreme in his +undisputed sway over the hearts of his people—his people who had +worshipped his beautiful mother and, if only for her sake, made an idol +of her son. He saw himself crowned by loving hands with the golden +circlet he loved and reverenced, and meant to redeem from the stigma of +a worthless father's abuse and desecration; he saw his own young hands, +strong, pure, and undefiled by any form of bribery or political +corruption, wielding the sceptre that should—please God!—bring +everlasting honor and fame to the little principality. He saw all this, +and yet it did not thrill him any more! It was all Dead Sea fruit, dust +and ashes in his hand. He wanted but one thing now—and his whole +kingdom did not weigh one pennyweight against it.</p> + +<p>But in spite of his preoccupation the freedom and massiveness of the +West broadened the Boy's mental vision. He absorbed the spirit of the +big world it typified, and he saw things more clearly than in the +crowded city. And yet he suffered more, too. He could not often talk +about his sorrow and his loss, but he felt all the time the unspoken +sympathy in Verdayne's companionship, and was grateful for the +completeness of the understanding between them.</p> + +<p>Once, far out in a wide expanse of sparsely settled land, the two came +upon a hut—a little rough shanty with a sod roof, and probably but two +tiny rooms at most. It was nearing evening, and the red rays of the +setting sun fell upon a young woman, humbly clad, sitting on a bench at +the doorway, and cuddling upon her knee a little baby dressed in coarse, +but spotlessly white garments. A whistle sounded on the still air, and +through the waving grain strode a stalwart man, an eager, expectant +light in his bronzed face. The girl sprang to meet him with an +inarticulate cry of joy, and wife and baby were soon clasped close to +his breast.</p> + +<p>Paul could not bear it. He turned away with a sob in his throat and +looked into Verdayne's eyes with such an expression of utter +hopelessness that the older man felt his own eyes moisten with the +fervor of his sympathy. That poor, humble ranchman possessed something +that was denied the Boy, prince of the blood though he was.</p> + +<p>And the two men talked of commonplace subjects that night in subdued +tones that were close to tears. Both hearts were aching with the +consciousness of unutterable and irreparable loss.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Through the long nights that followed, out there in the primitive, Paul +thought of the hideousness of life as he saw it now, with a loathing +that time seemed only to increase. He pictured Opal—his love—as the +wife of that old French libertine, till his soul revolted at the very +thought. Such a thing was beyond belief.</p> + +<p>Once he said to Verdayne, thinking of the conversation he had had with +Opal on the night of the ball at the Plaza,</p> + +<p>"Father Paul, who was Lord Hubert Aldringham? The name sounds so +familiar to me—yet I can't recall where I heard it."</p> + +<p>"Why, he was my uncle, Boy, my mother's brother. A handsome, wicked, +devil-may-care sort of fellow to whom nothing was sacred. You must have +heard us speak of him at home, for mother was very fond of him."</p> + +<p>"And you, Father Paul?"</p> + +<p>"I—detested him, Boy!"</p> + +<p>And then the Boy told him something that Opal had said to him of the +possibility—nay, the probability—of Lord Hubert's being her own +grandfather. Verdayne was pained—grieved to the heart—at the terrible +significance of this—if it were true. And there was little reason, +alas, to doubt it! How closely their lives were woven together—Paul's +and Opal's! How merciless seemed the demands of destiny!</p> + +<p>What a juggler of souls Fate was!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And the month of August passed away. And September found the two men +still wandering in an aimless fashion about the prairie country, and yet +with no desire for change. The Boy was growing more and more +dissatisfied, less and less resigned to the decrees of destiny.</p> + +<p>At last, one dull, gray, moonless night, when neither could woo coveted +sleep to his tired eyes, the Boy said to his companion, "Father Paul, +I'm going to be a man—a man, do you hear? I am going to New +Orleans—you know Mr. Ledoux asked us to come in September—and I'm +going to marry Opal, whatever the consequences! I will not be bound to a +piece of flesh I abhor, for the sake of a mere kingdom—not for the sake +of a world! I will not sell my manhood! I will not sacrifice myself, nor +allow the girl I love to become a burnt-offering for a mother's sin. I +will not! Do you remember away off there," and he pointed off to the +south of them, "the little shack, and the man and the woman and—the +baby? Father Paul, I want—that! And I'm going to have it, too! Do you +blame me?"</p> + +<p>And Verdayne threw his arm around the Boy's neck, and said, "Blame you? +No, Boy, no! And may God bless and speed you!"</p> + +<p>And the next day they started for the South.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was early in the morning, a few days later, when Paul Verdayne and +his young friend reached New Orleans. Immediately after breakfast—he +would have presented himself before had he dared—the Boy called at the +home of the Ledouxs. Verdayne had important letters to write, as he +informed the Boy with a significant smile, and begged to be allowed to +remain behind.</p> + +<p>And the impatient youth, blessing him mentally for his tact, set forth +alone.</p> + +<p>The residence that he sought was one of the most picturesque and +beautiful of the many stately old mansions of the city. It was enclosed +by a high wall that hid from the passers-by all but the most tantalizing +glimpses of a fragrant, green tropical garden, and gave an air of +exclusiveness to the habitation of this proud old family. As the Boy +passed through the heavy iron gate, and his eye gazed in appreciation +upon the tints of foliage no autumn chills had affected, and the glints +of sun and shadow that only heightened the splendor of blossom, and +shrub, and vine, which were pouring their incense upon the air, he felt +that he was indeed entering the Garden of Eden—the Garden of Eden with +no French serpents to tempt from him the woman that had been created his +helpmeet.</p> + +<p>He found Opal, and a tall, handsome young man in clerical vestments, +sitting together upon the broad vine-shaded veranda. The girl greeted +him cordially and introduced him to the priest, Father Whitman.</p> + +<p>At first Paul dared not trust himself to look at Opal too closely, and +he did not notice that her face grew ashen at his approach. She had +recovered her usual self-possession when he finally looked at her, and +now the only apparent sign of unusual agitation was a slight flush upon +her cheek—an excited sparkle in her eye—which might have been the +effect of many causes.</p> + +<p>He watched the priest curiously. How noble-looking he was! He felt sure +that he would have liked him in any other garb. What did his presence +here portend?</p> + +<p>Paul had supposed that Opal was a Catholic; indeed had been but little +concerned what she professed. She had never appeared to him to be +specially religious, but, if she was, that absurd idea of self-sacrifice +for a dead mother she had never known might appeal to the love of +penance which is inherent in all of Catholic faith, and she might not +surrender to her great love for him.</p> + +<p>The priest rose.</p> + +<p>"Must you go, Father?" asked Opal.</p> + +<p>"Yes!... I will call to-morrow, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—tomorrow! And"—she suddenly threw herself upon her knees at his +feet—"your blessing, Father" she begged.</p> + +<p>The priest laid a hand upon her head, and raised his eyes to Heaven. +Then, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead, he took her hands +in his, and gently raised her to her feet. She clung to his hands +imploringly.</p> + +<p>"Absolution, Father," she pleaded.</p> + +<p>He hesitated, his face quivering with emotions his eyes lustrous with +tears, a world of feeling in every line of his countenance.</p> + +<p>"Child," he said hoarsely, "child! Don't tempt me!"</p> + +<p>"But you <i>must</i> say it, you know, or what will happen to me?"</p> + +<p>The priest still hesitated, but her eyes would not release him till he +whispered, "<i>Absolvo te</i>, my daughter, and—God bless you!"</p> + +<p>And releasing her hands, he bowed formally to Paul and hurried down the +broad stone steps and through the gate.</p> + +<p>Opal watched him, a smile, half-remorseful and half-triumphant, upon her +face.</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean?" asked Paul as he laid his hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>She laughed nervously. "Oh—nothing! Only—when I see one of those +long, clerical cassocks, I am immediately seized with an insane desire +to find the <i>man</i> inside the priest!"</p> + +<p>"Laudable, certainly! And you always succeed, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, usually!—why not?" And she laughed again. "Don't, Paul! I don't +want to quarrel with you!"</p> + +<p>"We won't quarrel, Opal," he said. But the thought of the priest annoyed +him.</p> + +<p>He seated himself beside her. "Have you no welcome for me?" he said.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, her eyes sweetly tender.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Paul! I'm very glad to see you again—if you are a bad boy!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her in amazement. "I, bad?—No," he said. And they laughed +again. But it was not the care-free laughter they had known at sea. +There was a strained note in the tones of the girl that grated strangely +upon the Boy's sensitive ear. What had happened? he wondered. What was +the new barrier between them? Was it the priest? Again the thought of +the priest worried him.</p> + +<p>"Where is my friend, the Count de Roannes?" he ventured at last.</p> + +<p>"He sailed for Paris last week."</p> + +<p>Paul's heart leaped. Surely then their legal betrothal had not taken +place.</p> + +<p>"What happened, Opal?"</p> + +<p>"The inevitable!"</p> + +<p>And again his heart bounded for joy! The inevitable! Surely that meant +that the girl's better nature had triumphed, had shown her the ignominy +of such a union in time to save her. He looked at her for further +information, but seeing her evident embarrassment, forbore to pursue the +question further.</p> + +<p>They wandered out through the luxurious garden, and the spell of its +enchantment settled upon them both.</p> + +<p>He pulled a crimson rose from a bush and began listlessly to strip the +thorns from the stalk. "Roses in September," he said, "are like love in +the autumn of life."</p> + +<p>And they both thought again of the Count and a chill passed over their +spirits. The girl watched him curiously.</p> + +<p>"Do you always cut the thorns from your roses?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly-sooner or later. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"O no! I am a woman, you see, and I only hold my rose tightly in my +fingers and smile in spite of the pricks as if to convince the world +that my rose has no thorns."</p> + +<p>"Is that honest?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not—but—yes, I think it is! If one really loves a rose, you +see, one forgets that it has thorns—really forgets!".</p> + +<p>"Until too late!"</p> + +<p>But there was some undercurrent of hidden meaning even in this subject, +and Paul tried another.</p> + +<p>He asked her about the books she had read since they parted and told her +of his travels. He painted for her a picture of the little cabin on the +western prairie, with its man and its woman and its baby, and she +listened with a strange softness in her eyes. He felt that she +understood.</p> + +<p>There was a tiny lake in the garden, and they sat upon the shore and +looked into the water, at an unaccountable loss for words. At last Paul, +with a boyish laugh, relieved the situation by rolling up his sleeve and +dabbling for pebbles in the sand at the bottom.</p> + +<p>There was not much said—only a word now and then, but both, in spite of +their consciousness of the barrier between them, were rejoicing in the +fact that they were together, while Paul, happy in his new-born +resolution, was singing in his heart.</p> + +<p>Should he tell her now?</p> + +<p>He looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he said, "you knew I would come."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Because—I love you!"</p> + +<p>The girl tried to laugh away the serious import of his tone.</p> + +<p>"I am not looking for men to love me, Paul," she said.</p> + +<p>"No, that's the trouble. You never have to."</p> + +<p>He turned away again and for a few moments had no other apparent aim in +life than a careful scrutiny of the limpid water.</p> + +<p>Somehow he felt a chill underlying her most casual words to-day. What +had become of the freemasonry between them they had both so readily +recognized on shipboard?</p> + +<p>Just then Gilbert Ledoux and his wife strolled into the garden. They +were genuinely pleased to see Paul and insisted on keeping him for +luncheon. The conversation drifted to his western trip and other less +personal things and not again did he have an opportunity to talk alone +with Opal.</p> + +<p>Paul took his departure soon after, promising to return for dinner, and +to bring Verdayne with him. Then, he resolved to himself, he would tell +Opal why he had come. Then he would claim her as his wife—his queen!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And Paul kept his word.</p> + +<p>That evening they found themselves alone in a deep-recessed window +facing the dimly-lighted street.</p> + +<p>"Opal," said Paul, "do you know why I have come to New Orleans? Can't +you imagine, dear?"</p> + +<p>She instantly divined the tenor of his thoughts, and shook her head in a +tremor of sudden fright.</p> + +<p>"I have come to tell you that I have fought it all out and that I cannot +live without you. Though I am breaking my plighted troth, I ask you to +become my wife!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes glistened with a strange lustre.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Paul! Paul!" she murmured, faintly. "Why did you not say this +before—or—why do you tell me now?"</p> + +<p>"Because now I know I love you more than all the world—more than my +duty—more than my life! Is that enough?"</p> + +<p>And Paul was about to break into a torrent of passionate appeal, when +Gilbert Ledoux joined them and, shortly after, Mrs. Ledoux called Opal +to her side.</p> + +<p>Opal looked miserably unhappy. Why was she not rejoicing? Paul knew that +she loved him. Nothing could ever make him doubt that. As he stood +wondering, idly exchanging platitudes with his genial host, Mrs. Ledoux +spoke in a tone of ringing emphasis that lingered in Paul's ears all the +rest of his life, "I think, Opal, it is time to share our secret!"</p> + +<p>And then, as the girl's face paled, and her frail form trembled with the +force of her emotion, her mother hastened to add, "Gentlemen, you will +rejoice with us that our daughter was last week formally betrothed to +the Count de Roannes!"</p> + +<p>The inevitable <i>had</i> happened.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>How the remainder of the evening passed, Paul Zalenska never knew. As he +looked back upon it, during the months that followed, it seemed like +some hideous dream from which he was struggling to awake. He talked, he +smiled, he even laughed, but scarcely of his own volition; it was as +though another personality acted through him.</p> + +<p>He was a temperate boy, but that night he drank more champagne than was +good for him. Paul Verdayne was grieved. Not that he censured the lad. +He knew only too well the anguish the Boy was suffering, and he could +not find it in his heart to blame him for the dissipation. And yet +Verdayne also knew how unavailing were all such attempts to drown the +sorrow that had so shocked the Boy's sensitive spirit.</p> + +<p>As he gazed regretfully at the Boy across the dinner table, the butler +placed a cablegram before him. Receiving a nod of permission from his +hostess, he hastily tore open the envelope and paled at its contents.</p> + +<p>The message was signed by the Verdaynes' solicitor, and read:</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p><i>Sir Charles very ill. Come immediately.</i></p></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Before they left the house, Paul sought Opal for a few last words. There +were no obstacles placed in his way now by anxious parental authority. +He smiled cynically as he noticed how clear the way was made for him, +now that Opal was "safeguarded" by her betrothal.</p> + +<p>She drew him to one side, whispering, "Before you judge me too harshly, +Paul, please listen to what I have to say. I feel I have the right to +make this explanation, and you have the right to hear it. Under the +French law, I am legally bound to the Count de Roannes. Fearing that I +might not remain true to a mere verbal pledge—you knew we were engaged, +Paul, for I told you that, last summer—the Count asked that the +betrothal papers be executed before his unavoidable return to Paris. +Knowing no real reason for delay, since it had to come some time, I +consented; but I stipulated that I was to have six months of freedom +before becoming his wife. Arrangements have been made for us all to go +abroad next spring, and we shall be married in Paris. Paul, I did not +tell you this, this afternoon—I could not! I wanted to see you—the +real you—just once more, before you heard the bitter news, for I knew +that after you had heard, you would never look or speak the same to me +again. Oh, Paul, pity me! Pity me when I tell you that I asked for those +six months simply that I might dedicate them to you, and to the burial, +in my memory, of our little dream of love! It was only my little fancy, +Paul! I wanted to play at being constant that long to our dream. I +wanted to wear my six-months' mourning for our still-born love. I +thought it was only a little game of 'pretend' to you, Paul—why should +it be anything else? But it was very real to me."</p> + +<p>Her voice broke, and the Boy took her hand in his, tenderly, for his +resentment had long since died away.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he faltered, "I no longer know nor care who or what I am. This +experience has taken me out of myself, and set my feet in strange paths. +I had a life to live, Opal, but I have forgotten it in yours. I had +theories, ideals, hopes, aspirations—but I don't know where they are +now, Opal. They are gone—gone with your smile—"</p> + +<p>Opal's eyes grew soft with caresses.</p> + +<p>"They will come back, Paul—they must come back! They were born in +you—of Truth itself, not of a mere woman. You will forget me, Boy, and +your life will not be the pitiful waste you think. It must not be!"</p> + +<p>"I used to think that, Opal. It never seemed to me that life could ever +be an utter waste so long as a man had work to do and the strength and +skill to do it. But now—I'm all at sea! I only know—how—I shall miss +<i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>Opal grew thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"And how will it be with me?" she said sadly. "I have never learned to +wear a mask. I can't pose. I can't wear 'false smiles that cover an +aching heart.' Perhaps the world may teach me now—but I'm not a +hypocrite—yet!"</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Opal! I love you because you are you!"</p> + +<p>"And I love you, Paul, because you are you!"</p> + +<p>And even then he did not clasp her in his arms, nor attempt it. She was +another's now, and his hands were tied. He must try to control his one +great weakness—the longing for her.</p> + +<p>And in the few moments left to them, they talked and cheered each other, +as intimate friends on the eve of a long separation. They both knew now +that they loved—but they also knew that they must part—and forever!</p> + +<p>"I love you, Paul," said Opal, "even as you love me. I do not hesitate +to confess it again, because—well, I am not yet his wife. And I want to +give you this one small comfort to help to make you strong to fight and +conquer, and—endure!"</p> + +<p>"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can +I face the world without you?"</p> + +<p>"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me +always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me, +as men do weary of their wives!"</p> + +<p>"Opal! Never!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"But it is not <i>my</i> nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not +capricious. Why should you think so?"</p> + +<p>"But it's human nature, Paul; there is no denying that. To think, Paul, +that we could grow to clasp hands like this—that we could +kiss—actually kiss, Paul, <i>calmly</i>, as women kiss each other—that we +could ever rest in each other's arms and grow weary!"</p> + +<p>But Paul would not listen. He always would have loved her, always! He +loved her, anyway, and always would, were she a thousand times the +Countess de Roannes, but it was too late! too late!</p> + +<p>"Always remember, Paul, wherever you are and whatever you do," went on +Opal, "that I love you. I know it now, and I know how much! Let the +memory of it be an inspiration to you when your spirits flag, and a +consolation when skies are gray, and—Paul—oh, I love you—love +you—that's all! Kiss me—just once—our last goodbye! There can be no +harm in that, when it's for the last time!"</p> + +<p>And Paul, with a heart-breaking sob, clasped her in his arms and pressed +his lips to hers as one kisses the face of his beloved dead. He wondered +vaguely why he felt no passion—wondered at the utter languor of the +senses that did not wake even as he pressed his lips to hers. It was not +a woman's body in his arms—but as the sexless form of one long dead and +lost to him forever. It was not passion now—it was love, stripped of +all sensuality, purged of all desire save the longing to endure.</p> + +<p>It was the hour of love's supremest triumph—renunciation!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Back in England again—England in the fall of the year—England in the +autumn of life, for Sir Charles Verdayne was nearing his end. The Boy +spent a few weeks at Verdayne Place, and then left to pay his first +visit to his fiancée. Paul Verdayne was prevented by his father's ill +health from accompanying him to Austria, as had been the original plan.</p> + +<p>Opal had asked of the Boy during that last strange hour they had spent +together that he should make this visit, and bow obediently to the call +of destiny—as she had done. She did not know who he really was, nor +what station in life his fiancée graced, but she did know that it was +his duty bravely and well to play his part in the drama of life, +whatever the role. She would not have him shirk. It was a horrible +thing, she had said with a shudder—none knew it better than she—but +she would be glad all her life to think that he had been no coward, and +had not cringed beneath the bitterest blow of fate, but had been strong +because she loved him and believed in him.</p> + +<p>And so, since Paul Verdayne could not be absent from his father's side, +with many a reluctant thought the Boy set forth for Austria alone.</p> + +<p>During his absence, Isabella—she who had been Isabella Waring—returned +from Blackheath a widow with two grown daughters—two more modern +editions of the original Isabella. The widow herself was graver and more +matronly, yet there was much of the old Isabella left, and Verdayne was +glad to see her. Lady Henrietta gave her a cordial invitation to visit +Verdayne Place, which she readily accepted, passing many pleasant hours +with the friend of her youth and helping to while away the long days +that Verdayne found so tiresome when the Boy was away from him.</p> + +<p>Isabella was still "a good sort," and made life much less unbearable +than it might have been, but Verdayne often smiled to think of the +"puppy-love" he had once felt for her. It was amusing, now, and they +both laughed over it—though Isabella would not have been a woman had +she not wondered at times why her "old pal" had never married. There had +been chances, lots of them, for the girls had always liked the +blue-eyed, manly boy he had been, and petted and flattered and courted +him all through his youth. Why hadn't he chosen one of them? Had he +really cared so much for her—Isabella? And she often found herself +looking with much pitying tenderness upon the lonely man, whose heart +seemed so empty of the family ties it should have fostered—and +wondering.</p> + +<p>Lady Henrietta, too, was set to thinking as the days went by, and +turning, one night, to her son, "Paul," she said, "I begin to think that +perhaps I was wrong in separating you from the girl you loved, and so +spoiling your life. Isabella would have made you a fairly good wife, I +believe, as wives go, and you must forgive your mother, who meant it for +the best. She did not see the way clearly, then, and so denied you the +one great desire of your heart"</p> + +<p>She looked at him closely, but his heart was no longer worn upon his +sleeve, and finding his face non-committal, she went on slowly, feeling +her way carefully as she advanced.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is not too late now, my son. Don't let my prejudices stand +in your way again, for you are still young enough to be happy, and I +shall be truly glad to welcome any wife—any!"</p> + +<p>Verdayne did not reply. His eyes were studying the pattern of the rug +beneath his feet. His mother's face flushed with embarrassment at the +delicacy of the subject, but she stumbled on bravely.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she said, "Isabella is young yet, and you are not so very old. +It may not, even now, be too late to hold a little grandchild on my knee +before I die. I have been so fond of Paul—he is so very like you when +you were a boy—and have wished—oh, you don't know how a mother feels, +Paul—I have often wished that he were your son, or that I might have +had a grandson just like him. Do you know, Paul, I have often fancied +that your son, had you had one, would have been very like this dear +Boy."</p> + +<p>Verdayne choked back a sob. If his mother could only understand as some +women would have understood! If he could have told her the truth! But, +no, he never could. Even now it would have been a terrible shock to her, +and she could never have forgiven, never held up her head again, if she +had known.</p> + +<p>As for marrying Isabella—could he? After all, was it right to let the +old name die out for want of an heir? Was it just to his father? And +Isabella would not expect to be made love to. There was never that sort +of nonsense about her, and she would make all due allowance for his age +and seriousness.</p> + +<p>His mother felt she had been very kind and generous in renouncing the +old objection of twenty years' standing, and, too, she felt that it was +only right, after spoiling her son's life for so long, to do her best to +atone for the mistake. It must be confessed she could not see what there +was about Isabella to hold the love and loyalty of a man like Paul for +so long, but then—and she sighed at the thought of the wasted +years—"Love is blind," they say—and so's a lover! And her motherly +heart longed for grandchildren—Paul's children—as it had always longed +for them.</p> + +<p>Paul Verdayne sat opposite his penitent mother and pondered. The scent +from a bowl of red roses on his mother's table almost overpowered him +with memories.</p> + +<p>He thought of the couch of deep red roses on which he had lain, caressed +by the velvet petals. He could inhale their fragrance even yet—he could +look into her eyes and breathe the incense of her hair—her whole +glorious person—that was like none other in all the world. Yes, she had +been happy—and he would remember! She would be happier yet could she +know that he had been faithful to his duty—and surely this was his duty +to his race. His Queen would have it so, he felt sure.</p> + +<p>Rising, he bent over his mother, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and +kissed her calmly upon the brow. Then he walked quietly from the room. +His resolution was firmly fixed.</p> + +<p>He would marry Isabella!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Sir Charles Verdayne lingered for several weeks, no stronger, nor yet +perceptibly weaker. He took a sudden fancy to see his old friend, +Captain Grigsby, and the old salt was accordingly sent for. His presence +acted as a tonic upon the dying man, and the two old friends spent many +pleasant hours together, talking—as old people delight in talking—of +the days of the distant past.</p> + +<p>"Is this widow the Isabella who once raised the devil with your Paul?" +asked Grigsby.</p> + +<p>"Same wench!" answered Sir Charles, a twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said the Captain—and then said again, "Hum!" Then he added +meditatively, "Blasted unlucky kiss that! Likely wench enough, +but—never set the Thames on fire!—nor me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh the kiss didn't count," said Sir Charles. "As I said to the boy's +mother at the time, a man isn't obliged to marry every woman he kisses! +Mighty good thing, too—eh, Grig? Besides, a kiss like that is an insult +to any flesh and blood woman!"</p> + +<p>"An insult?"</p> + +<p>"The worst kind! You see, Grig, no woman likes to be kissed that way. +Whether she's capable of feeling a single thrill of passion herself or +not, she likes to be sure that she can inspire it in a man. And a kiss +like that—well, it rouses all her fighting blood! Makes her feel she's +no woman at all in the man's eye—merely a doll to be kissed. D'ye see? +It's damned inconsistent, of course, but it's the woman of it!"</p> + +<p>"The devil of it, you mean!" the old Captain chuckled in response. Then, +"Paul had a lucky escape," he said, as he looked furtively around the +room for listening ears, "mighty lucky escape! And an experience right +on the heels of it to make up for the loss of a hundred such wenches +and—say, Charles, he's got a son to be proud of! The Boy is certainly +worth all the price!"</p> + +<p>"Any price—any price, Grig!" Then the old man went on, "If Henrietta +only knew! She thinks the world of the youngster, you know—no one could +help that—but what if she knew? Paul's been mighty cautious. I often +laugh when I see them out together—him and the Boy—and think what a +sensation one could spring on the public by letting the cat out of the +bag. And the woman would suffer. Wouldn't she, just! Wouldn't they tear +her to pieces!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they would," said the Captain, "they certainly would. This is a +world of hypocrites, Charles, damned rotten hypocrites!"</p> + +<p>"That's what it is, Grig! Not one of those same old hens who would have +said, 'Ought we to visit her?' and denounced the whole 'immoral' affair, +and all that sort of thing—not one of them, I say, but would—"</p> + +<p>"Give her very soul to know what such a love means! O they would, +Charles—they would—every damned old cat of them, who would never get +an opportunity to play the questionable—no, not one in a thousand +years—if they searched for it forever!"</p> + +<p>"Yet women are made so, Grigsby—they can't help it! Henrietta would +faint at the mere suggestion of accepting as a daughter-in-law a woman +with a past!"</p> + +<p>And the old man sighed.</p> + +<p>"I'd have given my eyes—yes, I would, Grig—to have seen that woman +just once! God! the man she made out of my boy! Of course it may have +been for the best that it turned out as it did, but—damn it all, Grig, +she was worth while! There's no dodging that!"</p> + +<p>"Nobody wants to dodge it, Charles! She was over-sexed, perhaps—but +better that than undersexed—eh?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But the exhilaration caused by the coming of his old friend gradually +wore itself away, and Sir Charles began to grow weaker. And at last the +end came. He had grown anxious to see the Boy again, and the young +fellow had returned and spent much time with the old man, who loved the +sound of his voice as it expressed his fresh, frank ideas.</p> + +<p>But Sir Charles spent his last hours with his son.</p> + +<p>"Paul," he said, in a last confidential whisper, touching upon the theme +that had never been mentioned between them before, "I +understand—everything—you know, and I'm proud of you—and him! I have +wanted to say something, or do something for you—often—often—to help +you—but it's the sort of thing a chap has to fight out for himself, +and I thought I'd better keep out of it! But I wanted you to +know—<i>now</i>—that I've known it all—all along—and been proud of +you—both!"</p> + +<p>And their hands clasped closely, and the eyes of both were wet, but even +on the brink of death the lips of the younger man were sealed. The ++silence of one-and-twenty years remained unbroken. +It was not a +foolish reticence that restrained him—but simply that he could not find +words to voice the memories that grew more and more sacred with the +passing of the years.</p> + +<p>And at evening, when the family had gathered about him, the old man lay +with his son's hand in his, but his eyes looked beyond and rested on the +face of the Boy, who seemed the renewal of hit son's youth, when life +was one glad song! And thus he passed to the Great Beyond.</p> + +<p>And his son was Sir Paul Verdayne, the last of his race.</p> + +<p>That night, the young baronet and the Boy sat alone over their cigars. +The Boy spoke at some length of his extensive Austrian visit. The +Princess Elodie would make him a good wife, he said. She was of good +sturdy stock, healthy, strong—and, well, a little heavy and dull, +perhaps, but one couldn't expect everything! At least, her honor would +never be called into question. He would always feel sure that his name +was safe with her! He was glad he went to Austria. There were political +complications that he had not understood before which made the marriage +an absolute necessity for the salvation of his country's position among +the kingdoms of the world, and he was more resigned to it now. Yes, +indeed, he was far more resigned. The princess wasn't by any means +impossible—not a half bad sort—and—yes, he was resigned! He said it +over and over, but without convincing Sir Paul—or deceiving himself!</p> + +<p>As for the elder man, he said but little. He had been wondering +throughout that dinner-hour whether he could ever really make Isabella +his wife. The Boy thought of Isabella, too, and was anxious to know +whether his Father Paul was going to be happy at last. He had been very +curious to see the woman who could play so cruel a part toward the man +he loved. If he had been Verdayne, he thought, he would never forgive +her—never! Still, if Father Paul loved the woman—as he certainly must +to have remained single for her sake so long—it put a different face on +the matter, and of course it was Verdayne's affair, not his! The Boy had +been disappointed in Isabella's appearance and attractions—she was not +at all the woman he had imagined his Father Paul would love—but of +course she was older now, and age changes some women, and, and—well, he +only hoped that his friend would be happy—happy in his own way, +whatever that might be.</p> + +<p>At last, he summoned Vasili to him and called for his own particular +yellow wine—the Imperial Tokayi—and the old man filled the glasses. It +was too much for Verdayne—and all thoughts of Isabella were consigned +to eternal oblivion as he remembered the time when <i>he</i> had sipped that +wine with his Queen in the little hotel on the Bürgenstock.</p> + +<p>She would have no cause for jealousy—his darling!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX'></a><h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>It was November when Sir Charles died, and Lady Henrietta betook herself +to her sister's for consolation, while Sir Paul and the Boy, with a +common impulse, departed for India.</p> + +<p>They spent Christmas in Egypt, the winter months in the desert, and at +last spring came, with its remembrance of duties to be done. And to the +elder man England made its insistent call, as it always did in March. +For was it not in England, and in March, the tidings reached him that +unto him a son was born?</p> + +<p>He must go back.</p> + +<p>So at last, acting upon a pre-arrangement to which the young Prince had +not been a party, they made their way back to their own world of men and +women.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Boy," said Sir Paul, one day, "the time has come when many questions +you have asked and wondered about are to be answered, as is your due. It +was your mother's wish that you should go, at the beginning of May, +alone, to Lucerne. There you will find letters awaiting you—from +her—from your Uncle Peter—yes, even from myself—telling you the whole +secret of your birth, the story of your inheritance."</p> + +<p>"Why Lucerne, Father Paul?"</p> + +<p>"It was your mother's wish—and mine!"</p> + +<p>Then, with a rush of tenderness, the older man threw his arm around the +Boy's shoulders. "Boy," he said, "be charitable and lenient and +kind—whatever you read!"</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do, Father Paul? I have not quite two weeks +of freedom left, and I begrudge every day I am forced to spend away from +you. You will go with me to see me crowned—and married?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Boy! You are to stay in Lucerne only until you are sure you +understand all the revelations of these letters, and their full import. +It may be a week—it may be a day—it may be but a few hours, but—I +can't go with you, and you must not ask me to! It is an experience you +must face alone. I will await you in Venice, Paul, and be sure that when +you want me, Boy, I will come!"</p> + +<p>The Boy's sensitive nature was stirred to the depths by the emotion in +Sir Paul's face—emotion that all his life long he had never seen there +before. He grasped his hand—</p> + +<p>"Father Paul," he began, but Sir Paul shook his head at the unspoken +appeal in his face and bade him be patient just a little longer and +await his letters, for he could tell him nothing.</p> + +<p>And thus they parted; the Boy to seek in Lucerne the unveiling of his +destiny, the man to wait in Venice, a place he had shunned for +one-and-twenty years, but which was dearer to him than any other city in +the world. It was there that he had lived the climax of his love-life, +with its unutterable ecstasy—and unutterable pain.</p> + +<p>Vasili had preceded his young master to Lucerne with the letters that +had been too precious, and of too secret a nature, to be entrusted to +the post. Who can define the sensations of the young prince as he held +in his hand the whole solution of the mystery that had haunted all his +years? He trembled—paled. What was this secret—perhaps this terrible +secret—which was to be a secret no longer?</p> + +<p>Alone in his apartment, he opened the little packet and read the note +from the Regent, which enclosed the others, and then—he could read no +further. The few words of information that there stared him in the face +drove every other thought from his mind, every other emotion from his +heart. His father! Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he known? A thousand +significant memories rushed over him in the light of the startling +revelation. How blind he had been! And he sat for hours, unheeding the +flight of time, thinking only the one thought, saying over and over +again the one name, the name of his father, his own father, whom he had +loved so deeply all his life—</p> + +<p><i>Paul Verdayne!</i></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX'></a><h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>At last, when he felt that he could control his scattered senses, he +turned over the letters in the packet and found his mother's. How his +boyish heart thrilled at this message from the dead!—a message that he +had waited for, and that had been waiting for him, one-and-twenty years! +The letter began:</p> + +<p>"Once, my baby, thy father—long before he was thy father—had a +presentiment that if he became my lover my life would find a tragic end.</p> + +<p>"Once, likewise, I told thy father, before he became my lover, that the +price we might have to pay, if we permitted ourselves to love, would be +sorrow and death! For, my baby, these are so often the terrible cost of +such a love as ours. That he has been my lover—my beloved—heart of my +heart—thine own existence is the living proof; and something—an +intangible something—tells me that the rest of his prophecy will +likewise be fulfilled. We have known the sorrow—aye, as few others +have—and even now I feel that we shall also know death!</p> + +<p>"It is because of this curious presentiment of mine that I write down +for thee, my baby—my baby Paul—this story of thy father and thy +mother, and the great love that gave thee to the world. It is but right, +before thou comest into thy kingdom, that thou shouldst know—thou and +thou alone—the secret of thy birth, that thou mayst carry with thee +into the big world thy birthright—the sweetness of a supreme love."</p> + +<p>Then briefly, but as completely and vividly as the story could be +written, she pictured for him the beautiful idyl she and her lover had +lived, here in this very spot, two-and-twenty years ago; told him, in +her own quaint words, of the beautiful boy she had found in Lucerne, +that glorious May so long ago, and how it had been her caprice to waken +him, until the caprice had become her love, and afterwards her life; +told him how she had seen the danger, and had warned the boy to leave +Lucerne, while there was yet time, but that he had answered that he +would chance the hurt, because he wished to live, and he knew that only +she could teach him how—only she could prove to him the truth of her +own words, that <i>life was love!</i></p> + +<p>She told how weary and unhappy she had been, picturing with no light +fingers the misery of her life—married when a mere child to a vicious +husband—and all the insults and brutality she was forced to endure; and +then, for contrast, told him tenderly how she had been young again for +this boy she had found in Lucerne.</p> + +<p>There was not one little detail of that idyllic dream of love omitted +from the picture she drew for him of these two—and their sublime three +weeks of life on the Bürgenstock with their final triumphant, but bitter +culmination in Venice. She told him of what they had been pleased to +call their wedding—the wedding of their souls—nor did she seek to +lessen the enormity of their sin.</p> + +<p>She touched with the tenderest of fingers upon the first dawn in their +hearts of the hope of the coming of a child—a child who would hold +their souls together forever—a child who would immortalize their love +till it should live on, and on, and on, through countless generations +perhaps—till who could say how much the world might be benefited and +helped just because they two had loved!</p> + +<p>And then she told him—sweetly, as a mother should—of all her dreams +for her son—all her hopes and ambitions that were centered around his +little life—the life of her son who was to redeem the land—told him +how ennobled and exalted she had felt that this strong, manly Englishman +was her lover, and how sure she had been that their child would have a +noble mind.</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Thou wilt think my thoughts, my baby Paul—thou wilt dream my + dreams, and know all my ambitions and longings. Thou canst not be + ignoble or base, for thou wert born of a love that makes all other + unions mean and low and sordid by comparison."</p></div> + +<p>Then, after telling, as only she could tell it, of the bitterness of +that parting in Venice, when, because of the threatening danger, from +which there was no escape, she left her lover to save his life, she went +on:</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Dost thou know yet, when thou readest this, little Paul, with thy + father's eyes—dost thou know, I wonder, the meaning of that great + love which to the twain who realize it becomes a sacrament—dost + understand?—a sacrament holier even than a prayer. It was even so + with thy father and me—dost thou—canst thou understand? If not + yet, sometime thou wilt, and thou wilt then forgive thy mother for + her sin."</p></div> + +<p>She told of the taunts and persecutions to which she was forced to +submit upon her return to her kingdom. The king and his friends had +vilely commended her for her "patriotism" in finding an heir to the +throne. "Napoleon would have felt honored," her husband had sneered, "if +Josephine had adopted thy method of finding him the heir he desired!" +But through it all, she said, she had not faltered. She had held the one +thought supreme in her heart and remembered that however guilty she +might be in the eyes of the world, there was a higher truth in the words +of Mrs. Browning, "God trusts me with a child," and had dared to pray.</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"To pray for strength and grace and wisdom to give thee birth, my + baby, and to make thee all that thou shouldst be—to develop thee + into the man I and thy father would have thee become. I was not + only giving an heir to the throne of my realm. I was giving a son + to the husband of my soul. But the world did not know that. + Whatever it might suspect, it could actually know—nothing! The + secret was thy father's and mine—his and mine alone—and now it + is thine, as it needs must be! Guard it well, my baby, and let it + make thy life and thy manhood full of strength and power and + sweetness and glory and joy, and remember, as thou readest for the + first time this story of thy coming into the world, that thy mother + counted it her greatest, proudest glory to be the chosen love of + thy father, and the mother of his son."</p></div> + +<p>She had touched as lightly as she could upon the dark hours of her +baby's coming, when she was doomed to pass through that Valley of the +Shadow far away from the protecting and comforting love of him whose +right it was by every law of Nature to have been, then of all times, by +her side; but the Boy felt the pathos of it, and his eyes filled with +tears. His mother—the mother of his dreams—his glorious +queen-mother—to suffer all this for him—for him!</p> + +<p>And Father Paul!—his own father! What must this cross have been to him! +Surely he would love him all the rest of his life to make up for all +that suffering!</p> + +<p>Then he thought of the other letters and he read them all, his heart +torn between grief and anger—for they told him all the appalling +details of the tragedy that had taken his mother from him, and left his +father and himself bereaved of all that made life dear and worth the +living to man and boy.</p> + +<p>One of the letters was from Sir Paul, telling the story over again from +the man's point of view, and laying bare at last the great secret the +Boy had so often longed to hear. Nothing was kept back. Even every +note—every little scrap of his mother's writing—had been sacredly kept +and was now enclosed for the eyes of their son to read. The closed door +in Father Paul's life was unlocked now, and his son entered and +understood, wondering why he had been so blind that he had not seen it +all before. The writing on the wall had certainly been plain enough. And +he smiled to remember the readiness with which he had believed the +plausible story of Isabella Waring!</p> + +<p>And that man—the husband of his mother—the king who had taken her dear +life from her with a curse upon his lips! Thank God he was not his +father! No, in all the world of men, there was no one but Paul +Verdayne—no one—to whom he would so willingly have given the +title—and to him he had given it in his heart long before.</p> + +<p>He sat and read the letters through again, word by word, living in +imagination the life his mother had lived, feeling all she had felt. +God! the bliss, the agony of it all!</p> + +<p>And Paul Zalenska, surrounded by the messages from the past that had +given him being, and looking at the ruin of his own life with eyes newly +awakened to the immensity of his loss, bowed his face in his hands and +wept like a heart-broken child over the falling of his house of cards.</p> + +<p>Ah! his mother had understood—she had loved and suffered. She was older +than he, too, and had known her world as he could not possibly know it, +and yet she had bade him take the gifts of life when they came his way.</p> + +<p>And—God help him!—he had not done so!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The next morning, Paul Zalenska rose early. He had not slept well. He +was troubled with conflicting emotions, conflicting memories. The wonder +and sorrow of it all had been too much even for his youth and health to +endure. His mother had won so much from life, he thought—and he so +little! He thought of Opal—indeed, when was she ever absent from his +thoughts, waking or sleeping?—and the memory of his loss made him +frantic. Opal—his darling! And <i>they</i> might have been just as happy as +his mother and father had been, but they had let their happiness slip +from them! What fools! Oh, what fools they had been! Not to have risked +anything—everything—for their happiness! And where was she now? In +Paris, in her husband's arms, no doubt, where he could hold her to him, +and caress her and kiss her at his own sweet will! God! It was +intolerable, unthinkable! And he—Paul, her lover—lying there alone, +who would have died a thousand deaths, if that were possible, to save +her from such a fate!</p> + +<p>At last he forced the thought of his own loss from him, and thought +again of his mother. Ah, but her death had been opportune! How glorious +to die when life and love had reached their zenith! in the fullness of +joy to take one's farewell of the world!