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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Weeks, by Elinor Glyn
+
+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: Three Weeks
+
+Author: Elinor Glyn
+
+Posting Date: August 5, 2012 [EBook #8899]
+Release Date: September, 2005
+First Posted: August 21, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE WEEKS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THREE WEEKS
+
+BY
+ELINOR GLYN
+
+1907
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO
+MY AMERICAN READERS
+
+I feel now, when my "Three Weeks" is to be launched in a new land,
+where I have many sympathetic friends, that, owing to the
+misunderstanding and misrepresentation it received from nearly the
+entire press and a section of the public in England, I would like to
+state my view of its meaning. (As I wrote it, I suppose it could be
+believed I know something about that!) For me "the Lady" was a deep
+study, the analysis of a strange Slav nature, who, from circumstances
+and education and her general view of life, was beyond the ordinary
+laws of morality. If I were making the study of a Tiger, I would not
+give it the attributes of a spaniel, because the public, and I myself,
+might prefer a spaniel! I would still seek to portray accurately
+every minute instinct of that Tiger, to make a living picture. Thus,
+as you read, I want you to think of her as such a study. A great
+splendid nature, full of the passionate realisation of primitive
+instincts, immensely cultivated, polished, blase. You must see her at
+Lucerne, obsessed with the knowledge of her horrible life with her
+brutal, vicious husband, to whom she had been sacrificed for political
+reasons when almost a child. She suddenly sees this young Englishman,
+who comes as an echo of something straight and true in manhood which,
+in outward appearance at all events, she has met in her youth in the
+person of his Uncle Hubert. She perceives in him at once the Soul
+sleeping there; and it produces in her a strong emotion. Then I want
+you to understand the effect of Love on them both. In her it rose from
+caprice to intense devotion, until the day at the Farm when it reached
+the highest point--a desire to reproduce his likeness. How, with the
+most passionate physical emotion, her mental influence upon Paul was
+ever to raise him to vast aims and noble desires for future
+greatness. In him love opened the windows of his Soul, so that he saw
+the fine in everything.
+
+The immense rush of passion in Venice came from her knowledge that
+they soon must part. Notice the effect of the two griefs on Paul. The
+first, with its undefined hope, making him do well in all things--even
+his prowess as a hunter--to raise himself to be more worthy in her
+eyes; the second and paralysing one of death, turning him into adamant
+until his soul awakens again with the returning spring of her spirit
+in his heart, and the consolation of the living essence of their love
+in the child.
+
+The minds of some human beings are as moles, grubbing in the earth for
+worms. They have no eyes to see God's sky with the stars in it. To
+such "Three Weeks" will be but a sensual record of passion. But those
+who do look up beyond the material will understand the deep pure love,
+and the Soul in it all, and they will realise that to such a nature as
+"the Lady's," passion would never have run riot until it was
+sated--she would have daily grown nobler in her desire to make her
+Loved One's son a splendid man.
+
+And to all who read, I say--at least be just! and do not skip. No line
+is written without its having a bearing upon the next, and in its
+small scope helping to make the presentment of these two human beings
+vivid and clear.
+
+The verdict I must leave to the Public, but now, at all events, you
+know, kind Reader, that _to me_, the "Imperatorskoye" appears a
+noble woman, because she was absolutely faithful to the man she had
+selected as her mate, through the one motive which makes a union moral
+in ethics--Love.--ELINOR GLYN.
+
+
+
+
+THREE WEEKS
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Now this is an episode in a young man's life, and has no real
+beginning or ending. And you who are old and have forgotten the
+passions of youth may condemn it. But there are others who are
+neither old nor young who, perhaps, will understand and find some
+interest in the study of a strange woman who made the illumination of
+a brief space.
+
+Paul Verdayne was young and fresh and foolish when his episode
+began. He believed in himself--he believed in his mother, and in a
+number of other worthy things. Life was full of certainties for
+him. He was certain he liked hunting better than anything else in the
+world--for instance. He was certain he knew his own mind, and
+therefore perfectly certain his passion for Isabella Waring would last
+for ever! Ready to swear eternal devotion with that delightful
+inconsequence of youth in its unreason, thinking to control an emotion
+as Canute's flatterers would have had him do the waves.
+
+And the Creator of waves--and emotions--no doubt smiled to Himself--if
+He is not tired by now of smiling at the follies of the moles called
+human beings, who for the most part inhabit His earth!
+
+Paul was young, as I said, and fair and strong. He had been in the
+eleven at Eton and left Oxford with a record for all that should turn
+a beautiful Englishman into a perfect athlete. Books had not worried
+him much! The fit of a hunting-coat, the pace of a horse, were things
+of more importance, but he scraped through his "Smalls" and his
+"Mods," and was considered by his friends to be anything but a
+fool. As for his mother--the Lady Henrietta Verdayne--she thought him
+a god among men!
+
+Paul went to London like others of his time, and attended the
+theatres, where perfectly virtuous young ladies display nightly their
+innocent charms in hilarious choruses, arrayed in the latest
+_modes_. He supped, too, with these houris--and felt himself a
+man of the world.
+
+He had stayed about in country houses for perhaps a year, and had
+danced through the whole of a season with all the prettiest
+_debutantes_. And one or two of the young married women of forty
+had already marked him out for their prey.
+
+By all this you can see just the kind of creature Paul was. There are
+hundreds of others like him, and perhaps they, too, have the latent
+qualities which he developed during his episode--only they remain as
+he was in the beginning--sound asleep.
+
+That fall out hunting in March, and being laid up with a sprained
+ankle and a broken collar-bone, proved the commencement of the
+Isabella Waring affair.
+
+She was the parson's daughter--and is still for the matter of
+that!--and often in those days between her games of golf and hockey,
+or a good run on her feet with the hounds, she came up to Verdayne
+Place to write Lady Henrietta's letters for her. Isabella was most
+amiable and delighted to make herself useful.
+
+
+And if her hands were big and red, she wrote clearly and well. The
+Lady Henrietta, who herself was of the delicate Later Victorian
+Dresden China type, could not imagine a state of things which
+contained the fact that her god-like son might stoop to this daughter
+of the earthy earth!
+
+Yet so it fell about. Isabella read aloud the sporting papers to
+him--Isabella played piquet with him in the dull late afternoons of
+his convalescence--Isabella herself washed his dog Pike--that king of
+rough terriers! And one terrible day Paul unfortunately kissed the
+large pink lips of Isabella as his mother entered the room.
+
+I will draw a veil over this part of his life.
+
+The Lady Henrietta, being a great lady, chanced to behave as such on
+the occasion referred to--but she was also a woman, and not a
+particularly clever one. Thus Paul was soon irritated by opposition
+into thinking himself seriously in love with this daughter of the
+middle classes, so far beneath his noble station.
+
+"Let the boy have his fling," said Sir Charles Verdayne, who was a
+coarse person. "Damn it all! a man is not obliged to marry every woman
+he kisses!"
+
+"A gentlemen does not deliberately kiss an unmarried girl unless he
+intends to make her his wife!" retorted Lady Henrietta. "I fear the
+worst!"
+
+Sir Charles snorted and chuckled, two unpleasant and annoying habits
+his lady wife had never been able to break him of. So the affair grew
+and grew! Until towards the middle of April Paul was advised to travel
+for his health.
+
+"Your father and I can sanction no engagement, Paul, before you
+return," said Lady Henrietta. "If, in July, on your twenty-third
+birthday, you still wish to break your mother's heart--I suppose you
+must do so. But I ask of you the unfettered reflection of three months
+first."
+
+This seemed reasonable enough, and Paul consented to start upon a tour
+round Europe--not having spoken the final fatal and binding words to
+Isabella Waring. They made their adieux in the pouring rain under a
+dripping oak in the lane by the Vicarage gate.
+
+Paul was six foot two, and Isabella quite six foot, and broad in
+proportion. They were dressed almost alike, and at a little distance,
+but for the lady's scanty petticoat, it would have been difficult to
+distinguish her sex.
+
+"Good-bye, old chap," she said, "We have been real pals, and I'll not
+forget you!"
+
+But Paul, who was feeling sentimental, put it differently.
+
+"Good-bye, darling," he whispered with a suspicion of tremble in his
+charming voice. "I shall never love any woman but you--never, never in
+my life."
+
+Cuckoo! screamed the bird in the tree.
+
+And now we are getting nearer the episode. Paris bored Paul--he did
+not know its joys and was in no mood to learn them. He mooned about
+and went to the races. His French was too indifferent to make theatres
+a pleasure, and the attractive ladies who smiled at his blue eyes were
+for him _defendues_. A man so recently parted from the only woman
+he could ever love had no right to look at such things, he thought. How
+young and chivalrous and honest he was--poor Paul!
+
+So he took to visiting Versailles and Fontainebleau and Compiegne with
+a guide-book, and came to the conclusion it was all "beastly rot."
+
+So he turned his back upon France and fled to Switzerland.
+
+Do you know Switzerland?--you who read. Do you know it at the
+beginning of May? A feast of blue lakes, and snow-peaks, and the
+divinest green of young beeches, and the sombre shadow of dark firs,
+and the exhilaration of the air.
+
+If you do, I need not tell you about it. Only in any case now, you
+must see it through the eyes of Paul. That is if you intend to read
+another page of this bad book.
+
+It was pouring with rain when he drove from the station to the
+hotel. His temper was at its worst. Pilatus hid his head in mist, the
+Buergenstock was invisible--it was chilly, too, and the fire smoked in
+the sitting-room when Paul had it lighted.
+
+His heart yearned for his own snug room at Verdayne Place, and the
+jolly voice of Isabella Waring counting point, quint and quatorze.
+What nonsense to send him abroad. As if such treatment could be
+effectual as a cure for a love like his. He almost laughed at his
+mother's folly. How he longed to sit down and write to his
+darling. Write and tell how he hated it all, and was only getting
+through the time until he saw her six feet of buxom charms again--only
+Paul did not put it like that--indeed, he never thought about her
+charms at all--or want of them. He analysed nothing. He was sound
+asleep, you see, to _nuances_ as yet; he was just a splendid
+English young animal of the best class.
+
+He had promised not to write to Isabella--or, if he _must_, at
+least not to write a love-letter.
+
+"Dear boy," the Lady Henrietta had said when giving him her fond
+parting kiss, "if you are very unhappy and feel you greatly wish to
+write to Miss Waring, I suppose you must do so, but let your letter be
+about the scenery and the impressions of travel, in no way to be
+interpreted into a declaration of affection or a promise of future
+union--I have your word, Paul, for that?"
+
+And Paul had given his word.
+
+"All right, mother--I promise--for three months."
+
+And now on this wet evening the "must" had come, so he pulled out some
+hotel paper and began.
+
+"MY DEAR ISABELLA:
+
+"I say--you know--I hate beginning like this--I have arrived at this
+beastly place, and I am awfully unhappy. I think it would have been
+better if I had brought Pike with me, only those rotten laws about
+getting the little chap back to England would have been hard. How is
+Moonlighter? And have they really looked after that strain, do you
+gather? Make Tremlett come down and report progress to you daily--I
+told him to. My rooms look out on a beastly lake, and there are
+mountains, I suppose, but I can't see them. There is hardly any one in
+the hotel, because the Easter visitors have all gone back and the
+summer ones haven't come, so I doubt even if I can have a game of
+billiards. I am sick of guide-books, and I should like to take the
+next train home again. I must dress for dinner now, and I'll finish
+this to-night."