</p> + +<p>And in the long watches of that wakeful night, he formed the resolution +that he put into effect at the first hint of dawn. He would spend one +entire day in solitude. He would traverse step by step the primrose +paths of his mother's idyllic dream; he would visit every scene, every +nook, she and her lover had immortalized in their memories; he would see +it all, feel it all—yes, <i>live</i> it all, and become so impregnated with +its witchery that it would shed lustre and glory upon all the bleak +years to come. So well had she told her story, so perfect had been its +word-painting, he was sure that he would recognize every scene.</p> + +<p>He explored the ivy-terrace leading to his mother's room, he walked up +and down under the lime trees, and he sat on the bench still in position +under the ivy hanging from the balustrade, and looked up wistfully at +the windows of the rooms that had been hers. Then he engaged a launch +and crossed the lake, and was not satisfied until he had found among the +young beeches on the other side what he felt must have been the exact +spot where his mother had peeped through the leaves upon her ardent +lover, before she knew him. And he roamed about among the trees, feeling +a subtle sense of satisfaction in being in the same places that they had +been who gave him being, as though the spirits of their two natures must +still haunt the spot and leave some trace of their presence even yet. He +followed each of the three paths until he had decided to his own +satisfaction by which one his mother had escaped from her pursuer, that +day, and he laughed a buoyant, boyish laugh at the image it suggested of +Verdayne, the misogynist—his stately, staid old Father Paul—actually +"running after a woman!" Truly the Boy was putting aside his own sorrow +and discontent to-day. He was living in the past, identifying himself +with every phase of it, living in imagination the life of these two so +dear to him, and rejoicing in their joy. Life had certainly been one +sweet song to them, for a brief space, a duet in Paradise, broken +up—alas for the Boy!—before it had become the trio it should have +developed into, by every law of Nature.</p> + +<p>He sought the little village that they had visited before him, and +lunched at the same little hotel. He drove out to the little farmhouse +where the lovers had had their first revelation of him—their baby—and +he wept over the loss of the glorious mother she would have been to him. +He even climbed the mountain and looked with her eyes out over the +landscape. He was young and strong, and he determined to let nothing +escape him—to let no sense of fatigue deter him—but to crowd the day +full of memories of her.</p> + +<p>The Boy, as his mother had been before him, was enraptured by all that +he saw. The beauty of the snow-capped mountains against the blue of the +sky and the golden glamour of the sunshine appealed to him keenly, and +he watched the reflection of it all in the crystal lake in a trance of +delight.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he thought, "had they deliberately searched the world over for a +fitting setting for their idyl, they could not have selected a retreat +more perfect than this. It was made for lovers who love as they did."</p> + +<p>And at last, under the witchery of the star-studded skies, wearied and +hungry, but filled and thrilled with the fragrance and glory of the +memories of the mother whom his young heart idealized, he left the +launch at the landing by the terrace steps and started blithely for the +little restaurant, dreaming, always dreaming, not of the future—but of +the past.</p> + +<p>For him, alas, the future held no promise!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>During the Boy's absence that day a new guest had arrived at the little +hotel. A capricious American lady, who had come to Lucerne, "for a day +or two's rest," she said, before proceeding to Paris where an impatient +Count awaited her and his wedding-day.</p> + +<p>Yes, Opal was actually in Lucerne, and the suite of rooms once occupied +by the mysterious Madame Zalenska were now given over to the little lady +from over the seas, who, in spite of her diminutive stature, contrived +to impress everybody with a sense of her own importance. She had just +received a letter from her fiancé, an unusually impatient communication, +even from him. He was anxious, he said, for her and his long-delayed +honeymoon. Honeymoon! God help her! Her soul recoiled in horror from the +hideous prospect. Only two days more, she thought, pressing her lips +tightly together. Oh, the horror of it! She dared not think of it, or +she would go mad! But she would not falter. She had told herself that +she was now resigned. She was going to defeat Fate after all!</p> + +<p>She had partaken of her dinner, and was standing behind the ivy that +draped the little balcony, watching the moon in its setting of Swiss +skies and mystic landscape. How white and calm and spotless it appeared! +It was not a man's face she saw there—but that of a woman—the face of +a nun in its saintly, virgin purity, suggesting only sweet inspiring +thoughts of the glory of fidelity to duty, of the comfort and peace and +rest that come of renunciation.</p> + +<p>Opal clasped her hands together with a thrill of exultation at her own +victory over the love and longings that were never to be fulfilled. A +song of prayer and thanksgiving echoed in her heart over the thought +that she had been strong enough to do her duty and bear the cross that +life had so early laid upon her shoulders. She felt so good—so true—so +pure—so strong tonight. She would make her life, she thought—her life +that could know no personal love—abound in love for all the world, and +be to all it touched a living, breathing benediction.</p> + +<p>As she gazed she suddenly noticed a lighted launch on the little lake, +and an inexplicable prescience disturbed the calm of her musings. She +watched, with an intensity she could not have explained, the gradual +approach of the little craft. What did that boat, or its passenger, +matter to her that she should feel such an acute interest in its +movements? Yet something told her it did matter much, and though she +laughed at her superstition, nevertheless her heart listened to it, and +dared not gainsay its insistent whisper.</p> + +<p>A young man, straight and tall and lithe, bounded from the launch and +mounted the terrace steps. She saw his clean-cut profile, his +well-groomed appearance, which even in the moonlight was plainly +evident. She noted the regal bearing of his well-knit figure, and she +caught the delicious aroma of the particular brand of cigar Paul always +smoked, as he passed beneath the balcony where she stood.</p> + +<p>She turned in very terror and fled to her rooms, pulling the curtains +closer. She shrank like a frightened child upon the couch, her face +white and drawn with fear—of what, she did not know.</p> + +<p>After a time—long, terrible hours, it seemed to her—she parted the +curtains with tremulous fingers and looked out again at the sky, and +shuddered. The virgin nun-face had mysteriously changed—the moon that +had looked so pure and spotless was now blood-red with passion.</p> + +<p>Opal crept back, pulling the curtains together again, and threw herself +face downward upon the couch. God help her!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Paul Zalenska lingered long over his dinner that night. He was tired and +thoughtful. And he enjoyed sitting at that little table where his father +perhaps sat the night he had first seen her who became his love.</p> + +<p>And Paul pictured to himself that first meeting. He tried to imagine +that he was Paul Verdayne, and that shortly his lady would come in with +her stately tread, and take her seat, and be waited upon by her elderly +attendant. Perhaps she would look at him through those long dark lashes +with eyes that seemed not to see. But there was no special table, +to-night, and the Boy felt that the picture was woefully +incomplete—that he had been left out of the scheme of things entirely.</p> + +<p>After finishing his meal, he went out, as his father had done, out under +the stars and sat on the little bench under the ivy, and smoked a cigar. +He felt a curious thrill of excitement, quite out of keeping with his +loneliness. Was it just the memory of that old love-story that had +stirred his blood? Why did his pulse leap, his blood race through his +veins like this, his heart rise to his throat and hammer there so +fiercely, so strangely. Only one influence in all the world had ever +done this to him—only one influence—<i>one woman</i>—and she was miles and +miles away!</p> + +<p>Suddenly, impelled by some force beyond his power of resistance—a sense +of someone's gaze fixed upon him, he raised his eyes to the ivy above +him. There, faint and indistinct in the shadow of the leaves, but quite +unmistakable, he saw the white, frightened face of the girl he loved, +her luminous eyes looking straight down into his.</p> + +<p>He sprang to his feet, and pulled himself up by the ivy to the level of +the terrace, but she had vanished and the watching stars danced +mockingly overhead. Was he dreaming? Had that strange old love-story +taken away from him the last remaining shred of sanity? Surely he hadn't +seen Opal! She was in Paris—damn it!—and he clenched his teeth at the +thought—certainly not at Lucerne!</p> + +<p>He looked at the windows of that enchanted room. All was darkness and +silence. Cursing himself for a madman, he strode into the hall and +examined the Visitors' List. Suddenly the blood leaped to his face—his +head reeled—his heart beat to suffocation. He was not dreaming, for +there, as plainly as words could be written, was the entry:</p> + +<p><i>Miss Ledoux and maid, New Orleans, U. S. A.</i></p> + +<p>She was there—in Lucerne!—his Opal!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>How Paul reached his room, he never knew. He was in an ecstasy—his +young blood surging through his veins in response to the leap of the +seething passions within.</p> + +<p>Have you never felt it, Reader? If you have not, you had better lay +aside this book, for you will never, never understand what +followed—what <i>must</i> follow, in the very nature of human hearts.</p> + +<p>Fate once more had placed happiness in his grasp—should he fling it +from him? Never! never again! He remembered his mother and her great +love, as she had bade him.</p> + +<p>This day, following as it did his mother's letter, had been a revelation +to him of the possibilities of life, and of his own capacity for +enjoying it. In one week, only one week more, he must take upon his +shoulders the burdens of a kingdom. Should he let a mistaken sense of +right and duty defraud him a second time? Was this barrier—which a +stronger or a weaker man would have brushed aside without a second +thought—to wreck his life, and Opal's? He laughed exultingly. His whole +soul was on fire, his whole body aflame.</p> + +<p>Beyond the formality of the betrothal, Opal had not yet been bound to +the Count. She was not his—yet! She could not be Paul's wife—Fate had +made that forever impossible—but she should be <i>his</i>, as he knew she +already was at heart.</p> + +<p>They loved, and was not love—everything!</p> + +<p>He paced the floor in an excitement beyond his control. Opal should give +him, out of her life, one day—one day in the little hotel on the +Bürgenstock, where his mother and her lover had been so happy. They, +too, should be happy—as happy as two mating birds in a new-built +nest—for one day they would forget all yesterdays and all to-morrows. +He would make that one day as glorious and shadowless for her as a day +could possibly be made—one day in which to forget that the world was +gray—- one day which should live in their memories throughout all the +years to come as the one ray of sunshine in two bleak and dreary lives!</p> + +<p>And tempted, as he admitted to himself, quite beyond all reason, he +swore by all that he held sacred to risk everything—brave +everything—for the sake of living one day in Paradise.</p> + +<p>"We have a right to be happy," he said. "Everyone has a right to be +happy, and we have done no wrong to the world. Why should we two, who +have the capability of making so much of our lives and doing so much for +the world, as we might have, together—why should we be sentenced to the +misery of mere existence, while men and women far less worthy of +happiness enjoy life in its utmost ecstasy?"</p> + +<p>One thing he was firmly resolved upon. Opal should not know his real +rank. She should give herself to Paul Zalenska, the man—not to Paul the +Prince! His rank should gloss over nothing—nothing—and for all she +knew now to the contrary, her future rank as Countess de Roannes was +superior to his own.</p> + +<p>And then as silence fell about the little hotel, unbroken save by some +strolling musicians in the square near at hand who sent the most tender +of Swiss love-melodies out upon the evening air, Paul walked out to the +terrace, passed through the little gate, and reaching the balcony, +knocked gently but imperatively upon the door of the room that was once +his mother's.</p> + +<p>The door was opened cautiously.</p> + +<p>Paul stepped inside, and closed it softly behind him.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>In the moonlit room, Paul and Opal faced each other in a silence heavy +with emotion.</p> + +<p>It had been months since they parted, yet for some moments neither +spoke. Opal first found her voice.</p> + +<p>"Paul! You-saw me!"</p> + +<p>"I felt your eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, why did I come!"</p> + +<p>Opal had begun to prepare for the night and had thrown about her +shoulders a loose robe of crimson silk. Her lustrous hair, like waves of +burnished copper, hung below her waist in beautiful confusion. With +trembling fingers she attempted to secure it.</p> + +<p>"Your hair is wonderful, Opal! Please leave it as it is," Paul said +softly. And, curiously enough, she obeyed in silence.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she said at last, with a little nervous laugh, as she recovered +her self-possession and seated herself on the couch, "don't stand +staring at me! I'm not a tragedy queen! You're too melodramatic. Sit +down and tell me why you've come here at this hour."</p> + +<p>Paul obeyed mechanically, his gaze still upon her. She shrank from the +expression of his eyes—it was the old tiger-look again!</p> + +<p>"I came because I had to, Opal. I could not have done otherwise. I have +something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Something to tell me?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes. The most interesting story in the world to me, Opal—a letter from +my mother—a letter to me alone, which I can share with only one woman +in the world—the woman I love!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes fell. As she raised her hand abstractedly to adjust the +curtain, Paul saw the flash of her betrothal ring. He caught her hand in +his and quietly slipped the ring from her finger. She seized the jewel +with her free hand and tried to thrust it into her bosom.</p> + +<p>"No! no!—not there!" he remonstrated, and was not satisfied until she +had crossed the room and hidden it from his sight.</p> + +<p>"Does that please your majesty?" she asked, with a curious little +tremble in her voice.</p> + +<p>Paul started, and stared at her with a world of wonder in his eyes. +Could she know?</p> + +<p>"Your majesty—" he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she laughed. "You speak as though you had but to command to +be obeyed."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, dear," he answered softly.</p> + +<p>And Opal became her sympathetic self again.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about your mother, Paul," she said.</p> + +<p>And Paul, beginning at the very beginning, told her the whole story as +it had been told to him, reading much of his mother's letter to her, +reserving only such portions of it as would reveal the identity he was +determined to keep secret until she was his. The girl was moved to the +depths of her nature by the beauty and pathos of it all, and then the +thought came to her, "This, then, is Paul's heritage—his birthright! +He, like me, is doomed!"</p> + +<p>And her heart ached for him—and for herself!</p> + +<p>But Paul did not give her long to muse. Sitting down beside her for the +first time, he told her the plan he had been turning over in his mind +for their one day together.</p> + +<p>"Surely," he said, "it is not too much to ask out of a lifetime of +misery—one little day of bliss! Just one day in which there shall be no +yesterday, and no to-morrow—one day of Elysium against years of +Purgatory! Let us have our idyl, dear, as my mother and father had +theirs—even though it must be as brief as a butterfly's existence, let +us not deny ourselves that much. I ask only one day!</p> + +<p>"You love me, Opal. I love you. You are, of all the world of women, my +chosen one, as I—no, don't shake your head, for you can't honestly deny +it—am yours! We know we must soon part forever. Won't it be easier for +both of us—both, I say—if for but one day, we can give to each other +all! Won't all our lives be better for the memory of one perfect day? +Think, Opal—to take out of all eternity just a few hours—and yet out +of those few hours may be born sufficient courage for all the life to +come! Don't you see? Can't you? Oh, I can't argue—I can't reason! I +only want you to be mine—all mine—yes, if only for a few hours—all +mine!"</p> + +<p>"Paul, you are mad," she began, but he would not listen.</p> + +<p>"Just one day," he pleaded—"no yesterday, and no to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Opal, it simply has to be—it's Fate! If it wasn't meant to be, why +have we met here like this? Do you think we two are mere toys in the +grip of circumstances? Or do you believe the gods have crossed our paths +again just to tantalize us? Is that why we are here, Opal, you and +I—<i>together</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I came to rest—to see Lucerne! Most tourists come to Lucerne! +It's a—pretty—place—very!" she responded, lamely.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, account for the rest of it. Why did <i>I</i> come?—and at the +same time?—and find you here in my mother's room? Simply a coincidence? +Answer me that! Chance plays strange freaks sometimes, I'll admit, but +Fate is a little more than mere chance. Why did I hear your voice, that +time? Why did I see you, and follow? Why did we find ourselves so near +akin—so strangely, so irresistibly drawn to each other? Answer me, +Opal! Why was it, if we weren't created to be—<i>one</i>?"</p> + +<p>After a moment of waiting he said, "Listen to the music, Opal! Only +listen! Doesn't it remind you of dreams and visions—of fairyland, of +happiness, and—love?"</p> + +<p>But she could not answer.</p> + +<p>At last she said slowly, "Oh, it's too late, Paul—too late!"</p> + +<p>"Too late?" he echoed. "It's never too late to take the good the gods +send! Never, while love lasts!"</p> + +<p>"But the Count, Paul—and your fiancée! Think, Paul, think!"</p> + +<p>"I can't think! What does the Count matter, Opal! Nothing—nothing makes +any difference when you are face to face with destiny and your soul-mate +calls! It has to be—<i>it has to be!</i>—can't you—won't you—see it?"</p> + +<p>"<i>God help all poor souls lost in the dark!</i>" She did see it. It stared +her relentlessly in the face and tugged mercilessly at her heart with +fingers of red-hot steel! She covered her face with her hands, but she +could not shut out the terrible image of advancing Death that held for +her all the charm of a serpent's eye. She struggled, as virgin woman has +always struggled. But in her heart she knew that she would yield. What +was her weak woman's nature after all, when pitted against the strength +of the man she loved!</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was feeling so pure—so good—so true—to-night! Are there not +thousands of beautiful women in the world who might be yours for the +asking? Could you not let the poor Count have his wife and his honeymoon +in peace?"</p> + +<p>Honeymoon! She shuddered at the thought.</p> + +<p>"Sweetheart," he whispered, "by every God-made law of Nature you are +mine—mine—mine! What care we for the foolish, man-made conventions of +this or any other land? There is only one law in the universe—the +divine right of the individual to choose for himself his mate!"</p> + +<p>Then his whisper became softer—more enticing—more resistless in its +passionate appeal.</p> + +<p>He was pleading with his whole soul—this prince who with one word could +command the unquestioning obedience of a kingdom! But the woman in his +arms did not know that, and it would have made no difference if she had! +In that supreme moment it was only man and woman.</p> + +<p>Opal gazed in amazement at this revelation of a new Paul. How splendid +he was! What a king among all the men she knew! What a god in his +manhood's glory!—a god to make the hearts of better and wiser women +than she ache—and break—with longing! Her hand stole to her heart to +still the fury of its beating.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he breathed, "I have wanted you ever since that mad moment in +gray old London when I first caught the lure in your glorious eyes—do +you remember, sweetheart? I know you are mine—and you know it—girl!</p> + +<p>His voice sank lower and lower, growing more and more intense with +suppressed passion. Opal was held spellbound by the subtle charm of his +languorous eyes. She wanted to cry out, but she could not speak—she +could not think—the spell of his fascination overpowered her.</p> + +<p>She felt her eyes grow humid. Her heart seemed to struggle upward, till +it caught in her throat like a huge lump of molten lead and threatened +to choke her with its wild, hot pulsations.</p> + +<p>"I love you, Opal! I love you! and I want you! God! how I want you!" +Paul stammered on, with a catch in his boyish voice it made her heart +leap to hear. "I want your eyes, Opal—your hair—your lips—your +glorious self! I want you as man never wanted woman before!"</p> + +<p>He paused, dazed by his own passion, maddened by her lack of +response—blinded by a mist of fire that made his senses swim and his +brain reel, and crazed by the throbbing of the pulse that cried out from +every vein in his body with the world-old elemental call. Was she going +to close the gates of Paradise in his very face and in the very hour of +his triumph rob him of the one day—his little day?</p> + +<p>It was too much.</p> + +<p>More overwhelmed by her lack of response than by any words she could +have uttered, Paul hesitated. Then, speech failing him, half-dazed, he +stumbled toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Paul!... Paul!"</p> + +<p>He heard her call as one in dreamland catches the far-off summons of +earth's realities. He turned. She stretched out her arms to him—those +round, white arms.</p> + +<p>"I understand you, Paul! I do understand." She threw her arms around his +neck and drew his face down to hers. "Yes, I love you, Paul, I love you! +Do you hear, I love you! I am yours—utterly—heart, mind, soul, and +body! Don't you know that I am yours?"</p> + +<p>She was in his arms now, weeping strange, hot tears of joy, her heart +throbbing fiercely against his own.</p> + +<p>"Paul—Paul—I am mad, I think!—we are both mad, you and I!"</p> + +<p>And as their lips at last met in one long, soul-maddening kiss, and the +intoxication of the senses stole over them, she murmured in the fullness +of her surrender, "Take me! Crush me! Kiss me! My love—my love!"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The morning dawned. The morning of their one day.</p> + +<p>Nature had done her best for them and made it all that a May day should +be. There was not one tint, nor tone, nor bit of fragrance lacking. +Silver-throated birds flooded the world with songs of love. The very air +seemed full of beauty and passion and the glory and joy of life in the +dawn of its fullness.</p> + +<p>Their arrangements had been hasty, but complete. Paul had stolen away +from Lucerne in the middle of the night, to be ready to welcome his +darling at the-first break of the morning; and it was at a delightfully +early hour that they met at the little hotel on the Bürgenstock where +his mother's love-dream had waxed to its idyllic perfection, +one-and-twenty years ago. They sat on the balcony and ate their simple +breakfast, looking down to where the reflection of the snow-crowned +mountains trembled in the limpid lake.</p> + +<p>Opal had never before looked so lovely, he thought. She was gowned in +the simplest fashion in purest white, as a bride should be, her glorious +hair arranged in a loose, girlish knot, while her lustrous eyes were +cast down, shyly, and her cheeks were flushed—flushed with the +revelations and memories of the night just passed—flushed with the +promise of the day just dawning—flushed with love, with slumbering, +smouldering passion—with wifehood!</p> + +<p>How completely she was his when she had once surrendered!</p> + +<p>In their first kiss of greeting, they bridged over, in one ecstatic +moment, the hours of their brief separation. When he finally withdrew +his lips from hers, with a deep sigh of momentary satisfaction, she +looked up into his eyes with something of the old, capricious mischief +dancing in her own.</p> + +<p>"Let us make the most of our day, darling, our one day!" she said. "We +must not waste a single minute of it."</p> + +<p>Opal had stolen away from Lucerne and had come up the mountain +absolutely unattended. She would share her secret with no one, she said, +and Paul had acquiesced. And now he took her up in his arms as one would +carry a little child, and bore her off to the suite he had engaged for +them. What a bit of a thing she was to wield such an influence over a +man's whole life!</p> + +<p>A pert little French maid waited upon them. She eyed with great favor +the <i>distingué</i> young monsieur, and his <i>charmante épouse!</i> There was a +knowing twinkle in her eye—she had not been a <i>femme de chambre</i> even a +little while without learning to scent a <i>lune de miel!</i> And this +promised to be especially <i>piquante</i>. But Paul would have none of her, +and she tripped away disappointed of her coveted <i>divertissement</i>.</p> + +<p>Paul was very jealous and exacting and even domineering this morning, +and would permit no intrusion. He would take care of madame, he had +informed the girl, and when she had taken herself away, he repeated it +emphatically. Opal was his little girl, he said, and he was going to pet +and coddle her himself. <i>Femme de chambre</i> indeed! Wasn't he worth a +dozen of the impertinent French minxes! Wanted to coquette with him, +most likely—thought he might be ready to yawn over madame's charms! She +could keep her pretty ankles out of his sight—he wasn't interested in +them!</p> + +<p>How Paul thrilled at the touch of everything Opal wore! Soft delicious +things they were, and he handled them with an awkward reverence that +brought tears to her eyes. They spoke a strange, shy language of their +own—these little, filmy bits of fine linen.</p> + +<p>Oh, but it was good, thought Opal, to be taken care of like this!—to be +on these familiar terms with the Boy she loved—to give him the right to +love her and do these little things, so sacred in a woman's life. And to +Paul it meant more than even she guessed. It was such a new world to +him. He felt that he was treading on holy ground, and, for the moment, +was half-afraid.</p> + +<p>And thus began their one day—the one day that was to know no yesterday, +and no tomorrow!</p> + +<p>They found it hard to remember that part of it at all times. He would +grow reminiscent for an instant, and begin, "Do you remember—" and she +would catch him up quickly with a whispered, "No yesterday, Paul!" And +again, it would be his turn, for a troubled look would cloud the joy of +her eyes, and she would start to say, "What shall I do—" or "When I go +to Paris—" and Paul would snatch her to his heart and remind her that +there was "No tomorrow!"</p> + +<p>All the forenoon she lay in his arms, crying out with little +inarticulate gurgles of joy under his caresses, lavishing a whole +lifetime's concentrated emotion upon him in a ferocity of passion that +seemed quenchless.</p> + +<p>And Paul was in the seventh heaven—mad with love! He was learning that +there were tones in that glorious voice that he had never heard before, +depths in those eyes that he had never fathomed—and those tones, those +depths, were all for him, for him alone—aye, had been waiting there +through all eternity for his awakening touch.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he said, earnestly, "perhaps it was here—on this very spot, it +may be, who knows—that my mother gave herself to my father!</p> + +<p>But she could only smile at him through fast-gathering tears—strange +tears of mingled joy and wonder and pain.</p> + +<p>And he covered her face, her neck, her shoulders with burning kisses, +and cried out in an ecstasy of bliss, "Oh, my love! My life!"</p> + +<p>And thus the morning hours died away.</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVI'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<br /> + +<p>And behold, it was noon!</p> + +<p>The day and their love stood still together. The glamour of the day, the +resistless force of their masterful love that seemed to them so unlike +all other loves of which they had ever heard or dreamed, held them in a +transport of delight that could only manifest itself in strange, +bitter-sweet caresses, in incoherent murmurings.</p> + +<p>This, then, was love! Aye, this was Love!</p> + +<p>The thoughts of the two returned with a tender, persistent recollection +to the love-tale of the past—the delicious idyl of love that had given +birth to this boy. Here, even here, had been spent those three maddest +and gladdest of weeks—that dream of an ideal love realized in its +fullness, as it is given to few to realize.</p> + +<p>Yes, that was Love!</p> + +<p>It was youth eternal—youth and fire, power and passion.</p> + +<p>It was May! May!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was mid-afternoon before they awakened, to look into each other's +eyes with a new understanding. Surely never since the world began had +two souls loved each other as did these!</p> + +<p>And what should they do with the afternoon? Such a little while remained +for them—such a little while!</p> + +<p>Paul drew out his mother's letter, and together they read it, +understanding now, as they had not been able to understand before, its +whole wonderful significance.</p> + +<p>When they read of the first dawn of the hope of parentage in the hearts +of these long-ago lovers, their eyes met, heavy with the wistfulness of +renunciation. That consolation, alas! was not for them. Only the joy of +loving could ever be theirs.</p> + +<p>And then, drawing out the other letters that had accompanied his +mother's, Paul revealed to his darling the whole mystery of his +identity.</p> + +<p>At first she was startled—almost appalled—at the thought that she had +given herself to a Prince of the Purple—a real king of a real +kingdom—and for a moment felt a strange awe of him.</p> + +<p>But Paul, reading her unspoken thought in her eyes, with that sweet +clairvoyance that had always existed between them, soothed and petted +and caressed her till the smiles returned to her face and she nestled in +his arms, once more happy and content.</p> + +<p>She was the queen of his soul, he told her, whoever might wear the crown +and bear the title before the world. Then, very carefully, lest he +should wound her, he told her the whole story of the Princess Elodie.</p> + +<p>Opal moved across the room and stood drumming idly by the long, open +window. He watched her anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Paul, did you go to see her as you promised—and is she ...pretty?"</p> + +<p>"She is a cow!"</p> + +<p>"Paul!" Opal laughed at his tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she is! Fancy loving a cow!"</p> + +<p>Opal's heart grew heavy with a great pity for this poor, unfortunate +royal lady who was to be Paul's wife—the mother of his children—but +never, never his Love!</p> + +<p>"But, Paul, you'll be good to her, won't you? I know you will! You +couldn't be unkind to any living thing."</p> + +<p>And she ran into his arms, and clasped his neck tight! And the poor +Princess Elodie was again forgotten!</p> + +<p>"You—Opal—are my real wife," Paul assured her, "the one love of my +soul, the mate the gods have formed for me—my own forever!"</p> + +<p>Opal wept for pity of him, and for herself, but she faced the future +bravely. She would always be his guiding star, to beckon him upward!</p> + +<p>"And, Opal, my darling," Paul went on, "I promise you to live henceforth +a life of which you shall be proud. I will be brave and true and noble +and great and pure—to prove my gratitude to the gods for giving me this +one day—for giving me you, dearest—and your love—your wonderful love! +I <i>will</i> be worthy, dear—I will! I'll be your knight—your +Launcelot—and you shall be my Guenevere! I will always wear your colors +in my heart, dear—the red-brown of your hair, the glorious hazel of +your eyes, the flush of your soft cheek, the rose of your sweet lips, +the virgin whiteness of your soul!"</p> + +<p>Opal looked at him with eyes brimming with pride. Young as he was, he +was indeed every inch a king.</p> + +<p>And she had crowned him king of her heart and soul and life before she +had known! Oh, the wonder of it!—the strange, sweet wonder of it! <i>He</i>, +who might have loved and mated where he would, had chosen her to be his +love! She could not realize it. It was almost beyond belief, she +thought, that she—plain little Opal Ledoux—could stir such a nature as +his to such a depth as she knew she had stirred it.</p> + +<p>Ah, the gods had been good to her! They had sent her the Prince +Charming, and he had wakened her with his kiss—that first kiss—how +well she remembered it—and how utterly she belonged to him!</p> + +<p>Then she remembered that, however much they tried to deceive themselves, +there was a to-morrow—a to-morrow that would surely come—a to-morrow +in which they would not belong to each other at all. He would belong to +the world. She would belong to a—</p> + +<p>She sprang up at the recollection, and drew the curtains of the window +closer together.</p> + +<p>"We will shut out the cold, inquisitive, prying old world," she said. +"It shall not look, shall not listen! It is a hard, cruel world, my +Paul. It would say that I must not put my arms around your neck—like +this—must not lay my cheek against yours—so—must not let my heart +feel the wild throbbing of yours—and why? Because I do not wear your +ring, Paul—that's all!"</p> + +<p>She held up her white hand for his inspection, and surveyed it +critically.</p> + +<p>"See, Paul—there is no glittering, golden fetter to hold me to you with +the power of an iron band, and so I must not—let you hold me to you at +all"</p> + +<p>They both laughed merrily, and then Paul, pulling her down on his knee +and holding her face against his own, whispered, "What care we for the +old world? It is as sad and mad and bad as we are—if we only knew! And +who knows how much worse? It has petty bickerings, damning lies of spite +and malice, trickery and thievery and corruption on its conscience. Let +the little people of the world prate of their little things! We are +free, dearest—and we defy it, don't we? Our ideals are never lost. And +ideals are the life of love. Is love—a love like ours—a murderer of +life?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, Paul—sometimes! I fear it—I do fear it!"</p> + +<p>"Never fear, Opal, my beloved! You need not fear anything—anywhere! I +will stand between you and the world, dear—between you and hell itself! +My God, girl, how I love you! Opal! My Opal! My heart aches with the +immensity of it! Come, my love, my queen, my treasure, come! We have not +many more hours to—live! And I want you close, close—all mine! Ah, +Opal, we are masters of life and death! All earth, all heaven, and—hell +itself, cannot take you from me now!"</p> + +<p>Oh, if scone moments in life could only be eternal!</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>And the day—died!</p> + +<p>The sun sank beneath the western horizon; the moon cast her silvery +sheen over the weary world; the twinkling stars appeared in the jewelled +diadem of night; and the silence of evening settled over mountain and +lake and swaying tree, while the two who had dared all things for the +sake of this one day, looked into each other's eyes now with a sudden +realization of the end.</p> + +<p>They had not allowed themselves once to think of the hour of separation.</p> + +<p>And now it was upon them! And they were not ready to part.</p> + +<p>"How do people say good-by forever, Paul?—people who love as we love? +How do they say it, dear? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>"But it is not forever, Opal. Don't you know that you will always be +part of my life—my soul-life, which is the only true one—its +sanctifying inspiration? You must not forget that—never, never!"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't forget it, my King!" She delighted in giving him his title +now. "That satisfaction I will hold to as long as I live!"</p> + +<p>"But, Opal, am I never to see you?—never? Surely we may meet +sometimes—rarely, of course, at long intervals, when life grows gray +and gloomy, and I am starving for one ray of the sunshine of your +smile?"</p> + +<p>"It would be dangerous, Paul, for both of us!"</p> + +<p>"But the world is only a little place after all, beloved. We shall be +thrown together again by Fate—as we have been this time."</p> + +<p>Then she smiled at him archly. "Ah, Paul, I know you so well! Your eyes +are saying that you will often manage to see me 'by chance'—but you +must not, dear, you must not"</p> + +<p>"Girl, I can never forget one word you have uttered, one caress you have +given—one tone of your voice—one smile of your lips—one glance of +your eye—never, never in God's world!"</p> + +<p>"Hold me closer, Paul, and teach me to be brave!"</p> + +<p>They clung together in an agony too poignant for words, too mighty for +tears! And of the unutterable madness and anguish of those last bitter +kisses of farewell, no mortal pen can write!</p> + +<p>But theirs had been from the beginning a mad love—a mad, hopeless, +fatal love—and it could bring neither of them happiness nor +peace—nothing but the bitterness of eternal regret!</p> + +<p>And thus the day—their one day of life—came to an end!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That evening, from the hotel at Lucerne, two telegrams flashed over the +wires. One was addressed to the Count de Roannes, Paris, and read as +follows:</p> + +<p>"<i>Shall reach Paris Monday afternoon.—Opal.</i>"</p> + +<p>The other was addressed to Sir Paul Verdayne, at Venice, and was not +signed at all, saying simply,</p> + +<p>"<i>A son awaits his father in Lucerne</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXVIII'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<br /> + +<p>That night a sudden storm swept across Lucerne.</p> + +<p>The thunder crashed like the boom of a thousand cannon; like menacing +blades the lightning flashed its tongues of savage flame; the winds +raved in relentless fury, rocking the giant trees like straws in the +majesty of their wrath. Madness reigned in undisputed sovereignty, and +the earth cowered and trembled beneath the anger of the threatening +heavens.</p> + +<p>Opal crouched in her bed, and buried her head in the pillows. She had +never before known the meaning of fear, but now she was alone, and the +consciousness of guilt was upon her—the acute agony of their separation +mingled with the despairing prospect of a long, miserable loveless—yes, +<i>shameful,</i>—life as the legal slave of a man she abhorred.</p> + +<p>She did not regret the one day she had given to her lover. Whatever the +cost, she would never, never regret, she said to herself, for it had +been well worth any price that might be required of her. She gloried in +it, even now, while the storm raged outside.</p> + +<p>And the thunders crashed like the falling of mighty rocks upon the roof +over her head. Should she summon Céleste, her maid?</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as the tempest paused as if to catch its breath, she heard +footsteps in the corridor outside. It was very late—who could be +prowling about at this hour? She listened intently, every nerve and +sense keenly alert. Nearer and nearer the steps came, and then she +remembered with a start that in the excitement of her stealthy return to +the hotel and the anguish and madness of their parting, she had +forgotten to fasten her door.</p> + +<p>There came a light tap on the panel. She did not speak or move—hardly +breathed. Then the door opened, noiselessly, cautiously, and he—her +lover, her king—entered, the dim light of her room making his form, as +it approached, appear of even more than its usual majestic height and +power.</p> + +<p>"Paul!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He seemed in a strange daze. Had the storm gone to his head and driven +him mad?</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is I," he said hoarsely. "It is Paul. Don't cry out. See, I am +calm!" and he laid his hand on hers. It was burning with fever. "I will +not hurt you, Opal!"</p> + +<p>Cry out? Hurt her? What did he mean? She had no thought of crying out. +Of course he would not hurt her—her lover, her lord, her king! Did she +not belong to him—now?</p> + +<p>He sat down and took her hands in his.</p> + +<p>"Opal," he muttered, "I've been thinking, thinking, thinking, till I +feel half-mad—yes, mad! Dearest, I cannot give you up like this—I +cannot! Let you go to <i>his</i> arms—you who have been mine! Oh, Opal, I've +pictured it all to myself—seen you in his arms—seen his lips on +yours—seen—seen—Can't you imagine what it means to me? It's more than +I can stand, dearest! I may be crazy—I believe I am—but wouldn't it be +better for you and me to—to—cease forever this mockery of life, +and—forget?"</p> + +<p>She did not understand him.</p> + +<p>"Forget?" she murmured, holding his hand against her cheek, while her +free arm pulled his head down to hers. "Forget?"</p> + +<p>He pressed his burning lips to her cool neck, and then, after a moment, +went on, "Yes, beloved, to forget. Think, Opal, think! To forget all +ambition, all restlessness, all disappointment, all longing for what can +never be, all pain, all suffering, all thought of responsibility or +growth or desire, all success or failure—all life, all death—to +forget! to forget! Ah, dearest, one must have loved as we have loved, +and lost as we have lost, to wish to—forget!"</p> + +<p>"But there is no such respite for us, Paul. We are not the sort who can +put memory aside. To live will be to remember!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is it. To live <i>is</i> to remember. But why should we live +longer? We've lived a lifetime in one day, have we not, sweetheart? What +more has life to give us?"</p> + +<p>He was calmer now, but it was the calmness of determination.</p> + +<p>"Let us die, dear—let us die! Virginius slew his daughter to save her +honor. You are more to me than a thousand daughters. You are my wife, +Opal!—Opal, my very own!"</p> + +<p>His eyes softened again, as the storm outside lulled for a moment.</p> + +<p>"My darling, don't be afraid! I will save you from him. I will keep you +mine—mine!"</p> + +<p>The thunder crashed again, and again the fury leaped to his eyes. He +drew from his pocket a curious foreign dagger, engraved with quaint +designs, and glittering with encrusted gold. Opal recognized it at once. +She had toyed with it the day before, admiring the richness of its +material and workmanship.</p> + +<p>"She—has been—mine—my wife," he muttered to himself, wildly, +disconnectedly, yet with startling distinctness. "She shall never, never +lie in his arms!"</p> + +<p>He passed his hand across his eyes, as if to brush away a veil.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the red! the red! the red! It's blood and fire and hell! It glares +in my eyes! It screams in my ears! Bidding me kill! kill!"</p> + +<p>He clasped her to him fiercely.</p> + +<p>"To see you, after all this—to see you go from me—and know you were +going to him—<i>him</i>—while I went ... Oh, beloved! beloved! God never +meant that! Surely He never meant that when He created us the creatures +that we are!"</p> + +<p>She kissed his hot, quivering lips. She had not loved him so much in all +their one mad day as she loved him now.</p> + +<p>"Paul," she whispered, "beloved!—what would you do?"</p> + +<p>There was only a great wonder in her eyes, not the faintest sign of +fear. Even in his anguish the Boy noticed that.</p> + +<p>"What would I do? Listen, Opal, my darling. Don't you remember, you said +it was not life but death—and I said it was both! And it is! it is! I +thought I was strong enough to brave hell! Opal—though you are +betrothed to the Count de Roannes you are <i>my wife</i>! And our +wedding-journey shall be eternal—through stars, Opal, and +worlds—far-off, glimmering worlds—our freed spirits together, always +together—together!"</p> + +<p>She watched him, fascinated, spell-bound.</p> + +<p>"Dear heart, Nature will not repulse us," Paul continued. "She will +gather us to her great, warm, peaceful heart, beloved!"</p> + +<p>Opal held him close to her breast, almost maternally, with a great +longing to soothe and calm his troubled spirit.</p> + +<p>"Think," he continued, "of what my poor, unhappy mother said was the +cost of love—'<i>Sorrow and death!</i>' We have had the sorrow, God knows! +And now for death! Kiss me, dearest, dearest! Kiss me for time and for +eternity, Opal, for in life and in death we can never part more!"</p> + +<p>She kissed him—obediently, solemnly—and then, holding her to him, +drinking in all the love that still shone for him in those eyes that had +driven him to desperation, he suddenly plunged the little dagger to its +hilt through her heart.</p> + +<p>She did not cry out. She did not even shudder. But looking at him with +"the light that never was on sea or land" in her still brilliant eyes, +she murmured, "In—life—and—in—death ... beloved! beloved!"</p> + +<p>And while he whispered between his set lips, "Sleep, my beloved, sleep," +her little head dropped back against his arm with a long, peaceful sigh.</p> + +<p>He held her form tenderly to his heart, murmuring senseless, meaningless +words of comfort and love, like a mother crooning her babe to sleep. And +he still clasped her there till the new day peeped through the blinds. +And the storm raged at intervals with all the ferocity of unspent +passion. But <i>his</i> passion was over now, and he laughed a savage laugh +of triumph.</p> + +<p>No one could take her from him now—no one! His darling was his—his +wife—in life and in death!</p> + +<p>He laid her down upon the bed and arranged the blankets over her +tenderly, hiding the hideous, gaping wound, with its unceasing flow; +carefully from sight. He closed her eyes, kissing them as he did so, and +folded her little white hands together, and then he pulled out the +disarranged lace at her throat and smoothed it mechanically, till it lay +quite to his satisfaction. Opal was so fastidious, he thought—so +particular about these little niceties of dress. She would like to look +well when they found her—dear Heaven!—to-morrow!</p> + +<p>"No to-morrow!" he thought. They had spoken more wisely than they knew. +There would be no to-morrow for her—nor for him!</p> + +<p>There was a tiny spot of blood upon the frill of her sleeve, and he +carefully turned it under, out of sight. He looked at the ugly stains +upon his own garments with a thrill of satisfaction. She was his! Was it +not quite right and proper that her blood should be upon him?</p> + +<p>But even then, frenzied as he was, he had a singular care for +appearances, a curious regard for detail, and busied himself in removing +all signs of his presence from her chamber—all tell-tale traces of the +storm of passion that swept away her life—and his! He felt himself +already but the ghost of his former self, and laughed a weird, half-mad +laugh at the thought as it came to him.</p> + +<p>He bent over her again. He would have given much to have lain down +beside her and slept his last sleep in her cold, lifeless arms. But no! +Even this was denied him!</p> + +<p>He wound a tress of her hair about his fingers, and it clung and twined +there as her white fingers had been wont to twine. Oh, the pity of her +stillness—her silence—who was never still nor silent—never +indifferent to his presence! She looked so like a sleeping child in her +whiteness and tranquillity, her red-brown hair in disordered waves about +her head, her eyes closed in the last long sleep. And he wept as he +pressed his burning lips to hers, so cold, so pitifully cold, and for +the first time unresponsive. Oh, God, unresponsive forever!</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl!" he moaned, between sobs of hopeless pain. "Poor +little passionate girl!... Poor little tired Opal!"</p> + +<p>And with a dry sob of unutterable anguish, he picked up the dagger—the +cruel, kind little dagger—and crept to his own room.</p> + +<p>The dagger was still wet with her blood. "Her blood!—Oh, God!-her +blood!—hers! All mine in life, and yet never so much mine as now—mine +in death!—all mine! mine! And she was not afraid—not the least afraid! +Her eyes had room only for her overwhelming love—love—just love, no +fear, even that hour when face to face with the Great Mystery. And this +was her blood—<i>hers!</i>"</p> + +<p>He believed that she had been glad to die. He believed—oh, he was sure, +that death in his arms—and from his hand—had been sweeter than life +could have been—with that wretch—and always without him—her lover! +Yes, she had been glad to die. She had been grateful for her escape! And +again the dagger drew his fascinated gaze and wrung from his lips the +cry, "Her blood—hers! God in Heaven! Her blood!—hers!"</p> + +<p>He put his hand to his head with an inarticulate cry of bewilderment. +Then, with one supreme effort, he began to stagger hastily but +noiselessly about the room. The servants of the house were already +astir, and the day would soon be here. He put his sacred letters +carefully away, and destroyed all worthless papers, mechanically, but +still methodically.</p> + +<p>Then he hastily scribbled a few lines, and laid them beside his letters, +for Verdayne would be with him now in a few hours. His father—yes, his +own father! How he would like to see him once more—just once more—with +the knowledge of their relationship as a closer bond between them—to +talk about his mother—his beautiful, queenly mother—and her wonderful, +wonderful love! Yet—and he sighed as he thought of his deserted +kingdom—after all, all in vain—in vain! It was not to be—all that +glory—that triumph! Fate had willed differently. He was obeying the +Law!</p> + +<p>And his mother would not fail to understand. Verdayne must have loved +his mother like this! O God, Love was a fearful thing, he thought, to +wreck a life—a terrible thing, even a hideous thing—but in spite of +everything it was all that was worth living for—and dying for!</p> + +<p>The storm had spent its fury now, and only the steady drip, drip of the +rain reminded him of the falling of tears.</p> + +<p>"Opal!" he groaned, "Opal!" And he threw himself upon the bed, clasping +his dagger in uncontrollable agony. "O life is cruel, hard, bitter! I'll +none of it!—we'll none of it, you and I!" His voice grew triumphant in +its raving. "It was worth all the cost—even the sorrow and death! But +the end has come! Opal! Opal! I am coming, sweet!—coming!"</p> + +<p>And the dagger, still red with the blood of his darling, found its +unerring way to his own heart; and Paul Zalenska forgot his dreams, his +ambitions, his love, his passion, and his despair in the darkness and +quiet of eternal sleep.</p> + +<p>"<i>Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIX'></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Sir Paul Verdayne reached Lucerne on the afternoon of the next day. He +was as eager as a boy for the reunion with his son. How he loved the +Boy—his Boy—the living embodiment of a love that seemed to him greater +than any other love the world had ever known.</p> + +<p>The storm had ceased and in the brilliancy of the afternoon sunshine +little trace of the fury of the night could be seen. Nature smiled +radiantly through the tear-drops still glistening on tree and shrub and +flower, like some capricious coquette defying the world to prove that +she had ever been sad.</p> + +<p>To Sir Paul, the place was hallowed with memories of his Queen, and his +heart and soul were full of her as he left the train. At the station +Vasili awaited him with the news of the double tragedy that had +horrified Lucerne.</p> + +<p>In that moment, Sir Paul's heart broke. He grasped at the faithful +servitor for a support the old man was scarce able to give. He looked up +into the pitying face, grown old and worn in the service of the young +King and his heart thrilled, as it ever thrilled, at the sight of the +long, cruel scar he remembered so well—the scar which the Kalmuck had +received in the service of his Queen, long years before.</p> + +<p>Sir Paul loved Vasili for that—loved him even more for the service he +had done the world when he choked to death the royal murderer of his +Queen, on the fatal night of that tragedy so cruelly alive in his +memory. He looked again at the scar on the swarthy face, and yet he knew +it was as nothing to the scar made in the old man's heart that day.</p> + +<p>In some way—they never knew how—they managed to reach the scene of the +tragedy, and Sir Paul, at his urgent request, was left alone with the +body of his son.</p> + +<p>Oh, God! Could he bear this last blow—and live?</p> + +<p>After a time, when reason began to re-assert itself, he searched and +found the letters that had told the Boy-king the story of his birth. Was +there no word at all for him—his father?—save the brief telegram he +had received the night before?</p> + +<p>Ah, yes! here was a note. His Boy had thought of him, then, even at the +last. He read it eagerly.</p> + +<div class='blkquot'><p>"Father—dear Father—you who alone of all the world can + understand—forgive and pity your son who has found the cross too + heavy—the crown too thorny—to bear! I go to join my unhappy + mother across the river that men call death—and there together we + shall await the coming of the husband and father we could neither + of us claim in this miserable, gray old world. Father Paul—dearest + and best and truest of fathers, your Boy has learned with you the + cost of love, and has gladly paid the price—'sorrow and death!'"</p></div> + +<p>He bent again over the cold form, he pushed aside the clustering curls, +and kissed again and again, with all the fervor and pain of a lifetime's +repression, the white marble face of his son.</p> + +<p>And a few words of that little note rang in his ears +unceasingly—"dearest, and best, and <i>truest</i> of fathers!" <i>Truest of +fathers</i>! Ah, yes! The Boy—his Boy—had understood!</p> + +<p>And the scalding tears came that were his one salvation, for they washed +away for a time some of the deadly ache from his bereaved heart.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the force of his outburst was spent, Sir Paul Verdayne mastered +himself resolutely. There was much to be done. It was indeed a double +torture to find such an affliction here, of all places under Heaven, but +he told himself that his Queen would have him brave and strong, and +master his grief as an English gentleman should. And her wishes were +still, as they had ever been, the guide of his every thought and action.</p> + +<p>One thing he was determined upon. The world must never know the truth.</p> + +<p>To be sure, Sir Paul himself did not know the secret of that one day. He +could only surmise. Even Vasili did not know. The Boy had cleverly +managed to have the day, as he had the preceding one, "all to himself," +as he had informed Vasili, and Opal had been equally skillful in +escaping the attendance of her maid. They had left the hotel separately +at night, in different directions, returning separately at night. Who +was there to suspect that they had passed the day together, or had even +met each other at all? Surely—no one!</p> + +<p>And what was there for the world to know, in the mystery of their death? +Nothing! They were each found alone, stabbed to the heart, and the +dagger that had done the deed had not even been withdrawn from the body +of the Boy, when they found him. Sir Paul and Vasili had recognized it, +but who would dare to insinuate that the same dagger had drunk the blood +of the young American lady, or to say whose hand had struck either blow? +It was all a mystery, and Sir Paul was determined that it should remain +so.</p> + +<p>Money can accomplish anything, and though all Europe rang with the +story, no scandal—nor hint of it—besmirched the fair fame of the +unhappy Boy and girl who had loved "not wisely, but too well!"</p> + +<p>There had, indeed, been for them, as they had playfully said—"No +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>And Sir Paul Verdayne, kneeling by the bier, with its trappings of a +kingdom's mourning, which hid beneath its rich adornment all the joy +that life for twenty years had held for him, felt for the first time a +sense of guilt, as he looked back upon his past.</p> + +<p>He did not regret his love. He could never do that! Truly, a man and a +woman had a right to love and mate as they would, if the consequences of +their deeds rested only upon their own heads. But to bring children into +the world, the fruit of such a union, to suffer and die, "for the sins +of the fathers," as his son had suffered and died—there was the sin—a +selfish, unpardonable sin! "And the wages of sin is death."</p> + +<p>He had never felt the truth before. He had been so happy in his Boy, and +so proud of his future, that there had never been a question in his +mind. But now he was face to face with the terrible consequences.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" he cried, "truly my punishment is just—but it is greater +than I can bear!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><i>And Paul Verdayne—what of him? Of course you want to know. Read the +sequel</i></p> + +<p><b><i>HIGH NOON</i></b></p> + +<p>A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." You can get this book from your bookseller, or +for 60c., carriage paid, from the publishers</p> + +<p>The Macaulay Company, <i>Publishers</i>, 15 W. 38th St., New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='Successful_Novels_from_Famous_Plays'></a><h2>Successful Novels <i>from</i> Famous Plays</h2> + +<p><b>TO-DAY</b></p> + +<p>By George H. Broadhurst and Abraham S. Schomer.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents</p> + +<p>This novel tells what follows in the wake of the average American +woman's desire to keep up with the social procession. All the human +emotions are dealt with in a masterly way in this great book.</p> + +<p><b>THE FAMILY CUPBOARD</b></p> + +<p>By Owen Davis.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents</p> + +<p>A work of fiction which presents a frank treatment of the domestic +problems of to-day. It tells what happens in many homes when the wife +devotes herself wholly to society, to the exclusion of her own husband. +Mere man sometimes revolts, when regarded only as a money-making +machine.</p> + +<p><b>AT BAY</b></p> + +<p>From the drama by George Scarborough.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents</p> + +<p>This stirring detective story holds the attention of the reader from the +very start. It is full of action, presenting a baffling situation, the +solving of which carries one along in a whirlwind of excitement. Through +the story runs a love plot that is interwoven with the mystery of a +secret-service case.</p> + +<p><b>The Macaulay Company, <i>Publishers</i></b></p> + +<p>15 West 38th Street New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='The_Night_of_Temptation'></a><h2>The Night of Temptation</h2> + +<p>By VICTORIA CROSS</p> + +<p>Author of</p> + +<p>"LIFE'S SHOP WINDOW," "FIVE NIGHTS," etc.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>This book takes for its keynote the self-sacrifice of woman in her love. +Regina, the heroine, gives herself to a man for his own sake, for the +happiness she can give him. He is her hero, her god, and she declines to +marry him until she is satisfied that he cannot live without her.</p> + +<p>The London <i>Athenaeum</i> says: "Granted beautiful, rich, perfect, +passionate men and women, the author is capable of working out their +destiny."</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Macaulay Company, Publishers</p> + +<p>15 West 38th Street New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='The_Secret_of_the_Night'></a><h2>The Secret of the Night</h2> + +<p>By GASTON LEROUX</p> + +<p>Author of "THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM," etc.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Another thrilling mystery story in which the famous French detective +hero, Joseph Rouletabille, makes his appearance before the public again. +This character has won a place in the hearts of novel readers as no +other detective has since the creation of Sherlock Holmes.</p> + +<p>Thousands upon thousands of people in two continents await eagerly every +book by Gaston Leroux that relates the adventures of the hero of "The +Mystery of the Yellow Room" and "The Perfume of the Lady in Black."</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Macaulay Company, Publishers</p> + +<p>15 West 38th Street New York</p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='Guardian_Angels'></a><h2>Guardian Angels</h2> + +<p>By MARCEL PRÉVOST</p> + +<p>Member of the Académie Française, Officer of the Legion of Honour</p> + +<p>Author of "SIMPLY WOMEN," Etc.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Every married woman ought to read this novel, if only to be forewarned +against a danger that may one day invade her own home. It is a story of +the double life led by the governesses of many young girls, showing the +dangers of such companionships.</p> + +<p>It is no exaggeration to say that "Guardian Angels" is one of the most +remarkable novels that have been issued in any language during recent +years.</p> + +<p>Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><b>The Macaulay Company, <i>Publishers</i></b></p> + +<p><b>15 West 38th Street New York</b></p> + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<a name='The_CROWN_NOVELS'></a><h2>The Crown Novels</h2> + +<p>FAMOUS BOOKS AT POPULAR PRICES</p> + +<p><b>HER SOUL AND HER BODY, By Louise Closser Hale</b></p> + +<p>The struggle between the spirit and the flesh of a young girl early in +life compelled to make her own way. Exposed to the temptations of life +in a big city, the contest between her better and lower natures is +described with psychological analysis and tender sympathy. Absorbingly +interesting.</p> + +<p><b>HELL'S PLAYGROUND, by Ida Vera Simonton</b></p> + +<p>This book deals with primal conditions in a land where "there ain't no +ten commandments"; where savagery, naked and unashamed, is not confined +to the blacks. It is a record of the life in the African tropics and it +is a powerful and fascinating story of a scene that has rarely been +depicted in fiction.</p> + +<p><b>THE MYSTERY OF No. 47, by J. Storer Clouston</b></p> + +<p>This is a most ingenious detective story—a thriller in every sense of +the word. The reader is led cleverly on until he is at a loss to know +what to expect, and, completely baffled, is unable to lay the book down +until he has finished the story and satisfied his perplexity.</p> + +<p><b>THE SENTENCE OF SILENCE, by Reginald Wright Kauffman</b></p> + +<p>Author of "The House of Bondage;" etc.</p> + +<p>By "The Sentence of Silence" is meant that sentence of reticence +pronounced upon the subject of sex. That which means the continuance of +the human race is the one thing of which no one is permitted to speak. +In this book the subject is dealt with frankly.</p> + +<p><b>THE GIRL THAT GOES WRONG, by Reginald Wright Kauffman</b></p> + +<p>Author of "The House of Bondage."</p> + +<p>The inexpressible conditions of human bondage of many young girls and +women in our cities demand fearless and uncompromising warfare. The +terrible peril that lingers just around the corner from every American +home must be stamped out with relentless purpose.</p> + +<p><b>TO-MORROW, by Victoria Cross</b></p> + +<p>Author of "Life's Shop Window." etc.</p> + +<p>Critics agree that this is Victoria Cross' greatest novel. Those who +have read "Life's Shop Window," "Five Nights," "Anna Lombard," and +similar books by this author will ask no further recommendation. +"To-morrow" is a real novel—not a collection of short stories.</p> + +<p><b>SIMPLY WOMEN, by Marcel Prévost</b></p> + +<p>"Like a motor-car or an old-fashioned razor, this book should be in the +hands of mature persons only."—<i>St. Louis Post-Dispatch.</i></p> + +<p>"Marcel Prévost. of whom a critic remarked that his forte was the +analysis of the souls and bodies of a type half virgin and half +courtesan, is now available in a volume of selections admirably +translated by R.I. Brandon-Vauvillez."—<i>San Francisco Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p><b>THE ADVENTURES OF A NICE YOUNG MAN, by Aix</b> <b>Joseph and Potiphar's Wife +Up-to-Date</b></p> + +<p>A handsome young, man, employed as a lady's private secretary, is bound, +to meet with interesting adventures.</p> + +<p>"Under a thin veil the story unquestionably sets forth actual episodes +and conditions in metropolitan circles."—- <i>Washington Star.</i></p> + +<p><b>HER REASON, Anonymous</b></p> + +<p>This startling anonymous work of a well-known English novelist is a +frank exposure of Modern Marriage. "Her Reason" shows the deplorable +results of the process at work to-day among the rich, whose daughters +are annually offered for sale in the markets of the world.</p> + +<p><b>THE COUNTERPART, by Horner Cotes</b></p> + +<p>One of the best novels of the Civil War ever written. John Luther Loag, +the well-known writer, says of this book—"It is a perfectly bully story +and full of a fine sentiment. I have read it all—and with great +interest."</p> + +<p><b>THE PRINCESS OF FORGE, by George C. Shedd</b></p> + +<p>The tale of a man, and a maid, and a gold-mine—a stirring, romantic +American novel of the West. <i>The Chicago Inter-Ocean</i> says—"Unceasing +action is the word for this novel. From the first to the last page there +is adventure."</p> + +<p><b>OUR LADY OF DARKNESS, by Albert Dorrington and A. G. Stephens</b></p> + +<p>A story of the Far East. <i>The Grand Rapids Herald</i> says of the +book—"'Our Lady of Darkness' is entitled to be classed with 'The Count +of Monte Cristo.' It is one of the greatest stories of mystery and +deep-laid plot and its masterly handling must place it in the front rank +of modern fiction."</p> + +<p><b>THE DUPLICATE DEATH, by A. C. Fox-Davies</b></p> + +<p>A first-rate detective story—one that will keep you thrilled to the +very end. <i>The New York Tribune's</i> verdict on the book is this—"We need +only commend it as a puzzling and readable addition to the fiction of +crime."</p> + +<p><b>THE DANGEROUS AGE, by Karin Michaelis</b></p> + +<p>Here is a woman's soul laid bare with absolute frankness. Europe went +mad about the book, which has been translated into twelve languages. It +betrays the freemasonry of womanhood.</p> + +<p><b>MY ACTOR HUSBAND, Anonymous</b></p> + +<p>The reader will be startled by the amazing truths set forth and, the +completeness of their revelations. Life behind the scenes is stripped +bare of all its glamor. Young women whom the stage attracts should read +this story. There is a ringing damnation in it.</p> + +<p><b>MRS. DRUMMOND'S VOCATION, by Mark Ryce</b></p> + +<p>Lily Drummond is an unmoral (not immoral) heroine. She was not a bad +girl at heart; but when chance opened up for her the view of a life she +had never known or dreamed of, her absence of moral responsibility did +the rest.</p> + +<p><b>DOWNWARD: "A Slice of Life," by Maud Churton Braby</b></p> + +<p>Author of "Modern Marriage and How to Bear It."</p> + +<p>"'Downward' belongs to that great modern school of fiction built upon +woman's downfall. * * * I cordially commend this bit of fiction to the +thousands of young women who are yearning to see what they call +life.'"—<i>James L. Ford in the N. Y. Herald</i>.</p> + +<p><b>TWO APACHES OF PARIS, by Alice and Claude Askew</b></p> + +<p>Authors of "The Shulamite," "The Rod of Justice," etc.</p> + +<p>All primal struggles originate with the daughters of Eve.</p> + +<p>This story of Paris and London tells of the wild, fierce life of the +flesh, of a woman with the beauty of consummate vice to whom a man gave +himself, body and soul.</p> + +<p><b>THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>One of Mrs. Glyn's biggest successes. Elizabeth is a charming young +woman who is always saying and doing droll and, daring things, both +shocking and amusing.</p> + +<p><b>BEYOND THE ROCKS, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>"One of Mrs. Glyn's highly sensational and somewhat erotic +novels."—<i>Boston Transcript</i>.</p> + +<p>The scenes are laid in Paris and London; and a country-house party also +figures, affording the author some daring situations, which she has +handled deftly.</p> + +<p><b>THE REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>The story of the awakening of a young girl, whose maidenly emotions are +set forth as Elinor Glyn alone knows how.</p> + +<p>"Gratitude and, power and self-control! * * * in nature I find there is +a stronger force than all these things, and that is the touch of the one +we love."—Ambrosine.</p> + +<p><b>THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE, by Elinor Glyn</b></p> + +<p>"One of Mrs. Glyn's most pungent tales of feminine idiosyncracy and +caprice."—Boston Transcript,</p> + +<p>Evangeline is a delightful heroine with glorious red hair and amazing +eyes that looked a thousand unsaid challenges.</p> + +<p><b>DAYBREAK: a Prologue to "Three Weeks"</b></p> + +<p>"Daybreak" is a prologue to "Three Weeks" and forms the first of the +series, although published last. It is a highly interesting account of a +love episode that took place during the youth of the famous Queen of +"Three Weeks."</p> + +<p>A story of the Balkans, this is one of the timely novels of the year.</p> + +<p><b>ONE DAY: a Sequel to "Three Weeks"</b></p> + +<p>"There is a note of sincerity in this book that is lacking in the +first."—Boston Globe.</p> + +<p>"One Day" is the sequel you have been waiting for since reading "Three +Weeks," and is a story which points a moral, a clear, well-written +exposition of the doctrine, "As ye sow, so shall ye reap."</p> + +<p><b>HIGH NOON: a New Sequel to "Three Weeks" A Modern Romeo and Juliet</b></p> + +<p>A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks."</p> + +<p><b>THE DIARY OF MY HONEYMOON</b></p> + +<p>A woman who sets out to unburden her soul upon intimate things is bound +to touch upon happenings which are seldom the subject of writing at all; +but whatever may be said of the views of the anonymous author, the +"Diary" is a work of throbbing and intense humanity, the moral of which +is sound throughout and plain to see.</p> + +<p><b>THE INDISCRETION OF LADY USHER: a Sequel to "The Diary of My +Honeymoon"</b></p> + +<p>"Another purpose novel dealing with the question of marriage and dealing +very plainly,—one of the most interesting among the many books on these +lines which are at present attracting so much attention."—Cleveland +Town Topics.</p> + +<p><i>Price 50 cents per copy; Postage 10 cents extra Order from your +Bookseller or from the Publishers</i></p> + +<p><b>THE MACAULAY COMPANY, 15 West 38th St., New York Send for Illustrated +Catalogue</b></p> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY *** + +***** This file should be named 13776-h.htm or 13776-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/7/13776/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Steven Michaels and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: One Day + A sequel to 'Three Weeks' + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: October 18, 2004 [EBook #13776] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Steven Michaels and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + +ONE DAY + +A SEQUEL TO "THREE WEEKS" + +ANONYMOUS + + +Original Publication Date 1909, by The Macaulay Company + + +NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY 1912 + + + +THE SCHILLING PRESS NEW YORK + + + + +FOREWORD TO MY AMERICAN FRIENDS + + +Now after spending some very pleasant weeks in your interesting country, +I feel sure that this book will find many sympathetic readers in +America. Quite naturally it will be discussed; some, doubtless, will +censure it--and unjustly; others will believe with me that the tale +teaches a great moral lesson. + +Born as the Boy was born, the end which Fate forced upon him, to me, was +inevitable. Each word and act of the three weeks of his parents' +love-idyl must reflect in the character and life of the child. Little by +little the baby King grew before my mental vision until I saw at last +there was no escape from his importunity and I allowed the insistent +Boy--masterful even from his inception--to shape himself at his own +sweet will. Thus he became the hero of my study. + +This is not a book for children or fools--but for men and women who can +grasp the underlying principle of morality which has been uppermost in +my mind as I wrote. Those who can see beyond the outburst of +passion--the overmastering belief in the power of love to justify all +things, which the Boy inherited so naturally from his Queen mother--will +understand the forces against which the young Prince must needs fight a +losing battle. The transgression was unavoidable to one whose very +conception was beyond the law--the punishment was equally inevitable. + +In fairness to this book of mine--and to me--the great moral lesson I +have endeavored to teach must be considered in its entirety, and no +single episode be construed as the book's sole aim. The verdict on my +two years' work rests with you, dear Reader, but at least you may be +sure that I have only tried to show that those who sow the wind shall +reap the whirlwind. + +--THE AUTHOR. + + + + +ONE DAY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Prince tore the missive fiercely from its envelope, and scowled at +the mocking glint of the royal crown so heavily embossed at the top of +the paper. What a toy it was, he thought, to cost so much, and +eventually to mean so little! Roughly translated, the letter ran as +follows: + +"Your Royal Highness will be gratified to learn that at last a +satisfactory alliance has been arranged between the Princess Elodie of +Austria and your royal self. It is the desire of both courts and +councils that the marriage shall be solemnized on the fifteenth of the +May following your twenty-first birthday, at which time the coronation +ceremony takes place that is to place the crown of the kingdom upon the +head of the son of our beloved and ever-to-be-regretted Imperatorskoye. +The Court and Council extend greetings and congratulations upon the not +far distant approach of both auspicious events to your Royal Highness, +which cannot fail to afford the utmost satisfaction in every detail to +the ever-beautiful-and-never-to-be-sufficiently beloved Prince Paul. + +"Imperator-to-be, we salute thee. We kiss thy feet." + +The letter was sealed with the royal crest and signed by the Regent--the +Boy's uncle--the Grand Duke Peter, his mother's brother, who had been +his guardian and protector almost from his birth. The young prince knew +that his uncle loved him, knew that the Grand Duke desired nothing on +earth so much as the happiness of his beloved sister's only son--and yet +at this crisis of the Boy's life, even his uncle was as powerless to +help as was Paul Verdayne, the Englishman. + +"The Princess Elodie!" he grumbled. "Who the devil is this Princess +Elodie, anyway? Austrian blood has no particular charm for me! They +might at least have told me something a little more definite about the +woman they have picked out to be the mother of my children. A man +usually likes to look an animal over before he purchases!" + +Known to London society as Monsieur Zalenska, the Prince had come up to +town with the Verdaynes, and was apparently enjoying to the utmost the +frivolities of London life. + +At a fashionable garden party he sat alone, in a seclusion he had long +sought and had finally managed to secure, behind a hedge of hawthorn +where none but lovers, and men and women troubled as he was troubled, +cared to conceal themselves. + +The letter, long-expected and dreaded, had finally crossed the continent +to his hand. It was only the written confirmation of the sentence Fate +had pronounced upon him, even as it had pronounced similar sentences +upon princes and potentates since the beginning of thrones and kingdoms. + +While the Prince--or Paul Zalenska, as I will now call him--sat in his +brooding brown study, clutching the imperial letter tightly in his young +hand, his attention was arrested by the sound of voices on the other +side of the hawthorn hedge. + +He listened idly, at first, to what seemed to be a one-sided +conversation, in a dull, emotionless feminine voice--a discourse on +fashion, society chit-chat, and hopeless nonentities, interspersed with +bits of gossip. Could women never talk about anything else? he thought +impatiently. + +But his displeasure did not seem to affect the course of things at all. +The voice, completely unconscious of the aversion it aroused in the +invisible listener, continued its dreary, expressionless monotone. + +"What makes you so silent, Opal? You haven't said a word to-day that you +didn't absolutely have to say. If all American girls are as dreamy as +you, I wonder why our English lords are so irresistibly attracted across +the water when in search of brides!" + +And then the Boy on the other side of the hedge felt his sluggish pulse +quicken, and almost started to his feet, impelled by a sudden thrill of +delight; for another voice had spoken--a voice of such infinite charm +and sweetness and vitality, yet with languorous suggestion of emotional +heights and depths, that he felt a vague sense of disappointment when +the magnetic notes finally died away. + +"Brides?" the voice echoed, with a lilt of girlish laughter running +through the words. "You mean '_bribes_,' don't you? For I assure you, +dear cousin, it is the metallic clink of American gold, and nothing +else, that lures your great men over the sea. As for my silence, _ma +belle_, I have been uncommunicative because there really seemed nothing +at all worth saying. I can't accustom myself to small-talk--I can't even +listen to it patiently. I always feel a wild impulse to fly far, far +away, where I can close my ears to it all and listen to my own thoughts. +I'm sorry if I disappoint you, Alice--I seem to disappoint everybody +that I would like to please--but I assure you, laugh at my dreams as you +may, to me my dream-life is far more attractive and beautiful than what +you term Life. Forgive me if I hurt you, cousin. I'm peculiarly +constituted, perhaps, but I don't like this twaddle, and I can't help +it! Everything in England is so beautiful, and yet its society seems +so--so hopelessly unsatisfactory to one who longs to _live!_" + +"To live, Opal? We are not dead, surely! What do you mean by life?" + +And so her name was Opal! How curiously the name suited the voice! The +Boy, as he listened, felt that no other name could possibly have +matched that voice--the opal, that glorious gem in which all the fires +of the sun, the iridescent glories of the rainbow, and the cold +brilliance of ice and frost and snow seemed to blend and crystallize. +All this, and more, was in that mysteriously fascinating voice. + +"To live, Alice?" echoed the voice again. "To live? Why, to live is to +_feel!_--to feel every emotion of which the human soul is capable, to +rise to the heights of love, and knowledge, and power; to sink--if need +be--to the deepest depths of despair, but, at all costs, at all hazards, +to _live!_--to experience in one's own nature all the reality and +fullness of the deathless emotions of life!" + +The voice sank almost to the softness of a whisper, yet even then was +vibrant, alive, intense. + +"Ah, Alice, from my childhood up, I have dreamed of life and longed for +it. What life really is, each must decide for himself, must he not? +Some, they say, sleep their way through a dreamless existence, and +never, never wake to realities. Alice, I have sometimes wondered if that +was to be my fate, have wondered and wondered until I have cried out in +real terror at the hideous prospect! Surely Fate could not be so cruel +as to implant such a desperate desire in a soul that never was to know +its fulfilment. Could it, Alice? Tell me, _could_ it?" + +The Boy held his breath now. + +Who was this girl, anyhow, who seemed to express his own thoughts as +accurately as he himself could have done? He was bored no longer. He was +roused, stirred, awakened--and intensely interested. It was as though +the voice of his own soul spoke to him in a dream. + +The cold, lifeless voice now chimed in again. In his impatience the Boy +clenched his fists and shut his teeth together hard. Why didn't she keep +still? He didn't want to miss a single note he might have caught of the +voice--that other! Why did this nonentity--for one didn't have to see +her to be sure that she was that--have to interrupt and rob him of his +pleasure? + +"I don't understand you, Opal," she was saying. (Of course she didn't, +thought the Boy--how could she?) "I am sure that I live. And yet I have +never felt that way--thank goodness! It's vulgar to feel too deeply, +Mamma used to say, and as I have grown older, I can see that she was +right. The best people never show any excess of emotion. That is for +tragedy queens, operatic stars, and--the women we do not talk about! +Ladies cultivate repose!" + +("Repose!--_mon Dieu!_" thought Paul, behind the hedge. He wished that +she would!) + +"And yet, Alice, you are--married!" + +"Married?--of course!--why not?" and the eavesdropper fancied he could +see the wide-open gaze of well-bred English surprise that accompanied +the words. "One has to marry, of course. That is what we are created +for. But one doesn't make a fuss about it. It's only a custom--a +ceremony--and doesn't change existence much for most women, if they +choose sensibly. Of course there is always the chance of a +_mesalliance_! A woman has to risk that." + +"And you don't--love?" + +The Boy was struck by a note that was almost horror in the opaline voice +so near him. + +"Love? Why, Opal, of course we do! It's easy to love, you know, when a +man is decent and half-way good to one. I am sure I think a great deal +of Algernon; but I dare say I should have thought as much of any other +man I had happened to marry. That is a wife's duty!" + +"_Duty!_--and you call that love?" The horror in the tones had now +changed to scorn. + +"You have strange ideas of life, Opal. I should be afraid to indulge +them if I were you--really I should! You have lived so much in books +that you seem to have a very garbled idea of the world. Fiction is apt +to be much of a fairy tale, a crazy exaggeration of what living really +consists of!" + +"_Afraid?_ Why should I be afraid? I am an American girl, remember, and +Americans are afraid of nothing--nothing! Come, cousin, tell to me, if +you can, why I should be afraid." + +"Oh, I don't know! really I don't!" There was a troubled, perplexed note +in the English voice now. "Such notions are apt to get girls into +trouble, and lead them to some unhappy fate. Too much 'life'--as you +call it--must mean suffering, and sorrow, and many tears--and maybe, +_sin_!" + +There was a shocked note in the voice of the young English matron as +she added the last word, and her voice sank to a whisper. But Paul +Zalenska heard, and smiled. + +"Suffering, and sorrow, and many tears," repeated the American girl, +musingly, "and maybe--sin!" Then she went on, firmly, "Very well, +Alice, give me the suffering and sorrow, and many tears--and the sin, +too, if it must be, for we are all sinners of greater or less +degree--but at any rate, give me life! My life may still be far off in +the future, but when the time comes, I shall certainly know, and--I +shall _live_!" + +"You are a peculiar girl, Opal, and--we don't say those things in +England." + +"No, you don't say those things, you cold English women! You do not even +_feel_ them! As for sin, Alice, to my mind there can be no worse sin +under heaven than you commit when you give yourself to a man whom you do +not love better than you could possibly love any other. Oh, it is a +sin--it _must_ be--to sell yourself like that! It's no wonder, I think, +that your husbands are so often driven to 'the women we do not talk +about' for--consolation!" + +"Opal! Opal! hush! What _are_ you saying? You really--but see! isn't +that Algernon crossing the terrace? He is probably looking for us." + +"And like a dutiful English wife, you mustn't fail to obey, I suppose! +Lead the way, cousin mine, and I'll promise to follow you with due +dignity and decorum." + +And the rustle of silken skirts heralded the departure of the ladies +away from the hedge and beyond Paul's hearing. + +Then he too started at an eager, restless pace for the centre of the +crowd. He had quite forgotten the future so carefully arranged for him, +and was off in hot pursuit of--what? He did not know! He only knew that +he had heard a voice, and--he followed! + +As he rejoined the guests, he looked with awakened interest into every +face, listened with eager intensity to every voice. But all in vain. It +did not occur to him that he might easily learn from his hostess the +identity of her American guest; and even if the thought had presented +itself to him, he would never have acted upon it. The experience was +his alone, and he would have been unwilling to share it with any one. + +He was no longer bored as earlier in the afternoon, and he carried the +assurance of enthusiasm and interest in his every glance and motion. +People smiled at the solitary figure, and whispered that he must have +lost Verdayne. But for once in his life, the Boy was not looking for his +friend. + +But neither did he find the voice! + +Usually among the first to depart on such occasions as these, this time +he remained until almost all the crowd had made their adieux. And it was +with a keen sense of disappointment that he at last entered his carriage +for the home of the Verdaynes. He was hearing again and again in the +words of the voice, as it echoed through his very soul, "When my time +comes, I shall certainly know, and I shall--_live!_" + +The letter in his pocket no longer scorched the flesh beneath. He had +forgotten its very existence, nor did he once think of the Princess +Elodie of Austria. What had happened to him? + +Had he fallen in love with a--voice? + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was May at Verdayne Place, and May at Verdayne Place was altogether +different from May in any other part of the world. The skies were of a +far deeper and richer blue; the flowers reached a higher state of +fragrant and rainbow-hued perfection; the sun shining through the green +of the trees was tempered to just the right degree of shine and shadow. +To an Englishman, home is the beginning and the end of the world, and +Paul Verdayne was a typical Englishman. + +To be sure, it had not always been so, but Paul had outlived his +vagabond days and had become thoroughly domesticated; yet there had been +a time in his youth when the wandering spirit had filled his soul, when +the love of adventure had lent wings to his feet, and the glory of +romance had lured him to the lights and shadows of other skies than +these. But Verdayne was older now, very much older! He had lived his +life, he said, and settled down! + +In the shade of the tall trees of the park, two men were drinking in the +beauties of the season, in all the glory and splendor of its +ever-changing, yet ever-enduring loveliness. One of them was past forty, +the ripeness of middle age and the general air of a well-spent, +well-directed, and fully-developed life lending to his face and form an +unusual distinction--even in that land of distinguished men. His +companion was a boy of twenty, straight and tall and proud, carrying +himself with the regal grace of a Greek god. He was a strong, handsome, +healthy, well-built, and well-instructed boy, a boy at whom any one who +looked once would be sure to look the second time, even though he could +not tell exactly wherein the peculiar charm lay. Both men were fair of +hair and blue-eyed, with clear, clean skins and well-bred English faces, +and the critical observer could scarcely fail to notice how curiously +they resembled each other. Indeed, the younger of the pair might easily +have been the replica of the elder's youth. + +When they spoke, however, the illusion of resemblance disappeared. In +the voice of the Boy was a certain vibrant note that was entirely +lacking in the deeper tones of the man--not an accent, nor yet an +inflection, but still a quality that lent a subtle suggestion of foreign +shores. It was an expressive voice, neither languorous nor unduly +forceful, but strangely magnetic, and adorably rich and full, and +musical, thrilling its hearers with its suggestion of latent physical +and spiritual force. + +On the afternoon of which I write, those two were facing a crisis that +made them blind to everything of lesser import. Paul Verdayne--the man +--realized this to the full. His companion--the Boy--was dimly but just +as acutely conscious of it. The question had come at last--the question +that Paul Verdayne had been dreading for years. + +"Uncle Paul," the Boy was saying, "what relation are you to me? You are +not really my uncle, though I have been taught to call you so after this +quaint English fashion of yours. I know it is something of a secret, but +I know no more! We are closer comrades, it seems to me--you and I--than +any others in all the world. We always understand each other, somehow, +almost without words--is it not so? I even bear your name, and I am +proud of it, because it is yours. But why must there be so much mystery +about our real relationship? Won't you tell me just what I am to you?" + +The question, long-looked-for as it was, found the elder man all +unprepared. Is any one ever ready for any dire calamity, however +certainly expected? He paced up and down under the tall trees of the +park and for a time did not answer. Then he paused and laid his hand +upon the shoulder of the Boy with a tenderness of touch that proved +better than any words how close was the bond between them. + +"Tell you what you are to me! I could never, never do that! You are +everything to me, everything!" + +The Boy made a motion as if to speak, but the man forestalled him. + +"We're jolly good friends, aren't we--the very best of companions? In +all the world there is no man, woman or child that is half so near and +dear to me as you. Men don't usually talk about these things to one +another, you know, Boy; but, though I am a bachelor, you see, I feel +toward you as most men feel toward their sons. What does the mere +defining of the relationship matter? Could we possibly be any more to +each other than we are?" + +Paul Verdayne seated himself on a little knoll beneath the shade of a +giant oak. The Boy looked at him with the wistfulness of an infinite +question in his gaze. + +"No, no, Boy! Some time, perhaps--yes, certainly--you shall know all, +all! But that time has not yet come, and for the present it is best that +things should rest as they are. Trust us, Boy--trust me--and be +patient!" + +"Patient!" The Boy laughed a full, ringing laugh, as he threw himself on +the grass at his companion's feet. "I have never learned the word! Could +you be patient, Uncle Paul, when youth was all on fire in your heart, +with your own life shrouded in mystery? Could you, I say, be patient +then?" + +Verdayne laughed indulgently as his strong fingers stroked the Boy's +brown curls. + +"Perhaps not, Boy, perhaps not! But it is for you," he continued, "for +you, Boy, to make the best of that life of yours, which you are pleased +to think clouded in such tantalizing mystery. It is for you to develop +every God-given faculty of your being that all of us that love you may +have the happiness of seeing you perform wisely and well the mission +upon which you have been sent to this kingdom of yours to accomplish. +Boy! every true man is a king in the might of his manhood, but upon you +is bestowed a double portion of that universal royalty. This is a +throne-worshipping world we are living in, Paul, and it means even more +than you can realize to be a prince of the blood!" + +The Boy looked around the park apprehensively. What if someone heard? +For this straight young sapling, who was only the "Boy" to Paul +Verdayne, was to the world at large an heir to a throne, a king who had +been left in infancy the sole ruler of his kingdom. + +His visits to Verdayne Place were _incognito_. He did like to throw +aside the purple now and then and be the real live boy he was at heart. +He did enjoy to the full his occasional opportunities, unhampered by +the trappings and obligations of royalty. + +"A prince of the blood!" he echoed scornfully. "Bah!--what is that? +Merely an accident of birth!" + +"No, not an accident, Paul! Nothing in the world ever is that. Every +fragment of life has its completing part somewhere, given its place in +the scheme of the universe by intricate design--always by _design!_ As +for the duties of your kingdom, my Prince, it is not like you to take +them so lightly." + +"I know! I know! Yet everybody might have been born a prince. It is far +more to be a man!" + +"True enough, Boy! yet everybody might not have been born to your +position. Only you could have been given the heritage that is yours! My +Boy, yours is a mission, a responsibility, from the Creator of Life +Himself. Everybody can follow--but only God's chosen few can lead! And +you--oh, Boy! yours is a birthright above that of all other princes--if +you only knew!" + +The young prince looked wistfully upward into the eyes of the elder man. + +"Tell me, Uncle Paul! Dmitry always speaks of my birth with a reverence +and awe quite out of proportion to its possible consequence--poor old +man. And once even the Grand Duke Peter spoke of my 'divine origin' +though he could not be coaxed or wheedled into committing his wise self +any further. Now you, yourself the most reserved and secretive of +individuals when it pleases you to be so, have just been surprised into +something of the same expression. Do you wonder that I long to unravel +the mystery that you are all so determined to keep from me? I can learn +nothing at home--absolutely nothing! They glorify my mother--God bless +her memory! Everyone worships her! But they never speak of you, and they +are silent, too, about my father. They simply won't tell me a thing +about him, so I don't imagine that he could have been a very good king! +_Was_ he, Uncle Paul? Did you know him?" + +"I never knew the king, Boy!--never even saw him!" + +"But you must have heard--" + +"Nothing, Boy, that I can tell you--absolutely nothing!" + +Verdayne had risen again and was once more pacing back and forth under +the trees, as was his wont when troubled with painful memories. + +"But my mother--you knew _her_!" + +"Yes, yes--I knew your mother!" + +"Tell me about her!" + +A dull, hopeless agony came into the eyes of the older man. And so his +Gethsemane had come to him again! Every life has this garden to pass +through--some, alas! again and yet again! And Paul Verdayne had thought +that he had long since drained his cup of misery to the dregs. He knew +better now. + +"Yes, I will tell you of your mother, Boy," he said, and there was a +strained, guarded note in his voice which his companion's quick ear did +not fail to catch. "But you must be patient if you wish to hear what +little there is, after all, that I can tell you. You must remember, my +Boy, that it is a long time since your mother--died--and men of my age +sometimes--forget!" + +"I will remember," the Boy said, gently. + +But as he looked up into the face of his friend, something in his heart +told him that Paul Verdayne did _not_ forget! And somehow the older man +felt confident that the Boy knew, and was strangely comforted by the +silent sympathy between them which both felt, but neither could express. + +"Your mother, Boy, was the noblest and most beautiful woman that ever +graced a throne. Everyone who knew her must have said that! You are very +like her, Paul--not in appearance, a mistake of Fate to be everlastingly +deplored, but in spirit you are her living counterpart. Ah! you have a +great example to live up to, Boy, in attempting to follow her footsteps! +There was never a queen like her--never!" + +The young prince followed with the deepest absorption the words of the +man who had known his mother, hanging upon the story with the breathless +interest of a child in some fairy tale. + +"She knew life as it is given few women to know it. She was not more +than thirty-five, I think, when you were born, but she had crowded into +those years more knowledge of the world, in all its myriad phases, than +others seem to absorb during their allotted three score and ten. And her +knowledge was not of the world alone, but of the heart. She was full of +ideals of advancement, of growth, of doing and being something worthy +the greatest endeavor, exerting every hope and ambition to the utmost +for the future splendor of her kingdom--your kingdom now. How she loved +you!--what splendid achievements she expected of you! how she prayed +that you might be grand, and great, and true!" + +"Did you always know her?" + +"Always?--no. Only for three weeks, Boy!" + +"Three weeks!--three little weeks! How strange, then, that you should +have learned so much about her in that short space of time! She must +indeed have made a strong impression upon you!" + +"Impression, you say? Boy, all that I am or ever expect to become--all +that I know or ever expect to learn--all that I have done or ever expect +to accomplish--I owe to your mother. She was the one inspiration of my +life. Until I knew her, I was a nonentity. It was she who awakened +me--who taught me how to live! Three weeks! Child! child!