+
+Paul dressed for dinner; his temper was vile, and his valet
+trembled. Then he went down into the restaurant scowling, and was
+ungracious to the polite and conciliating waiters, ordering his food
+and a bottle of claret as if they had done him an injury.
+"_Anglais_," they said to one another behind the serving-screen,
+pointing their thumbs at him--"he pay but he damn."
+
+Then Paul sent for the _New York Herald_ and propped it up in
+front of him, prodding at some olives with his fork, one occasionally
+reaching his mouth, while he read, and awaited his soup.
+
+The table next to him in this quiet corner was laid for one, and had a
+bunch of roses in the centre, just two or three exquisite blooms that
+he was familiar with the appearance of in the Paris shops. Nearly all
+the other tables were empty or emptying; he had dined very late. Who
+could want roses eating alone? The _menu_, too, was written out
+and ready, and an expression of expectancy lightened the face of the
+head waiter--who himself brought a bottle of most carefully decanted
+red wine, feeling the temperature through the fine glass with the air
+of a great connoisseur.
+
+"One of those over-fed foreign brutes of no sex, I suppose," Paul said
+to himself, and turned to the sporting notes in front of him.
+
+He did not look up again until he heard the rustle of a dress.
+
+The woman had to pass him--even so close that the heavy silk touched
+his foot. He fancied he smelt tuberoses, but it was not until she sat
+down, and he again looked at her, that he perceived a knot of them
+tucked into the front of her bodice.
+
+A woman to order dinner for herself beforehand, and have special wine
+and special roses--special attention, too! It was simply disgusting!
+
+Paul frowned. He brought his brown eyebrows close together, and glared
+at the creature with his blue young eyes.
+
+An elderly, dignified servant in black livery stood behind her
+chair. She herself was all in black, and her hat--an expensive,
+distinguished-looking hat--cast a shadow over her eyes. He could just
+see they were cast down on her plate. Her face was white, he saw that
+plainly enough, startlingly white, like a magnolia bloom, and
+contained no marked features. No features at all! he said to
+himself. Yes--he was wrong, she had certainly a mouth worth looking at
+again. It was so red. Not large and pink and laughingly open like
+Isabella's, but straight and chiselled, and red, red, red.
+
+Paul was young, but he knew paint when he saw it, and this red was
+real, and vivid, and disconcerted him.
+
+He began his soup--hers came at the same time; she had only toyed with
+some caviare by way of _hors d'oeuvre_, and it angered him to
+notice the obsequiousness of the waiters, who passed each thing to the
+dignified servant to be placed before the lady by his hand. Who was
+she to be served with this respect and rapidity?
+
+Only her red wine the _maitre d'hotel_ poured into her glass
+himself. She lifted it up to the light to see the clear ruby, then she
+sipped it and scented its bouquet, the _maitre d'hotel_ anxiously
+awaiting her verdict the while. "_Bon_," was all she said, and
+the weight of the world seemed to fall from the man's sloping
+shoulders as he bowed and moved aside.
+
+Paul's irritation grew. "She's well over thirty," he said to
+himself. "I suppose she has nothing else to live for! I wonder what
+the devil she'll eat next!"
+
+She ate a delicate _truite bleu_, but she did not touch her wine
+again the while. She had almost finished the fish before Paul's
+_sole au vin blanc_ arrived upon the scene, and this angered him
+the more. Why should he wait for his dinner while this woman feasted?
+Why, indeed. What would her next course be? He found himself
+unpleasantly interested to know. The tenderest _selle d'agneau au
+lait_ and the youngest green peas made their appearance, and again
+the _maitre d'hotel_ returned, having mixed the salad.
+
+Paul noticed with all these things the lady ate but a small portion of
+each. And it was not until a fat quail arrived later, while he himself
+was trying to get through two mutton chops _a l'anglaise_, that
+she again tasted her claret. Yes, it was claret, he felt sure, and
+probably wonderful claret at that. Confound her! Paul turned to the
+wine list. What could it be? Chateau Latour at fifteen francs? Chateau
+Margaux, or Chateau Lafite at twenty?--or possibly it was not here at
+all, and was special, too--like the roses and the attention. He called
+his waiter and ordered some port--he felt he could not drink another
+drop of his modest St. Estephe!
+
+All this time the lady had never once looked at him; indeed, except
+that one occasion when she had lifted her head to examine the wine
+with the light through it, he had not seen her raise her eyes, and
+then the glass had been between himself and her. The white lids with
+their heavy lashes began to irritate him. What colour could they be?
+those eyes underneath. They were not very large, that was
+certain--probably black, too, like her hair. Little black eyes! That
+was ugly enough, surely! And he hated heavy black hair growing in
+those unusual great waves. Women's hair should be light and fluffy
+and fuzzy, and kept tidy in a net--like Isabella's. This looked so
+thick--enough to strangle one, if she twisted it round one's
+throat. What strange ideas were those coming into his head? Why should
+she think of twisting her hair round a man's throat? It must be the
+port mounting to his brain, he decided--he was not given to
+speculating in this way about women.
+
+What would she eat next? And why did it interest him what she ate or
+did not eat? The _maitre d'hotel_ again appeared with a dish of
+marvellous-looking nectarines. The waiter now handed the dignified
+servant the finger-bowl, into which he poured rose-water. Paul could
+just distinguish the scent of it, and then he noticed the lady's
+hands. Yes, they at least were faultless; he could not cavil at
+_them_; slender and white, with that transparent whiteness like
+mother-of-pearl. And what pink nails! And how polished! Isabella's
+hands--but he refused to think of them.
+
+By this time he was conscious of an absorbing interest thrilling his
+whole being--disapproving irritated interest.
+
+The _maitre d'hotel_ now removed the claret, out of which the
+lady had only drunk one glass.
+
+(What waste! thought Paul.)
+
+And then he returned with a strange-looking bottle, and this time the
+dignified servant poured the brilliant golden fluid into a tiny
+liqueur-glass. What could it be? Paul was familiar with most
+liqueurs. Had he not dined at every restaurant in London, and supped
+with houris who adored _creme de menthe_? But this was none he
+knew. He had heard of Tokay--Imperial Tokay--could it be that? And
+where did she get it? And who the devil was the woman, anyway?
+
+She peeled the nectarine leisurely--she seemed to enjoy it more than
+all the rest of her dinner. And what could that expression mean on
+her face? Inscrutable--cynical was it? No--absorbed. As absolutely
+unconscious of self and others as if she had been alone in the room.
+What could she be thinking of never to worry to look about her?
+
+He began now to notice her throat, it was rounded and intensely white,
+through the transparent black stuff. She had no strings of pearls or
+jewels on--unless--yes, that was a great sapphire gleaming from the
+folds of gauze on her neck. Not surrounded by diamonds like ordinary
+brooches, but just a big single stone so dark and splendid it seemed
+almost black. There was another on her hand, and yet others in her
+ears.
+
+Her ears were not anything so very wonderful! Not so _very!_
+Isabella's were quite as good--and this thought comforted him a
+little. As far as he could see beyond the roses and the table she was
+a slender woman, and he had not noticed on her entrance if she were
+tall or short. He could not say why he felt she must be well over
+thirty--there was not a line or wrinkle on her face--not even the
+slight nip in under the chin, or the tell-tale strain beside the ears.
+
+She was certainly not pretty, _certainly_ not. Well
+shaped--yes--and graceful as far as he could judge; but pretty--a
+thousand times No!
+
+Then the speculation as to her nationality began. French? assuredly
+not. English? ridiculous! Equally so German. Italian? perhaps.
+Russian? possibly. Hungarian? probably.
+
+Paul had drunk his third glass of port and was beginning his
+fourth. This was far more than his usual limit. Paul was, as a rule,
+an abstemious young man. Why he should have deliberately sat and drank
+that night he never knew. His dinner had been moderate--distinctly
+moderate--and he had watched a refined feast of Lucullus partaken of
+by a woman who only _tasted_ each _plat!_
+
+"I wonder what she will have to pay for it all?" he thought to
+himself. "She will probably sign the bill, though, and I shan't see."
+
+But when the lady had finished her nectarine and dipped her slender
+fingers in the rose-water she got up--she had not smoked, she could
+not be Russian then. Got up and walked towards the door, signing no
+bill, and paying no gold.
+
+Paul stared as she passed him--rudely stared--he knew it afterwards
+and felt ashamed. However, the lady never so much as noticed him, nor
+did she raise her eyes, so that when she had finally disappeared he
+was still unaware of their colour or expression.
+
+But what a figure she had! Sinuous, supple, rounded, and yet very
+slight.
+
+"She must have the smallest possible bones," Paul said to himself,
+"because it looks all curvy and soft, and yet she is as slender as a
+gazelle."
+
+She was tall, too, though not six feet--like Isabella!
+
+The waiters and _maitre d'hotel_ all bowed and stood aside as she
+left, followed by her elderly, stately, silver-haired servant.
+
+Of course it would have been an easy matter to Paul to find out her
+name, and all about her. He would only have had to summon Monsieur
+Jacques, and ask any question he pleased. But for some unexplained
+reason he would not do this. Instead of which he scowled in front of
+him, and finished his fourth glass of port. Then his head swam a
+little, and he went outside into the night. The rain had stopped and
+the sky was full of stars scattered in its intense blue. It was warm,
+too, there, under the clipped trees, Paul hoped he wasn't drunk--such
+a beastly thing to do! And not even good port either.
+
+He sat on a bench and smoked a cigar. A strange sense of loneliness
+came over him. It seemed as if he were far, far away from any one in
+the world he had ever known. A vague feeling of oppression and coming
+calamity passed through him, only he was really as yet too material
+and thoroughly, solidly English to entertain it, or any other subtle
+mental emotion for more than a minute. But he undoubtedly felt strange
+to-night; different from what he had ever done before. He would have
+said "weird" if he could have thought of the word. The woman and her
+sinuous, sensuous black shape filled the space of his mental
+vision. Black hair, black hat, black dress--and of course black
+eyes. Ah! if he could only know their colour really!
+
+The damp bench where he sat was just under the ivy hanging from the
+balustrade of the small terrace belonging to the ground-floor suite at
+the end.
+
+There was a silence, very few people passed, frightened no doubt by
+the recent rain. He seemed alone in the world.
+
+The wine now began to fire his senses. Why should he remain alone? He
+was young and rich and--surely even in Lucerne there must be--. And
+then he felt a beast, and looked out on to the lake.
+
+Suddenly his heart seemed to swell with some emotion, a faint scent of
+tuberoses filled the air--and from exactly above his head there came a
+gentle, tender sigh.
+
+He started violently, and brusquely turned and looked up. Almost
+indistinguishable in the deep shadow he saw the woman's face. It
+seemed to emerge from a mist of black gauze. And looking down into his
+were a pair of eyes--a pair of eyes. For a moment Paul's heart felt as
+if it had stopped beating, so wonderful was their effect upon
+him. They seemed to draw him--draw something out of him--intoxicate
+him--paralyse him. And as he gazed up motionless the woman moved
+noiselessly back on to the terrace, and he saw nothing but the night
+sky studded with stars.
+
+Had he been dreaming? Had she really bent over the ivy? Was he mad?
+Yes--or drunk, because now he had seen the eyes, and yet he did not
+know their colour! Were they black, or blue, or grey, or green? He did
+not know, he could not think--only they were eyes--eyes--eyes.
+
+The letter to Isabella Waring remained unfinished that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Paul's head ached a good deal next morning and he was disinclined to
+rise. However, the sun blazed in at his windows, and a bird sang in a
+tree.