--" + +He caught himself sharply and bit his lip, forcing back the impetuous +words he had not meant to say. The silence of years still shrouded those +mysterious three weeks, and the time had not yet come when that silence +could be broken. What had he said? What possessed the Boy to-day to +cling so persistently to this hitherto forbidden subject? + +"Where did you meet her, Uncle?" + +"At Lucerne!" + +"Lucerne!" echoed the Boy, his blue eyes growing dreamy with musing. +"That says nothing to me--nothing! and yet--you will laugh at me, I +know, but I sometimes get the most tantalizing impression that I +remember my mother. It is absurd, of course--I suppose I could not +possibly remember her--and yet there is such a haunting, vague sense of +close-clinging arms, of an intensely white and tender face bending over +me--sometimes in the radiance of day and again in the soft shadows of +night, but always, always alight with love--of kisses, soft and warm, +and yet often tearful--and of black, lustrous hair, over which there +always seems to shine a halo--a very coronet of triumphant motherhood." + +Verdayne's lips moved, but no sound came from them to voice the +passionate cry in his heart, "My Queen, my Queen!" + +"I suppose it is only a curious dream! It must be, of course! But it is +a very real vision to me, and I would not part with it for the world. +Uncle, do you know, I can never look upon the pictured face of a Madonna +without being forcibly reminded of this vision of my mother--the mother +I can see only in dreams!" + +Verdayne found it growing harder and harder for him to speak. + +"I do not think that strange, Boy. Others would not understand it, but I +do. She was so intensely a mother that the spirit of the great Holy +Mother must have been at all times hovering closely about her! Her +deepest desires centred about her son. You were the embodiment of the +greatest, sweetest joys--if not the only real joys--of her strangely +unhappy life, and her whole thought, her one hope, was for you. In your +soul must live all the unrealized hopes and crucified ideals of the +woman who, always every inch a queen, was never more truly regal than in +the supreme hour that crowned her your mother." + +"And am I like her, Uncle Paul? Am I really like her?" + +"So much so, Boy, that she sometimes seems to live again in you. Like +her, you believe so thoroughly in the goodness and greatness of a +God--in the beauty and glory of the world fraught with lessons of life +and death--in the omnipotence of Fate--in the truth and power and +grandeur of overmastering love. You believe in the past, in all the +dreams and legends of the Long Ago still relived in the Now, in the +capabilities of the human mind, the kingship of the soul. Your voice is +hers, every tone and cadence is as her own voice repeating her own +words. Be glad, Paul, that you are like your mother, and hope that with +the power to think her thoughts and dream lier dreams, you may also have +the power to love as she loved, and, if need be, die her death!" + +"But you think the same thoughts, Uncle Paul. You believe all I +believe!" + +"Because she taught me, Paul--because she taught me! I slept the sleep +of the blind and deaf and soulless until her touch woke my soul into +being. You have always been alive to the joy of the world and the beauty +of living. Your soul was born with your body and lived purposefully from +the very beginning of things. You were born for a purpose and that +purpose showed itself even in infancy." + +A silence fell between the two men. A long time they sat in that +sympathetic communion, each busy with his own thoughts. The older Paul +was lost in memories of the past, for his life lay all behind him--the +younger Paul was indulging in many dreams of a roseate future, for his +life was all ahead of him. + +It was a friendship that the world often wondered about--this strange +intimacy between Paul Verdayne, the famous Member of Parliament, and the +young man from abroad who called himself Paul Zalenska. None knew +exactly where Monsieur Zalenska came from, and as they had long ago +learned the futility of questioning either of the men about personal +affairs, had at last reconciled themselves to never finding out. +Everyone suspected that the Boy was a scion of rank--and some went so +far as to say of royalty, but beyond the fact that every May he came +with his faithful, foreign-looking attendant to Verdayne Place and spent +the summer months with the Verdayne family, nothing definite was +actually known. His elderly attendant certainly spoke some beastly +foreign jargon and went by the equally beastly foreign name of Vasili. +He was known to worship his young master and to attend him with the most +marked servility, but he was never questioned, and had he been, would +certainly have told no tales. + +The parents of Paul Verdayne--Sir Charles and Lady Henrietta--were very +fond of their young guest, and made much of his annual visits. As for +Paul himself, he never seemed to be perfectly happy anywhere if the +young fellow were out of his sight. + +He had made himself very much distinguished, had this Paul Verdayne. He +had found out how to get the most out of his life and accomplish the +utmost good for himself and his England with the natural endowments of +his energetic and ambitious personality. He had become a famous orator, +a noted statesman, a man of brain as well as brawn. People were glad to +listen when he talked. He inspired them with the idea--so nearly extinct +in this day and age of the world--that life after all was very much +worth the living. He stirred languid pulses with a dormant enthusiasm. +He roused torpid brains to thought. He had ideas and had also a way of +making other people share those ideas. England was proud of Paul +Verdayne, as she had good reason to be. And he was only forty-three +years old even now. What might he not accomplish in the future for the +land to which he devoted all his talents, his tireless, well-directed +activities? + +He had given himself up so thoroughly to political interests that he had +not taken time to marry. This was a great disappointment to his mother, +Lady Henrietta, who had set her heart upon welcoming a daughter-in-law +and a houseful of merry, romping grandchildren before the sun of her +life had gone down forever. It was also a secret source of +disappointment to certain younger feminine hearts as well, who in the +days of his youth, and even in the ripeness of later years, had regarded +Paul Verdayne with eyes that found him good to look upon. But the young +politician had never been a woman's man. He was chivalrous, of course, +as all well-bred Englishmen are, but he kept himself as aloof from all +society as politeness would permit, and the attack of the most +skillfully aimed glances fell harmless, even unheeded, upon his +impenetrable armor. He might have married wherever he had willed, but +Society and her fair votaries sighed and smiled in vain, and finally +decided to leave him alone, to Verdayne's infinite relief. + +As for the Boy, he was always, as I have said, a mystery, always a topic +for the consideration of the gossips. Every year since he was a little +fellow six years old he had come to Verdayne Place for the summer; at +first, accompanied by his nurse, Anna, and a silver-haired servant, +curiously named Dmitry. Later the nurse had ceased to be a necessity, +and the old servant had been replaced by Vasili, a younger, but no less +devoted attendant. As the Boy grew older, he had learned to hunt and +took long rides with his then youthful host across the wide stretch of +English country that made up the Verdayne estates and those of the +neighboring gentry. Often they cruised about in distant waters, for the +young fellow from his earliest years shared with the elder an absorbing +love of nature in all her varied and glorious forms; and in February, +always in February, Verdayne found time to steal away from England for a +brief visit to that far-off country in the south of Europe from which +the Boy came. Many remembered that Verdayne, like an uncle of his, Lord +Hubert Aldringham, had been much given to foreign travel in his younger +days and had made many friends and acquaintances among the nobility and +royalty of other lands, and although it was strange, they thought it was +not at all improbable that the lad was connected with some one of those +great families across the Channel. + +As for Paul and the Boy, they knew not what people thought or said, and +cared still less. There was too strong a bond of _camaraderie_ between +them to be disturbed by the murmurings of a wind that could blow neither +of them good or ill. + +And the Boy was now twenty years of age. + +Suddenly Paul Zalenska broke their long silence. + +"Do you know, Uncle, I sometimes have a queer feeling of fear that my +father must have done something terrible in his life--something to make +strong men shrink and shudder at the thought--something--_criminal_! Oh, +I dare not think of that!" he went on hastily. "I dare not--I dare not! +I think the knowledge of it would drive me mad!" + +His voice sank to a half-whisper and there was a note of horror in his +words. + +"But, what a king he must have been!--what a miserable apology for all +that royalty should be by every law, human or divine! Why isn't his name +heralded over the length and breadth of the kingdom in paeans of praise? +Why isn't the whole world talking of his valor, his beneficence, his +statesmanship? What is a king created a king for, if not to make +history?" + +He fought silently for a moment to regain his self-control, forcing the +hideous idea from him and at last speaking with an air of finality +beyond his years. + +"No, I won't think of it! May the King of the world endow me with the +strength of the gods and the wisdom of the ancient seers, that I may +make up by my efficiency for all my father's deplorable lack, and become +all that my mother meant me to be when she gave me to the world!" + +He stretched out his arms in a passionate appeal to Heaven, and Paul +Verdayne, looking up at him, realized as he had never before that the +Boy certainly had within him the stuff of which kings should be made. + +The Boy was not going to disappoint him. He was going to justify the +high hopes cherished for him so long. He was going to be a man after his +mother's own heart. + +"Uncle," went on the Boy, wrought up to a high pitch of emotion, and +throwing himself down again at Verdayne's feet, "I feel with Louis XVI, +'I am too young to reign!' Why haven't I ever had a father to teach and +train me in the way I should go? Every boy needs a good father, princes +most of all, so much more is expected of us poor royal devils than of +more ordinary and more fortunate mortals! I know I shouldn' be +complaining like this--certainly not to you, Uncle Paul, who have been +all most fathers are to most boys! But there are times, you know, when +you persist in keeping me at arm's length as you keep everyone else! +When you put up that sign, 'Thus far and no further!' I feel myself +almost a stranger! Won't you let me come nearer? Won't you take down +that barrier between us and let me have a father--at least, in name? I'm +tired of calling you 'Uncle' who uncle never was and never could be! +You're far more of a father--really you are! Let me call you in name +what you have always been in spirit. Let me say 'Father Paul!' I like +the sound of it, don't you? 'Father Paul!'--'Father Paul!'" + +Paul Verdayne felt every drop of blood leave his face. He felt as if the +Boy had inadvertently laid a cold hand upon his naked heart, chilling, +paralyzing its every beat. What did he mean? The Boy was just then +looking thoughtfully at the setting sun and did not see the change that +his words called into his companion's face--thank heaven for that!--but +what _could_ he mean? + +"You can call yourself my 'Father Confessor,' you know, if you entertain +any scruples as to the propriety of a staid old bachelor's fathering a +stray young cub like me--that will make it all right, surely! You will +let me, won't you? In all the world there is no one so close to me as +you, and such dreams as I may happily bring to fulfillment will be, more +than you know, because of your guidance, your inspiration. You are the +father of my spirit, whoever may have been the father of my flesh! Let +it be hereafter, then, not 'Uncle,' but 'Father Paul'!" + +And the older man, rising and standing by the Boy, threw his arm around +the young shoulders, and gazing far off to the distant west, felt +himself shaken by a strange emotion as he answered, "Yes, Boy, hereafter +let it be 'Father Paul!'" + +And as the sun travelled faster and faster toward the line of its +crossing between the worlds of night and day, its rays reflected a new +radiance upon the faces of the two men who sat in the silent shadows of +the park, feeling themselves drawn more closely together than ever +before, thinking, thinking, thinking-in the eyes of the man a great +memory, in the eyes of the Boy a great longing for life! + + * * * * * + +The two friends ran up to London for the theatre that night, to see a +famous actor in a popular play, but neither was much interested in the +performance. Something had kindled in the heart of the man a reminiscent +fire and the Boy was thinking his own thoughts and listening, ever +listening. + +"I'm several kinds of a fool," he thought, "but I'd like to hear that +voice again and get a glimpse of the face that goes with it. I dare say +she is anything but attractive in the flesh--if she is really in the +flesh at all, which I am beginning to doubt--so I should be disenchanted +if I were to see her, I suppose. But I'd like to _know_!" Yet, after +all, he could not comprehend how such a voice could accompany an +unattractive face. The spirit that animated those tones must needs light +up the most ordinary countenance with character, if not with beauty, he +thought; but he saw no face in the vast audience to which he cared to +assign it. No, _she_ wasn't there. He was sure of that. + +But as they left the building and stood upon the pavement, awaiting +their carriage, his blood mounted to his face, dyeing it crimson. In the +sudden silence that mysteriously falls on even vast crowds, sometimes, +he heard that voice again! + +It was only a snatch of mischievous laughter from a brougham just being +driven away from the curb, but it was unmistakably _the_ voice. Had the +Boy been alone he would have followed the brougham and solved the +mystery then and there. + +The laugh rang out again on the summer evening air. It was like a lilt +of fairies' merriment in the moonlit revels of Far Away! It was the note +of a siren's song, calling, calling the hearts and souls of men! It +was--But the Boy stopped and shook himself free from the "sentimental +rot" he was indulging in. + +He turned with a question on his lips, but Verdane had noticed nothing +and the Boy did not speak. + +Still that laugh thrilled and mocked him all the way to Berkeley Square +and lured him on and on through the night's mysterious dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +In the drawing room of her mansion on Grosvenor Square, Lady Alice +Mordaunt was pouring tea, and talking as usual the same trifling +commonplaces that had on a previous occasion excited her cousin's +disdain. Opposite her sat her mother, Lady Fletcher, a perfect model of +the well-bred English matron, while Opal Ledoux, in the daintiest and +fluffiest of summer costumes, was curled up like a kitten in a corner of +the window-seat, apparently engrossed in a book, but in reality watching +the passers-by. + +From her childhood up she had lived in a Castle of Dreams, which she had +peopled with the sort of men and women that suited her own fanciful +romantic ideas, and where she herself was supposed to lie asleep until +her ideal knight, the Prince Charming of the story, came across land +and sea to storm the Castle and wake her with a kiss. + +It was made up of moonbeams and rays of sunshine and +rainbow-gleams--this dream--woven by fairy fingers into so fragile a +cobweb that it seemed absurd to think it could stand the winds and +torrents of Grown-Up Land; but Opal, in spite of her eighteen years, was +still awaiting the coming of her ideal knight, though the stage setting +of the drama, and her picture of just how the Prince Charming of her +dreams was to look, and what he would say, had changed materially with +the passing of the years. + +If sometimes she wove strange lines of tragedy throughout the dreams, +out of the threads of shadow that flitted across the sunshine of her +life, she did not reject them. She felt they belonged there and did not +shrink, even when her young face paled at the curious self-pity the +passing of the thought invoked. + +Hers was a strange mixture, made up of an unusual intermingling of many +bloods. Born in New Orleans, of a father who was a direct descendant of +the early French settlers of Louisiana, and of a Creole mother, who +might have traced her ancestry back to one of the old grandees of Spain, +she yet clung with a jealous affection to the land of her birth and +called herself defiantly "a thorough-bred American!" Her mother had died +in giving her birth, and her father, while she was still too young to +remember, had married a fair Englishwoman who had tried hard to be a +mother to the strange little creature whose blood leaped and danced +within her veins with all the fire and romance of foreign suns. Gay and +pleasure-mad as she usually appeared, there was always the shadow of a +heartache in her eye, and one felt the possibility of a tragedy in her +nature. In fact one felt intuitively sorry--almost afraid--for her lest +her daring, adventurous spirit should lead her too close to the +precipice along the rocky pathway of life. + +She was thinking many strange thoughts as she sat looking out of the +window. Her English cousins, related to her only through her stepmother, +yet called kin for courtesy's sake, had given up trying to understand +her complexities, as she had likewise given up trying to explain +herself. If they were pleased forever to consider her in the light of a +conundrum, she thought, why--let them! + +After a while the ladies at the tea-table began to chat in more +confidential tones. Opal was not too oblivious to her surroundings to +notice, nor to grasp the fact that they were discussing her, but that +knowledge did not interest her. She was so used to being considered a +curiosity that it had ceased to have any special concern for her. She +only hoped that they would sometime succeed in understanding her better +than she had yet learned to understand herself. It might have interested +her, however, had she overheard this particular conversation, for it +shed a great light upon certain shades of character she had discovered +in herself and often wondered about, but had never had explained to her. + +But she did not hear. + +"I am greatly concerned about Opal," Lady Alice was saying. "She is the +most difficult creature, Mamma--you've no idea how peculiar--with the +most dangerous, positively _immoral_ ideas. I do wish she were safely +married, for then--well, there is really no knowing what might happen to +a girl who thinks and talks as she does. I used to think it might be a +sort of American pose--put on for startling effect, you know--but I +begin to think she actually means it!" + +"Yes, she means it," replied Lady Fletcher, lowering her voice +discreetly, till it was little more than a whisper. "She has always had +just such notions. It gives Amy a great deal of trouble and worry to +keep her straight. You know--or perhaps you didn't know, for we don't +talk of these things often, especially when they are in one's +family--but there is a bad strain in her blood and they are always +looking for it to crop out somewhere. Her mother married happily--and +escaped the curse--but for several generations back the women of her +family have been of peculiar temperament and--they've usually gone wrong +sometime in their lives. It seems to be in the blood. They can't help +it. Mr. Ledoux told Amy all about it at the time of their marriage, and +that is the reason they have tried to keep Opal as secluded as possible +from the usual free-and-easy associations of American girls, and are so +anxious to marry her off wisely." + +"And speedily," put in Alice--"the sooner the better!" + +"Yes, yes--speedily!" + +Lady Fletcher gave an uneasy glance in Opal's direction before she +continued. + +"You are too young to have heard the story, Alice, but her +grandmother--a black-eyed Spanish lady of high rank--was made quite +unpleasantly notorious by her associations with a brother of Lady +Henrietta Verdayne. He was an unprincipled roue--this Lord Hubert +Aldringham--a libertine who openly boasted of the conquests he had made +abroad. Being appointed to many foreign posts in the diplomatic service, +he was naturally on intimate terms with people of rank and royalty. They +say he was very fascinating, with the devil's own eye, and ten times as +devilish a heart--" + +"Why, Mamma!" + +Alice was shocked. + +"I am only repeating what they said, child," apologized the elder woman +meekly. "Women will be fools, you know, over a handsome face and a +tender voice--some women, I mean--and that's what Opal has to fight +against." + +"Poor Opal," murmured Alice, "I did not know!" + +"Some even go so far as to say--" + +Again Lady Fletcher looked up apprehensively, but Opal was still +absorbed in her dreams. + +"To say--what, Mother?" + +"Well, of course it's only talk--nobody can actually _know,_ I suppose, +and I wouldn't, of course, be quoted as saying anything for the world, +dear knows; but they say that it is more than probable that Opal's +mother was ... _Lord Hubert's own daughter!"_ + +"Oh, Mother! If it is true--if it _could_ be true--what a fight for +her!" + +"Yes, and the worst of it is with Opal, she won't fight. She has been +rigidly trained in the principles of virtue and propriety from her very +birth, and yet she horrifies every one at times by shocking ideas--that +no one knows where she gets, nor, worse yet, where they may lead!" + +"But she is good, Mother. She has the noblest ideas of charity and +kindness and altruism, of the advancement of all that's good and true in +the world, of the attainment of knowledge, of the beauties and +consolation of religion. It's fine to hear her talk when she's +inspired--not a bit preachy, you know--she's certainly far enough from +that--but more like reading some beautiful poem you can but half +understand, or listening to music that makes you wish you were better, +whether you take in its full meaning or not." + +This was a long speech for Lady Alice. Her mother looked at her in +amazement. There certainly must be something out of the ordinary in this +peculiar American cousin to wake Alice from her customary languor. + +Alice smiled at her mother's surprise. + +"Strange, isn't it, Mother?" she asked, half ashamed of her unusual +enthusiasm. "But it's true. She'd help some good man to be a power in +the world. I feel it so often when she talks. I didn't know women ever +thought such things as she does. I-I-I believe we can trust her, Mother, +to steer clear of everything!" + +"I hope so, Alice; I am sure I hope so, but--I don't know. I am afraid +it was a mistake to keep her so much alone. It gives her more unreal +ideas of life than actual contact with the world would have done." + +Opal Ledoux left the window and sauntered down the long drawing-room +toward the table where the speakers were sitting. + +"What are you talking about?--me?" + +The cousins were surprised and showed it by blushing guiltily. + +Opal laughed merrily. + +"Dreary subject for a dreary day! I hope you found it more interesting +than I have!" And she stretched her small figure to its utmost height, +which was not a bit above five foot, and shrugged her shoulders lazily. + +"What are you reading, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher, in an effort to +change the subject, looking with some interest at the volume that the +girl carried. + +"Don't ask me--all twaddle and moonshine! I ought not to waste my +valuable time with such trash. There isn't a real character in the book, +not one. When I write a book, and I presume I shall some time, if I live +long enough, I shall put people into it who have real flesh and blood in +them and who do startling things. But I'll have to live it all first!" + +"Live the startling things, Opal? God forbid!" + +"Surely! Why not?" + +And Opal dropped listlessly into a chair, tossed the offending book on a +table, and taking a cup of tea from the hand of her cousin, began to sip +it with an air of languid indifference, which sat strangely on her +youthful, almost childlike figure. + +"By the way, Alice," she asked carelessly, "who was the young man who +stared at us so rudely last night as we drove away from the theatre?" + +"I saw no young man staring, Opal. Where was he?" + +"Why, he stood on the pavement, waiting, I suppose, for his carriage, +and as we drove away he looked at me as though he thought I had no right +to live, and still less to laugh--I believe I was laughing--and as we +turned the corner I peeped back through the curtain, and he still stood +there in the full glare of the light, staring. It's impolite, +cousins--_very! Gentlemen_ don't stare at girls in America!" + +"What did he look like, Opal?" asked Lady Fletcher. + +"Like a Greek god!" answered the girl, without a second's hesitation. + +"What!" + +Both women gasped, simultaneously. They were dismayed. + +"Oh, don't be shocked! He had the full panoply of society war-paint on. +He was certainly properly clothed, but as to his being in his right +mind, I have my doubts--serious doubts! He stared!" + +"I hope you didn't stare at him, Opal!" + +"Well, I did! What could he expect? And I laughed at him, too! But I +don't believe he saw me at all, more's the pity. I am quite sure he +would have fallen in love with me if he had!" + +"Opal!" + +Opal was thoroughly enjoying herself now. She did enjoy shocking people +who were so delightfully shockable! + +"Why, _'Opal'?"_ and her mimicry was irresistible. "Don't you think I'm +a bit lovable, cousin?--not a bit? You discourage me! I'm doomed to be a +spinster, I suppose! Ah, me! And I'd far rather be the spinster's cat! +Cats aren't worried about the conventions and all that sort of thing. +Happy animals! While we poor two-footed ones they call human--only we +aren't really more than half so--have to keep our claws well hidden and +purr hypocritically, no matter how roughly the world rubs our fur the +wrong way, nor how wild we are to scratch and spit and bristle! Wouldn't +you like to be a cat, Alice?" + +"Goodness, child! What an idea! I am very well contented, Opal, with +the sphere of life into which I have been placed!" + +"Happy, happy Alice! May that state of mind endure forever! But come! +Haven't you an idea, either of you, who my Knight of the Stare can be?" + +"You didn't describe him, Opal." + +Opal opened her eyes in wide surprise. + +"Didn't I? Why, I thought I did, graphically! A Greek god, dressed _en +regle_. What more do you want? I am sure anyone ought to recognize him +by that." + +Her listeners looked at her in real consternation, which she was quick +to see. Her eyes danced. + +"Well, if you insist upon details, I can supply a few, I guess, if I +try. I am really dying of curiosity to know who he is and why he stared. +Of course I didn't look at him very closely. It wouldn't have +been--er--what do you call it?--proper. And of course I could not see +clearly at night, anyway. But I did notice he was about six feet tall. +Imagine me, poor little me, looking up to six feet! With broad +shoulders; an athletic, muscular figure, like a young Hercules; a +well-shaped head, like Apollo's, covered with curls of fair hair; a +smooth, clear skin, with the tint of the rose in his cheek that deepened +to blood-red when his blue eyes, in which the skies of all the world +seemed to be mirrored, stared with an expression like that of a man upon +whom the splendor of some glorious Paradise was just dawning. He looked +like an Englishman, yet something in his attitude and general appearance +made me think that he was not. His hands--" + +"Opal! Opal! What do you mean? How could you see so much of a young man +in so short a time? And at night, too?" + +Opal pouted. + +"You wanted a detailed description. I was trying to give it to you. As I +told you at the start, I couldn't see much. But anyway, he stared!" + +"And I dare say he wasn't the only one who stared!" put in Lady Alice in +dry tones of reprehension. "I can't imagine who it could be, can you, +mother?" + +"Not unless it was that strange young Monsieur Zalenska--_Paul_ +Zalenska, I believe he calls himself--Paul Verdayne's guest. I rather +think, from the description, that it must have been he!" + +"Zalenska? What a name! I wonder if he won't let me call him 'Paul!'" +said the incorrigible Opal, musingly. "I shall ask him the first time I +see him. Paul's a pretty name! I like that--but I'll never, never be +able to twist my tongue around the other. He'd get out of hearing before +I could call him and that would never do at all! But 'Monsieur,' you +say? Why 'Monsieur'? He certainly doesn't look at all like a Frenchman!" + +"No one knows what he is, Opal; nor who. That is, no one but the +Verdaynes. He has always made a mystery of himself." + +Opal clapped her small hands childishly. + +"Charming! My ideal knight in the flesh! But how shall I attract him?" + +She knitted her brows and pondered as seriously as though the fate of +nations depended upon her decision. + +"Shall I send him my card, Alice, and ask him to call? Or would it be +better to make an appointment with him for the Park? Perhaps a +'personal' in the _News_ would answer my purpose--do you think he reads +the _News_, or would the _Times_ be better? Come, cousins, what do you +think? I am so young, you know! Please advise me." + +She clasped her hands in a charming gesture of helpless appeal and the +ladies looked at one another in horrified silence. What unheard of thing +would this impossible girl propose next! They would be thankful when +they saw her once more safely embarked for the "land of the free," and +out from under their chaperonage, they hoped, forever. They realized +that she was quite beyond their restraining powers. Had she no sense of +decency at all? + +The door opened, callers were announced, and the day was saved. + +Opal straightened up, put on what she called her "best dignity" and +comported herself in so very well-bred and amiable a manner that her +cousins quite forgave all her past delinquencies and smiled approval +upon the charming courtesy she extended to their guests. She could be +_such_ a lady when she would! No one could resist her! And yet they felt +themselves sitting upon the crater of a volcano liable to erupt at any +moment. One never felt quite safe with Opal. + +But, much to their surprise and relief, everything went beautifully, and +the guests departed, delighted with Lady Alice's "charming American +cousin, so sweet, so dainty, so witty, so brilliant, and altogether +lovely--really quite a dear, you know!" + +But for all that, Lady Alice Mordaunt and Lady Fletcher were far from +feeling easy over their guest, and ardently wished that the girl's +father would cut short his visit to France and return to take her back +with him to America. And while these two worthy ladies worried and +fretted, Opal Ledoux laughed and dreamed. + +And in a big mansion over in Berkeley Square Monsieur Paul Zalenska +wondered--and listened. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was a whole two weeks after the Boy's experience at the theatre, and +though the echoes of that mysterious voice still rang through all his +dreams at night, and most of his waking hours, he had not heard its lilt +again. + +Paul Verdayne smiled to himself to note the youngster's sudden interest +in society. He had not--strange as it may seem--been told a word of the +experience, but he was not curious. He certainly knew the world, if +anyone knew it, and though he was sure he recognized the symptoms, he +had too much tact to ask, "Who is the girl?" + +"Let the Boy have his little secrets," he thought, remembering his own +callow days. "They will do him good." + +And though the Boy felt an undue sense of guilt, he continued to keep +his lips closed and his eyes and ears open, though it often seemed so +utterly useless to do so. Sometimes he wondered if he had dropped to +sleep, there behind the hawthorn hedge that afternoon, and dreamed it +all. + +Verdayne and the Boy were sitting at luncheon at the Savoy. Sir Charles +and Lady Henrietta had gone down to Verdayne Place for a week, and the +two men were spending most of their time away from the lonely house in +Berkeley Square. + +That day they were discussing the Boy's matrimonial prospects as +proposed by the Grand Duke Peter--indeed, they were usually discussing +them. The Boy had written, signifying his acceptance and approval of the +arrangements as made. Nothing else was expected of him for the present, +but his nature had not ceased its revolt against the decree of Fate, and +Paul Verdayne shared his feeling of repugnance to the utmost. Perhaps +Verdayne felt it even more acutely than the young Prince himself, for he +knew so much better all that the Boy was sacrificing. But he also knew, +as did the poor royal victim himself, that it was inevitable. + +"I don't wonder at the court escapades that occasionally scandalize all +Europe," said the Boy. "I don't wonder at all! The real wonder is that +more of the poor slaves to royalty do not snap the chains that bind +them, and bolt for freedom. It would be like me,--very like me!" + +And Verdayne could say nothing. He knew of more reasons than one why it +would be very like the Boy to do such a thing, and he sighed as he +thought that some time, perhaps, he might do it. And yet he could not +blame him! + +"Father Paul," went on the Boy, his thoughts taking a new turn, "you are +a bachelor--a hopeless old bachelor--and you have never told me why. Of +course there's a woman or two in it! We have talked about everything +else under the sun, I think--you and I--but, curiously enough, we have +never talked of love! Yet I feel sure that you believe in it. Don't you, +Father Paul? Come now, confess! I am in a mood for sentiment to-day, and +I want to hear what drove you to a life of single blessedness--what made +my romantic old pal such a confirmed old celibate! I don't believe that +you object to matrimony on general principles. Tell me your love-story, +please, Father Paul." + +"What makes you so certain that I have had one, Boy?" + +"Oh, I don't know just why, but I am certain! It's there in your lips +when you smile, in your eyes when you are moved, in your voice when you +allow yourself to become reminiscent. You are full of memories that you +have never spoken of to me. And now, Father Paul--now is the accepted +time!" + +For a moment Verdayne was nonplussed. What could he reply? There was +only one love-story in his life, and that one would end only with his +own existence, but he could not tell that story to the Boy--yet! +Suddenly, however, an old, half-forgotten memory flashed across his +mind. Of course he had a love-story. He would tell the Boy the story of +Isabella Waring. + +So, as they sat together over their coffee and cigarettes, Verdayne told +his young guest about the Curate's daughter, who had all unconsciously +wielded such an influence over the events of his past life. He told of +the girl's kindness to him when he had broken his collarbone; of her +assistance so freely offered to his mother; of her jolly, lively +spirits, her amiable disposition and general gay good-fellowship; and +then of the unlucky kiss that had aroused the suspicion and august +displeasure of Lady Henrietta, and had sent her erring son a wanderer +over the face of Europe--to forget! + +He painted his sadness at leaving home--and Isabella--in pathetic +colors. Indeed, he became quite affecting when he pictured his parting +with Isabella, and when in repeating his parting words, he managed to +get just the right suspicion of a tremble into his voice, he really felt +quite proud of his ability as a story-teller. + +The Boy was plainly touched. + +"What foolishness to think that such a love as yours could be cured +merely by sending you abroad!" he said. + +"Just what I thought, Boy--utter folly!" + +"Of course it didn't cure you, Father Paul. You didn't learn to forget, +did you? Oh, it was cruel to send you away when you loved her like +that! I didn't think it of Aunt Henrietta--I didn't indeed!" + +"Oh, you mustn't blame mother, Boy. She meant it for the best, just as +your Uncle Peter now means it for the best for you and yours. She +thought I would forget." + +"Was she very, very beautiful, Father Paul? But of course she was, if +_you_ loved her!" + +"She was pretty, Boy--at least I thought so." + +"Big or little?" + +"Tall--very tall." + +"I like tall, magnificent women. There's something majestic about them. +I hope the Princess Elodie"--and the Boy made a wry face--"will be +quite six foot tall. I could never love a woman small either in body or +mind. I am sure I should have liked your Isabella, Father Paul. Majestic +women of majestic minds for me, for there you have the royal stamp of +nature that makes some women born to the purple. Yes, I am sure I should +have liked Isabella. Tell me more." + +Paul Verdayne smiled. He should hardly have considered Isabella Waring +in any degree "majestic"--but he did not say so. + +"She was charmingly healthy and robust--athletic, you know, and all +that--with light fluffy hair. I believe she used to wear it in a net. +Blue eyes, of course--thoroughly English, you know--and a fine comrade. +Liked everything that I liked, as most girls at that age didn't, +naturally. Of course, mother couldn't appreciate her. She wasn't her +style at all. And she naturally thought--mother did, I mean--that when +she sent me away 'for my health'"--the Boy smiled--"that I'd forget all +about her." + +Verdayne began to think he wasn't telling it well after all. He looked +out of the window. It was getting hard to meet the frank look in the +Boy's blue eyes. + +"Forget!" and there was a fine scorn in the tones of the young +enthusiast. "But you didn't! you didn't! I'm sure you didn't!" + +The romantic story appealed strongly to the Boy's mood. + +"But why didn't you marry her when you came back, Father Paul? Did she +die?" + +"No, she didn't die. She is still living, I believe." + +"Then why didn't you marry her, Father Paul? Did they still oppose it? +Surely when you came home and they saw you had not forgotten, it was +different. Tell me how it was when you came home." + +And Paul Verdayne, in a voice he tried his best to make very sad and +heart-broken, replied with downcast eyes, "When I came home, Boy, I +found Isabella Waring ready to marry a curate, and happy over the +prospect of an early wedding. So, you see, my share in her life was +over." + +The Boy's face fell. He had not anticipated this ending to the romance. +How could any woman ever have proved faithless to his Father Paul! And +how could he, poor man, still keep his firm, dauntless belief in the +goodness and truth of human nature after so bitter an experience as +this! It shocked his sense of right and justice--this story. He wished +he had not asked to hear it. + +"Thank you for telling me, Father Paul. It was kind of you to open your +past life to me like this, and very unkind of me to ask what I should +have known would cost you such pain to tell. I am truly sorry for it +all, Father Paul. Thank you again--and forgive me!" + +"It's a relief to open one's heart, sometimes, to one who can +sympathize," replied Verdayne, with a deep sigh. But he felt like a +miserable hypocrite. + +Poor Isabella Waring! He had hardly given her a passing thought in +twenty years. And now he had vilified her to help himself out of a tight +corner. Well, she was always a good sort. She wouldn't mind being +used--or even misused--to help out her "old pal" this way. Still it made +him feel mean, and he was glad when the Boy dropped the subject and +turned again to his own difficulties. + +But the mind of the young prince was restive, that day. Nothing held his +attention long. It seemed, like his eye, to be roving hither and +thither, seeking something it never could find. + +"You have been to America, Father Paul, haven't you?" he asked. + +America? Yes, Verdayne had been to America. It was in America that he +had passed one season of keenest anguish. He had good reason to remember +it--such good reason that in all their wanderings about the world he had +never seen fit to take the Boy there. + +But something had aroused the young fellow's passing interest, and now +nothing would satisfy him save that he must hear all about America; and +so, for a full hour, as best he could, Verdayne described the country of +the far West as he remembered it. + +"Nothing in America appealed to me so strongly as the gigantic +prairies," he said at last. "You were so deeply moved by our trip to +Africa, Boy, that you must remember the impression of vastness and +infinity the great desert made upon us. Well, in the glorious West of +America it is as if the desert had sprung to life, and from every grain +of sand had been born a blade of grass, waving and fluttering with the +joy of new birth. Oh, it is truly wonderful, Paul! Once I went there +with the soil of my heart scorched as dry and lifeless as the burning +sands of Sahara, but in that revelation of a new creation, some pulse +within me sprang mysteriously into being again. It could never be the +same heart that it once was, but it would now know the semblance of a +new existence. And I took up the burden of life again--albeit a strange, +new life--and came home to fight it out. The prairies did all that for +me, Boy!" He paused for a moment, and then spoke in a sadder tone. "It +was soon after that, Paul, that I first found you." + +Paul Zalenska thought that he understood. That, of course, was after +Isabella Waring had wrecked his life. Cruel, heartless Isabella! He had +never even heard her name before to-day, but he hated her, wherever she +might be! + +"There is a legend they tell out there that is very pretty and +appropriate," went on Verdayne, dreamily. "They say that when the +Creator made the world, He had indiscriminately strewn continents and +valleys, mountains and seas, islands and lakes, until He came to the +western part of America, and despite His omnipotence, was puzzled to +know what new glories He could possibly contrive for this corner of the +earth. Something majestic and mighty it must be, He thought, and yet of +an altogether different beauty from that in the rest of the +universe--something individual, distinctive. The seas still overflowed +the land, as they had through past eternities, awaiting His touch to +call into form and being the elements still sleeping beneath the +water--the living representation of His thought. Suddenly stretching out +His rod, He bade the waters recede--and they did so, leaving a vast +extent of grassy land where the majestic waves had so lately rolled and +tossed. And it is said that the land retains to this day the memory of +the sea it then was, while the grasses wave with a subtle suggestion of +the ocean's ebb and flow beneath the influence of a wind that is like no +other wind in the world so much as an ocean breeze; while the gulls, +having so well learned their course, fly back and forth as they did +before the mystic change from water into earth. Indeed, the first +impression one receives of the prairie is that of a vast sea of growing +vegetation!" + +The Boy's eyes sparkled. This was the fanciful Father Paul that he +loved best of all. + +"Some time we must go there, Father Paul. Is it not so?" + +"Yes, Boy, some time!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Rebellious thoughts were flitting through the brain of Paul Zalenska as +he rode forth the next morning, tender and fanciful ones, too, as he +watched the sun's kisses fall on leaf and flower and tree, drying with +their soft, insistent warmth the tears left by the dew of night, and +wooing all Nature to awake--to look up with glorious smiles, for the +world, after all, is beautiful and full of love and laughter. + +Why should _not_ Paul be happy? Was he not twenty, and handsome, and +rich, and popular, and destined for great things? Was there a want in +the world that he could not easily have satisfied, had he so desired? +And was he not officially betrothed to the Princess Elodie of Austria-- + +"Damn the Princess Elodie!" he thought, with more emphasis than +reverence, and he rode along silently, slowly, a frown clouding his +fresh, boyish brow, face to face with the prose of the existence he +would fain have had all romance and poetry. + +It had all been arranged for him by well-meaning minds--minds that could +never see how the blessing they had intended to bestow might by any +chance become a curse. + +The Boy came of age in February next--February nineteenth--but it had +been the strongly expressed wish of his mother that his coronation +should not take place until May. + +For was it not in May that she had met her Paul? + +She had felt, from the birth of the young Prince, a presentiment of her +own early death, and had formed many plans and voiced many preferences +for his future. No one knew what personal reasons the Imperatorskoye had +for the wish, but she had so definitely and unmistakably made the desire +known to all her councillors that none dreamed of disobeying the mandate +of their deceased and ever-to-be-lamented Queen. Her slightest wish had +always been to them an Unassailable law. + +So the coronation ceremonies were to take place in the May following the +Prince's birthday, and the Regent had arranged that the marriage should +also be celebrated at that time. Of course, the Boy had acquiesced. He +saw no reason to put it off any longer. It was always best to swallow +your bitterest pill first, he thought, and get the worst over and the +taste out of your mouth as soon as possible. + +Until that eventful time, the Prince was free to go where he pleased, +and to do whatever he wished. He had insisted upon this liberty, and the +Regent, finding him in all other respects so amenable to his leading, +gladly made the concession. This left him a year--that is, nearly a +year, for it was June now--of care-free bachelorhood; a year for one, +who was yet only a dreamy boy, to acquire the proper spirit for a happy +bridegroom; a year of Father Paul! + +He rode along aimlessly for a short distance, scarcely guiding his +horse, and only responding to the greetings of acquaintances he chanced +to meet with absent-minded, though still irreproachable, courtesy. He +was hardly thinking at all, now--at least consciously. He was simply +glad to be alive, as Youth is glad--in spite of any possible, or +impossible, environment. + +Suddenly his eyes fell upon a feminine rider some paces in advance, who +seemed to attract much attention, of which she was--apparently +--delightfully unconscious. Paul marked the faultless proportions of her +horse. + +"What a magnificent animal!" he thought. Then, under his breath, he +added, "and what a stunning rider!" + +She was only a girl--about eighteen or nineteen, he should judge by her +figure and the girlish poise of her small head--but she certainly knew +how to ride. She sat her horse as though a part of him, and controlled +his every motion as she would her own. + +"Just that way might she manage a man," Paul thought, and then laughed +aloud at the absurdity of the thought. For he had never seen the girl +before. + +Paul admired a good horsewoman--they are so pitifully few. And he +followed her, at a safe distance, with an interest unaccountable, even +to him. Finally she drew rein before one of the houses facing the Row, +dismounted, and throwing the train of her habit gracefully over her arm, +walked to the door with a brisk step. Paul instantly likened her to a +bird, so lightly tripping over the walk that her feet scarcely seemed to +touch the ground. She was a wee thing--certainly not more than five foot +tall--and _petite_, almost to an extreme. The Boy had expressed a +preference, only a few days before, for tall, magnificent women. Now he +suddenly discovered that the woman for a man to love should by all means +be short and small. He wondered why it had never occurred to him in that +light before, and thought of Jacques' question about Rosalind, "What +stature is she of?" and Orlando's reply, "As high as my heart!" + +The girl who had aroused this train of thought had reached the big stone +steps by this time, and suddenly turning to look over her shoulder, just +as he passed the gate, met his gaze squarely. Gad! what eyes those +were!--full of mystery and magnetism, and--possibilities! + +For an instant their eyes clung together in that strange mingling of +glances that sometimes holds even utter strangers spell-bound by its +compelling force. + +Then she turned and entered the house, and Paul rode on. + +But that glance went with him. It tormented him, troubled him, perplexed +him. He felt a mad desire to turn back, to follow her into that house, +and compel her to meet his eyes again. Did she know the power of her own +eyes? Did she know a look like that had almost the force of a caress? + +He told himself that they were the most beautiful eyes that he had ever +seen--and yet he could not have told the color of them to save his soul. +He began to wonder about that. It vexed him that he could not remember. + +"Eyes!" he thought, "those are not eyes! They are living magnets, +drawing a fellow on and on, and he never stops to think what color they +are--nor _care!_" + +And then he pulled himself up sharply, and declared himself a madman +for raving on the street in broad daylight over the mere accidental +meeting with a pair of pretty eyes. He--the uncrowned king of a +to-be-glorious throne! He--the affianced husband of the Princess Elodie +of--Hell! He refused to think of it! And again the horse he rode and the +Park trees heard a bit of Paul Zalenska's English profanity that should +have made them hide in shame over the depravity of youth. + +But the strangest thing of all was that the Boy, for the nonce, was not +thinking of--nor listening for--the voice! + +He turned as he reached the end of the Row and rode slowly back. But the +horses and groom had already gone from the gate. And inwardly cursing +his slowness, he started on a trot for Berkeley Square. + +He was not very far from the Verdayne house, when, turning a sudden +corner, he came upon the girl again, riding at a leisurely pace in the +opposite direction. Startled by his unexpected appearance, she glanced +back over her shoulder as she passed, surprising him--and perhaps +herself, too, for girls do that sometimes--by a ringing and tantalizing +laugh! + +That laugh! Wonder upon wonders, it was _the voice_! + +It was she--Opal! + +He wheeled his horse sharply, but swift as he was, she was yet swifter +and was far down the street before he was fairly started in pursuit. His +one desire of the moment was to catch and conquer the sprite that +tempted him. + +Her veil fluttered out behind her on the breeze, like a signal of +no-surrender, and once--only once--she looked back over her shoulder. +She was too far ahead for him to catch the glint of her eye, but he +heard the echo of that laugh--that voice--and it spurred him on and on. + +Suddenly, by some turn known only to herself, she eluded him and escaped +beyond his vision--and beyond his reach. He halted his panting horse at +the crossing of several streets, and swore again. But though he looked +searchingly in every possible direction, there was no trace of the +fugitive to be seen. It was as though the earth had opened and +swallowed horse and rider in one greedy gulp. + +Baffled and more disappointed than he cared to own, Paul rode slowly +back to Berkeley Square, his heart bounding with the excitement of the +chase and yet thoroughly vexed over his failure, at himself, his horse, +the girl. + +At the house he found letters from the Regent awaiting him, recalling to +him his position and its unwelcome responsibilities. One of them +enclosed a full-length photograph of his future bride. + +Fate had certainly been kind to him by granting his one expressed wish. +The Princess Elodie was what he had desired, "quite six-foot tall." Yet +he pushed the portrait aside with an impatient gesture, and before his +mental vision rose a little figure tripping up the steps, with a +backward glance that still seemed to pierce his very soul. + +He was not thinking, as he certainly should have been, of the Princess +Elodie! And he had not even noticed whether she had any eyes or not! + +He looked again at the picture of the Austrian princess, lying face +upward upon the pile of letters. With disgust and loathing he swept the +offending portrait into a drawer, and summoning Vasili, began to make a +hasty toilet. + +Vasili had never seen his young master in such bad humor. He was +unpardonably late for luncheon, but that would not disturb him, surely +not to such an extent as this! + +He was greatly disturbed by something. There was no denying that. + +He had found the voice, but-- + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was the next morning at the breakfast table that Paul Zalenska, +listlessly looking over the "Society Notes" in the _Times_, came upon +this significant notice: + + "Mr. Gilbert Ledoux and daughter, Miss Opal Ledoux, of New Orleans, + accompanied by Henri, Count de Roannes, of Paris, have taken + passage on the Lusitania, which sails for New York on July 3rd." + +It was _she_, of course!