+
+His temper was the temper of next day--sodden, and sullen, and
+ashamed. He even resented the sunshine.
+
+But what a beautiful creature he looked, as later he stepped into a
+boat for a row on the lake! His mother, the Lady Henrietta, had truly
+reason to be proud of him. So tall and straight, and fair and
+strong. And at the risk of causing a second fit among some of the
+critics, I must add, he probably wore silk socks, and was "beautifully
+groomed," too, as all young Englishmen are of his class and age. And
+how supple his lithe body seemed as he bent over the oars, while the
+boat shot out into the blue water.
+
+The mountains were really very jolly, he thought, and it was not too
+hot, and he was glad he had come out, even though he had eaten no
+breakfast and was feeling rather cheap still. Yes, very glad.
+
+After he had advanced a few hundred yards he rested on his oars, and
+looked up at the hotel. Then wonder came back to him, where was she
+to-day--the lady with the eyes? Or had he dreamed it--and was there no
+lady at all?
+
+It should not worry him anyway--so he rowed ahead, and ceased to
+speculate.
+
+The first thing he did when he came in for lunch was to finish his
+letter to Isabella.
+
+"P. S.--Monday," he added. "It is finer to-day, and I have had some
+exercise. The view isn't bad now the mist has gone. I shall do some
+climbing, I think. Take care of yourself, dear girl. Good-bye.
+
+"Love from
+
+"PAUL."
+
+It was with a feeling of excitement that he entered the restaurant for
+_dejeuner_. Would she be there? How would she seem in daylight?
+
+But the little table where she had sat the night before was
+unoccupied. There were the usual cloth and glass and silver, but no
+preparations for any specially expected guest upon it. Paul felt
+annoyed with himself because his heart sank. Had she gone? Or did she
+only dine in public? Perhaps she lunched in the sitting-room beyond
+the terrace, where he had seen her eyes the night before.
+
+The food was really very good, and the sun shone, and Paul was young
+and hungry, so presently he forgot about the lady and enjoyed his
+meal.
+
+The appearance of the Buergenstock across the lake attracted him, as
+afterwards he smoked another cigar under the trees. He would hire an
+electric launch and go there and explore the paths. If only Pike were
+with him--or--Isabella!
+
+This idea he put into execution.
+
+What a thing was a funicular railway. How steep and unpleasant, but
+how quaint the tree-tops looked when one was up among them. Yes--Lucerne
+was a good deal jollier than Paris. And he roamed about among
+the trees, never noticing their beautiful colours. Presently he paused
+to rest. He was soothed--even peaceful. If he had Pike he could
+really be quite happy, he thought.
+
+What was that rustle among the leaves above him? He looked up, and
+started then as violently almost as he had done the night
+before. Because there, peeping at him from the tender green of the
+young beeches, was the lady in black. She looked down upon him through
+the parted boughs, her black hat and long black veil making a sharp
+silhouette against the vivid verdure, her whole face in tender shadow
+and framed in the misty gauze.
+
+Paul's heart beat violently. He felt a pulse in his throat--for a few
+seconds.
+
+He knew he was gazing into her eyes, and he thought he knew they were
+green. They looked larger than he had imagined them to be. They were
+set so beautifully, too, just a suspicion of rise at the corners. And
+their expression was mocking and compelling--and--But she let go the
+branches and disappeared from view.
+
+Paul stood still. He was thrilling all over. Should he bound in among
+the trees and follow her? Should he call out and ask her to come back?
+Should he--? But when he had decided and gained the spot where she
+must have stood, he saw it was a junction of three paths, and he was
+in perfect ignorance which one she had taken. He rushed down the
+first of them, but it twisted and turned, and when he had gone far
+enough to see ahead--there was no one in sight. So he retraced his
+steps and tried the second. This, too, ended in disappointment. And
+the third led to an opening where he could see the descending
+_funiculaire_, and just as it sank out of view he caught sight of
+a black dress, almost hidden by a standing man's figure, whom he
+recognised as the elderly silver-haired servant.
+
+Paul had learnt a number of swear-words at Eton and Oxford. And he let
+the trees hear most of them then.
+
+He could not get down himself until the train returned, and by that
+time where would she be? To go by the paths would take an
+eternity. This time circumstance had fairly done him.
+
+Presently he sauntered back to the little hotel whose terrace commands
+the lake far below, and eagerly watching the craft upon it, he thought
+he caught sight of a black figure reclining in an electric launch
+which sped over the blue water.
+
+Then he began to reason with himself. Why should the sight of this
+woman have caused him such violent emotion? Why? Women were jolly
+things that did not matter much--except Isabella. She mattered, of
+course, but somehow her mental picture came less readily to his mind
+than usual. The things he seemed to see most distinctly were her
+hands--her big red hands. And then he unconsciously drifted from all
+thought of her.
+
+"She certainly looks younger in daylight," he said to himself. "Not
+more than thirty perhaps. And what strange hats with that shadow over
+her eyes. What is she doing here all alone? She must be somebody from
+the people in the hotel making such a fuss--and that servant--Then why
+alone?" He mused and mused.
+
+She was not a _demi-mondaine_. The English ones he knew were very
+ordinary people, but he had heard of some of the French ladies as
+being quite _grande dame_, and travelling _en prince_. Yet he was
+convinced this was not one of them. Who _could_ she be? He must know.
+
+To go back to the hotel would be the shortest way to find out, and so
+by the next descending train he left the Buergenstock.
+
+He walked up and down under the lime-trees outside the terrace of her
+rooms for half an hour, but was not rewarded in any way for his pains.
+And at last he went in. He, too, would have a dinner worth eating, he
+thought. So he consulted the _maitre d'hotel_ on his way up to
+dress, and together they evolved a banquet. Paul longed to question
+the man about the unknown, but as yet he was no actor, and he found he
+felt too much about it to do it naturally.
+
+He dressed with the greatest care, and descended at exactly half-past
+eight. Yes, the table was laid for her evidently--but there were giant
+carnations, not roses, in the silver vase to-night. How quickly the
+waiters seemed to bring things! And what a frightful lot there was to
+eat! And dawdle as he would, by nine o'clock he had almost
+finished. Perhaps it would be as well to send for a newspaper
+again. Anything to delay his having to rise and go out. An anxious,
+uncomfortable gnawing sense of expectancy dominated him. How
+ridiculous for a woman to be so late! What cook could do justice to
+his dishes if they were thus to be kept waiting? She couldn't possibly
+have _ordered_ it for half past nine, surely! Gradually, as that
+hour passed and his second cup of coffee had been sipped to its
+finish, Paul felt a sickening sense of anger and disappointment. He
+got up abruptly and went out. In the hall, coming from the corridor of
+her rooms, he met the lady face to face.
+
+Then rage with himself seized him. Why had he not waited? For no
+possible reason could he go back now. And what a chance to look at her
+missed--and all thrown away.
+
+He sat sullenly down in the hall, resisting the temptation to go into
+the beautiful night. At least he would see her on her way back. But he
+waited until nearly eleven, and she never appeared, and then the
+maddening thought came to him--she had probably passed to her rooms
+along the terrace outside, under the lime-tree.
+
+He bounded up, and stalked into the starlight. He could see through
+the windows of the restaurant, and no one was there. Then he sat on
+the bench again, under the ivy--but all was darkness and silence; and
+thoroughly depressed, Paul at last went to bed.
+
+Next day was so gloriously fine that youth and health sang within
+him. He was up and away quite early. Not a thought of this strange
+lady should cross his mind for the entire day, he determined as he ate
+his breakfast. And soon he started for the Rigi in a launch, taking
+the English papers with him. Intense joy, too! A letter from Isabella!
+
+Such a nice letter. All about Pike and Moonlighter, and the other
+horses--and Isabella was going to stay with a friend at Blackheath,
+where she hoped to get better golf than at home--and Lady Henrietta
+had been gracious to her, and given her Paul's address, and there had
+been a "jolly big party" at Verdayne Place for Sunday, but none of his
+"pals." At least if there were, they were not in church, she added
+naively.
+
+All this Paul read in his launch on the way to the Rigi, and for some
+unexplained reason the information seemed about things a long way off,
+and less thrilling than usual. He had a splendid climb, and when he
+got back to Lucerne in the evening he was thoroughly tired, and so
+hungry he flew down to his dinner.
+
+It was nearly nine o'clock; at least if she came to-night he would be
+there to see her. But of course it did not matter if she came or not,
+he had conquered that ridiculous interest. He would hardly look until
+he reached his table. Yes, there she was, but dipping her white
+fingers in the rosewater at the very end of her repast.
+
+And again, in spite of himself, a strange wild thrill ran through
+Paul, and he knew it was what he had been subconsciously hoping for
+all day--and oh, alas! it mattered exceedingly.
+
+The lady never glanced at him. She swept from the room, her stately
+graceful movements delighting his eye. He could understand and
+appreciate movement--was he not accustomed to thoroughbreds, and able
+to judge of their action and line?
+
+How blank the space seemed when she had gone--dull and unspeakably
+uninteresting. He became impatient with the slowness of the waiters,
+who had seemed to hurry unnecessarily the night before. But at last
+his meal ended, and he went out under the trees. The sky was so full
+of stars it hardly seemed dark. The air was soft, and in the distance
+a band played a plaintive valse tune.
+
+There were numbers of people walking about, and the lights from the
+hotel windows lit up the scene. Only the ivy terrace was in shadow as
+he again sat down on the bench.
+
+How had she got in last night? That he must find out--he rose, and
+peered about him. Yes, there was a little gate, a flight of steps, a
+private entrance into this suite, just round the corner.
+
+And as he looked at it, the lady, wrapped in a scarf of black gauze,
+passed him, and standing aside while the silver-haired servant opened
+the little door with a key, she then entered and disappeared from
+view.
+
+It seemed as if the stars danced to Paul. His whole being was
+quivering with excitement, and now he sat on the bench again almost
+trembling.
+
+He did not move for at least half an hour; then the clocks chimed in
+the town. No, there was no hope; he would see her no more that night.
+He rose listlessly to go back to bed, tired out with his day's
+climb. And as he stood up, there, above the ivy again, he saw her face
+looking down upon him.
+
+How had she crossed the terrace without his hearing her? How long had
+she been there? But what matter? At least she was there. And those
+eyes looking into his out of the shadow, what did they say? Surely
+they smiled at him. Paul jumped on to the bench. Now he was almost
+level with her face--almost--and his was raised eagerly in
+expectation. Was he dreaming, or did she whisper something? The sound
+was so soft he was not quite sure. He stretched out his arms to her in
+the darkness, pulling himself by the ivy nearer still. And this time
+there was no mistake.
+
+"Come, Paul," she said. "I have some words to say to you."
+
+And round to the little gate Paul flew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Paul was never quite sure of what happened that evening--everything
+was so wonderful, so unusual, so unlike his ordinary life. The gate
+was unlocked he found when he got there, but no one appeared to be
+inside, and he bounded up the steps and on to the terrace. Silence and
+darkness--was she fooling him then? No, there she was by one of the
+windows; he could dimly see her outline as she passed into the room
+beyond, through some heavy curtains. That was why no light came
+through to the terrace. He followed, dropping them after him also, and
+then he found himself in a room as unlike a hotel as he could
+imagine. It may have had the usual brocade walls and gilt chairs of
+the "best suite," but its aspect was so transformed by her subtle
+taste and presence, it seemed to him unique, and there were masses of
+flowers--roses, big white ones--tuberoses--lilies of the valley,
+gardenias, late violets. The light were low and shaded, and a great
+couch filled one side of the room beyond the fireplace. Such a couch!