--who else could it be? Surely there could not +be more than one Opal in America! + +"Father Paul, I notice that the Lusitania is to sail for America on the +third of July. Can't we make it?" + +Verdayne smiled quietly at the suddenness of the proposal, but was not +unduly surprised. He remembered many unaccountable impulses of his own +when his life was young and his blood was hot. He remembered too with a +tender gratitude how his father had humored him and--was he not "Father +Paul"? + +"I see no reason why not, Boy." + +"You see, I have already lost a whole month out of my one free year. I +am unwilling to waste a single hour of it, Father Paul--wouldn't you be? +And we _must_ see America together, you and I, before I go back +to--prison!" + +"Certainly, Boy, certainly. My time is yours--when you want it, and +where you want it, the whole year through!" + +"I know that, Father Paul, and--I thank you!" + +It was more difficult to arrange matters with Lady Henrietta. She was +not so young as she once was and she still adored her son, as only the +mother of but one child can adore, and could not bear the idea of having +him away from her. Old and steady as he had now become, he was still her +boy, the idol of her heart. Yet she felt, as her son did, that the Boy +was entitled to the few months of liberty left him, and she did not +greatly object, though there was a wistful look in her eyes as they +rested on her son that told how keenly she felt every separation from +him. + +As for Sir Charles, he had not lost the knowing twinkle of the eye. +Moreover, he knew far better than his wife how real was the claim their +young guest had upon their son. And he bade them go with a hearty grasp +of the hand and a bluff Godspeed. + +So it was settled that Verdayne and the Boy, attended only by Vasili, +were to sail for America on the third of July, and passage was +immediately secured on the Lusitania. + + * * * * * + +On the morning of the day appointed, Paul Zalenska from an upper deck +watched the party he had been awaiting, as they mounted the gang-plank. + +Gilbert Ledoux he scarcely noticed. The Count de Roannes, too, +interested him no longer when, with a hasty glance, he had assured +himself that the Frenchman was as old as Ledoux and not the gay young +dandy in Opal's train that he had feared to find him. + +He had eyes alone for the girl, and he watched her closely as she +tripped up the gang-plank, clinging to her father's arm and chattering +gayly in that voice he so well remembered. + +She was not so small at close range as she had appeared at a distance, +but possessed an exquisite roundness of figure and softness of outline +well in proportion to the shortness of her stature. + +He had been proud of his kingship--very proud of his royal blood and his +mission to his little kingdom. But of late he had known some rebellious +thoughts, quite foreign to his mental habit. + +And to-day, as he looked at Opal Ledoux, he thought, "After all, how +much of a real man can I ever be? What am I but a petty pawn on the +chessboard of the world, moved hither and yon, to gain or to lose, by +the finger of Fate!" + +As Opal Ledoux passed him, she met his glance, and slightly flushed by +the _rencontre_, looked back over her shoulder at him and--smiled! And +_such_ a smile! She passed on, leaving him tingling in every fibre with +the thrill of it. + +It was Fate. He had felt it from the very first, and now he was sure of +it. + +How would it end? How _could_ it end? + +Paul Zalenska was very young--oh, very young, indeed! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next day Verdayne and his young companion were introduced to Mr. +Ledoux and his guest. + +Gilbert Ledoux, a reserved man evidently descended from generations of +thinking people, was apparently worried, for his face bore unmistakable +signs of some mental disturbance. Paul Zalenska was struck by the +haunted expression of what must naturally have been a grave countenance. +It was not guilt, for he had not the face of a man pursued by +conscience, but it certainly was fear--a real fear. And Paul wondered. + +As for the Count de Roannes, the Boy dismissed him at once as unworthy +of further consideration. He was brilliantly, even artificially +polished--glaringly ultra-fashionable, ostentatiously polite and suave. +In the lines of his bestial face he bore the records of a lifetime's +profligacy and the black tales of habitual self-indulgence. Paul hated +him instinctively and wondered how a man of Ledoux's unmistakable +refinement could tolerate him for a moment. + +It was not until the middle of the following afternoon that Opal Ledoux +appeared on deck, when her father, with an air of pride, mingled with a +certain curious element of timidity, presented to her in due form both +the Englishman and his friend. + +The eyes of the two young people flashed a recognition that the lips of +each tacitly denied as they responded conventionally to the +introduction. + +Paul noticed that the shadow of her father's uneasiness was reflected +upon her in a somewhat lesser but all too evident degree. And again he +wondered. + +A few moments of desultory conversation that was of no interest to +Paul--and then the Count proposed a game of _ecarte_, to which Verdayne +and Ledoux assented readily enough. + +But not so our Boy! + +_Ecarte!_ Bah! When did a boy of twenty ever want to play cards within +sound of the rustle of a petticoat?--and _such_ a petticoat! + +When the elderly gallant noted the attitude of the young fellow he cast +a quick glance of suspicion at Opal. He would have withdrawn his +proposal had he been able to find any plausible excuse. But it was too +late. And with an inward invective on his own blundering, he followed +the other gentlemen to the smoking-room. + +And Paul and Opal were at last face to face--and alone! + +He turned as the sound of the retreating steps died away and looked long +and searchingly into her face. If the girl intended to ignore their +former meeting, he thought, he would at once put that idea beyond all +question. She bore his scrutiny with no apparent embarrassment. She was +an American girl, and as she would have expressed it, she was "game!" + +"Well?" she said at last, questioningly. + +"Yes," he responded, "well--well, indeed, _at last_!" + +She bowed mockingly. + +"And," he went on, "I have been searching for you a long time, Opal!" + +He had not intended to say that, but having said it, he would not take +it back. + +Then she remembered that she had said that she would call him "Paul" the +first time she met him, and she smiled. + +"Searching for me? I don't understand." + +"Of course not! Neither do I! Why should we? The best things in life are +the things we don't--and can't--understand. Is it not so?" + +"Perhaps!" doubtfully. She had never thought of it in just that light +before, but it might be true. It was human nature to be attracted by +mystery. "But you have been looking for me, you say! Since when?--our +race?" And her laugh rang out on the air with its old mocking rhythm. + +And the Boy felt his blood tingle again at the memory of it. + +"But what did you say, Monsieur Zalenska--pardon me--Paul, I mean," and +she laughed again, "what did you say as you rode home again?" + +The Boy shook his head with affected contrition. + +"Unfit to tell a lady!" he said. + +And the girl laughed again, pleased by his frankness. + +"Vowed eternal vengeance upon my luckless head, I suppose!" + +"Oh, not so bad as that, I think," said Paul, pretending to reflect upon +the matter--"I am sure it was not quite so bad as that!" + +"It would hardly have done, would it, to vow what you were not at all +sure you would ever be able to fulfil? Take my advice, and never bank a +_sou_ upon the move of any woman!" + +"You're not a woman," he laughed in her eyes; "you're just an +abbreviation!" + +But Opal was not one whit sensitive upon the subject of her height. Not +she! + +"Well, some abbreviations are more effective than the words they stand +for," she retorted. "I shall cling to the flattering hope that such may +be my attraction to the reader whose 'only books are woman's looks!'" + +"But why did you run away?" + +"Just--because!" Then, after a pause, "Why did you follow?" + +"I don't know, do you? Just--because, I suppose!" + +And then they both laughed again. + +"But I know why you ran. You were afraid!" said Paul. + +Her eyes flashed and there was a fine scorn in her tones. + +"Afraid--of what, pray?" + +"Of being caught--too easily! Come, now--weren't you?" + +"I wouldn't contradict you for the world, Paul." + +She lingered over his name with a cadence in her tone that made it +almost a caress. It thrilled him again as it had from the beginning. + +"But I'll forgive you for running away from me, since I am so fortunate +as to be with you now where you can't possibly run very far! Strange, +isn't it, how Fate has thrown us together?" + +"Very!" + +There was a dry sarcasm in the tones, and a mockery in the glance, that +told him she was not blind to his manoeuvres. Their eyes met and they +laughed again. Truly, life just then was exceedingly pleasant for the +two on the deck of the Lusitania. + +"But I was looking for you before that, Opal--long before that--weeks!" + +The girl was truly surprised now and turned to him wonderingly. Then, +without question, he told her of his overhearing her at the garden +party--what a long time ago it seemed!--and his desire, ever since, to +meet her. + +He told her, too, of his hearing her laugh at the theatre that night; +but the girl was silent, and said not a word of having seen him there. +Confidences were all right for a man, she thought, but a girl did well +to keep some things to herself. + +He did not say that he was deliberately following her to America, but +the girl had her own ideas upon the subject and smiled to herself at the +lively development of affairs since that tiresome garden party she had +found so unbearable. Here was an adventure after her own heart. + +And yet Opal Ledoux had much on her mind just then. The Boy had read the +signs upon her face correctly. She was troubled. + +For a long time they sat together, and looking far out over the vast +expanse of dancing blueness, they spoke of life--and the living of it. +And both knew so little of either! + +It was a strange talk for the first one--so subtly intimate, with its +flashes of personality and freedom from conventions, that it seemed like +a meeting of old friends, rather than of strangers. Some intimacies are +like the oak, long and steady of growth; others spring to full maturity +in an hour's time. And these two had bridged the space of years in a few +moments of converse. They understood each other so well. + +This same idea occurred to them simultaneously, as she looked up at him +with eyes glowing with a quick appreciation of some well-expressed and +worthy thought. Something within him stirred to sudden life--something +that no one else had ever reached. + +He looked into her eyes and thought he had never looked into the eyes of +a woman before. She smiled--and he was sure it was the first time he had +ever seen a woman smile! + +"I am wild to be at home again," she was saying, "fairly crazy for +America! How I love her big, broad, majestic acres--the splendid sweep +of her meadows--the massive grandeur of her mountain peaks--the glory of +her open skies! You too, I believe, are a wanderer on strange seas. You +can hardly fail to understand my longing for the homeland!" + +"I do understand, Opal. I am on my first visit to your country. Tell me +of her--her institutions, her people! Believe me, I am greatly +interested!" + +And he was--in _her_! Nothing else counted at that moment. But the girl +did not understand that--then! + +For half an hour, perhaps, she lost herself in an eloquent eulogy of +America, while the Boy sat and watched her, catching the import of but +little that she said, it must be confessed, but drinking in every detail +of her expressive countenance, her flashing, lustrous eyes, her red, +impulsive lips and rounded form, and her white, slender hands, always +employed in the expression of a thought or as the outlet for some +passing emotion. He caught himself watching for the occasional glimpses +of her small white teeth between the rose of her lips. He saw in her +eyes the violet sparks of smouldering fires, kindled by the volcanic +heart sometimes throbbing and threatening so close to the surface. When +the eruption came!--Fascinated he watched the rise and sweep of her +white arm. Every line and curve of her body was full of suggestion of +the ardent and restless and impulsive temperament with which nature had +so lavishly endowed her. She was alive with feeling--alive to the +finger-tips with the joy of life, the fullness of a deep, emotional +nature. + +It occurred to Paul that nature had purposely left her body so small, +albeit so beautifully rounded, that it might devote all its powers to +the building therein of a magnificent, flaming soul--that her inner +nature might always triumph. But Opal had never been especially +conscious of a soul--scarcely of a body. She had not yet found herself. + +Paul's emotions were in such chaotic rebellion that the thunder of his +heart-beats mingled with the pulse hammering through his brain and made +him for the first time in his life curiously deaf to his own thoughts. + +As she met his eye, expressing more than he realized of the storm +within, her own fell with a sudden sense of apprehension. She rose and +looked far out over the restless waves with a sudden flush on her +dimpled cheek, a subtle excitement in her rapid words. + +"As for our men, Paul, they are only human beings, but mighty with that +strength of physique and perfect development of mind that makes for +power. They are men of dauntless purpose. They are men of pure thoughts +and lofty ideals. They know what they want and bend every ambition and +energy to its attainment. Of course I speak of the average American--the +_type_! The normal American is a born fighter. Yes, that is the key-note +of American supremacy! We never give up! never! In my country, what men +want, they get!" + +She raised her hand in a quaint, expressive gesture, and the loose +sleeve fell back, leaving her white arm bare. He sprang to his feet, his +eyes glowing. + +"And in my country, what men want, they _take_!" he responded +fiercely--almost brutally and without a second's warning Paul threw his +arms about her and crushed her against his breast. He pressed his lips +mercilessly upon her own, holding them in a kiss that seemed to Opal +would never end. + +"How--how dare you!" she gasped, when at last she escaped his grasp and +faced him in the fury of outraged girlhood. "I--I--hate you!" + +"Dare? When one loves one dares anything!" was his husky response. "I +shall have had my kiss and you can never forget that! Never! never!" + +And Paul's voice grew exultant. + +Opal had heard of the brutality, the barbarism of passion, but her life +had flowed along conventional channels as peacefully as a quiet river. +She had longed to believe in the fury of love--in that irresistible +attraction between men and women. It appealed to her as it naturally +appeals to all women who are alive with the intensity of life. But she +had _seen_ nothing of it. + +Now she looked living Passion in the face for the first time, and was +appalled--half frightened, half fascinated--by the revelation. That kiss +seemed to scorch her lips with a fire she had never dreamed of. With +the universal instinct of shamed womanhood, she pressed her handkerchief +to her lips, rubbing fiercely at the soiled spot. He divined her thought +and laughed, with a note of exultation that stirred her Southern blood. + +In defiance she raised her eyes and searched his face, seeking some +solution of the mystery of her own heart's strange, rebellious +throbbing. What could it mean? + +Paul took another step toward her, his face softening to tenderness. + +"What is it, Opal?" he breathed. + +"I was--trying--to understand you." + +"I don't understand myself sometimes--certainly not to-day!" + +"I thought you were a gentleman!" + +(I wonder if Eve didn't say that to Adam in the garden!) + +"I have been accustomed to entertain that same idea myself," he said, +"but, after all, what is it to be a gentleman? All men can be gentle +when they get what they want. That's no test of gentility. It takes +circumstances outside the normal to prove man's civilization. When his +desires meet with opposition the brute comes to the surface--that's +all." + +Another rush of passion lighted his eyes and sought its reflection in +hers. Opal turned and fled. + + * * * * * + +In the seclusion of her stateroom Opal faced herself resolutely. A +sensation of outrage mingled with a strange sense of guilt. Her +resentment seemed to blend with something resembling a strange, fierce +joy. She tried to fight it down, but it would not be conquered. + +Why was he so handsome, so brilliant, this strange foreign fellow whom +she felt intuitively to be more than he claimed to be? What was the +secret of his power that even in the face of this open insult she could +not be as angry as she knew she should have been? + +She looked in the mirror apprehensively. No, there was no sign of that +terrible kiss. And yet she felt as though all the world must have seen +had they looked at her--felt that she was branded forever by the burning +touch of his lips! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It was not until the dinner hour on the following day that Paul and Opal +met again. One does not require an excuse for keeping to one's stateroom +during an ocean voyage--especially during the first few days--and the +girl, though in excellent health and a capital sailor, kept herself +secluded. + +She wanted to understand herself and to understand this stranger who was +yet no stranger. For a girl who had looked upon life as she had she felt +woefully unsophisticated. But the Boy? He was certainly not a man of the +world, who through years of lurid experience had learned to look upon +all women as his legitimate quarry. If he had been that sort, she told +herself, she would have been on her guard instinctively from the very +first. But she knew he was too young for that--far too young--- and his +eyes were frank and clear and open, with no dark secrets behind their +curtained lids. But what was he--and who? + +When the day was far spent, she knew that she was no nearer a solution +than she had been at dawn, so she resolved to join the group at table +and put behind her the futile labor of self-examination. She would not, +of course, deign to show any leniency toward the offender--indeed not! +She would not vouchsafe one unnecessary word for his edification. + +But she took elaborate care with her toilet, selected her most becoming +gown and drove her maid into a frenzy by her variations of taste and +temper. + +It was truly a very bewitching Opal who finally descended to the _salon_ +and joined the party of four masculine incapables who had spent the day +in vain search for amusement. Paul Zalenska rose hastily at her entrance +and though she made many attempts to avoid his gaze she was forced at +last to meet it. The electric spark of understanding flashed from eye to +eye, and both thrilled in answer to its magnetic call. In the glance +that passed between them was lurking the memory of a kiss. + +Opal blushed faintly. How dare he remember! Why, his very eyes echoed +that triumphant laugh she could not forget. She stole another glance at +him. Perhaps she had misjudged him--but-- + +She turned to respond to the greeting of her father and the other two +gentlemen, and soon found herself seated at the table opposite the Boy +she had so recently vowed to shun. Well, she needn't talk to him, that +was one consolation. Yet she caught herself almost involuntarily +listening for what he would say at this or that turn of the conversation +and paying strict--though veiled--attention to his words. + +It was a strange dinner. No one felt at ease. The air was charged with +something that all felt too tangibly oppressive, yet none could define, +save the two--who would not. + + * * * * * + +For Paul the evening was a dismal failure. Try as he would, he could not +catch Opal's eye again, nor secure more than the most meagre replies +even to his direct questions. She was too French to be actually +impolite, but she interposed between them those barriers only a woman +can raise. She knew that Paul was mad for a word with her; she knew that +she was tormenting and tantalizing him almost beyond endurance; she felt +his impatience in every nerve of her, with that mysterious sixth sense +some women are endowed with, and she rejoiced in her power to make him +suffer. He deserved to suffer, she said. Perhaps he'd have some idea of +the proper respect due the next girl he met! These foreigners! _Mon +Dieu_! She'd teach him that American girls were a little different from +the kind they had in his country, where "what men want, they take," as +he had said. What kind of heathen was he? + +And she watched him surreptitiously from under her long lashes with a +curious gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. She had always known she had +this power over men, but she had never cared quite so much about using +it before and had been more annoyed than gratified by the effect her +personality had had upon her masculine world. + +So she smiled at the Count, she laughed with the Count and made eyes +most shamelessly at the disgusting old gallant till something in his +face warned her that she had reached a point beyond which even her +audacity dared not go. + +Heavens! how the old monster would _devour_ a woman, she thought, with a +thrill of disgust. There were awful things in his face! + +And the Boy glared at de Roannes with unspeakable profanity in his eyes, +while the girl laughed to herself and enjoyed it all as girls do enjoy +that sort of thing. + +It was delightful, this game of speaking eyes and lips. + + "Oh, the little more, and how much it is! + And the little less, and what worlds away!" + +But it was, as she could dimly see, a game that might prove exceedingly +dangerous to play, and the Count had spoiled it all, anyway. And a +curious flutter in her heart, as she watched the Boy take his punishment +with as good grace as possible, pled for his pardon until she finally +desisted and bade the little company good night. + +At her departure the men took a turn at bridge, but none of them seemed +to care much for the cards that night and the Boy soon broke away. He +was about to withdraw to his stateroom in chagrin when quite +unexpectedly he found Opal standing by the rail, wrapped in a long +cloak. She was gazing far out toward the distant horizon, the light of +strange, puzzling thoughts in the depths of her eyes. She did not notice +him until he stood by her side, when she turned and faced him defiantly. + +"Opal," he said, "there was one poet of life and love whom we did not +quote in our little discussion to-night. Do you remember Tennyson's +words, + + "'A man had given all earthly bliss + And all his worldly worth for this, + To waste his whole heart in one kiss + Upon her perfect lips?' + +Let them plead for me the pardon I know no better way to sue for--or +explain!" + +The girl was silent. That little flutter in her heart was pleading for +him, but her head was still rebellious, and she knew not which would +triumph. She put one white finger on her lip, and wondered what to say +to him. She would not look into his eyes--they bothered her quite beyond +all reason--so she looked at the deck instead, as though hoping to find +some rule of conduct there. + +"I am sorry, Opal," went on the pleading tones, "that is, sorry that it +offended you. I can't be sorry that I did it--yet!" + +After a moment of serious reflection, she looked up at him sternly. + +"It was a very rude thing to do, Paul! No one ever--" + +"Don't you suppose I know that, Opal? Did you think that I thought--" + +"How was I to know what you thought, Paul? You didn't know me!" + +"Oh, but I do. Better than you know yourself!" + +She looked up at him quickly, a startled expression in her soft, +lustrous eyes. + +"I--almost--believe you do--Paul." + +"Opal!" He paused. She was tempting him again. Didn't she know it? + +"Opal, can't--won't you believe in me? Don't you feel that you know +me?" + +"I'm not sure that I do--even yet--after--that! Oh, Paul, are you sure +that you know yourself?" + +"No, not sure, but I'm beginning to!" + +She made no reply. After a moment, he said softly, "You haven't said +that you forgive me, yet, Opal! I know there is no plausible excuse for +me, but--listen! I couldn't help it--I truly couldn't! You simply must +forgive me!" + +"Couldn't help it?"--Oh, the scorn of her reply. "If there had been any +man in you at all, you could have helped it!" + +"No, Opal, you don't understand! It is because I _am_ a man that I +couldn't help it. It doesn't strike you that way now, I know, but--some +day you will see it!" + +And suddenly she did see it. And she reached out her hand to him, and +whispered, "Then let's forget all about it. I am willing to--if you +will!" + +Forget? He would not promise that. He did not wish to forget! And she +looked so pretty and provoking as she said it, that he wanted to--! But +he only took her hand, and looked his gratitude into her eyes. + +The Count de Roannes came unexpectedly and unobserved upon the climax of +the little scene, and read into it more significance than it really had. +It was not strange, perhaps, that to him this meeting should savour of +clandestine relations and that he should impute to it false motives and +impulses. The Count prided himself upon his tact, and was therefore very +careful to use the most idiomatic English in his conversation. But at +this sudden discovery--for he had not imagined that the acquaintance had +gone beyond his own discernment--he felt the English language quite +inadequate to the occasion, and muttered something under his breath that +sounded remarkably like "_Tison d'enfer!_" as he turned on his heel and +made for his stateroom. + +And the Boy, unconscious and indifferent to all this by-play, had only +time to press to his lips the little hand she had surrendered to him +before the crowd was upon them. + +But the waves were singing a Te Deum in his ears, and the skies were +bluer in the moonlight than ever sea-skies were before. Paul felt, with +a thrill of joy, that he was looking far off into the vaster spaces of +life, with their broader, grander possibilities. He felt that he was +wiser, nobler, stronger--nearer his ideal of what a brave man should be. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +When two are young, and at sea, and in love, and the world is beautiful +and bright, it is joyous and wonderful to drift thoughtlessly with the +tide, and rise and fall with the waves. Thus Paul Zalenska and Opal +Ledoux spent that most delightful of voyages on the Lusitania. They were +not often alone. They did not need to be. Their intimacy had at one +bound reached that point when every word and movement teemed with tender +significance and suggestion. Their first note had reached such a high +measure that all the succeeding days followed at concert pitch. It was a +voyage of discovery. Each day brought forth revelations of some new +trait of character--each unfolding that particular something which the +other had always admired. + +And so their intimacy grew. + +Paul Verdayne saw and smiled. He was glad to see the Boy enjoying +himself. He knew his chances for that sort of thing were all too +pathetically few. + +Mr. Ledoux looked on, troubled and perplexed, but he saw no chance, and +indeed no real reason, for interfering. + +The Count de Roannes was irritated, at times even provoked, but he kept +his thoughts to himself, hiding his annoyance, and his secret explosions +of "_Au diable!_" beneath his usual urbanity. + +There was nothing on the surface to indicate more than the customary +familiarity of young people thrown together for a time, and yet no one +could fail to realize the undercurrent of emotion below the gaiety of +the daily ripple of amusement and pleasurable excitement and converse. + +They read together, they exchanged experiences of travel, they discussed +literature, music, art and the stage, with the enthusiastic partisanship +of zealous youth. They talked of life, with its shade and shadow, its +heights and depths of meaning, and altogether became very well +acquainted. Each day anew, they discovered an unusual congeniality in +thoughts and opinions. They shared in a large measure the same exalted +outlook upon life--the same lofty ambitions and dreams. + +And the more Paul learned of the character of this strange girl, the +more he felt that she was the one woman in the world for him. To be +sure, he had known that, subconsciously, the first time he had heard her +voice. Now he knew it by force of reason as well, and he cursed the fate +that denied him the right to declare himself her lover and claim her +before the world. + +One thing that impressed Paul about the girl was the generous charity +with which she viewed the frailties of human nature, her sincere pity +for all forms of human weakness and defeat, her utter freedom from petty +malice or spite. Rail at life and its hypocrisies, as she often did, she +yet felt the tragedy in its pitiful short-comings, and looked with the +eye of real compassion upon its sins and its sinners, condoning as far +as possible the fault she must have in her very heart abhorred. + +"We all make mistakes," she would say, when someone retailed a bit of +scandal. "No human being is perfect, nor within a thousand miles of +perfection. What right then have we to condemn any fellow-creature for +his sins, when we break just as important laws in some other direction? +It's common hypocrisy to say, 'We never could have done this terrible +thing!' and draw our mantle of self-righteousness closely about us lest +it become contaminated. Perhaps we couldn't! Why? Because our +temptations do not happen to lie in that particular direction, that's +all! But we are all law-breakers; not one keeps the Ten Commandments to +the letter--not one! Attack us on our own weak point and see how quickly +we run up the flag of surrender--and perhaps the poor sinner we denounce +for his guilt would scorn just as bitterly to give in to the weakness +that gets the best of us. _Sin is sin_, and one defect is as hideous as +another. He who breaks one part of the code of morality and +righteousness is as guilty--just exactly as guilty--as he who breaks +another. Isn't the first commandment as binding as the other nine? And +how many of us do not break that every day we live?" + +And there was the whole creed of Opal Ledoux. + +But as intimate as she and the Boy had become, they yet knew +comparatively little of each other's lives. + +Opal guessed that the Boy was of rank, and bound to some definite course +of action for political reasons. This much she had gained from odds and +ends of conversation. But beyond that, she had no idea who he was, nor +whence he came. She would not have been a woman had she not been +curious--and as I have said before, Opal Ledoux was, every inch of her +five feet, a woman--but she never allowed herself to wax inquisitive. + +As for the Boy, he knew there was some evil hovering with threatening +wings over the sunshine of the girl's young life--some shadow she tried +to forget, but could not put aside--and he grew to associate this shadow +with the continued presence of the French Count, and his intimate air of +authority. Paul knew not why he should thus connect these two, but +nevertheless the impression grew that in some way de Roannes exercised a +sinister influence over the life of the girl he loved. + +He hated the Count. He resented every look that those dissolute eyes +flashed at the girl, and he noticed many. He saw Opal wince sometimes, +and then turn pale. Yet she did not resent the offense. + +But Paul did. + +"Such a look from a man like that is the grossest insult to any woman," +he thought, writhing in secret rage. "How can she permit it? If she were +my--my _sister_, I'd shoot him if he once dared to turn his damned eyes +in her direction!" + +And thus matters stood throughout the brief voyage. Paul and Opal, +though conscious of the double barrier between them, tried to forget its +existence for the moment, and, at intervals, succeeded admirably. + +For were they not in the spring-time of youth, and in love? + +And Paul Zalenska talked to this girl as he had never talked to anyone +before--not even Paul Verdayne! + +She brought out the latent best in him. She developed in him a quickness +of perception, a depth of thought and emotion, a facility of speech +which he had never known. She stimulated every faculty, and gave him new +incentive--a new and firmer resolve to aspire and fight for all that he +held dear. + +"I always feel," he said to Opal, once, "as though my soul stood always +at attention, awaiting the inevitable command of Fate! All Nature seems +to tell me at times that there is a purpose in my living, a work for me +to do, and I feel so thoroughly _alive_--so ready to listen to the call +of duty--and to obey!" + +"A dreamer!" she laughed, "as wild a dreamer as I!" + +"Why not?" he returned. "All great deeds are born of dreams! It was a +dreamer who found this America you are so loyal to! And who knows but +that I too may find my world?" + +"And a fatalist, too!" + +"Why, of course! Everyone is, to a greater or a less extent, though +most dare not admit it!" + +"But yesterday you said--what _did_ you say, Paul, about the power of +the human will over environment and fate?" + +"I don't remember. That was yesterday. I'm not the same to-day, at all. +And to-morrow I may be quite different." + +"Behold the consistency of man. But Fate, Paul--what makes Fate? I have +always been taught to believe that the world is what we make it!" + +"And it is true, too, that in a way we may make the world what we will, +each creating it anew for himself, after his own pattern--but after all, +Opal, that is Fate. For what we _are_, we put into these worlds of ours, +and what we are is what our ancestors have made us--and that is what I +understand by destiny." + +"Ah, Paul, you have so many noble theories of life." + +His boyish face grew troubled and perplexed. + +"I _thought_ I had, Opal--till I knew you! Now I do not know! Fate seems +to have taken a hand in the game and my theories are cast aside like +worthless cards. I begin to see more clearly that we cannot always +choose our paths." + +"Can one ever, Paul?" + +"Perhaps not! Once I believed implicitly in the omnipotence of the human +will to make life just what one wished. Now"--and he searched her +eyes--"I know better." + +"Unlucky Opal, to cross your path!" she sighed. "Are you superstitious, +Paul? Do you know that opals bring bad luck to those who come beneath +the spell of their influence?" + +"I'll risk the bad luck, Opal!" + +And she smiled. + +And he thought as he looked at her, how well she understood him! What an +inspiration would her love have brought to such a life as he meant his +to be! What a Recamier or du Barry she would have made, with her +_piquante_, captivating face, her dark, lustrous, compelling eyes, her +significant gestures, which despite many wayward words and phrases, +expressed only lofty and majestic thoughts! Her whole regal little +body, with its irresistible power and charm, was so far beyond most +women! She was life and truth and ambition incarnate! She was the spirit +of dreams and the breath of idealism and the very soul of love and +longing. + +Would she feel insulted, he wondered, had she known he had dared to +compare her, even in his own thoughts, with a king's mistress? He meant +no insult--far from it! But would she have understood it had she known? + +Paul fancied that she would. + +"They may not have been moral, those women," he thought, "that is, what +the world calls 'moral' in the present day, but they possessed power, +marvellous power, over men and kingdoms. Opal Ledoux was created to +exert power--her very breath is full of force and vitality!" + +"Yes," he repeated aloud after due deliberation, "I'll risk the bad luck +if you'll be good tome!" + +"Am I not?" + +"Not always." + +"Well, I will be to-day. See! I have a new book--a sad little +love-tale, they say--just the thing for two to read at sea," and with a +heightened color she began to read. + +She had pulled her deck-chair forward, until she sat in a flood of +sunshine, and the bright rays, falling on her mass of rich brown hair, +heightened all the little glints of red-gold till they looked like +living bits of flame. Oh the vitality of that hair! the intense glow of +those eyes in whose depths the flame-like glitter was reflected as the +voice, too, caught fire from the fervid lines! + +Soon the passion and charm of the poem cast its spell over them both as +they followed the fate of the unhappy lovers through the heart-ache of +their evanescent dream. + +Their eyes met with a quick thrill of understanding. + +"It is--Fate, again," Paul whispered. "Read on, Opal!" + +She read and again they looked, and again they understood. + +"I cannot read any more of it," she faltered, a real fear in her voice. +"Let us put it away." + +"No, no!" he pleaded. "It's true--too true. Read on, please, dear!" + +"I cannot, Paul. It is too sad!" + +"Then let me read it, Opal, and you can listen!" + +And he took the book gently from her hand, and read until the sun was +smiling its farewell to the laughing waters. + + * * * * * + +That evening a strong wind was playing havoc with the waves, and the +fury of the maddened spray was beating a fierce accompaniment to their +hearts. + +"How I love the wind," said Opal. "More than all else in Nature I love +it, I think, whatever its mood may be. I never knew why--probably +because I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is +tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and +wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and +passionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of +the wind!" + +"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count, +drily. "It might be disastrous!" + +"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind +hope, Count de Roannes." + +And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved! + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her +stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face +appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her. + +"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!" + +"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded. + +She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally. + +"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night." + +"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated. + +"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone--really alone--and this is our +last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part--perhaps forever--who +knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!" + +His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response. + +"Well--perhaps!" she said. + +"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you +afraid?" + +"Afraid?--I dare anything--to-night!" + +"Then come!" + +"I will--if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him +a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!" + +Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come. + +And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the +deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his +beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware. + +"Well, ... I'm here," she said. + +"I see you are, Opal and--thank you." + +He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked +at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood! + +"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed. + +"No, I'm not; I am--angry!" + +"With me?" + +"No!--not you." + +"Whom, then?" + +"With--myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously. + +Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you +are so sorry?" + +"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd +have some self-respect!" + +Paul looked at her deliberately, taking in every little detail of her +appearance, his eyes full of admiration. Then he added, with an air of +finality, "But _I_ respect you!" + +She softened, and laid her hand on his arm. Paul instantly took +possession of it. + +"Do you really?" she asked, searching his face, almost wistfully. "A +girl who will do ...what I am doing to-night!" + +"But what _are_ you doing, Opal?" he asked in the most innocent +surprise. "Merely keeping a wakeful man company beneath the stars!" + +"Is that ...all?" + +"All ..._now!_" + +They stood silently for a minute, hand still in hand, looking far out +over the moonlit waters, each conscious of the trend of the other's +thoughts--the beating of the other's heart. The deck was deserted by all +save their two selves--they two alone in the big starlit universe. At +last she spoke. + +"This is interesting, isn't it?" + +"Of course!--holding your hand!" + +She snatched it from him. "I forgot you had it," she said. + +"Forget again!" + +"No, I won't!... Is it always interesting?... holding a girl's hand?" + +"It depends upon the girl, I suppose! I was enjoying it immensely just +then." + +He took her hand again. + +And again that perilously sweet silence fell between them. + +At last, "Promise me, Paul!" she said. + +"I will--what is it?" + +"Promise me to forget anything I may say or do to-night ... not to think +hard of me, however rashly I may act! I'm not accountable, really! I'm +liable to say ...anything! I feel it in my blood!" + +"I understand, Opal! See! the winds are boisterous and unruly enough. +You may be as rash and reckless as you will!" + +Suddenly the wind blew her against his breast. The perfume of her hair, +and all the delicious nearness of her, intoxicated him. He laughed a +soft, caressing little lover-laugh, and raising her face to his, kissed +her lips easily, naturally, as though he had the right. She struggled, +helplessly, as he held her closely to him, and would not let her go. + +"You are a--" She bit her lip, and choked back the offensive word. + +"A--what? Say it, Opal!" + +"A--a--_brute_! There! let me go!" + +But he only held her closer and laughed again softly, till she +whispered, "I didn't--quite--_mean_ that, you know!" + +"Of course you didn't!" + +She drew away from him and pointed her finger at him accusingly, her +eyes full of reproof. + +"But--you _said_ you wouldn't! You promised!" + +"Wouldn't what?" + +"Wouldn't do--what you did--again!" + +"Did I?" insinuatingly. + +"How dare you ask that? You----" + +"'Brute' again? Quite like old married folk!" + +"Old married folk? They never kiss!" + +"Don't they?" + +"Not each other!... other people's husbands or wives!" + +"Is that it?" + +"Surely---- + + 'Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, + He would have written sonnets all his life?' + +O no! not he!" + +"I'm learning many new things, Opal! Let's play we're married, then--to +someone else!" + +"But--haven't you any conscience at all?" + +"Conscience?--what a question! Of course I have!" + +"You certainly aren't using it to-night!" + +"I'm too busy! Kiss me!" + +"The very idea!" + +"Please!" + +"Certainly not!" + +"Then let me kiss you!" + +_"No!!!"_ + +"Why not?--Don't you like to be loved?" + +And his arms closed around her, and his lips found hers again, and held +them. + +At last, "Silly Boy!" + +"Why?" + +"Oh! to make such a terrible fuss about something he doesn't really +want, and will be sorry he has after he gets it!" + +And Paul asked her wickedly, what foolish boy she was talking about now? +_He_ knew what he really wanted--always--and was not sorry when he had +it. Not he! He was sorry only for the good things he had let slip, never +for those he had taken! + +"But--do let me go, Paul! I don't belong to you!" + +"Yes you do--for a little while!" He held her close. + +Belong to him! How she thrilled at the thought! Was this what it meant +to be--loved? And _did_ she belong to him--if only, as he said, for a +little while? She certainly didn't belong to herself! Whatever this +madness that had suddenly taken possession of her, it was stronger than +herself. She couldn't control it--she didn't even want to! At all +events, she was _living_ to-night! Her blood was rushing madly through +her body. She was deliciously, thoroughly alive! + +"Paul!--are you listening?" + +"Yes, dear!" the answer strangely muffled. + +And then she purred in his ear, all the time caressing his cheek with +her small white fingers: "You see, Paul, I knew I had made some sort of +impression upon you. I must have done so or you wouldn't have--done +that! But any girl can make an impression on shipboard, and an affair at +sea is always so--evanescent, that no one expects it to last more than +a week. I don't want to make such a transitory impression upon you, +Paul. I wanted you to remember me longer. I wanted--oh, I wanted to give +you something to remember that was just a little bit different than +other girls had given you--some distinct impression that must linger +with you--always--always! I'm not like other women! Do you see, Paul? It +was all sheer vanity. I wanted you to remember!" + +"And did you think I could forget?" + +"Of course! All men forget a kiss as soon as their lips cease tingling!" + +Paul laughed. "Wise girl! Who taught you so much? Come, confess!" + +"Oh, I've known _you_ a whole week, Paul, and you----" + +But their lips met again and the sentence was never finished. + +At last she put her hands on each side of his face and looked up into +his eyes. + +"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Paul?" + +"Of course not!" + +"Of course you are!" + +"You misunderstood me!--I said _'Not'_! But why? Are you ashamed of +me?" + +"I ought to be, oughtn't I? But--I don't believe you can help it!" + +His lips crushed hers again, fiercely. "I can't, Opal--I can't!" + +She turned away her head, but he buried his face in her neck, kissing +the soft flesh again and again. + +"Such a slip of a girl!" Paul murmured in her ear, when he again found +his voice. "Such a tiny, little girl! I am almost afraid you will vanish +if I don't hold you tight!" + +Opal was thoroughly aroused now--no longer merely passive--quite +satisfactorily responsive. + +"I won't, Paul! I won't! But hold me closer, closer! Crush this terrible +ache out of my heart if you can, Paul!" + +There were tears in her voice. He clasped her to him and felt her heart +throbbing out its pain against its own, as he whispered, "Opal, am I a +brute?" + +"N-o-o-o-o!" A pause. At last, "Let me go now, Paul! This is sheer +insanity!" + +But he made no move to release her until she looked up into his eyes in +an agony of appeal, and pleaded, "Please, Paul!" + +"Are you sure you want to go?" + +"No, I'm not sure of that, but I'm quite sure that I _ought_ to go! I +must! I must!" + +And Paul released her. Where was this madness carrying them? Was he +acting the part of the man he meant to be, or of a cad--an unprincipled +bounder? He did not know. He only knew he wanted to kiss her--_kiss_ +her.... + +She turned on him in a sudden flash of indignation. "Why have you such +power over me?" she demanded. + +"What power over you, Opal!" + +"What's the use of dodging the truth, you professor of honesty? You make +me do things we both know I'll be sorry for all the rest of my life. +_Why_ do you do it?" + +Her eyes blazed with a real anger that made her _piquante_ face more +alluring than ever to the eyes of the infatuated Boy who watched her. He +was fighting desperately for self-control, but if she should look at +him as she had looked sometimes--! + +"I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "I always knew I was capable of +being foolish--wicked, perhaps--for a _grande passion_. I could forgive +myself that, I think! But for a mere caprice--a _penchant_ like this! +Oh, Paul! what can you think of me?" + +His voice was hoarse--heavy with emotion. + +"Think of you, Opal? I am sure you must know what I think. I've never +had an opportunity to tell you--in so many words--but you must have seen +what I have certainly taken no pains to conceal. Shall I try to tell +you, Opal?" + +"No, no! I don't want to hear a word--not a word! Do you understand? I +forbid you!" + +Paul bowed deferentially. She laughed nervously at the humility in his +obeisance. + +"Don't be ridiculous!" she commanded. "This is growing too melodramatic, +and I hate a scene. But, really, Paul, you mustn't--simply mustn't! +There are reasons--conditions--and--you must not tell me, and I must +not, _will_ not listen!" + +"I mustn't make love to you, you mean?" + +"I mean ... just that!" + +"Why not?" + +"Never mind the 'why.' There are plenty of good and sufficient reasons +that I might give if I chose, but--I don't choose! The only reason that +you need to know is--that I forbid you!" + +She turned away with that regal air of hers that made one forget her +child-like stature. + +"Are you going, Opal?" + +"Yes!