+covered with a tiger-skin and piled with pillows, all shades of rich
+purple velvet and silk, embroidered with silver and gold--unlike any
+pillows he had ever seen before, even to their shapes. The whole thing
+was different and strange--and intoxicating.
+
+The lady had reached the couch, and sank into it. She was in black
+still, but gauzy, clinging black, which seemed to give some gleam of
+purple underneath. And if he had not been sure that in daylight he had
+thought they were green, he would have sworn the eyes which now looked
+into his were deepest violet, too.
+
+"Come," she said. "You may sit here beside me and tell me what you
+think."
+
+And her voice was like rich music--but she had hardly any accent. She
+might have been an Englishwoman almost, for that matter, and yet he
+somehow knew that she was not. Perhaps it was she pronounced each
+word; nothing was slurred over. Without her hat she looked even more
+attractive, and certainly younger. But what was age or youth? And what
+was beauty itself, when a woman whose face was neither young nor
+beautiful could make him feel he was looking at a divine goddess, and
+thrilling as he had never dreamt of doing in his short life?
+
+If any one had told Paul this was going to happen to him, this
+experience, he would have laughed them to scorn. To begin with, he was
+rather shy with ladies as a rule, and had not learnt a trick of
+_entreprenance_. It took him quite a while to know one well
+enough to even talk at ease. And yet here he was, embarked upon an
+adventure which savoured of the Arabian Nights.
+
+He came forward and sat down, and he could feel the pulse beating in
+his throat. It all seemed perfectly natural at the time, but
+afterwards he wondered how she had known his name was Paul--and how it
+had all come to pass.
+
+"For three days you have thought of me, Paul--is it not so?" she said,
+half closing her lids.
+
+But he could only blurt out "Yes!" while he devoured her with his
+eyes.
+
+"We are both--how shall I say--drifting--holiday-making--trying to
+forget. And we must talk a little together, _n'est-ce pas_? Tell
+me?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Paul.
+
+"You are beautiful, you know, Paul," she went on. "So tall and
+straight like you English, with curly hair of gold. Your mother must
+have loved you as a baby."
+
+"I suppose she did," said Paul.
+
+"She is well? Your mother, the stately lady?"
+
+"Very well--do you know her?" he asked, surprised.
+
+"Long ago I have seen her, and I knew you at once, so like you
+are--and to your uncles, especially the Lord Hubert."
+
+"Uncle Hubert is a rotter!"
+
+"A--rotter?" inquired the lady. "And what is that?" And she smiled a
+divine smile.
+
+Paul felt ashamed. "Oh! well, it _is_ a rotter, you know--that
+_is_--like Uncle Hubert, I mean."
+
+She laughed again. "You do not explain well, but I understand you. And
+so you only resemble the Uncle Hubert on the outside--that is good."
+
+Paul felt jealous. Lord Hubert Aldringham's reputation--for some
+things--was European. "I hope so," he said with emphasis. "And you
+knew him well then, too?"
+
+"I never said so," replied the lady. "I saw him once--twice
+perhaps--years ago--at the marriage of a princess. There, it has made
+you frown, we will speak no more of the Uncle Hubert!" and she leant
+back and laughed.
+
+Paul felt very young. He wanted to show her he was grown up, and he
+wanted a number of things which had never even formed themselves in
+his imagination before. But she went on talking.
+
+"And your _cotelettes_ were tough, Paul, and you were so cross
+that first evening, and hated me! And oh! Paul, you had far too much
+wine for a boy like you!"
+
+He reddened to the roots of his fair wavy hair, and then he hung his
+head.
+
+"I know I did--it was beastly of me--but I was so--upset--I--"
+
+"Look at me," she said, and she bent forward over him--a gliding
+feline movement infinitely sinuous and attractive.
+
+Then he looked, his big blue eyes still cloudy with a mist of shame.
+
+"You must tell me why you were upset, baby--Paul!"
+
+How often she said his name! lingering over it as if it were music. It
+thrilled him every time.
+
+Then he gained courage.
+
+"But how did you know anything about it--or what I had--or what I
+drank? You never once raised your eyelids all the time!"
+
+"Perhaps I can see through them when I want to--who knows!" and she
+laughed.
+
+"And you wanted to--wanted to see through them?"
+
+He was gazing at her now, and she suddenly looked down, while the most
+beautiful transparent pink flushed her soft white cheeks, turning her
+into a tender girl almost. The change was so sudden, it startled Paul,
+and emboldened him.
+
+"You wanted to!" he repeated in a glad voice. "You wanted to see me?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered, and she looked up at him, but this time there
+was mischief in her eyes.
+
+"Is that why you sighed then among the ivy? What made you sigh?"
+
+She paused a moment, and then she said slowly: "A number of
+things. You seemed so young, and so beautiful, and so--asleep."
+
+"Indeed I wasn't asleep!" Paul exclaimed. "It would take a great deal
+more port than that to make me go to sleep. I was thinking of--" And
+then he saw she had not meant that kind of sleep, and felt a fool--and
+wondered.
+
+She helped him out.
+
+"All this time you have not told me why you were upset--upset enough
+to drink bad port. That was naughty of you, Paul."
+
+"I was upset--over you. I was angry because I was so interested--" and
+he reddened again.
+
+She leant back among the purple cushions, her figure so supple in its
+lines, it made him think of a snake. She half closed her eyes
+again--and she spoke low in a dreamy voice:
+
+"It was fate, Paul. I knew it when I entered the room. I felt it again
+among the green trees, and so I ran from you--but to-night it is
+_plus fort que moi_--so I called you to come in."
+
+"I am so glad--so _glad_," said Paul.