--what did I come out here for? I can't remember. Do you know?" + +"To wish me good-night, of course! And you haven't done it!" + +She looked back over her shoulder, a mocking laugh in those inscrutable +eyes. Then she turned and held out both hands to him. + +"Good-night, Paul, good-night!... You seem able to do as you please with +me, in spite of--everything--and I just want to stay in your arms +forever--forever ..." + +Paul caught her to him, and their lips melted in a clinging kiss. + +At last she drew away from his embrace. + +"The glitter of the moonlight and the music of the wind-maddened waves +must have gone to my brain!" She laughed merrily, pulled his face down +to hers for a last swift kiss, and ran from him before he could detain +her. + + * * * * * + +The next morning they met for a brief moment alone. + +Opal shook hands with the Boy in her most perfunctory manner. + +Paul, after a moment's silent contemplation of her troubled face, bent +over her, saying, "Have I offended you, Opal? Are you angry with me?" + +She opened her eyes wide and asked with the utmost innocence "For what?" + +Paul was disconcerted. "Last night!" he said faintly. + +She colored, painfully. + +"No, Paul, listen! I don't blame you a bit!--not a bit! A man would be a +downright fool not to take--what he wanted---- But if you want to +be--friends with me, you'll just forget all about--last night--or at any +rate, ignore it, and never refer to it again." + +He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it for the briefest +possible instant. + +And then their _tete-a-tete_ was interrupted, and they sat down for +their last breakfast at sea. + +Opal Ledoux was not visible again until the Lusitania docked in New +York, when she waved her _companion de voyage_ a smiling but none the +less reluctant _au revoir_! + +But Paul was too far away to see the tears in her eyes, and only +remembered the smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +New York's majestic greatness and ceaseless, tireless activity speedily +engrossed the Boy and opened his eager eyes to a wider horizon than he +had yet known. There was a new influence in the whir and hum of this +metropolis of the Western world that set the wheels of thought to a more +rapid motion, and keyed his soul to its highest tension. + +It was not until his first letter from the homeland had come across the +waters that he paused to wonder what the new factor in his life meant +for his future. He had not allowed his reason to assert itself until the +force of circumstances demanded that he look his soul in the face, and +learn whither he was drifting. Paul was no coward, but he quailed before +the ominous clouds that threatened the happiness of himself and the girl +he loved. + +For now he knew that he loved Opal Ledoux. It was Fate. He had guessed +it at the first sound of her voice; he had felt it at the first glance +of her eye; and he had known it beyond the peradventure of a doubt at +the first touch of her lips. + +Yet this letter from his kingdom was full of suggestions of duties to be +done, of responsibilities to be assumed, of good still to be brought out +of much that was petty and low, and of helpless, miserable human beings +who were so soon to be dependent upon him. + +"I will make my people happy," he thought. "Happiness is the birthright +of every man--be he peasant or monarch." And then the thought came to +him, how could he ever succeed in making them truly happy, when he +himself had so sorely missed the way! There was only one thing to do, he +knew that--both for Opal's sake and for his own--and that was to go far +away, and never see the face again that had bewitched him so. + +Perhaps, if he did this, he might forget the experience that was, after +all, only an episode in a man's life and--other men forget! He might +learn to be calmly happy and contented with his Princess. It was only +natural for a young man to make love to a pretty girl, he thought, and +why should he be any exception? He had taken the good the gods provided, +as any live man would--now he could go his way, as other men did, +and--forget! Why not? And yet the mere thought of it cast such a gloom +over his spirits that he knew in his heart his philosophic attempt to +deceive himself was futile and vain. He might run away, of +course--though it was hardly like him to do that--but he would scarcely +be able to forget. + +And then Verdayne joined him with an open note in his hand--a formal +invitation from Gilbert Ledoux for them to dine with him in his Fifth +Avenue house on the following evening. He wished his family to meet the +friends who had so pleasantly attracted himself and his daughter on +shipboard. + +Was it strange how speedily the Boy's resolutions vanished? Run away! +Not he! + +"Accept the invitation, Father Paul, by all means!" + + * * * * * + +It was a cordial party in which Paul Verdayne and his young companion +found themselves on the following evening--a simple family gathering, +graciously presided over by Opal's stepmother. + +Gilbert Ledoux's wife was one of those fashion-plate women who strike +one as too artificial to be considered as more than half human. You +wonder if they have also a false set of emotions to replace those they +wore out in their youth--_c'est a dire_ if they ever had any! Paul +smiled at the thought that Mr. Ledoux need have no anxiety over the +virtue of his second wife--whatever merry dance the first might have led +him! + +Opal was not present when the gentlemen were announced, and the bevy of +aunts and uncles and cousins were expressing much impatience for her +presence--which Paul Zalenska echoed fervently in his heart. It was +truly pleasant--this warm blood-interest of kinship. He liked the +American clannishness, and he sighed to think of the utter lack of +family affection in his own life. + +The drawing-room, where they were received, was furnished in good taste, +the Boy thought. The French touch was very prominent--the blend of color +seemed to speak to him of Opal. Yes, he liked the room. The effect grew +on one with the charm of the real home atmosphere that a dwelling place +should have. But he wasn't so much interested in that, after all! In +fact, it was rather unsatisfactory--without Opal! These people were +_her_ people and, of course, of more than ordinary interest to him on +her account, but still-- + +And at last, when the Boy was beginning to acknowledge himself slightly +bored, and to resent the familiar footing on which he could see the +Count de Roannes already stood in the family circle, Opal entered, and +the gloomy, wearisome atmosphere seemed suddenly flooded with sunlight. + +She came in from the street, unconventionally removing her hat and +gloves as she entered. + +"Where have you been so long, Opal?" asked Mrs. Ledoux, with +considerable anxiety. + +"At the Colony Club, _ma mere_--I read a paper!" + +"_Mon Dieu!_" put in the Count, in an amused tone. "On what subject?" + +"On 'The Modern Ethical Viewpoint,' _Comte_," she answered, nodding her +little head sagely. "It was very convincing! In fact, I exploded a bomb +in the camp that will give them all something sensational to talk about +till--till--the next scandal!" + +The Count gave a low chuckle of appreciation, while Mr. Ledoux asked, +seriously, "But to what purpose, daughter?" + +"Why, papa, don't you know? I had to teach Mrs. Stuyvesant Moore, Mrs. +Sanford Wyckoff, and several other old ladies how to be good!" + +And in the general laugh that followed, she added, under her breath, +"Oh, the irony of life!" + +Paul watched her in a fever of boyish jealousy as she passed through the +family circle, bestowing her kisses left and right with impartial favor. +She made the rounds slowly, conscientiously, and then, with an air of +supreme indifference, moved to the Boy's side. + +He leaned over her. + +"Where are my kisses?" he asked softly. + +She clasped her hands behind her back, child-fashion, and looked up at +him, a coquettish daring in her eyes. + +"Where did you put them last?" she demanded. + +"You ought to know!" + +"True--I ought. But, as a matter of fact, I haven't the slightest idea. +It depends altogether upon what girl you saw last." + +"If you think that of me----" + +"What else can I think? Our first meeting did not leave much room for +conjecture. And, of course----" + +"Opal! You have just time to dress for dinner! And the Count is very +anxious to see the new orchid, you know!" + +There was a suggestion of reproof in Mrs. Ledoux's voice. The girl's +face clouded as she turned away in response to the summons. But she +threw the Boy a challenge over her shoulder--a hint of that mischief +that always seemed to lurk in the corner of her eye. + +Paul bit his lip. He was not a boy to be played with, as Opal Ledoux +would find out. And he sulked in a corner, refusing to be conciliated, +until at last she re-entered the room, leaning on the Count's +"venerable" arm. She had doubtless been showing him the orchid. Humph! +What did that old reprobate know--or care--about orchids? + + "A primrose by the river's brim, + A yellow primrose was to him, + And nothing more." + +As the evening passed, there came to the Boy no further opportunity to +speak to Opal alone. She not only avoided him herself, but the entire +party seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to keep him from her. It +roused all the fight in his Slavic blood, and he determined not to be +outwitted by any such high-handed proceeding. He crossed the room and +boldly broke into the conversation of the group in which she stood. + +"Miss Ledoux," he said, "pardon me, but as we are about to leave, I +must remind you of your promise to show me the new orchid. I am very +fond of orchids. May I not see it now?" + +Opal had made no such promise, but as she looked up at him with an +instinctive denial, she met his eyes with an expression in their depths +she dared not battle. There was no knowing what this impetuous Boy might +say or do, if goaded too far. + +"Please pardon my forgetfulness," she said, with a propitiating smile, +as she took his arm. "We will go and see it." + +And the Boy smiled. He had not found his opportunity--he had made one! + +With a malicious smile on his thin, wicked lips the Count de Roannes +watched them as they moved across the room toward the conservatory--this +pair so finely matched that all must needs admire. + +It was rather amusing in _les enfants_, he told Ledoux, this "_Paul et +Virginie_" episode. Somewhat _bourgeois_, of course--but harmless, he +hoped. This with an expressive sneer. But--_mon Dieu!_--and there was a +sinister gleam in his evil eyes--it mustn't go too far! The girl was a +captivating little witch--the old father winced at the significance in +the tone--and she must have her fling! He rather admired her the more +for her _diablerie_--but she must be careful! + +But he need not have feared to-night. Paul Zalenska's triumph was +short-lived. When once inside the conservatory, the girl turned and +faced him, indignantly. + +"What an utterly shameless thing to do!" she exclaimed. + +"Why?" he demanded. "You were not treating me with due respect and +'self-preservation is the first law of nature,' you know. I am so little +accustomed to being--snubbed, that I don't take it a bit kindly!" + +"I did not snub you," she said, "at least, not intentionally. But of +course my friends have prior claims on my time and attention. I can't +put them aside for a mere stranger." + +"A stranger?" he echoed. "Then you mean----" + +"I mean what?" + +"To ignore our former--acquaintance--altogether?" + +"I do mean just that! One has many desperate flirtations on board ship, +but one isn't in any way bound to remember them. It is not +always--convenient. You may have foolishly remembered. I +have--forgotten!" + +"You have not forgotten. I say you have not, Opal." + +"We use surnames in society, Monsieur Zalenska?" + +"Opal!" appealingly. + +"Why such emotion, Monsieur?" mockingly. + +The Boy was taken aback for a moment, but he met her eyes bravely. + +"Why? Because I love you, Opal, and in your heart you know it!" + +"Why?" + +"Why do I love you? Because I can't help it! Who knows, really, why +anything happens or does not happen in this topsy-turvy world?" + +The girl looked at him steadily for a moment, and then spoke +indifferently, almost lightly. + +"Have you looked at the orchid you wished so much to see, Monsieur +Zalenska? Mamma is very proud of it!" + +"Opal!" + +But she went on, heedless of his interruption, "Because, if you haven't, +you must look at it hastily--you have wasted some time quite foolishly +already--and I have promised to join the Count in a few moments, and--" + +"Very well. I understand, Opal!" Paul stiffened. "I will relieve you of +my presence. But don't think you will always escape so easily because I +yield now. You have not meant all you have said to me to-night, and I +know it as well as you do. You have tried to play with me--" + +"I beg your pardon!" + +"You knew the tiger was in my blood--you couldn't help but know it!--and +yet you deliberately awakened him!" She gave him a startled glance, her +eyes appealing for mercy, but he went on relentlessly. "Yes, after the +manner of women since the world began, you lured him on and on! Is it my +fault--or yours--if he devour us both?" + +Paul Verdayne, strangely restless and ill at ease, was passing beneath +the window and thus became an involuntary listener to these mad words +from the lips of his young friend. + +Straightway there rose to his mental vision a picture--never very far +removed--a picture of a luxurious room in a distant Swiss hotel, the +foremost figure in which was the slender form of a royally fascinating +woman, reclining with reckless abandon upon a magnificent tiger skin, +stretched before the fire. He saw her lavishing her caresses upon the +inanimate head. He heard her purr once more in the vibrant, appealing +tones so like the Boy's. + +The stately Englishman passed his hand over his eyes to shut out the +maddening vision, with its ever-fresh pangs of poignant anguish, its +persistent, unconquered and unconquerable despair! + +"God help the Boy!" he prayed, as he strolled on into the solitude of +the moonlit night. "No one else can! It is the call of the blood--the +relentless lure of his heritage! From it there is no escape, as against +it there is no appeal. It is the mad blood of youth, quickened and +intensified in the flame of inherited desire. I cannot save him!" + +And then, with a sudden flood of tender, passionate, sacred memories, he +added in his heart, + +"And I would not, if I could!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Paul Verdayne had many acquaintances and friends in New York, and much +against their inclination he and the Boy soon found themselves absorbed +in the whirl of frivolities. They were not very favorably impressed. It +was all too extravagant for their Old World tastes--not too magnificent, +for they both loved splendor--but it shouted its cost too loudly in +their ears, and grated on their nerves and shocked their aesthetic +sense. + +The Boy was a favorite everywhere, even more so, perhaps, than in +London. American society saw no mystery about him, and would not have +cared if it had. If his face seemed somewhat familiar, as it often had +to Opal Ledoux, no one puzzled his brains over it or searched the +magazines to place it. New York accepted him, as it accepts all +distinguished foreigners who have no craving for the limelight of +publicity, for his face value, and enjoyed him thoroughly. Women petted +him, because he was so witty and chivalrous and entertaining, and always +as exquisitely well-groomed as any belle among them; men were attracted +to him because he had ideas and knew how to express them. He was worth +talking to and worth listening to. He had formed opinions of his own +upon most subjects. He had thought for himself and had the courage of +his convictions, and Americans like that. + +Naturally enough, before many days, at a fashionable ball at the Plaza +he came into contact with Opal Ledoux again. + +It was a new experience, this, to see the girl he loved surrounded by +the admiration and attention of other men. In his own infatuation he had +not realized that most men would be affected by her as he was, would +experience the same maddening impulses--the same longing--the same +thirst for possession of her. Now the fact came home to him with the +force of an electric shock. He could not endure the burning glances of +admiration that he saw constantly directed toward her. What right had +other men to devour her with their eyes? + +He hastened to meet her. She greeted him politely but coldly, expressing +some perfunctory regret when he asked for a dance, and showing him that +her card was already filled. And then her partner claimed her, and she +went away on his arm, smiling up into his face in a way she had that +drove men wild for her. "The wicked little witch!" Paul thought. "Would +she make eyes at every man like that? Dare she?" + +A moment after, he heard her name, and instantly was all attention. The +two men just behind him were discussing her rather freely--far too +freely for the time and the place--and the girl, in Paul's estimation. +He listened eagerly. + +"Bold little devil, that Ledoux girl!" said one. "God! how she is +playing her little game to-night! They say she is going to marry that +old French Count, de Roannes! That's the fellow over there, watching her +with the cat's eyes. I guess he thinks she means to have her fling +first--and I guess she thinks so too! As usual, it's the spectator who +sees the best of the game. What a curious girl she is--a living +paradox!" + +"How's that?" + +"Spanish, you know. Ought to have black hair instead of red--black eyes +instead of--well, chestnut about expresses the color of hers. I call +them witch's eyes, they're so full of fire and--the devil!" + +"She's French, too, isn't she? That accounts for the eyes. The _beaute +du diable_, hers is! Couldn't she make a heaven for a man if she +would--or a hell?" + +"Yes, it's in her! She's doomed, you know! Her grandmothers before her +were bad women--regular witches, they say, with a good, big streak of +yellow. Couldn't keep their heads on their shoulders--couldn't be +faithful to any one man. Don't know as they tried!" + +"I'll bet they made it interesting for the fellow while it did last, +anyway! But this one will never be happy. She has a tragedy in her face, +if ever a woman had. But she's a man's woman, all right, and she'd make +life worth living if a fellow had any red blood in him. She's one of +those women who are born for nothing else in the world but to love, and +be loved. Can't you shoot the Count?" + +"The Count!--Hell! He won't be considered at all after a little! She'll +find plenty of men glad to wake the devil in her--just to keep her from +yawning! But she's not very tractable even now, though her sins all lie +ahead of her! She's altogether too cool on the surface for her make-up, +but--well, full of suggestion, and one feels a volcano surging and +steaming just below the mask she wears, and has an insane desire to wake +it up! That kind of woman simply can't help it." + +A third voice broke in on the conversation--an older voice--the voice of +a man who had lived and observed much. + +"I saw her often as a child," he said, "a perilously wilful child, +determined upon her own way, and possessed of her own fancies about +this, that, and the other, which were seldom, if ever, the ideas of +anyone else. There was always plenty of excitement where she was--always +that same disturbing air! Even with her pigtails and pinafores, one +could see the woman in her eyes. But she was a provoking little +creature, always dreaming of impossible romances. Her father had his +hands full." + +"As her husband will have, poor devil! If he's man enough to hold her, +all right. If he is not," with a significant shrug of the shoulders, +"it's his own lookout!" + +"That old French _roue_ hold her? You're dreaming! She won't be faithful +to him a week--if he has a handsome valet, or a half-way manly groom! +How could she?" And they laughed coarsely. + +The Boy gave them a look that should have annihilated all three, but +they weren't noticing the Boy. He could have throttled them! How dared +such lips as these pollute his darling's name! And yet these were +society men--they could dance with her, clasp her to them, and look into +those "witch eyes"--oh, the ignominy of it! + +He looked across at Opal. How beautiful she was in her pale green gown, +her white shoulders and arms glistening beneath the electric light with +the sheen of polished marble, her red-brown hair glowing with its fiery +lure, while even across the room her eyes sparkled like diamonds, +lighting up her whole face. She was certainly enjoying herself--this +Circe who had tempted him across the seas. She seemed possessed of the +very spirit of mischief--and Paul forgot himself. + +The orchestra was playing a Strauss waltz--it fired his blood. He walked +across the room with his masterful, authoritative air--the manner of a +man born to command. "Miss Ledoux," he said, and the crowd around her +instinctively made way for him, "this is our waltz, I believe!" and +whirled her away before she could answer. + +Ah! it was delicious, that waltz! In perfect rhythm they clung together, +gliding about the polished floor, her bare shoulder pressing his arm, +her head with its bewildering perfume so near his lips, their hearts +throbbing fiercely in the ecstasy of their nearness--which was Love. + +Oh to go on forever! forever! + +The sweet cadence of the music died away, and they looked into each +other's eyes, startled. + +"You seem to be acquiring the habit," she pouted, but her lips quivered, +and in response he whispered in her ear, "Whose waltz was it, +sweetheart?" + +"I don't know, Paul--nor care!" + +That was enough. + +They left the room together. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In a secluded corner adjoining the ballroom, Paul and Opal stood hand in +hand, conscious only of being together, while their two hearts beat a +tumultuous acknowledgment of that =world-old= power whose name, in +whatever guise it comes to us, is Love! + +"I said I wouldn't, Paul!" at last she said. + +"Wouldn't what?" + +"See you again--like this!" + +Paul smiled tenderly. + +"My darling," he whispered, "what enchantment have you cast over me that +all my resolutions to give you up fade away at the first glimpse of your +face? I resolve to be brave and remember my duty--until I see you--and +then I forget everything but you--I want nothing but you!" + +"What do you want with me, Paul?" + +"Opal!" he cried impetuously. "After seeing these gay Lotharios making +eyes at you all the evening, can you ask me that? I want to take you +away and hide you from every other man's sight--that's what I want! It +drives me crazy to see them look at you that way! But you have such a +way of keeping a fellow at arm's length when you want to," he went on, +ruefully, "in spite of the magic call of your whole tempting +personality. You know '_Die Walkuere_,' don't you?--but of course you do. +If I believed in the theory of reincarnation, I should feel sure that +you were Bruenhilde herself, surrounded by the wall of fire!" + +"I wish I were! I wish every woman had some such infallible way of +_proving_ every man who seeks her!" + +"You have, Opal! You have your own womanly instincts--every woman's +impassable wall of fire, if she will only hide behind them. _You_ could +never love unworthily!" + +"But, Paul, don't you know? Haven't they told you? I shall probably +marry the Count de Roannes!" + +Paul was astounded. + +"Opal! No! No! Not that, surely not that! I heard it, yes--a moment ago. +But I could not believe it. The idea was too horrible. It could not be +true!" + +"But it is true, Paul! It is all too true!" + +"It is a crime," he fairly groaned. + +She shrank from him. "Don't say that, Paul!" + +"But you know it is true! Opal, just think! If you give your sweet self +to him--and that is all you can give him, as you and I know--if you give +yourself to him, I say, I--I shall go mad!" + +"Yet women have loved him," she began, bravely, attempting to defend +herself. "Women--some kinds of women--really love him now. He has a +power of--compelling--love--even yet!" + +"And such women," Paul cried hoarsely, "are more to be honored than you +if you consent to become his property with no love in your heart! Don't +plead extenuating circumstances. There can be no extenuating +circumstances in all the world for such a thing." + +She winced as though he had struck her, for she knew in her heart that +what he said was true, brutally true. The Boy was only voicing her own +sentiments--the theory to which she had always so firmly clung. + +As Paul paused, a sudden realization of his own future overwhelmed him +and locked his lips. He smiled sadly. Who was he that he should talk +like that? Was not he, too, pleading extenuating circumstances? True, he +was a man and she was a woman, and the world has two distinct +standards--but--no less than she--he was selling himself for gain. + +"Paul, Paul! I'm afraid you don't understand! It isn't _money_. Surely +you don't think that! It isn't money--it is honor--_honor_, do you hear? +My dead mother's honor, and my father's breaking heart!" + +The secret was out, at last. This, then, was the shadow that had cast +its gloom over the family ever since he had come in contact with them. +It was even worse than he had thought. That she--the lovely Opal--should +have to sacrifice her own honor to save her mother's! + +Honor! honor! how many crimes are committed in thy name! + +"Tell me about it," he said sympathetically. + +And she told him, sparing herself details, as far as possible, of the +storm of scandal about to burst upon the family--a storm from which only +the sacrifice of herself could save the family name of Ledoux, and her +mother's memory. It might, or might not, be true, but the Count de +Roannes claimed to be able--and ready--to bring proof. And, if it were +true, she was not a Ledoux at all, and her father was not her father at +all, except in name. No breath of ill-fame had ever reached her mother's +name before. They had thought she had happily escaped the curse of her +mother before her. But the Count claimed to know, and--well, he wanted +her--Opal--and, of course, it _was_ possible, and of course he would do +anything to protect the good name of his wife, if Opal became his wife, +and---- + +"So, you see, Paul--in the end, I shall have to--submit!" + +She had not told it at all well, she thought, but Paul little cared how +the story was told. + +"I do not see it that way at all, Opal. It seems to me--well, +diabolical, and may God help you, dear girl, when you, with your +high-keyed sensitive nature, first wake to the infamy of it! I have no +right to interfere--no right at all. Not even my love for you, which is +stronger than myself, gives me that right. For I am betrothed! I tell +you this because I see where my folly has led us. There is only one +thing to do. We must part--and at once. I am sorry"--then he thought of +that first meeting on board the liner, "no, I am _not_ sorry we met! I +shall never be that! But I am going to be a man. I am going to do my +duty. Help me, Opal--help me!" + +It was the old appeal of the man to the helpmeet God had created for +him, and the woman in her responded. + +"Paul, I will!" and her little fingers closed over his. + +"Of course he loves you--in his way, but----" + +"Don't, Paul, don't! He has never once pretended that--he has been too +wise." + +"He will break your spirit, dear--it's his nature. And then he will +break your heart!" + +She raised her head, defiantly. + +"Break my spirit, Paul? He could not. And as for my heart--that will +never be his to break!" + +Their eyes met with the old understanding that needs no words. Then she +pointed to the heavens. + +"See the stars, Paul, smiling down so calmly. How can they when hearts +are aching? When I was a child, I loved the stars. I fancied, too, that +they loved me, and I would run out under their watchful eyes, singing +for very joy, sure they were guiding my life and that some day I would +be happy, gloriously happy. Somehow, Paul, I always expected to be +happy--always!--till now! Now the stars seem to mock me. I must have +been born under a baleful conjunction, I guess. Oh, I told you, Paul, +that Opals were unlucky. I warned you--didn't I warn you? I may have +tempted you, too, but--I didn't mean to do it!" + +"Bless your dear heart, girl, you weren't to blame!" + +"But you said--that night--about the tiger----" + +"Forgive me, Opal, I was not myself. I was--excited. I didn't mean +that." + +After a moment, she said, musingly, "It is just as I said, Paul. I was +born to go to the devil, so it is well--well for you, I mean--and +perhaps for me--that you and I cannot marry." He shook his head, but she +went on, unheeding. "Paul, if I am destined to be a disgrace to +someone--and they say I am--I'd rather bring reproach upon his name than +on yours!" + +"But why marry at all, if you feel like that? Why, it's--it's damnable!" + +"Don't you see, Paul, I am foreordained to evil--marked a bad woman from +the cradle! Marriage is the only salvation, you know, for girls with my +inheritance. It's the sanctuary that keeps a woman good and 'happy ever +after.'" + +"It would be more apt, in my opinion, to drive one to forbidden wine! A +marriage like that, I mean--for one like you." + +"But at least a married woman has a _name_--whatever she may do. +She's--protected. She isn't----" + +But Paul would hear no more. + +"Opal, _we_ were made for each other from the beginning--surely we were. +Some imp has slipped into the scheme of things somewhere and turned it +upside down." + +He paused. She looked up searchingly into his eyes. + +"Paul, do you love me?" + +"Yes, dearest!" + +"Are you sure?" + +"As sure as I am of my own existence! With all my heart, Opal--with all +my soul!" + +"Then we mustn't see each other any more!" + +"Not any more. You are right, Opal, not any more!" + +"But what shall we do, Paul? We shall be sure to meet often. You expect +to stay the summer through, do you not? And we are not going to New +Orleans for several weeks yet--and then?" + +"We are going West, Father Paul and I--out on the prairies to rough it +for a while. We were going before long, anyway, and a few weeks sooner +or later won't make any difference. And then--home, back over the sea +again, to face life, to work, to try to be--strong, I suppose." + +Paul paused and looked at her passionately. + +"Why are you so alluring to-night, Opal?" + +Her whole body quivered, caught fire from the flame in his eyes. What +was there about this man that made her always so conscious she was a +woman? Why could she never be calm in his presence, but was always so +fated to _feel, feel, feel!_ + +Her voice trembled as she looked up at him and answered, "Am I wicked, +Paul? I wanted to be happy to-night--just for to-night! I wanted to +forget the fate that was staring me so relentlessly in the face. But--I +couldn't, Paul!" + +Then she glanced through the curtains into the ballroom and shuddered. + +"The Count is looking for me," she said. The Boy winced, and she went on +rapidly, excitedly. "We must part. As well now as any time, I suppose, +since it has to be. But first, Paul, let me say it once--just once--_I +love you!_" + +He snatched her to him--God! that any one else should ever have the +right! + +"And I--worship you, Opal! Even that seems a weak word, to-night. +But--you understand, don't you? I didn't know at sea whether it was love +or what it was that had seized me as nothing ever had before. But I know +now! And listen, Opal--this isn't a vow, nor anything of that kind--but +I feel that I want to say it. I shall always love you just this +way--always--I feel it, I know it!--as long as I live! Will you +remember, darling?--remember--everything?" + +"Yes--yes! And you, Paul?" + +"Till death!" And his lips held hers, regardless of ten thousand Counts +and their claims upon her caresses. + +And they clung together again in the anguish of parting that comes at +some time, or another into the lives of all who know love. + +Then like mourners walking away from the graves of their loved ones, +they returned to the ballroom, with the dull ache of buried happiness in +their hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Out--far out--in the great American West, the Boy wandered. And Paul +Verdayne, understanding as only he could understand, felt how little use +his companionship and sympathy really were at this crisis of the Boy's +life. + +All through the month of August they travelled, the Boy looking upon the +land he had been so eager to see with eyes that saw nothing but his own +disappointment, and the barrenness of his future. The hot sun beat down +upon the shadeless prairies with the intensity of a living flame. But it +seemed as nothing to the heat of his own passion--his own fiery +rebellion against the decree of destiny--altogether powerless against +the withering despair that had choked all the aspirations and ambitions +which, his whole life long, he had cultivated and nourished in the soil +of his developing soul. + +He thought again and again of the glories so near at hand--the glories +that had for years been the goal of his ambition. He pictured the +pageant to come--the glitter of armor and liveries, the splendor and +sparkle of jewels and lights, and all the dazzling gorgeousness of royal +equipments--the throngs of courtiers and beautiful women bowing before +him, proud of the privilege of doing him homage--him, a mere boy--yet +the king--the absolute monarch of his little realm, and supreme in his +undisputed sway over the hearts of his people--his people who had +worshipped his beautiful mother and, if only for her sake, made an idol +of her son. He saw himself crowned by loving hands with the golden +circlet he loved and reverenced, and meant to redeem from the stigma of +a worthless father's abuse and desecration; he saw his own young hands, +strong, pure, and undefiled by any form of bribery or political +corruption, wielding the sceptre that should--please God!--bring +everlasting honor and fame to the little principality. He saw all this, +and yet it did not thrill him any more! It was all Dead Sea fruit, dust +and ashes in his hand. He wanted but one thing now--and his whole +kingdom did not weigh one pennyweight against it. + +But in spite of his preoccupation the freedom and massiveness of the +West broadened the Boy's mental vision. He absorbed the spirit of the +big world it typified, and he saw things more clearly than in the +crowded city. And yet he suffered more, too. He could not often talk +about his sorrow and his loss, but he felt all the time the unspoken +sympathy in Verdayne's companionship, and was grateful for the +completeness of the understanding between them. + +Once, far out in a wide expanse of sparsely settled land, the two came +upon a hut--a little rough shanty with a sod roof, and probably but two +tiny rooms at most. It was nearing evening, and the red rays of the +setting sun fell upon a young woman, humbly clad, sitting on a bench at +the doorway, and cuddling upon her knee a little baby dressed in coarse, +but spotlessly white garments. A whistle sounded on the still air, and +through the waving grain strode a stalwart man, an eager, expectant +light in his bronzed face. The girl sprang to meet him with an +inarticulate cry of joy, and wife and baby were soon clasped close to +his breast. + +Paul could not bear it. He turned away with a sob in his throat and +looked into Verdayne's eyes with such an expression of utter +hopelessness that the older man felt his own eyes moisten with the +fervor of his sympathy. That poor, humble ranchman possessed something +that was denied the Boy, prince of the blood though he was. + +And the two men talked of commonplace subjects that night in subdued +tones that were close to tears. Both hearts were aching with the +consciousness of unutterable and irreparable loss. + + * * * * * + +Through the long nights that followed, out there in the primitive, Paul +thought of the hideousness of life as he saw it now, with a loathing +that time seemed only to increase. He pictured Opal--his love--as the +wife of that old French libertine, till his soul revolted at the very +thought. Such a thing was beyond belief. + +Once he said to Verdayne, thinking of the conversation he had had with +Opal on the night of the ball at the Plaza, + +"Father Paul, who was Lord Hubert Aldringham? The name sounds so +familiar to me--yet I can't recall where I heard it." + +"Why, he was my uncle, Boy, my mother's brother. A handsome, wicked, +devil-may-care sort of fellow to whom nothing was sacred. You must have +heard us speak of him at home, for mother was very fond of him." + +"And you, Father Paul?" + +"I--detested him, Boy!" + +And then the Boy told him something that Opal had said to him of the +possibility--nay, the probability--of Lord Hubert's being her own +grandfather. Verdayne was pained--grieved to the heart--at the terrible +significance of this--if it were true. And there was little reason, +alas, to doubt it! How closely their lives were woven together--Paul's +and Opal's! How merciless seemed the demands of destiny! + +What a juggler of souls Fate was! + + * * * * * + +And the month of August passed away. And September found the two men +still wandering in an aimless fashion about the prairie country, and yet +with no desire for change. The Boy was growing more and more +dissatisfied, less and less resigned to the decrees of destiny. + +At last, one dull, gray, moonless night, when neither could woo coveted +sleep to his tired eyes, the Boy said to his companion, "Father Paul, +I'm going to be a man--a man, do you hear? I am going to New +Orleans--you know Mr. Ledoux asked us to come in September--and I'm +going to marry Opal, whatever the consequences! I will not be bound to a +piece of flesh I abhor, for the sake of a mere kingdom--not for the sake +of a world! I will not sell my manhood! I will not sacrifice myself, nor +allow the girl I love to become a burnt-offering for a mother's sin. I +will not! Do you remember away off there," and he pointed off to the +south of them, "the little shack, and the man and the woman and--the +baby? Father Paul, I want--that! And I'm going to have it, too! Do you +blame me?" + +And Verdayne threw his arm around the Boy's neck, and said, "Blame you? +No, Boy, no! And may God bless and speed you!" + +And the next day they started for the South. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +It was early in the morning, a few days later, when Paul Verdayne and +his young friend reached New Orleans. Immediately after breakfast--he +would have presented himself before had he dared--the Boy called at the +home of the Ledouxs. Verdayne had important letters to write, as he +informed the Boy with a significant smile, and begged to be allowed to +remain behind. + +And the impatient youth, blessing him mentally for his tact, set forth +alone. + +The residence that he sought was one of the most picturesque and +beautiful of the many stately old mansions of the city. It was enclosed +by a high wall that hid from the passers-by all but the most tantalizing +glimpses of a fragrant, green tropical garden, and gave an air of +exclusiveness to the habitation of this proud old family. As the Boy +passed through the heavy iron gate, and his eye gazed in appreciation +upon the tints of foliage no autumn chills had affected, and the glints +of sun and shadow that only heightened the splendor of blossom, and +shrub, and vine, which were pouring their incense upon the air, he felt +that he was indeed entering the Garden of Eden--the Garden of Eden with +no French serpents to tempt from him the woman that had been created his +helpmeet. + +He found Opal, and a tall, handsome young man in clerical vestments, +sitting together upon the broad vine-shaded veranda. The girl greeted +him cordially and introduced him to the priest, Father Whitman. + +At first Paul dared not trust himself to look at Opal too closely, and +he did not notice that her face grew ashen at his approach. She had +recovered her usual self-possession when he finally looked at her, and +now the only apparent sign of unusual agitation was a slight flush upon +her cheek--an excited sparkle in her eye--which might have been the +effect of many causes. + +He watched the priest curiously. How noble-looking he was! He felt sure +that he would have liked him in any other garb. What did his presence +here portend? + +Paul had supposed that Opal was a Catholic; indeed had been but little +concerned what she professed. She had never appeared to him to be +specially religious, but, if she was, that absurd idea of self-sacrifice +for a dead mother she had never known might appeal to the love of +penance which is inherent in all of Catholic faith, and she might not +surrender to her great love for him. + +The priest rose. + +"Must you go, Father?" asked Opal. + +"Yes!... I will call to-morrow, then?" + +"Yes--tomorrow! And"--she suddenly threw herself upon her knees at his +feet--"your blessing, Father" she begged. + +The priest laid a hand upon her head, and raised his eyes to Heaven. +Then, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead, he took her hands +in his, and gently raised her to her feet. She clung to his hands +imploringly. + +"Absolution, Father," she pleaded. + +He hesitated, his face quivering with emotions his eyes lustrous with +tears, a world of feeling in every line of his countenance. + +"Child," he said hoarsely, "child! Don't tempt me!" + +"But you _must_ say it, you know, or what will happen to me?" + +The priest still hesitated, but her eyes would not release him till he +whispered, "_Absolvo te_, my daughter, and--God bless you!" + +And releasing her hands, he bowed formally to Paul and hurried down the +broad stone steps and through the gate. + +Opal watched him, a smile, half-remorseful and half-triumphant, upon her +face. + +"What does it all mean?" asked Paul as he laid his hand upon her arm. + +She laughed nervously. "Oh--nothing! Only--when I see one of those +long, clerical cassocks, I am immediately seized with an insane desire +to find the _man_ inside the priest!" + +"Laudable, certainly! And you always succeed, I suppose?" + +"Yes, usually!--why not?" And she laughed again. "Don't, Paul! I don't +want to quarrel with you!" + +"We won't quarrel, Opal," he said. But the thought of the priest annoyed +him. + +He seated himself beside her. "Have you no welcome for me?" he said. + +She looked up at him, her eyes sweetly tender. + +"Of course, Paul! I'm very glad to see you again--if you are a bad boy!" + +He looked at her in amazement. "I, bad?--No," he said. And they laughed +again. But it was not the care-free laughter they had known at sea. +There was a strained note in the tones of the girl that grated strangely +upon the Boy's sensitive ear. What had happened? he wondered. What was +the new barrier between them? Was it the priest? Again the thought of +the priest worried him. + +"Where is my friend, the Count de Roannes?" he ventured at last. + +"He sailed for Paris last week." + +Paul's heart leaped. Surely then their legal betrothal had not taken +place. + +"What happened, Opal?" + +"The inevitable!" + +And again his heart bounded for joy! The inevitable! Surely that meant +that the girl's better nature had triumphed, had shown her the ignominy +of such a union in time to save her. He looked at her for further +information, but seeing her evident embarrassment, forbore to pursue the +question further. + +They wandered out through the luxurious garden, and the spell of its +enchantment settled upon them both. + +He pulled a crimson rose from a bush and began listlessly to strip the +thorns from the stalk. "Roses in September," he said, "are like love in +the autumn of life." + +And they both thought again of the Count and a chill passed over their +spirits. The girl watched him curiously. + +"Do you always cut the thorns from your roses?" she asked. + +"Certainly-sooner or later. Don't you?" + +"O no! I am a woman, you see, and I only hold my rose tightly in my +fingers and smile in spite of the pricks as if to convince the world +that my rose has no thorns." + +"Is that honest?" + +"Perhaps not--but--yes, I think it is! If one really loves a rose, you +see, one forgets that it has thorns--really forgets!". + +"Until too late!" + +But there was some undercurrent of hidden meaning even in this subject, +and Paul tried another. + +He asked her about the books she had read since they parted and told her +of his travels. He painted for her a picture of the little cabin on the +western prairie, with its man and its woman and its baby, and she +listened with a strange softness in her eyes. He felt that she +understood. + +There was a tiny lake in the garden, and they sat upon the shore and +looked into the water, at an unaccountable loss for words. At last Paul, +with a boyish laugh, relieved the situation by rolling up his sleeve and +dabbling for pebbles in the sand at the bottom. + +There was not much said--only a word now and then, but both, in spite of +their consciousness of the barrier between them, were rejoicing in the +fact that they were together, while Paul, happy in his new-born +resolution, was singing in his heart. + +Should he tell her now? + +He looked up quickly. + +"Opal," he said, "you knew I would come." + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Because--I love you!" + +The girl tried to laugh away the serious import of his tone. + +"I am not looking for men to love me, Paul," she said. + +"No, that's the trouble. You never have to." + +He turned away again and for a few moments had no other apparent aim in +life than a careful scrutiny of the limpid water. + +Somehow he felt a chill underlying her most casual words to-day. What +had become of the freemasonry between them they had both so readily +recognized on shipboard? + +Just then Gilbert Ledoux and his wife strolled into the garden. They +were genuinely pleased to see Paul and insisted on keeping him for +luncheon. The conversation drifted to his western trip and other less +personal things and not again did he have an opportunity to talk alone +with Opal. + +Paul took his departure soon after, promising to return for dinner, and +to bring Verdayne with him. Then, he resolved to himself, he would tell +Opal why he had come. Then he would claim her as his wife--his queen! + + * * * * * + +And Paul kept his word. + +That evening they found themselves alone in a deep-recessed window +facing the dimly-lighted street. + +"Opal," said Paul, "do you know why I have come to New Orleans? Can't +you imagine, dear?" + +She instantly divined the tenor of his thoughts, and shook her head in a +tremor of sudden fright. + +"I have come to tell you that I have fought it all out and that I cannot +live without you. Though I am breaking my plighted troth, I ask you to +become my wife!" + +Her eyes glistened with a strange lustre. + +"Oh, Paul! Paul!" she murmured, faintly. "Why did you not say this +before--or--why do you tell me now?" + +"Because now I know I love you more than all the world--more than my +duty--more than my life! Is that enough?" + +And Paul was about to break into a torrent of passionate appeal, when +Gilbert Ledoux joined them and, shortly after, Mrs. Ledoux called Opal +to her side. + +Opal looked miserably unhappy. Why was she not rejoicing? Paul knew that +she loved him. Nothing could ever make him doubt that. As he stood +wondering, idly exchanging platitudes with his genial host, Mrs. Ledoux +spoke in a tone of ringing emphasis that lingered in Paul's ears all the +rest of his life, "I think, Opal, it is time to share our secret!" + +And then, as the girl's face paled, and her frail form trembled with the +force of her emotion, her mother hastened to add, "Gentlemen, you will +rejoice with us that our daughter was last week formally betrothed to +the Count de Roannes!" + +The inevitable _had_ happened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +How the remainder of the evening passed, Paul Zalenska never knew. As he +looked back upon it, during the months that followed, it seemed like +some hideous dream from which he was struggling to awake. He talked, he +smiled, he even laughed, but scarcely of his own volition; it was as +though another personality acted through him. + +He was a temperate boy, but that night he drank more champagne than was +good for him. Paul Verdayne was grieved. Not that he censured the lad. +He knew only too well the anguish the Boy was suffering, and he could +not find it in his heart to blame him for the dissipation. And yet +Verdayne also knew how unavailing were all such attempts to drown the +sorrow that had so shocked the Boy's sensitive spirit. + +As he gazed regretfully at the Boy across the dinner table, the butler +placed a cablegram before him. Receiving a nod of permission from his +hostess, he hastily tore open the envelope and paled at its contents. + +The message was signed by the Verdaynes' solicitor, and read: + + _Sir Charles very ill. Come immediately._ + + * * * * * + +Before they left the house, Paul sought Opal for a few last words. There +were no obstacles placed in his way now by anxious parental authority. +He smiled cynically as he noticed how clear the way was made for him, +now that Opal was "safeguarded" by her betrothal. + +She drew him to one side, whispering, "Before you judge me too harshly, +Paul, please listen to what I have to say. I feel I have the right to +make this explanation, and you have the right to hear it. Under the +French law, I am legally bound to the Count de Roannes. Fearing that I +might not remain true to a mere verbal pledge--you knew we were engaged, +Paul, for I told you that, last summer--the Count asked that the +betrothal papers be executed before his unavoidable return to Paris. +Knowing no real reason for delay, since it had to come some time, I +consented; but I stipulated that I was to have six months of freedom +before becoming his wife. Arrangements have been made for us all to go +abroad next spring, and we shall be married in Paris. Paul, I did not +tell you this, this afternoon--I could not! I wanted to see you--the +real you--just once more, before you heard the bitter news, for I knew +that after you had heard, you would never look or speak the same to me +again. Oh, Paul, pity me! Pity me when I tell you that I asked for those +six months simply that I might dedicate them to you, and to the burial, +in my memory, of our little dream of love! It was only my little fancy, +Paul! I wanted to play at being constant that long to our dream. I +wanted to wear my six-months' mourning for our still-born love. I +thought it was only a little game of 'pretend' to you, Paul--why should +it be anything else? But it was very real to me." + +Her voice broke, and the Boy took her hand in his, tenderly, for his +resentment had long since died away. + +"Opal," he faltered, "I no longer know nor care who or what I am. This +experience has taken me out of myself, and set my feet in strange paths. +I had a life to live, Opal, but I have forgotten it in yours. I had +theories, ideals, hopes, aspirations--but I don't know where they are +now, Opal. They are gone--gone with your smile--" + +Opal's eyes grew soft with caresses. + +"They will come back, Paul--they must come back! They were born in +you--of Truth itself, not of a mere woman. You will forget me, Boy, and +your life will not be the pitiful waste you think. It must not be!" + +"I used to think that, Opal. It never seemed to me that life could ever +be an utter waste so long as a man had work to do and the strength and +skill to do it. But now--I'm all at sea! I only know--how--I shall miss +_you!_" + +Opal grew thoughtful. + +"And how will it be with me?" she said sadly. "I have never learned to +wear a mask. I can't pose. I can't wear 'false smiles that cover an +aching heart.' Perhaps the world may teach me now--but I'm not a +hypocrite--yet!" + +"I believe you, Opal! I love you because you are you!" + +"And I love you, Paul, because you are you!" + +And even then he did not clasp her in his arms, nor attempt it. She was +another's now, and his hands were tied. He must try to control his one +great weakness--the longing for her. + +And in the few moments left to them, they talked and cheered each other, +as intimate friends on the eve of a long separation. They both knew now +that they loved--but they also knew that they must part--and forever! + +"I love you, Paul," said Opal, "even as you love me. I do not hesitate +to confess it again, because--well, I am not yet his wife. And I want to +give you this one small comfort to help to make you strong to fight and +conquer, and--endure!" + +"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can +I face the world without you?" + +"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me +always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me, +as men do weary of their wives!" + +"Opal! Never!" + +"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose." + +"But it is not _my_ nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not +capricious. Why should you think so?" + +"But it's human nature, Paul; there is no denying that. To think, Paul, +that we could grow to clasp hands like this--that we could +kiss--actually kiss, Paul, _calmly_, as women kiss each other--that we +could ever rest in each other's arms and grow weary!" + +But Paul would not listen. He always would have loved her, always! He +loved her, anyway, and always would, were she a thousand times the +Countess de Roannes, but it was too late! too late! + +"Always remember, Paul, wherever you are and whatever you do," went on +Opal, "that I love you. I know it now, and I know how much! Let the +memory of it be an inspiration to you when your spirits flag, and a +consolation when skies are gray, and--Paul--oh, I love you--love +you--that's all! Kiss me--just once--our last goodbye! There can be no +harm in that, when it's for the last time!" + +And Paul, with a heart-breaking sob, clasped her in his arms and pressed +his lips to hers as one kisses the face of his beloved dead. He wondered +vaguely why he felt no passion--wondered at the utter languor of the +senses that did not wake even as he pressed his lips to hers. It was not +a woman's body in his arms--but as the sexless form of one long dead and +lost to him forever. It was not passion now--it was love, stripped of +all sensuality, purged of all desire save the longing to endure. + +It was the hour of love's supremest triumph--renunciation! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Back in England again--England in the fall of the year--England in the +autumn of life, for Sir Charles Verdayne was nearing his end. The Boy +spent a few weeks at Verdayne Place, and then left to pay his first +visit to his fiancee. Paul Verdayne was prevented by his father's ill +health from accompanying him to Austria, as had been the original plan. + +Opal had asked of the Boy during that last strange hour they had spent +together that he should make this visit, and bow obediently to the call +of destiny--as she had done. She did not know who he really was, nor +what station in life his fiancee graced, but she did know that it was +his duty bravely and well to play his part in the drama of life, +whatever the role. She would not have him shirk. It was a horrible +thing, she had said with a shudder--none knew it better than she--but +she would be glad all her life to think that he had been no coward, and +had not cringed beneath the bitterest blow of fate, but had been strong +because she loved him and believed in him. + +And so, since Paul Verdayne could not be absent from his father's side, +with many a reluctant thought the Boy set forth for Austria alone. + +During his absence, Isabella--she who had been Isabella Waring--returned +from Blackheath a widow with two grown daughters--two more modern +editions of the original Isabella. The widow herself was graver and more +matronly, yet there was much of the old Isabella left, and Verdayne was +glad to see her. Lady Henrietta gave her a cordial invitation to visit +Verdayne Place, which she readily accepted, passing many pleasant hours +with the friend of her youth and helping to while away the long days +that Verdayne found so tiresome when the Boy was away from him. + +Isabella was still "a good sort," and made life much less unbearable +than it might have been, but Verdayne often smiled to think of the +"puppy-love" he had once felt for her. It was amusing, now, and they +both laughed over it--though Isabella would not have been a woman had +she not wondered at times why her "old pal" had never married. There had +been chances, lots of them, for the girls had always liked the +blue-eyed, manly boy he had been, and petted and flattered and courted +him all through his youth. Why hadn't he chosen one of them? Had he +really cared so much for her--Isabella? And she often found herself +looking with much pitying tenderness upon the lonely man, whose heart +seemed so empty of the family ties it should have fostered--and +wondering. + +Lady Henrietta, too, was set to thinking as the days went by, and +turning, one night, to her son, "Paul," she said, "I begin to think that +perhaps I was wrong in separating you from the girl you loved, and so +spoiling your life. Isabella would have made you a fairly good wife, I +believe, as wives go, and you must forgive your mother, who meant it for +the best. She did not see the way clearly, then, and so denied you the +one great desire of your heart" + +She looked at him closely, but his heart was no longer worn upon his +sleeve, and finding his face non-committal, she went on slowly, feeling +her way carefully as she advanced. + +"Perhaps it is not too late now, my son. Don't let my prejudices stand +in your way again, for you are still young enough to be happy, and I +shall be truly glad to welcome any wife--any!" + +Verdayne did not reply. His eyes were studying the pattern of the rug +beneath his feet. His mother's face flushed with embarrassment at the +delicacy of the subject, but she stumbled on bravely. + +"Paul," she said, "Isabella is young yet, and you are not so very old. +It may not, even now, be too late to hold a little grandchild on my knee +before I die. I have been so fond of Paul--he is so very like you when +you were a boy--and have wished--oh, you don't know how a mother feels, +Paul--I have often wished that he were your son, or that I might have +had a grandson just like him. Do you know, Paul, I have often fancied +that your son, had you had one, would have been very like this dear +Boy." + +Verdayne choked back a sob. If his mother could only understand as some +women would have understood! If he could have told her the truth! But, +no, he never could. Even now it would have been a terrible shock to her, +and she could never have forgiven, never held up her head again, if she +had known. + +As for marrying Isabella--could he? After all, was it right to let the +old name die out for want of an heir? Was it just to his father? And +Isabella would not expect to be made love to. There was never that sort +of nonsense about her, and she would make all due allowance for his age +and seriousness. + +His mother felt she had been very kind and generous in renouncing the +old objection of twenty years' standing, and, too, she felt that it was +only right, after spoiling her son's life for so long, to do her best to +atone for the mistake. It must be confessed she could not see what there +was about Isabella to hold the love and loyalty of a man like Paul for +so long, but then--and she sighed at the thought of the wasted +years--"Love is blind," they say--and so's a lover! And her motherly +heart longed for grandchildren--Paul's children--as it had always longed +for them. + +Paul Verdayne sat opposite his penitent mother and pondered. The scent +from a bowl of red roses on his mother's table almost overpowered him +with memories. + +He thought of the couch of deep red roses on which he had lain, caressed +by the velvet petals. He could inhale their fragrance even yet--he could +look into her eyes and breathe the incense of her hair--her whole +glorious person--that was like none other in all the world. Yes, she had +been happy--and he would remember! She would be happier yet could she +know that he had been faithful to his duty--and surely this was his duty +to his race. His Queen would have it so, he felt sure. + +Rising, he bent over his mother, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and +kissed her calmly upon the brow. Then he walked quietly from the room. +His resolution was firmly fixed. + +He would marry Isabella! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Sir Charles Verdayne lingered for several weeks, no stronger, nor yet +perceptibly weaker. He took a sudden fancy to see his old friend, +Captain Grigsby, and the old salt was accordingly sent for. His presence +acted as a tonic upon the dying man, and the two old friends spent many +pleasant hours together, talking--as old people delight in talking--of +the days of the distant past. + +"Is this widow the Isabella who once raised the devil with your Paul?" +asked Grigsby. + +"Same wench!" answered Sir Charles, a twinkle in his eye. + +"Hum!" said the Captain--and then said again, "Hum!" Then he added +meditatively, "Blasted unlucky kiss that! Likely wench enough, +but--never set the Thames on fire!--nor me!" + +"Oh the kiss didn't count," said Sir Charles. "As I said to the boy's +mother at the time, a man isn't obliged to marry every woman he kisses! +Mighty good thing, too--eh, Grig? Besides, a kiss like that is an insult +to any flesh and blood woman!" + +"An insult?" + +"The worst kind! You see, Grig, no woman likes to be kissed that way. +Whether she's capable of feeling a single thrill of passion herself or +not, she likes to be sure that she can inspire it in a man. And a kiss +like that--well, it rouses all her fighting blood! Makes her feel she's +no woman at all in the man's eye--merely a doll to be kissed. D'ye see? +It's damned inconsistent, of course, but it's the woman of it!" + +"The devil of it, you mean!" the old Captain chuckled in response. Then, +"Paul had a lucky escape," he said, as he looked furtively around the +room for listening ears, "mighty lucky escape! And an experience right +on the heels of it to make up for the loss of a hundred such wenches +and--say, Charles, he's got a son to be proud of! The Boy is certainly +worth all the price!" + +"Any price--any price, Grig!" Then the old man went on, "If Henrietta +only knew! She thinks the world of the youngster, you know--no one could +help that--but what if she knew? Paul's been mighty cautious. I often +laugh when I see them out together--him and the Boy--and think what a +sensation one could spring on the public by letting the cat out of the +bag. And the woman would suffer. Wouldn't she, just! Wouldn't they tear +her to pieces!" + +"Yes, they would," said the Captain, "they certainly would. This is a +world of hypocrites, Charles, damned rotten hypocrites!" + +"That's what it is, Grig! Not one of those same old hens who would have +said, 'Ought we to visit her?' and denounced the whole 'immoral' affair, +and all that sort of thing--not one of them, I say, but would--" + +"Give her very soul to know what such a love means! O they would, +Charles--they would--every damned old cat of them, who would never get +an opportunity to play the questionable--no, not one in a thousand +years--if they searched for it forever!" + +"Yet women are made so, Grigsby--they can't help it! Henrietta would +faint at the mere suggestion of accepting as a daughter-in-law a woman +with a past!" + +And the old man sighed. + +"I'd have given my eyes--yes, I would, Grig--to have seen that woman +just once! God! the man she made out of my boy! Of course it may have +been for the best that it turned out as it did, but--damn it all, Grig, +she was worth while! There's no dodging that!" + +"Nobody wants to dodge it, Charles! She was over-sexed, perhaps--but +better that than undersexed--eh?" + + * * * * * + +But the exhilaration caused by the coming of his old friend gradually +wore itself away, and Sir Charles began to grow weaker. And at last the +end came. He had grown anxious to see the Boy again, and the young +fellow had returned and spent much time with the old man, who loved the +sound of his voice as it expressed his fresh, frank ideas. + +But Sir Charles spent his last hours with his son. + +"Paul," he said, in a last confidential whisper, touching upon the theme +that had never been mentioned between them before, "I +understand--everything--you know, and I'm proud of you--and him! I have +wanted to say something, or do something for you--often--often--to help +you--but it's the sort of thing a chap has to fight out for himself, +and I thought I'd better keep out of it! But I wanted you to +know--_now_--that I've known it all--all along--and been proud of +you--both!" + +And their hands clasped closely, and the eyes of both were wet, but even +on the brink of death the lips of the younger man were sealed. The ++silence of one-and-twenty years remained unbroken. +It was not a +foolish reticence that restrained him--but simply that he could not find +words to voice the memories that grew more and more sacred with the +passing of the years. + +And at evening, when the family had gathered about him, the old man lay +with his son's hand in his, but his eyes looked beyond and rested on the +face of the Boy, who seemed the renewal of hit son's youth, when life +was one glad song! And thus he passed to the Great Beyond. + +And his son was Sir Paul Verdayne, the last of his race. + +That night, the young baronet and the Boy sat alone over their cigars. +The Boy spoke at some length of his extensive Austrian visit. The +Princess Elodie would make him a good wife, he said. She was of good +sturdy stock, healthy, strong--and, well, a little heavy and dull, +perhaps, but one couldn't expect everything! At least, her honor would +never be called into question. He would always feel sure that his name +was safe with her! He was glad he went to Austria. There were political +complications that he had not understood before which made the marriage +an absolute necessity for the salvation of his country's position among +the kingdoms of the world, and he was more resigned to it now. Yes, +indeed, he was far more resigned. The princess wasn't by any means +impossible--not a half bad sort--and--yes, he was resigned! He said it +over and over, but without convincing Sir Paul--or deceiving himself! + +As for the elder man, he said but little. He had been wondering +throughout that dinner-hour whether he could ever really make Isabella +his wife. The Boy thought of Isabella, too, and was anxious to know +whether his Father Paul was going to be happy at last. He had been very +curious to see the woman who could play so cruel a part toward the man +he loved. If he had been Verdayne, he thought, he would never forgive +her--never! Still, if Father Paul loved the woman--as he certainly must +to have remained single for her sake so long--it put a different face on +the matter, and of course it was Verdayne's affair, not his! The Boy had +been disappointed in Isabella's appearance and attractions--she was not +at all the woman he had imagined his Father Paul would love--but of +course she was older now, and age changes some women, and, and--well, he +only hoped that his friend would be happy--happy in his own way, +whatever that might be. + +At last, he summoned Vasili to him and called for his own particular +yellow wine--the Imperial Tokayi--and the old man filled the glasses. It +was too much for Verdayne--and all thoughts of Isabella were consigned +to eternal oblivion as he remembered the time when _he_ had sipped that +wine with his Queen in the little hotel on the Buergenstock. + +She would have no cause for jealousy--his darling! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +It was November when Sir Charles died, and Lady Henrietta betook herself +to her sister's for consolation, while Sir Paul and the Boy, with a +common impulse, departed for India. + +They spent Christmas in Egypt, the winter months in the desert, and at +last spring came, with its remembrance of duties to be done. And to the +elder man England made its insistent call, as it always did in March. +For was it not in England, and in March, the tidings reached him that +unto him a son was born? + +He must go back. + +So at last, acting upon a pre-arrangement to which the young Prince had +not been a party, they made their way back to their own world of men and +women. + + * * * * * + +"Boy," said Sir Paul, one day, "the time has come when many questions +you have asked and wondered about are to be answered, as is your due. It +was your mother's wish that you should go, at the beginning of May, +alone, to Lucerne. There you will find letters awaiting you--from +her--from your Uncle Peter--yes, even from myself--telling you the whole +secret of your birth, the story of your inheritance." + +"Why Lucerne, Father Paul?" + +"It was your mother's wish--and mine!" + +Then, with a rush of tenderness, the older man threw his arm around the +Boy's shoulders. "Boy," he said, "be charitable and lenient and +kind--whatever you read!" + +"And what are you going to do, Father Paul? I have not quite two weeks +of freedom left, and I begrudge every day I am forced to spend away from +you. You will go with me to see me crowned--and married?" + +"Certainly, Boy! You are to stay in Lucerne only until you are sure you +understand all the revelations of these letters, and their full import. +It may be a week--it may be a day--it may be but a few hours, but--I +can't go with you, and you must not ask me to! It is an experience you +must face alone. I will await you in Venice, Paul, and be sure that when +you want me, Boy, I will come!" + +The Boy's sensitive nature was stirred to the depths by the emotion in +Sir Paul's face--emotion that all his life long he had never seen there +before. He grasped his hand-- + +"Father Paul," he began, but Sir Paul shook his head at the unspoken +appeal in his face and bade him be patient just a little longer and +await his letters, for he could tell him nothing. + +And thus they parted; the Boy to seek in Lucerne the unveiling of his +destiny, the man to wait in Venice, a place he had shunned for +one-and-twenty years, but which was dearer to him than any other city in +the world. It was there that he had lived the climax of his love-life, +with its unutterable ecstasy--and unutterable pain. + +Vasili had preceded his young master to Lucerne with the letters that +had been too precious, and of too secret a nature, to be entrusted to +the post. Who can define the sensations of the young prince as he held +in his hand the whole solution of the mystery that had haunted all his +years? He trembled--paled. What was this secret--perhaps this terrible +secret--which was to be a secret no longer? + +Alone in his apartment, he opened the little packet and read the note +from the Regent, which enclosed the others, and then--he could read no +further. The few words of information that there stared him in the face +drove every other thought from his mind, every other emotion from his +heart. His father! Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he known? A thousand +significant memories rushed over him in the light of the startling +revelation. How blind he had been! And he sat for hours, unheeding the +flight of time, thinking only the one thought, saying over and over +again the one name, the name of his father, his own father, whom he had +loved so deeply all his life-- + +_Paul Verdayne!_ + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +At last, when he felt that he could control his scattered senses, he +turned over the letters in the packet and found his mother's. How his +boyish heart thrilled at this message from the dead!--a message that he +had waited for, and that had been waiting for him, one-and-twenty years! +The letter began: + +"Once, my baby, thy father--long before he was thy father--had a +presentiment that if he became my lover my life would find a tragic end. + +"Once, likewise, I told thy father, before he became my lover, that the +price we might have to pay, if we permitted ourselves to love, would be +sorrow and death! For, my baby, these are so often the terrible cost of +such a love as ours. That he has been my lover--my beloved--heart of my +heart--thine own existence is the living proof; and something--an +intangible something--tells me that the rest of his prophecy will +likewise be fulfilled. We have known the sorrow--aye, as few others +have--and even now I feel that we shall also know death! + +"It is because of this curious presentiment of mine that I write down +for thee, my baby--my baby Paul--this story of thy father and thy +mother, and the great love that gave thee to the world. It is but right, +before thou comest into thy kingdom, that thou shouldst know--thou and +thou alone--the secret of thy birth, that thou mayst carry with thee +into the big world thy birthright--the sweetness of a supreme love." + +Then briefly, but as completely and vividly as the story could be +written, she pictured for him the beautiful idyl she and her lover had +lived, here in this very spot, two-and-twenty years ago; told him, in +her own quaint words, of the beautiful boy she had found in Lucerne, +that glorious May so long ago, and how it had been her caprice to waken +him, until the caprice had become her love, and afterwards her life; +told him how she had seen the danger, and had warned the boy to leave +Lucerne, while there was yet time, but that he had answered that he +would chance the hurt, because he wished to live, and he knew that only +she could teach him how--only she could prove to him the truth of her +own words, that _life was love!_ + +She told how weary and unhappy she had been, picturing with no light +fingers the misery of her life--married when a mere child to a vicious +husband--and all the insults and brutality she was forced to endure; and +then, for contrast, told him tenderly how she had been young again for +this boy she had found in Lucerne. + +There was not one little detail of that idyllic dream of love omitted +from the picture she drew for him of these two--and their sublime three +weeks of life on the Buergenstock with their final triumphant, but bitter +culmination in Venice. She told him of what they had been pleased to +call their wedding--the wedding of their souls--nor did she seek to +lessen the enormity of their sin. + +She touched with the tenderest of fingers upon the first dawn in their +hearts of the hope of the coming of a child--a child who would hold +their souls together forever--a child who would immortalize their love +till it should live on, and on, and on, through countless generations +perhaps--till who could say how much the world might be benefited and +helped just because they two had loved! + +And then she told him--sweetly, as a mother should--of all her dreams +for her son--all her hopes and ambitions that were centered around his +little life--the life of her son who was to redeem the land--told him +how ennobled and exalted she had felt that this strong, manly Englishman +was her lover, and how sure she had been that their child would have a +noble mind. + + "Thou wilt think my thoughts, my baby Paul--thou wilt dream my + dreams, and know all my ambitions and longings. Thou canst not be + ignoble or base, for thou wert born of a love that makes all other + unions mean and low and sordid by comparison." + +Then, after telling, as only she could tell it, of the bitterness of +that parting in Venice, when, because of the threatening danger, from +which there was no escape, she left her lover to save his life, she went +on: + + "Dost thou know yet, when thou readest this, little Paul, with thy + father's eyes--dost thou know, I wonder, the meaning of that great + love which to the twain who realize it becomes a sacrament--dost + understand?--a sacrament holier even than a prayer. It was even so + with thy father and me--dost thou--canst thou understand? If not + yet, sometime thou wilt, and thou wilt then forgive thy mother for + her sin." + +She told of the taunts and persecutions to which she was forced to +submit upon her return to her kingdom. The king and his friends had +vilely commended her for her "patriotism" in finding an heir to the +throne. "Napoleon would have felt honored," her husband had sneered, "if +Josephine had adopted thy method of finding him the heir he desired!" +But through it all, she said, she had not faltered. She had held the one +thought supreme in her heart and remembered that however guilty she +might be in the eyes of the world, there was a higher truth in the words +of Mrs. Browning, "God trusts me with a child," and had dared to pray. + + "To pray for strength and grace and wisdom to give thee birth, my + baby, and to make thee all that thou shouldst be--to develop thee + into the man I and thy father would have thee become. I was not + only giving an heir to the throne of my realm. I was giving a son + to the husband of my soul. But the world did not know that. + Whatever it might suspect, it could actually know--nothing! The + secret was thy father's and mine--his and mine alone--and now it + is thine, as it needs must be! Guard it well, my baby, and let it + make thy life and thy manhood full of strength and power and + sweetness and glory and joy, and remember, as thou readest for the + first time this story of thy coming into the world, that thy mother + counted it her greatest, proudest glory to be the chosen love of + thy father, and the mother of his son." + +She had touched as lightly as she could upon the dark hours of her +baby's coming, when she was doomed to pass through that Valley of the +Shadow far away from the protecting and comforting love of him whose +right it was by every law of Nature to have been, then of all times, by +her side; but the Boy felt the pathos of it, and his eyes filled with +tears. His mother--the mother of his dreams--his glorious +queen-mother--to suffer all this for him--for him! + +And Father Paul!--his own father! What must this cross have been to him! +Surely he would love him all the rest of his life to make up for all +that suffering! + +Then he thought of the other letters and he read them all, his heart +torn between grief and anger--for they told him all the appalling +details of the tragedy that had taken his mother from him, and left his +father and himself bereaved of all that made life dear and worth the +living to man and boy. + +One of the letters was from Sir Paul, telling the story over again from +the man's point of view, and laying bare at last the great secret the +Boy had so often longed to hear. Nothing was kept back. Even every +note--every little scrap of his mother's writing--had been sacredly kept +and was now enclosed for the eyes of their son to read. The closed door +in Father Paul's life was unlocked now, and his son entered and +understood, wondering why he had been so blind that he had not seen it +all before. The writing on the wall had certainly been plain enough. And +he smiled to remember the readiness with which he had believed the +plausible story of Isabella Waring! + +And that man--the husband of his mother--the king who had taken her dear +life from her with a curse upon his lips! Thank God he was not his +father! No, in all the world of men, there was no one but Paul +Verdayne--no one--to whom he would so willingly have given the +title--and to him he had given it in his heart long before. + +He sat and read the letters through again, word by word, living in +imagination the life his mother had lived, feeling all she had felt. +God! the bliss, the agony of it all! + +And Paul Zalenska, surrounded by the messages from the past that had +given him being, and looking at the ruin of his own life with eyes newly +awakened to the immensity of his loss, bowed his face in his hands and +wept like a heart-broken child over the falling of his house of cards. + +Ah! his mother had understood--she had loved and suffered. She was older +than he, too, and had known her world as he could not possibly know it, +and yet she had bade him take the gifts of life when they came his way. + +And--God help him!--he had not done so! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The next morning, Paul Zalenska rose early. He had not slept well. He +was troubled with conflicting emotions, conflicting memories. The wonder +and sorrow of it all had been too much even for his youth and health to +endure. His mother had won so much from life, he thought--and he so +little! He thought of Opal--indeed, when was she ever absent from his +thoughts, waking or sleeping?--and the memory of his loss made him +frantic. Opal--his darling! And _they_ might have been just as happy as +his mother and father had been, but they had let their happiness slip +from them! What fools! Oh, what fools they had been! Not to have risked +anything--everything--for their happiness! And where was she now? In +Paris, in her husband's arms, no doubt, where he could hold her to him, +and caress her and kiss her at his own sweet will! God! It was +intolerable, unthinkable! And he--Paul, her lover--lying there alone, +who would have died a thousand deaths, if that were possible, to save +her from such a fate! + +At last he forced the thought of his own loss from him, and thought +again of his mother. Ah, but her death had been opportune! How glorious +to die when life and love had reached their zenith! in the fullness of +joy to take one's farewell of the world! + +And in the long watches of that wakeful night, he formed the resolution +that he put into effect at the first hint of dawn. He would spend one +entire day in solitude. He would traverse step by step the primrose +paths of his mother's idyllic dream; he would visit every scene, every +nook, she and her lover had immortalized in their memories; he would see +it all, feel it all--yes, _live_ it all, and become so impregnated with +its witchery that it would shed lustre and glory upon all the bleak +years to come. So well had she told her story, so perfect had been its +word-painting, he was sure that he would recognize every scene. + +He explored the ivy-terrace leading to his mother's room, he walked up +and down under the lime trees, and he sat on the bench still in position +under the ivy hanging from the balustrade, and looked up wistfully at +the windows of the rooms that had been hers. Then he engaged a launch +and crossed the lake, and was not satisfied until he had found among the +young beeches on the other side what he felt must have been the exact +spot where his mother had peeped through the leaves upon her ardent +lover, before she knew him. And he roamed about among the trees, feeling +a subtle sense of satisfaction in being in the same places that they had +been who gave him being, as though the spirits of their two natures must +still haunt the spot and leave some trace of their presence even yet. He +followed each of the three paths until he had decided to his own +satisfaction by which one his mother had escaped from her pursuer, that +day, and he laughed a buoyant, boyish laugh at the image it suggested of +Verdayne, the misogynist--his stately, staid old Father Paul--actually +"running after a woman!" Truly the Boy was putting aside his own sorrow +and discontent to-day. He was living in the past, identifying himself +with every phase of it, living in imagination the life of these two so +dear to him, and rejoicing in their joy. Life had certainly been one +sweet song to them, for a brief space, a duet in Paradise, broken +up--alas for the Boy!--before it had become the trio it should have +developed into, by every law of Nature. + +He sought the little village that they had visited before him, and +lunched at the same little hotel. He drove out to the little farmhouse +where the lovers had had their first revelation of him--their baby--and +he wept over the loss of the glorious mother she would have been to him. +He even climbed the mountain and looked with her eyes out over the +landscape. He was young and strong, and he determined to let nothing +escape him--to let no sense of fatigue deter him--but to crowd the day +full of memories of her. + +The Boy, as his mother had been before him, was enraptured by all that +he saw. The beauty of the snow-capped mountains against the blue of the +sky and the golden glamour of the sunshine appealed to him keenly, and +he watched the reflection of it all in the crystal lake in a trance of +delight. + +"Ah," he thought, "had they deliberately searched the world over for a +fitting setting for their idyl, they could not have selected a retreat +more perfect than this. It was made for lovers who love as they did." + +And at last, under the witchery of the star-studded skies, wearied and +hungry, but filled and thrilled with the fragrance and glory of the +memories of the mother whom his young heart idealized, he left the +launch at the landing by the terrace steps and started blithely for the +little restaurant, dreaming, always dreaming, not of the future--but of +the past. + +For him, alas, the future held no promise! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +During the Boy's absence that day a new guest had arrived at the little +hotel. A capricious American lady, who had come to Lucerne, "for a day +or two's rest," she said, before proceeding to Paris where an impatient +Count awaited her and his wedding-day. + +Yes, Opal was actually in Lucerne, and the suite of rooms once occupied +by the mysterious Madame Zalenska were now given over to the little lady +from over the seas, who, in spite of her diminutive stature, contrived +to impress everybody with a sense of her own importance. She had just +received a letter from her fiance, an unusually impatient communication, +even from him. He was anxious, he said, for her and his long-delayed +honeymoon. Honeymoon! God help her! Her soul recoiled in horror from the +hideous prospect. Only two days more, she thought, pressing her lips +tightly together. Oh, the horror of it! She dared not think of it, or +she would go mad! But she would not falter. She had told herself that +she was now resigned. She was going to defeat Fate after all! + +She had partaken of her dinner, and was standing behind the ivy that +draped the little balcony, watching the moon in its setting of Swiss +skies and mystic landscape. How white and calm and spotless it appeared! +It was not a man's face she saw there--but that of a woman--the face of +a nun in its saintly, virgin purity, suggesting only sweet inspiring +thoughts of the glory of fidelity to duty, of the comfort and peace and +rest that come of renunciation. + +Opal clasped her hands together with a thrill of exultation at her own +victory over the love and longings that were never to be fulfilled. A +song of prayer and thanksgiving echoed in her heart over the thought +that she had been strong enough to do her duty and bear the cross that +life had so early laid upon her shoulders. She felt so good--so true--so +pure--so strong to-night. She would make her life, she thought--her life +that could know no personal love--abound in love for all the world, and +be to all it touched a living, breathing benediction. + +As she gazed she suddenly noticed a lighted launch on the little lake, +and an inexplicable prescience disturbed the calm of her musings. She +watched, with an intensity she could not have explained, the gradual +approach of the little craft. What did that boat, or its passenger, +matter to her that she should feel such an acute interest in its +movements? Yet something told her it did matter much, and though she +laughed at her superstition, nevertheless her heart listened to it, and +dared not gainsay its insistent whisper. + +A young man, straight and tall and lithe, bounded from the launch and +mounted the terrace steps. She saw his clean-cut profile, his +well-groomed appearance, which even in the moonlight was plainly +evident. She noted the regal bearing of his well-knit figure, and she +caught the delicious aroma of the particular brand of cigar Paul always +smoked, as he passed beneath the balcony where she stood. + +She turned in very terror and fled to her rooms, pulling the curtains +closer. She shrank like a frightened child upon the couch, her face +white and drawn with fear--of what, she did not know. + +After a time--long, terrible hours, it seemed to her--she parted the +curtains with tremulous fingers and looked out again at the sky, and +shuddered. The virgin nun-face had mysteriously changed--the moon that +had looked so pure and spotless was now blood-red with passion. + +Opal crept back, pulling the curtains together again, and threw herself +face downward upon the couch. God help her! + + * * * * * + +Paul Zalenska lingered long over his dinner that night. He was tired and +thoughtful. And he enjoyed sitting at that little table where his father +perhaps sat the night he had first seen her who became his love. + +And Paul pictured to himself that first meeting. He tried to imagine +that he was Paul Verdayne, and that shortly his lady would come in with +her stately tread, and take her seat, and be waited upon by her elderly +attendant. Perhaps she would look at him through those long dark lashes +with eyes that seemed not to see. But there was no special table, +to-night, and the Boy felt that the picture was woefully +incomplete--that he had been left out of the scheme of things entirely. + +After finishing his meal, he went out, as his father had done, out under +the stars and sat on the little bench under the ivy, and smoked a cigar. +He felt a curious thrill of excitement, quite out of keeping with his +loneliness. Was it just the memory of that old love-story that had +stirred his blood? Why did his pulse leap, his blood race through his +veins like this, his heart rise to his throat and hammer there so +fiercely, so strangely. Only one influence in all the world had ever +done this to him--only one influence--_one woman_--and she was miles and +miles away! + +Suddenly, impelled by some force beyond his power of resistance--a sense +of someone's gaze fixed upon him, he raised his eyes to the ivy above +him. There, faint and indistinct in the shadow of the leaves, but quite +unmistakable, he saw the white, frightened face of the girl he loved, +her luminous eyes looking straight down into his. + +He sprang to his feet, and pulled himself up by the ivy to the level of +the terrace, but she had vanished and the watching stars danced +mockingly overhead. Was he dreaming? Had that strange old love-story +taken away from him the last remaining shred of sanity? Surely he hadn't +seen Opal! She was in Paris--damn it!--and he clenched his teeth at the +thought--certainly not at Lucerne! + +He looked at the windows of that enchanted room. All was darkness and +silence. Cursing himself for a madman, he strode into the hall and +examined the Visitors' List. Suddenly the blood leaped to his face--his +head reeled--his heart beat to suffocation. He was not dreaming, for +there, as plainly as words could be written, was the entry: + +_Miss Ledoux and maid, New Orleans, U. S. A._ + +She was there--in Lucerne!--his Opal! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +How Paul reached his room, he never knew. He was in an ecstasy--his +young blood surging through his veins in response to the leap of the +seething passions within. + +Have you never felt it, Reader? If you have not, you had better lay +aside this book, for you will never, never understand what +followed--what _must_ follow, in the very nature of human hearts. + +Fate once more had placed happiness in his grasp--should he fling it +from him? Never! never again! He remembered his mother and her great +love, as she had bade him. + +This day, following as it did his mother's letter, had been a revelation +to him of the possibilities of life, and of his own capacity for +enjoying it. In one week, only one week more, he must take upon his +shoulders the burdens of a kingdom. Should he let a mistaken sense of +right and duty defraud him a second time? Was this barrier--which a +stronger or a weaker man would have brushed aside without a second +thought--to wreck his life, and Opal's? He laughed exultingly. His whole +soul was on fire, his whole body aflame. + +Beyond the formality of the betrothal, Opal had not yet been bound to +the Count. She was not his--yet! She could not be Paul's wife--Fate had +made that forever impossible--but she should be _his_, as he knew she +already was at heart. + +They loved, and was not love--everything! + +He paced the floor in an excitement beyond his control. Opal should give +him, out of her life, one day--one day in the little hotel on the +Buergenstock, where his mother and her lover had been so happy. They, +too, should be happy--as happy as two mating birds in a new-built +nest--for one day they would forget all yesterdays and all to-morrows. +He would make that one day as glorious and shadowless for her as a day +could possibly be made--one day in which to forget that the world was +gray--- one day which should live in their memories throughout all the +years to come as the one ray of sunshine in two bleak and dreary lives! + +And tempted, as he admitted to himself, quite beyond all reason, he +swore by all that he held sacred to risk everything--brave +everything--for the sake of living one day in Paradise. + +"We have a right to be happy," he said. "Everyone has a right to be +happy, and we have done no wrong to the world. Why should we two, who +have the capability of making so much of our lives and doing so much for +the world, as we might have, together--why should we be sentenced to the +misery of mere existence, while men and women far less worthy of +happiness enjoy life in its utmost ecstasy?" + +One thing he was firmly resolved upon. Opal should not know his real +rank. She should give herself to Paul Zalenska, the man--not to Paul the +Prince! His rank should gloss over nothing--nothing--and for all she +knew now to the contrary, her future rank as Countess de Roannes was +superior to his own. + +And then as silence fell about the little hotel, unbroken save by some +strolling musicians in the square near at hand who sent the most tender +of Swiss love-melodies out upon the evening air, Paul walked out to the +terrace, passed through the little gate, and reaching the balcony, +knocked gently but imperatively upon the door of the room that was once +his mother's. + +The door was opened cautiously. + +Paul stepped inside, and closed it softly behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +In the moonlit room, Paul and Opal faced each other in a silence heavy +with emotion. + +It had been months since they parted, yet for some moments neither +spoke. Opal first found her voice. + +"Paul! You-saw me!" + +"I felt your eyes!" + +"Oh, why did I come!" + +Opal had begun to prepare for the night and had thrown about her +shoulders a loose robe of crimson silk. Her lustrous hair, like waves of +burnished copper, hung below her waist in beautiful confusion. With +trembling fingers she attempted to secure it. + +"Your hair is wonderful, Opal! Please leave it as it is," Paul said +softly. And, curiously enough, she obeyed in silence. + +"Paul," she said at last, with a little nervous laugh, as she recovered +her self-possession and seated herself on the couch, "don't stand +staring at me! I'm not a tragedy queen! You're too melodramatic. Sit +down and tell me why you've come here at this hour." + +Paul obeyed mechanically, his gaze still upon her. She shrank from the +expression of his eyes--it was the old tiger-look again! + +"I came because I had to, Opal. I could not have done otherwise. I have +something to tell you." + +"Something to tell me?" she repeated. + +"Yes. The most interesting story in the world to me, Opal--a letter from +my mother--a letter to me alone, which I can share with only one woman +in the world--the woman I love!" + +Her eyes fell. As she raised her hand abstractedly to adjust the +curtain, Paul saw the flash of her betrothal ring. He caught her hand in +his and quietly slipped the ring from her finger. She seized the jewel +with her free hand and tried to thrust it into her bosom. + +"No! no!--not there!" he remonstrated, and was not satisfied until she +had crossed the room and hidden it from his sight. + +"Does that please your majesty?" she asked, with a curious little +tremble in her voice. + +Paul started, and stared at her with a world of wonder in his eyes. +Could she know? + +"Your majesty--" he stammered. + +"Why not?" she laughed. "You speak as though you had but to command to +be obeyed." + +"Forgive me, dear," he answered softly. + +And Opal became her sympathetic self again. + +"Tell me about your mother, Paul," she said. + +And Paul, beginning at the very beginning, told her the whole story as +it had been told to him, reading much of his mother's letter to her, +reserving only such portions of it as would reveal the identity he was +determined to keep secret until she was his. The girl was moved to the +depths of her nature by the beauty and pathos of it all, and then the +thought came to her, "This, then, is Paul's heritage--his birthright! +He, like me, is doomed!" + +And her heart ached for him--and for herself! + +But Paul did not give her long to muse. Sitting down beside her for the +first time, he told her the plan he had been turning over in his mind +for their one day together. + +"Surely," he said, "it is not too much to ask out of a lifetime of +misery--one little day of bliss! Just one day in which there shall be no +yesterday, and no to-morrow--one day of Elysium against years of +Purgatory! Let us have our idyl, dear, as my mother and father had +theirs--even though it must be as brief as a butterfly's existence, let +us not deny ourselves that much. I ask only one day! + +"You love me, Opal. I love you. You are, of all the world of women, my +chosen one, as I--no, don't shake your head, for you can't honestly deny +it--am yours! We know we must soon part forever. Won't it be easier for +both of us--both, I say--if for but one day, we can give to each other +all! Won't all our lives be better for the memory of one perfect day? +Think, Opal--to take out of all eternity just a few hours--and yet out +of those few hours may be born sufficient courage for all the life to +come! Don't you see? Can't you? Oh, I can't argue--I can't reason! I +only want you to be mine--all mine--yes, if only for a few hours--all +mine!" + +"Paul, you are mad," she began, but he would not listen. + +"Just one day," he pleaded--"no yesterday, and no to-morrow!" + +He looked at her tenderly. + +"Opal, it simply has to be--it's Fate! If it wasn't meant to be, why +have we met here like this? Do you think we two are mere toys in the +grip of circumstances? Or do you believe the gods have crossed our paths +again just to tantalize us? Is that why we are here, Opal, you and +I--_together_?" + +"Why, I came to rest--to see Lucerne! Most tourists come to Lucerne! +It's a--pretty--place--very!" she responded, lamely. + +"Well, then, account for the rest of it. Why did _I_ come?--and at the +same time?--and find you here in my mother's room? Simply a coincidence? +Answer me that! Chance plays strange freaks sometimes, I'll admit, but +Fate is a little more than mere chance. Why did I hear your voice, that +time? Why did I see you, and follow? Why did we find ourselves so near +akin--so strangely, so irresistibly drawn to each other? Answer me, +Opal! Why was it, if we weren't created to be--_one_?" + +After a moment of waiting he said, "Listen to the music, Opal! Only +listen! Doesn't it remind you of dreams and visions--of fairyland, of +happiness, and--love?" + +But she could not answer. + +At last she said slowly, "Oh, it's too late, Paul--too late!" + +"Too late?" he echoed. "It's never too late to take the good the gods +send! Never, while love lasts!" + +"But the Count, Paul--and your fiancee! Think, Paul, think!" + +"I can't think! What does the Count matter, Opal! Nothing--nothing makes +any difference when you are face to face with destiny and your soul-mate +calls! It has to be--_it has to be!_--can't you--won't you--see it?" + +"_God help all poor souls lost in the dark!_" She did see it. It stared +her relentlessly in the face and tugged mercilessly at her heart with +fingers of red-hot steel! She covered her face with her hands, but she +could not shut out the terrible image of advancing Death that held for +her all the charm of a serpent's eye. She struggled, as virgin woman has +always struggled. But in her heart she knew that she would yield. What +was her weak woman's nature after all, when pitted against the strength +of the man she loved! + +"Oh, I was feeling so pure--so good--so true--to-night! Are there not +thousands of beautiful women in the world who might be yours for the +asking? Could you not let the poor Count have his wife and his honeymoon +in peace?" + +Honeymoon! She shuddered at the thought. + +"Sweetheart," he whispered, "by every God-made law of Nature you are +mine--mine--mine! What care we for the foolish, man-made conventions of +this or any other land? There is only one law in the universe--the +divine right of the individual to choose for himself his mate!" + +Then his whisper became softer--more enticing--more resistless in its +passionate appeal. + +He was pleading with his whole soul--this prince who with one word could +command the unquestioning obedience of a kingdom! But the woman in his +arms did not know that, and it would have made no difference if she had! +In that supreme moment it was only man and woman. + +Opal gazed in amazement at this revelation of a new Paul. How splendid +he was! What a king among all the men she knew! What a god in his +manhood's glory!--a god to make the hearts of better and wiser women +than she ache--and break--with longing! Her hand stole to her heart to +still the fury of its beating. + +"Opal," he breathed, "I have wanted you ever since that mad moment in +gray old London when I first caught the lure in your glorious eyes--do +you remember, sweetheart? I know you are mine--and you know it--girl! + +His voice sank lower and lower, growing more and more intense with +suppressed passion. Opal was held spell-bound by the subtle charm of his +languorous eyes. She wanted to cry out, but she could not speak--she +could not think--the spell of his fascination overpowered her. + +She felt her eyes grow humid. Her heart seemed to struggle upward, till +it caught in her throat like a huge lump of molten lead and threatened +to choke her with its wild, hot pulsations. + +"I love you, Opal! I love you! and I want you! God! how I want you!" +Paul stammered on, with a catch in his boyish voice it made her heart +leap to hear. "I want your eyes, Opal--your hair--your lips--your +glorious self! I want you as man never wanted woman before!" + +He paused, dazed by his own passion, maddened by her lack of +response--blinded by a mist of fire that made his senses swim and his +brain reel, and crazed by the throbbing of the pulse that cried out from +every vein in his body with the world-old elemental call. Was she going +to close the gates of Paradise in his very face and in the very hour of +his triumph rob him of the one day--his little day? + +It was too much. + +More overwhelmed by her lack of response than by any words she could +have uttered, Paul hesitated. Then, speech failing him, half-dazed, he +stumbled toward the door. + +"Paul!... Paul!" + +He heard her call as one in dreamland catches the far-off summons of +earth's realities. He turned. She stretched out her arms to him--those +round, white arms. + +"I understand you, Paul! I do understand." She threw her arms around his +neck and drew his face down to hers. "Yes, I love you, Paul, I love you! +Do you hear, I love you! I am yours--utterly--heart, mind, soul, and +body! Don't you know that I am yours?" + +She was in his arms now, weeping strange, hot tears of joy, her heart +throbbing fiercely against his own. + +"Paul--Paul--I am mad, I think!--we are both mad, you and I!" + +And as their lips at last met in one long, soul-maddening kiss, and the +intoxication of the senses stole over them, she murmured in the fullness +of her surrender, "Take me! Crush me! Kiss me! My love--my love!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +The morning dawned. The morning of their one day. + +Nature had done her best for them and made it all that a May day should +be. There was not one tint, nor tone, nor bit of fragrance lacking. +Silver-throated birds flooded the world with songs of love. The very air +seemed full of beauty and passion and the glory and joy of life in the +dawn of its fullness. + +Their arrangements had been hasty, but complete. Paul had stolen away +from Lucerne in the middle of the night, to be ready to welcome his +darling at the-first break of the morning; and it was at a delightfully +early hour that they met at the little hotel on the Buergenstock where +his mother's love-dream had waxed to its idyllic perfection, +one-and-twenty years ago. They sat on the balcony and ate their simple +breakfast, looking down to where the reflection of the snow-crowned +mountains trembled in the limpid lake. + +Opal had never before looked so lovely, he thought. She was gowned in +the simplest fashion in purest white, as a bride should be, her glorious +hair arranged in a loose, girlish knot, while her lustrous eyes were +cast down, shyly, and her cheeks were flushed--flushed with the +revelations and memories of the night just passed--flushed with the +promise of the day just dawning--flushed with love, with slumbering, +smouldering passion--with wifehood! + +How completely she was his when she had once surrendered! + +In their first kiss of greeting, they bridged over, in one ecstatic +moment, the hours of their brief separation. When he finally withdrew +his lips from hers, with a deep sigh of momentary satisfaction, she +looked up into his eyes with something of the old, capricious mischief +dancing in her own. + +"Let us make the most of our day, darling, our one day!" she said. "We +must not waste a single minute of it." + +Opal had stolen away from Lucerne and had come up the mountain +absolutely unattended. She would share her secret with no one, she said, +and Paul had acquiesced. And now he took her up in his arms as one would +carry a little child, and bore her off to the suite he had engaged for +them. What a bit of a thing she was to wield such an influence over a +man's whole life! + +A pert little French maid waited upon them. She eyed with great favor +the _distingue_ young monsieur, and his _charmante epouse!_ There was a +knowing twinkle in her eye--she had not been a _femme de chambre_ even a +little while without learning to scent a _lune de miel!_ And this +promised to be especially _piquante_. But Paul would have none of her, +and she tripped away disappointed of her coveted _divertissement_. + +Paul was very jealous and exacting and even domineering this morning, +and would permit no intrusion. He would take care of madame, he had +informed the girl, and when she had taken herself away, he repeated it +emphatically. Opal was his little girl, he said, and he was going to pet +and coddle her himself. _Femme de chambre_ indeed! Wasn't he worth a +dozen of the impertinent French minxes! Wanted to coquette with him, +most likely--thought he might be ready to yawn over madame's charms! She +could keep her pretty ankles out of his sight--he wasn't interested in +them! + +How Paul thrilled at the touch of everything Opal wore! Soft delicious +things they were, and he handled them with an awkward reverence that +brought tears to her eyes. They spoke a strange, shy language of their +own--these little, filmy bits of fine linen. + +Oh, but it was good, thought Opal, to be taken care of like this!--to be +on these familiar terms with the Boy she loved--to give him the right to +love her and do these little things, so sacred in a woman's life. And to +Paul it meant more than even she guessed. It was such a new world to +him. He felt that he was treading on holy ground, and, for the moment, +was half-afraid. + +And thus began their one day--the one day that was to know no yesterday, +and no tomorrow! + +They found it hard to remember that part of it at all times. He would +grow reminiscent for an instant, and begin, "Do you remember--" and she +would catch him up quickly with a whispered, "No yesterday, Paul!" And +again, it would be his turn, for a troubled look would cloud the joy of +her eyes, and she would start to say, "What shall I do--" or "When I go +to Paris--" and Paul would snatch her to his heart and remind her that +there was "No tomorrow!" + +All the forenoon she lay in his arms, crying out with little +inarticulate gurgles of joy under his caresses, lavishing a whole +lifetime's concentrated emotion upon him in a ferocity of passion that +seemed quenchless. + +And Paul was in the seventh heaven--mad with love! He was learning that +there were tones in that glorious voice that he had never heard before, +depths in those eyes that he had never fathomed--and those tones, those +depths, were all for him, for him alone--aye, had been waiting there +through all eternity for his awakening touch. + +"Opal," he said, earnestly, "perhaps it was here--on this very spot, it +may be, who knows--that my mother gave herself to my father! + +But she could only smile at him through fast-gathering tears--strange +tears of mingled joy and wonder and pain. + +And he covered her face, her neck, her shoulders with burning kisses, +and cried out in an ecstasy of bliss, "Oh, my love! My life!" + +And thus the morning hours died away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +And behold, it was noon! + +The day and their love stood still together. The glamour of the day, the +resistless force of their masterful love that seemed to them so unlike +all other loves of which they had ever heard or dreamed, held them in a +transport of delight that could only manifest itself in strange, +bitter-sweet caresses, in incoherent murmurings. + +This, then, was love! Aye, this was Love! + +The thoughts of the two returned with a tender, persistent recollection +to the love-tale of the past--the delicious idyl of love that had given +birth to this boy. Here, even here, had been spent those three maddest +and gladdest of weeks--that dream of an ideal love realized in its +fullness, as it is given to few to realize. + +Yes, that was Love! + +It was youth eternal--youth and fire, power and passion. + +It was May! May! + + * * * * * + +It was mid-afternoon before they awakened, to look into each other's +eyes with a new understanding. Surely never since the world began had +two souls loved each other as did these! + +And what should they do with the afternoon? Such a little while remained +for them--such a little while! + +Paul drew out his mother's letter, and together they read it, +understanding now, as they had not been able to understand before, its +whole wonderful significance. + +When they read of the first dawn of the hope of parentage in the hearts +of these long-ago lovers, their eyes met, heavy with the wistfulness of +renunciation. That consolation, alas! was not for them. Only the joy of +loving could ever be theirs. + +And then, drawing out the other letters that had accompanied his +mother's, Paul revealed to his darling the whole mystery of his +identity. + +At first she was startled--almost appalled--at the thought that she had +given herself to a Prince of the Purple--a real king of a real +kingdom--and for a moment felt a strange awe of him. + +But Paul, reading her unspoken thought in her eyes, with that sweet +clairvoyance that had always existed between them, soothed and petted +and caressed her till the smiles returned to her face and she nestled in +his arms, once more happy and content. + +She was the queen of his soul, he told her, whoever might wear the crown +and bear the title before the world. Then, very carefully, lest he +should wound her, he told her the whole story of the Princess Elodie. + +Opal moved across the room and stood drumming idly by the long, open +window. He watched her anxiously. + +"Paul, did you go to see her as you promised--and is she ...pretty?" + +"She is a cow!" + +"Paul!" Opal laughed at his tone. + +"Oh, but she is! Fancy loving a cow!" + +Opal's heart grew heavy with a great pity for this poor, unfortunate +royal lady who was to be Paul's wife--the mother of his children--but +never, never his Love! + +"But, Paul, you'll be good to her, won't you? I know you will! You +couldn't be unkind to any living thing." + +And she ran into his arms, and clasped his neck tight! And the poor +Princess Elodie was again forgotten! + +"You--Opal--are my real wife," Paul assured her, "the one love of my +soul, the mate the gods have formed for me--my own forever!" + +Opal wept for pity of him, and for herself, but she faced the future +bravely. She would always be his guiding star, to beckon him upward! + +"And, Opal, my darling," Paul went on, "I promise you to live henceforth +a life of which you shall be proud. I will be brave and true and noble +and great and pure--to prove my gratitude to the gods for giving me this +one day--for giving me you, dearest--and your love--your wonderful love! +I _will_ be worthy, dear--I will! I'll be your knight--your +Launcelot--and you shall be my Guenevere! I will always wear your colors +in my heart, dear--the red-brown of your hair, the glorious hazel of +your eyes, the flush of your soft cheek, the rose of your sweet lips, +the virgin whiteness of your soul!" + +Opal looked at him with eyes brimming with pride. Young as he was, he +was indeed every inch a king. + +And she had crowned him king of her heart and soul and life before she +had known! Oh, the wonder of it!--the strange, sweet wonder of it! _He_, +who might have loved and mated where he would, had chosen her to be his +love! She could not realize it. It was almost beyond belief, she +thought, that she--plain little Opal Ledoux--could stir such a nature as +his to such a depth as she knew she had stirred it. + +Ah, the gods had been good to her! They had sent her the Prince +Charming, and he had wakened her with his kiss--that first kiss--how +well she remembered it--and how utterly she belonged to him! + +Then she remembered that, however much they tried to deceive themselves, +there was a to-morrow--a to-morrow that would surely come--a to-morrow +in which they would not belong to each other at all. He would belong to +the world. She would belong to a-- + +She sprang up at the recollection, and drew the curtains of the window +closer together. + +"We will shut out the cold, inquisitive, prying old world," she said. +"It shall not look, shall not listen! It is a hard, cruel world, my +Paul. It would say that I must not put my arms around your neck--like +this--must not lay my cheek against yours--so--must not let my heart +feel the wild throbbing of yours--and why? Because I do not wear your +ring, Paul--that's all!" + +She held up her white hand for his inspection, and surveyed it +critically. + +"See, Paul--there is no glittering, golden fetter to hold me to you with +the power of an iron band, and so I must not--let you hold me to you at +all" + +They both laughed merrily, and then Paul, pulling her down on his knee +and holding her face against his own, whispered, "What care we for the +old world? It is as sad and mad and bad as we are--if we only knew! And +who knows how much worse? It has petty bickerings, damning lies of spite +and malice, trickery and thievery and corruption on its conscience. Let +the little people of the world prate of their little things! We are +free, dearest--and we defy it, don't we? Our ideals are never lost. And +ideals are the life of love. Is love--a love like ours--a murderer of +life?" + +"Sometimes, Paul--sometimes! I fear it--I do fear it!" + +"Never fear, Opal, my beloved! You need not fear anything--anywhere! I +will stand between you and the world, dear--between you and hell itself! +My God, girl, how I love you! Opal! My Opal! My heart aches with the +immensity of it! Come, my love, my queen, my treasure, come! We have not +many more hours to--live! And I want you close, close--all mine! Ah, +Opal, we are masters of life and death! All earth, all heaven, and--hell +itself, cannot take you from me now!" + +Oh, if scone moments in life could only be eternal! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +And the day--died! + +The sun sank beneath the western horizon; the moon cast her silvery +sheen over the weary world; the twinkling stars appeared in the jewelled +diadem of night; and the silence of evening settled over mountain and +lake and swaying tree, while the two who had dared all things for the +sake of this one day, looked into each other's eyes now with a sudden +realization of the end. + +They had not allowed themselves once to think of the hour of separation. + +And now it was upon them! And they were not ready to part. + +"How do people say good-by forever, Paul?--people who love as we love? +How do they say it, dear? Tell me!" + +"But it is not forever, Opal. Don't you know that you will always be +part of my life--my soul-life, which is the only true one--its +sanctifying inspiration? You must not forget that--never, never!" + +"No, I won't forget it, my King!" She delighted in giving him his title +now. "That satisfaction I will hold to as long as I live!" + +"But, Opal, am I never to see you?--never? Surely we may meet +sometimes--rarely, of course, at long intervals, when life grows gray +and gloomy, and I am starving for one ray of the sunshine of your +smile?" + +"It would be dangerous, Paul, for both of us!" + +"But the world is only a little place after all, beloved. We shall be +thrown together again by Fate--as we have been this time." + +Then she smiled at him archly. "Ah, Paul, I know you so well! Your eyes +are saying that you will often manage to see me 'by chance'--but you +must not, dear, you must not" + +"Girl, I can never forget one word you have uttered, one caress you have +given--one tone of your voice--one smile of your lips--one glance of +your eye--never, never in God's world!" + +"Hold me closer, Paul, and teach me to be brave!" + +They clung together in an agony too poignant for words, too mighty for +tears! And of the unutterable madness and anguish of those last bitter +kisses of farewell, no mortal pen can write! + +But theirs had been from the beginning a mad love--a mad, hopeless, +fatal love--and it could bring neither of them happiness nor +peace--nothing but the bitterness of eternal regret! + +And thus the day--their one day of life--came to an end! + + * * * * * + +That evening, from the hotel at Lucerne, two telegrams flashed over the +wires. One was addressed to the Count de Roannes, Paris, and read as +follows: + +"_Shall reach Paris Monday afternoon.--Opal._" + +The other was addressed to Sir Paul Verdayne, at Venice, and was not +signed at all, saying simply, + +"_A son awaits his father in Lucerne_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +That night a sudden storm swept across Lucerne. + +The thunder crashed like the boom of a thousand cannon; like menacing +blades the lightning flashed its tongues of savage flame; the winds +raved in relentless fury, rocking the giant trees like straws in the +majesty of their wrath. Madness reigned in undisputed sovereignty, and +the earth cowered and trembled beneath the anger of the threatening +heavens. + +Opal crouched in her bed, and buried her head in the pillows. She had +never before known the meaning of fear, but now she was alone, and the +consciousness of guilt was upon her--the acute agony of their separation +mingled with the despairing prospect of a long, miserable loveless--yes, +_shameful,_--life as the legal slave of a man she abhorred. + +She did not regret the one day she had given to her lover. Whatever the +cost, she would never, never regret, she said to herself, for it had +been well worth any price that might be required of her. She gloried in +it, even now, while the storm raged outside. + +And the thunders crashed like the falling of mighty rocks upon the roof +over her head. Should she summon Celeste, her maid? + +Suddenly, as the tempest paused as if to catch its breath, she heard +footsteps in the corridor outside. It was very late--who could be +prowling about at this hour? She listened intently, every nerve and +sense keenly alert. Nearer and nearer the steps came, and then she +remembered with a start that in the excitement of her stealthy return to +the hotel and the anguish and madness of their parting, she had +forgotten to fasten her door. + +There came a light tap on the panel. She did not speak or move--hardly +breathed. Then the door opened, noiselessly, cautiously, and he--her +lover, her king--entered, the dim light of her room making his form, as +it approached, appear of even more than its usual majestic height and +power. + +"Paul!" she whispered. + +He seemed in a strange daze. Had the storm gone to his head and driven +him mad? + +"Yes, it is I," he said hoarsely. "It is Paul. Don't cry out. See, I am +calm!" and he laid his hand on hers. It was burning with fever. "I will +not hurt you, Opal!" + +Cry out? Hurt her? What did he mean? She had no thought of crying out. +Of course he would not hurt her--her lover, her lord, her king! Did she +not belong to him--now? + +He sat down and took her hands in his. + +"Opal," he muttered, "I've been thinking, thinking, thinking, till I +feel half-mad--yes, mad! Dearest, I cannot give you up like this--I +cannot! Let you go to _his_ arms--you who have been mine! Oh, Opal, I've +pictured it all to myself--seen you in his arms--seen his lips on +yours--seen--seen--Can't you imagine what it means to me? It's more than +I can stand, dearest! I may be crazy--I believe I am--but wouldn't it be +better for you and me to--to--cease forever this mockery of life, +and--forget?" + +She did not understand him. + +"Forget?" she murmured, holding his hand against her cheek, while her +free arm pulled his head down to hers. "Forget?" + +He pressed his burning lips to her cool neck, and then, after a moment, +went on, "Yes, beloved, to forget. Think, Opal, think! To forget all +ambition, all restlessness, all disappointment, all longing for what can +never be, all pain, all suffering, all thought of responsibility or +growth or desire, all success or failure--all life, all death--to +forget! to forget! Ah, dearest, one must have loved as we have loved, +and lost as we have lost, to wish to--forget!" + +"But there is no such respite for us, Paul. We are not the sort who can +put memory aside. To live will be to remember!" + +"Yes, that is it. To live _is_ to remember. But why should we live +longer? We've lived a lifetime in one day, have we not, sweetheart? What +more has life to give us?" + +He was calmer now, but it was the calmness of determination. + +"Let us die, dear--let us die! Virginius slew his daughter to save her +honor. You are more to me than a thousand daughters. You are my wife, +Opal!--Opal, my very own!" + +His eyes softened again, as the storm outside lulled for a moment. + +"My darling, don't be afraid! I will save you from him. I will keep you +mine--mine!" + +The thunder crashed again, and again the fury leaped to his eyes. He +drew from his pocket a curious foreign dagger, engraved with quaint +designs, and glittering with encrusted gold. Opal recognized it at once. +She had toyed with it the day before, admiring the richness of its +material and workmanship. + +"She--has been--mine--my wife," he muttered to himself, wildly, +disconnectedly, yet with startling distinctness. "She shall never, never +lie in his arms!" + +He passed his hand across his eyes, as if to brush away a veil. + +"Oh, the red! the red! the red! It's blood and fire and hell! It glares +in my eyes! It screams in my ears! Bidding me kill! kill!" + +He clasped her to him fiercely. + +"To see you, after all this--to see you go from me--and know you were +going to him--_him_--while I went ... Oh, beloved! beloved! God never +meant that! Surely He never meant that when He created us the creatures +that we are!" + +She kissed his hot, quivering lips. She had not loved him so much in all +their one mad day as she loved him now. + +"Paul," she whispered, "beloved!--what would you do?" + +There was only a great wonder in her eyes, not the faintest sign of +fear. Even in his anguish the Boy noticed that. + +"What would I do? Listen, Opal, my darling. Don't you remember, you said +it was not life but death--and I said it was both! And it is! it is! I +thought I was strong enough to brave hell! Opal--though you are +betrothed to the Count de Roannes you are _my wife_! And our +wedding-journey shall be eternal--through stars, Opal, and +worlds--far-off, glimmering worlds--our freed spirits together, always +together--together!" + +She watched him, fascinated, spell-bound. + +"Dear heart, Nature will not repulse us," Paul continued. "She will +gather us to her great, warm, peaceful heart, beloved!" + +Opal held him close to her breast, almost maternally, with a great +longing to soothe and calm his troubled spirit. + +"Think," he continued, "of what my poor, unhappy mother said was the +cost of love--'_Sorrow and death!_' We have had the sorrow, God knows! +And now for death! Kiss me, dearest, dearest! Kiss me for time and for +eternity, Opal, for in life and in death we can never part more!" + +She kissed him--obediently, solemnly--and then, holding her to him, +drinking in all the love that still shone for him in those eyes that had +driven him to desperation, he suddenly plunged the little dagger to its +hilt through her heart. + +She did not cry out. She did not even shudder. But looking at him with +"the light that never was on sea or land" in her still brilliant eyes, +she murmured, "In--life--and--in--death ... beloved! beloved!" + +And while he whispered between his set lips, "Sleep, my beloved, sleep," +her little head dropped back against his arm with a long, peaceful sigh. + +He held her form tenderly to his heart, murmuring senseless, meaningless +words of comfort and love, like a mother crooning her babe to sleep. And +he still clasped her there till the new day peeped through the blinds. +And the storm raged at intervals with all the ferocity of unspent +passion. But _his_ passion was over now, and he laughed a savage laugh +of triumph. + +No one could take her from him now--no one! His darling was his--his +wife--in life and in death! + +He laid her down upon the bed and arranged the blankets over her +tenderly, hiding the hideous, gaping wound, with its unceasing flow; +carefully from sight. He closed her eyes, kissing them as he did so, and +folded her little white hands together, and then he pulled out the +disarranged lace at her throat and smoothed it mechanically, till it lay +quite to his satisfaction. Opal was so fastidious, he thought--so +particular about these little niceties of dress. She would like to look +well when they found her--dear Heaven!--to-morrow! + +"No to-morrow!" he thought. They had spoken more wisely than they knew. +There would be no to-morrow for her--nor for him! + +There was a tiny spot of blood upon the frill of her sleeve, and he +carefully turned it under, out of sight. He looked at the ugly stains +upon his own garments with a thrill of satisfaction. She was his! Was it +not quite right and proper that her blood should be upon him? + +But even then, frenzied as he was, he had a singular care for +appearances, a curious regard for detail, and busied himself in removing +all signs of his presence from her chamber--all tell-tale traces of the +storm of passion that swept away her life--and his! He felt himself +already but the ghost of his former self, and laughed a weird, half-mad +laugh at the thought as it came to him. + +He bent over her again. He would have given much to have lain down +beside her and slept his last sleep in her cold, lifeless arms. But no! +Even this was denied him! + +He wound a tress of her hair about his fingers, and it clung and twined +there as her white fingers had been wont to twine. Oh, the pity of her +stillness--her silence--who was never still nor silent--never +indifferent to his presence! She looked so like a sleeping child in her +whiteness and tranquillity, her red-brown hair in disordered waves about +her head, her eyes closed in the last long sleep. And he wept as he +pressed his burning lips to hers, so cold, so pitifully cold, and for +the first time unresponsive. Oh, God, unresponsive forever! + +"Poor little girl!" he moaned, between sobs of hopeless pain. "Poor +little passionate girl!... Poor little tired Opal!" + +And with a dry sob of unutterable anguish, he picked up the dagger--the +cruel, kind little dagger--and crept to his own room. + +The dagger was still wet with her blood. "Her blood!--Oh, God!-her +blood!--hers! All mine in life, and yet never so much mine as now--mine +in death!--all mine! mine! And she was not afraid--not the least afraid! +Her eyes had room only for her overwhelming love--love--just love, no +fear, even that hour when face to face with the Great Mystery. And this +was her blood--_hers!_" + +He believed that she had been glad to die. He believed--oh, he was sure, +that death in his arms--and from his hand--had been sweeter than life +could have been--with that wretch--and always without him--her lover! +Yes, she had been glad to die. She had been grateful for her escape! And +again the dagger drew his fascinated gaze and wrung from his lips the +cry, "Her blood--hers! God in Heaven! Her blood!--hers!" + +He put his hand to his head with an inarticulate cry of bewilderment. +Then, with one supreme effort, he began to stagger hastily but +noiselessly about the room. The servants of the house were already +astir, and the day would soon be here. He put his sacred letters +carefully away, and destroyed all worthless papers, mechanically, but +still methodically. + +Then he hastily scribbled a few lines, and laid them beside his letters, +for Verdayne would be with him now in a few hours. His father--yes, his +own father! How he would like to see him once more--just once more--with +the knowledge of their relationship as a closer bond between them--to +talk about his mother--his beautiful, queenly mother--and her wonderful, +wonderful love! Yet--and he sighed as he thought of his deserted +kingdom--after all, all in vain--in vain! It was not to be--all that +glory--that triumph! Fate had willed differently. He was obeying the +Law! + +And his mother would not fail to understand. Verdayne must have loved +his mother like this! O God, Love was a fearful thing, he thought, to +wreck a life--a terrible thing, even a hideous thing--but in spite of +everything it was all that was worth living for--and dying for! + +The storm had spent its fury now, and only the steady drip, drip of the +rain reminded him of the falling of tears. + +"Opal!" he groaned, "Opal!" And he threw himself upon the bed, clasping +his dagger in uncontrollable agony. "O life is cruel, hard, bitter! I'll +none of it!--we'll none of it, you and I!" His voice grew triumphant in +its raving. "It was worth all the cost--even the sorrow and death! But +the end has come! Opal! Opal! I am coming, sweet!--coming!" + +And the dagger, still red with the blood of his darling, found its +unerring way to his own heart; and Paul Zalenska forgot his dreams, his +ambitions, his love, his passion, and his despair in the darkness and +quiet of eternal sleep. + +"_Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord._" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Sir Paul Verdayne reached Lucerne on the afternoon of the next day. He +was as eager as a boy for the reunion with his son. How he loved the +Boy--his Boy--the living embodiment of a love that seemed to him greater +than any other love the world had ever known. + +The storm had ceased and in the brilliancy of the afternoon sunshine +little trace of the fury of the night could be seen. Nature smiled +radiantly through the tear-drops still glistening on tree and shrub and +flower, like some capricious coquette defying the world to prove that +she had ever been sad. + +To Sir Paul, the place was hallowed with memories of his Queen, and his +heart and soul were full of her as he left the train. At the station +Vasili awaited him with the news of the double tragedy that had +horrified Lucerne. + +In that moment, Sir Paul's heart broke. He grasped at the faithful +servitor for a support the old man was scarce able to give. He looked up +into the pitying face, grown old and worn in the service of the young +King and his heart thrilled, as it ever thrilled, at the sight of the +long, cruel scar he remembered so well--the scar which the Kalmuck had +received in the service of his Queen, long years before. + +Sir Paul loved Vasili for that--loved him even more for the service he +had done the world when he choked to death the royal murderer of his +Queen, on the fatal night of that tragedy so cruelly alive in his +memory. He looked again at the scar on the swarthy face, and yet he knew +it was as nothing to the scar made in the old man's heart that day. + +In some way--they never knew how--they managed to reach the scene of the +tragedy, and Sir Paul, at his urgent request, was left alone with the +body of his son. + +Oh, God! Could he bear this last blow--and live? + +After a time, when reason began to re-assert itself, he searched and +found the letters that had told the Boy-king the story of his birth. Was +there no word at all for him--his father?--save the brief telegram he +had received the night before? + +Ah, yes! here was a note. His Boy had thought of him, then, even at the +last. He read it eagerly. + + "Father--dear Father--you who alone of all the world can + understand--forgive and pity your son who has found the cross too + heavy--the crown too thorny--to bear! I go to join my unhappy + mother across the river that men call death--and there together we + shall await the coming of the husband and father we could neither + of us claim in this miserable, gray old world. Father Paul--dearest + and best and truest of fathers, your Boy has learned with you the + cost of love, and has gladly paid the price--'sorrow and death!'" + +He bent again over the cold form, he pushed aside the clustering curls, +and kissed again and again, with all the fervor and pain of a lifetime's +repression, the white marble face of his son. + +And a few words of that little note rang in his ears +unceasingly--"dearest, and best, and _truest_ of fathers!" _Truest of +fathers_! Ah, yes! The Boy--his Boy--had understood! + +And the scalding tears came that were his one salvation, for they washed +away for a time some of the deadly ache from his bereaved heart. + + * * * * * + +When the force of his outburst was spent, Sir Paul Verdayne mastered +himself resolutely. There was much to be done. It was indeed a double +torture to find such an affliction here, of all places under Heaven, but +he told himself that his Queen would have him brave and strong, and +master his grief as an English gentleman should. And her wishes were +still, as they had ever been, the guide of his every thought and action. + +One thing he was determined upon. The world must never know the truth. + +To be sure, Sir Paul himself did not know the secret of that one day. He +could only surmise. Even Vasili did not know. The Boy had cleverly +managed to have the day, as he had the preceding one, "all to himself," +as he had informed Vasili, and Opal had been equally skillful in +escaping the attendance of her maid. They had left the hotel separately +at night, in different directions, returning separately at night. Who +was there to suspect that they had passed the day together, or had even +met each other at all? Surely--no one! + +And what was there for the world to know, in the mystery of their death? +Nothing! They were each found alone, stabbed to the heart, and the +dagger that had done the deed had not even been withdrawn from the body +of the Boy, when they found him. Sir Paul and Vasili had recognized it, +but who would dare to insinuate that the same dagger had drunk the blood +of the young American lady, or to say whose hand had struck either blow? +It was all a mystery, and Sir Paul was determined that it should remain +so. + +Money can accomplish anything, and though all Europe rang with the +story, no scandal--nor hint of it--besmirched the fair fame of the +unhappy Boy and girl who had loved "not wisely, but too well!" + +There had, indeed, been for them, as they had playfully said--"No +to-morrow!" + +And Sir Paul Verdayne, kneeling by the bier, with its trappings of a +kingdom's mourning, which hid beneath its rich adornment all the joy +that life for twenty years had held for him, felt for the first time a +sense of guilt, as he looked back upon his past. + +He did not regret his love. He could never do that! Truly, a man and a +woman had a right to love and mate as they would, if the consequences of +their deeds rested only upon their own heads. But to bring children into +the world, the fruit of such a union, to suffer and die, "for the sins +of the fathers," as his son had suffered and died--there was the sin--a +selfish, unpardonable sin! "And the wages of sin is death." + +He had never felt the truth before. He had been so happy in his Boy, and +so proud of his future, that there had never been a question in his +mind. But now he was face to face with the terrible consequences. + +"Oh, God!" he cried, "truly my punishment is just--but it is greater +than I can bear!" + + * * * * * + +_And Paul Verdayne--what of him? Of course you want to know. Read the +sequel_ + +=_HIGH NOON_= + +A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." You can get this book from your bookseller, or +for 60c., carriage paid, from the publishers + +The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_, 15 W. 38th St., New York + + + + +Successful Novels _from_ Famous Plays + +=TO-DAY= + +By George H. Broadhurst and Abraham S. Schomer. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +This novel tells what follows in the wake of the average American +woman's desire to keep up with the social procession. All the human +emotions are dealt with in a masterly way in this great book. + +=THE FAMILY CUPBOARD= + +By Owen Davis. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +A work of fiction which presents a frank treatment of the domestic +problems of to-day. It tells what happens in many homes when the wife +devotes herself wholly to society, to the exclusion of her own husband. +Mere man sometimes revolts, when regarded only as a money-making +machine. + +=AT BAY= + +From the drama by George Scarborough. + +Price $1.25 net; postage 12 cents + +This stirring detective story holds the attention of the reader from the +very start. It is full of action, presenting a baffling situation, the +solving of which carries one along in a whirlwind of excitement. Through +the story runs a love plot that is interwoven with the mystery of a +secret-service case. + +=The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_= + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +The Night of Temptation + +By VICTORIA CROSS + +Author of + +"LIFE'S SHOP WINDOW," "FIVE NIGHTS," etc. + + * * * * * + +This book takes for its keynote the self-sacrifice of woman in her love. +Regina, the heroine, gives herself to a man for his own sake, for the +happiness she can give him. He is her hero, her god, and she declines to +marry him until she is satisfied that he cannot live without her. + +The London _Athenaeum_ says: "Granted beautiful, rich, perfect, +passionate men and women, the author is capable of working out their +destiny." + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +The Macaulay Company, Publishers + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +The Secret of the Night + +By GASTON LEROUX + +Author of "THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM," etc. + + * * * * * + +Another thrilling mystery story in which the famous French detective +hero, Joseph Rouletabille, makes his appearance before the public again. +This character has won a place in the hearts of novel readers as no +other detective has since the creation of Sherlock Holmes. + +Thousands upon thousands of people in two continents await eagerly every +book by Gaston Leroux that relates the adventures of the hero of "The +Mystery of the Yellow Room" and "The Perfume of the Lady in Black." + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +The Macaulay Company, Publishers + +15 West 38th Street New York + + + + +Guardian Angels + +By MARCEL PREVOST + +Member of the Academie Francaise, Officer of the Legion of Honour + +Author of "SIMPLY WOMEN," Etc. + + * * * * * + +Every married woman ought to read this novel, if only to be forewarned +against a danger that may one day invade her own home. It is a story of +the double life led by the governesses of many young girls, showing the +dangers of such companionships. + +It is no exaggeration to say that "Guardian Angels" is one of the most +remarkable novels that have been issued in any language during recent +years. + +Price $1.25 net; Postage 12 Cents + + * * * * * + +=The Macaulay Company, _Publishers_ + +15 West 38th Street New York= + + + + +The Crown Novels + +FAMOUS BOOKS AT POPULAR PRICES + +=HER SOUL AND HER BODY, By Louise Closser Hale= + +The struggle between the spirit and the flesh of a young girl early in +life compelled to make her own way. Exposed to the temptations of life +in a big city, the contest between her better and lower natures is +described with psychological analysis and tender sympathy. Absorbingly +interesting. + +=HELL'S PLAYGROUND, by Ida Vera Simonton= + +This book deals with primal conditions in a land where "there ain't no +ten commandments"; where savagery, naked and unashamed, is not confined +to the blacks. It is a record of the life in the African tropics and it +is a powerful and fascinating story of a scene that has rarely been +depicted in fiction. + +=THE MYSTERY OF No. 47, by J. Storer Clouston= + +This is a most ingenious detective story--a thriller in every sense of +the word. The reader is led cleverly on until he is at a loss to know +what to expect, and, completely baffled, is unable to lay the book down +until he has finished the story and satisfied his perplexity. + +=THE SENTENCE OF SILENCE, by Reginald Wright Kauffman= + +Author of "The House of Bondage;" etc. + +By "The Sentence of Silence" is meant that sentence of reticence +pronounced upon the subject of sex. That which means the continuance of +the human race is the one thing of which no one is permitted to speak. +In this book the subject is dealt with frankly. + +=THE GIRL THAT GOES WRONG, by Reginald Wright Kauffman= + +Author of "The House of Bondage." + +The inexpressible conditions of human bondage of many young girls and +women in our cities demand fearless and uncompromising warfare. The +terrible peril that lingers just around the corner from every American +home must be stamped out with relentless purpose. + +=TO-MORROW, by Victoria Cross= + +Author of "Life's Shop Window." etc. + +Critics agree that this is Victoria Cross' greatest novel. Those who +have read "Life's Shop Window," "Five Nights," "Anna Lombard," and +similar books by this author will ask no further recommendation. +"To-morrow" is a real novel--not a collection of short stories. + +=SIMPLY WOMEN, by Marcel Prevost= + +"Like a motor-car or an old-fashioned razor, this book should be in the +hands of mature persons only."--_St. Louis Post-Dispatch._ + +"Marcel Prevost. of whom a critic remarked that his forte was the +analysis of the souls and bodies of a type half virgin and half +courtesan, is now available in a volume of selections admirably +translated by R.I. Brandon-Vauvillez."--_San Francisco Chronicle._ + +=THE ADVENTURES OF A NICE YOUNG MAN, by Aix= =Joseph and Potiphar's Wife +Up-to-Date= + +A handsome young, man, employed as a lady's private secretary, is bound, +to meet with interesting adventures. + +"Under a thin veil the story unquestionably sets forth actual episodes +and conditions in metropolitan circles."--- _Washington Star._ + +=HER REASON, Anonymous= + +This startling anonymous work of a well-known English novelist is a +frank exposure of Modern Marriage. "Her Reason" shows the deplorable +results of the process at work to-day among the rich, whose daughters +are annually offered for sale in the markets of the world. + +=THE COUNTERPART, by Horner Cotes= + +One of the best novels of the Civil War ever written. John Luther Loag, +the well-known writer, says of this book--"It is a perfectly bully story +and full of a fine sentiment. I have read it all--and with great +interest." + +=THE PRINCESS OF FORGE, by George C. Shedd= + +The tale of a man, and a maid, and a gold-mine--a stirring, romantic +American novel of the West. _The Chicago Inter-Ocean_ says--"Unceasing +action is the word for this novel. From the first to the last page there +is adventure." + +=OUR LADY OF DARKNESS, by Albert Dorrington and A. G. Stephens= + +A story of the Far East. _The Grand Rapids Herald_ says of the +book--"'Our Lady of Darkness' is entitled to be classed with 'The Count +of Monte Cristo.' It is one of the greatest stories of mystery and +deep-laid plot and its masterly handling must place it in the front rank +of modern fiction." + +=THE DUPLICATE DEATH, by A. C. Fox-Davies= + +A first-rate detective story--one that will keep you thrilled to the +very end. _The New York Tribune's_ verdict on the book is this--"We need +only commend it as a puzzling and readable addition to the fiction of +crime." + +=THE DANGEROUS AGE, by Karin Michaelis= + +Here is a woman's soul laid bare with absolute frankness. Europe went +mad about the book, which has been translated into twelve languages. It +betrays the freemasonry of womanhood. + +=MY ACTOR HUSBAND, Anonymous= + +The reader will be startled by the amazing truths set forth and, the +completeness of their revelations. Life behind the scenes is stripped +bare of all its glamor. Young women whom the stage attracts should read +this story. There is a ringing damnation in it. + +=MRS. DRUMMOND'S VOCATION, by Mark Ryce= + +Lily Drummond is an unmoral (not immoral) heroine. She was not a bad +girl at heart; but when chance opened up for her the view of a life she +had never known or dreamed of, her absence of moral responsibility did +the rest. + +=DOWNWARD: "A Slice of Life," by Maud Churton Braby= + +Author of "Modern Marriage and How to Bear It." + +"'Downward' belongs to that great modern school of fiction built upon +woman's downfall. * * * I cordially commend this bit of fiction to the +thousands of young women who are yearning to see what they call +life.'"--_James L. Ford in the N. Y. Herald_. + +=TWO APACHES OF PARIS, by Alice and Claude Askew= + +Authors of "The Shulamite," "The Rod of Justice," etc. + +All primal struggles originate with the daughters of Eve. + +This story of Paris and London tells of the wild, fierce life of the +flesh, of a woman with the beauty of consummate vice to whom a man gave +himself, body and soul. + +=THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH, by Elinor Glyn= + +One of Mrs. Glyn's biggest successes. Elizabeth is a charming young +woman who is always saying and doing droll and, daring things, both +shocking and amusing. + +=BEYOND THE ROCKS, by Elinor Glyn= + +"One of Mrs. Glyn's highly sensational and somewhat erotic +novels."--_Boston Transcript_. + +The scenes are laid in Paris and London; and a country-house party also +figures, affording the author some daring situations, which she has +handled deftly. + +=THE REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE, by Elinor Glyn= + +The story of the awakening of a young girl, whose maidenly emotions are +set forth as Elinor Glyn alone knows how. + +"Gratitude and, power and self-control! * * * in nature I find there is +a stronger force than all these things, and that is the touch of the one +we love."--Ambrosine. + +=THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE, by Elinor Glyn= + +"One of Mrs. Glyn's most pungent tales of feminine idiosyncracy and +caprice."--Boston Transcript, + +Evangeline is a delightful heroine with glorious red hair and amazing +eyes that looked a thousand unsaid challenges. + +=DAYBREAK: a Prologue to "Three Weeks"= + +"Daybreak" is a prologue to "Three Weeks" and forms the first of the +series, although published last. It is a highly interesting account of a +love episode that took place during the youth of the famous Queen of +"Three Weeks." + +A story of the Balkans, this is one of the timely novels of the year. + +=ONE DAY: a Sequel to "Three Weeks"= + +"There is a note of sincerity in this book that is lacking in the +first."--Boston Globe. + +"One Day" is the sequel you have been waiting for since reading "Three +Weeks," and is a story which points a moral, a clear, well-written +exposition of the doctrine, "As ye sow, so shall ye reap." + +=HIGH NOON: a New Sequel to "Three Weeks" A Modern Romeo and Juliet= + +A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in +beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will +instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and +enjoyed "Three Weeks." + +=THE DIARY OF MY HONEYMOON= + +A woman who sets out to unburden her soul upon intimate things is bound +to touch upon happenings which are seldom the subject of writing at all; +but whatever may be said of the views of the anonymous author, the +"Diary" is a work of throbbing and intense humanity, the moral of which +is sound throughout and plain to see. + +=THE INDISCRETION OF LADY USHER: a Sequel to "The Diary of My +Honeymoon"= + +"Another purpose novel dealing with the question of marriage and dealing +very plainly,--one of the most interesting among the many books on these +lines which are at present attracting so much attention."--Cleveland +Town Topics. + +_Price 50 cents per copy; Postage 10 cents extra Order from your +Bookseller or from the Publishers_ + +=THE MACAULAY COMPANY, 15 West 38th St., New York Send for Illustrated +Catalogue= + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY *** + +***** This file should be named 13776.txt or 13776.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/7/7/13776/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Steven Michaels and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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