+
+She remained silent. Her eyes in their narrowed lids gleamed at him,
+seeming to penetrate into his very soul. And now he noticed her mouth
+again. It neither drooped nor smiled, it was straight, and chiselled
+and strong, and small rather, and the lower lip was rounded and
+slightly cleft in the centre. A most appetising red flower of a mouth.
+
+By this time Paul was more or less intoxicated with excitement, he had
+lost all sense of time and place. It seemed as if he had known her
+always--that there never had been a moment when she had not filled the
+whole of his horizon.
+
+They were both silent for a couple of minutes. As far as he could
+gather from her inscrutable face, she was weighing things--what
+things?
+
+Suddenly she sprang up, one of those fine movements of hers full of
+cat-like grace.
+
+"Paul," she said, "listen," and she spoke rather fast. "You are so
+young, so young--and I shall hurt you--probably. Won't you go
+now--while there is yet time? Away from Lucerne, back to Paris--even
+back to England. Anywhere away from me."
+
+She put her hand on his arm, and looked up into his eyes. And there
+were tears in hers. And now he saw that they were grey.
+
+He was moved as never yet in all his life.
+
+"I will not!" he said. "I may be young, but to-night I know--I want to
+live! And I will chance the hurt, because I know that only you can
+teach me--just how--"'
+
+Then his voice broke, and he bent down and covered her hand with
+kisses.
+
+She quivered a little and drew away. She picked up a great bunch of
+tuberoses, and broke off all their tops. "There, take them!" she said,
+pressing them into his hands, and those against his heart. "Take them
+and go--and dream of me. You have chosen. Dream of me to-night and
+remember--there is to-morrow."
+
+Then she glided back from him, and before he realised it she had gone
+noiselessly away through another door.
+
+Paul stood still. The room swam; his head swam. Then he stumbled out
+on to the terrace, under the night sky, the white blossoms still
+pressed against his heart.
+
+He must have walked about for hours. The grey dawn was creeping over
+the silent world when at last he went back to the hotel and to his
+bed.
+
+There he slept and dreamt--never a dream! For youth and health are
+glorious things. And he was tired out.
+
+The great sun was high in the heavens when next he awoke. And the room
+was full of the scent of tuberoses, scattered on the pillow beside
+him. Presently, when his blue eyes began to take in the meaning of
+things, he remembered and bounded up. For was not this the
+commencement of his first real day?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+The problem which faced Paul, when he had finished a very late
+breakfast, was how he should see her soon--the lady in black.
+
+He could not go and call like an ordinary visitor, because he did not
+know her name! That was wonderful--did not even know her name, or
+anything about her, only that his whole being was thrilling with
+anxiety to see her again.
+
+The simplest thing to do seemed to descend into the hall and look at
+the Visitors' List, which he promptly did.
+
+There were only a few people in the hotel; it was not hard, therefore,
+guessing at the numbers of the rooms, to arrive at the conviction that
+"Mme. Zalenska and suite" might be what he was searching
+for. Zalenska--she was possibly Russian after all. And what was her
+christian name? That he longed to know.
+
+As he stood staring, his fair forehead puckered into a frown of
+thought, the silver-haired servant came up behind him and said, with
+his respectful, dignified bearing:
+
+"_De la part de Madame_," handing Paul a letter the while.
+
+What could it contain?
+
+But this was not the moment for speculation--he would read and see.
+
+He turned his back on the servant, and walked towards the light, while
+he tore open the envelope. It had the most minute sphinx in the
+corner, and the paper was un-English, and rather thin.
+
+This was what he read:
+
+"_Morning_.
+
+"Paul, I am young to-day, and we must see the blue lake and the green
+trees. Come to the landing towards the station, and I will call for
+you in my launch. And you shall be young, too, Paul--and teach me!
+Give Dmitry the answer."
+
+"The answer is, 'Yes, immediately'--tell Madame," Paul said.
+
+And then he trod on air until he arrived at the landing she had
+indicated. Soon the launch glided up, he saw her there reclining under
+an awning of striped green.
+
+It was a well-arranged launch, the comfortable deck-chairs were in the
+bows, and the steering took place from a raised perch behind the
+cabin, so the two were practically alone. The lady was in grey to-day,
+and it suited her strangely. Her eyes gleamed at him, full of
+mischief, under her large grey hat.
+
+Paul drew his chair a little forward, turning it so that he could look
+at her without restraint.
+
+"How good of you to send for me," he said delightedly.
+
+She smiled a radiant smile. "Was it? I am capricious, I did not think
+of the good for you, only I wanted you--to please myself. I wish to be
+foolish to-day, Paul, and see your eyes dance, and watch the light on
+your curls."
+
+Paul frowned; it was as if she thought him a baby.
+
+Then the lady leant back and laughed, the sound was of golden bells.
+
+"Yes, you are a baby!" she said, answering his thoughts. "A great,
+big, beautiful baby, Paul."
+
+If Paul had been a girl he would have pouted.
+
+She turned from him and gazed over the lake; it was looking
+indescribably beautiful, with the colours of the springtime.
+
+"Do you see the green of those beeches by the water, Paul? Look at
+their tenderness, next the dark firs--and then the blue beyond--and
+see, there is a copper beech, he is king of them all! I would like to
+build a chalet up in some part like that, and come there each year in
+May--to read fairy-tales."
+
+For the first time in his life Paul saw with different eyes--just the
+beauty of things--and forgot to gauge their sporting possibilities. An
+infinite joy was flooding his being, some sensation he had not dreamed
+about even, of happiness and fulfilment.
+
+She appeared to him more alluring than ever, and young and gay--as
+young as Isabella! And then his thoughts caused him to take in his
+breath with a hiss--Isabella--how far away she seemed. Of course he
+could never love any one else--but--
+
+"Don't think of it, then," the lady whispered. "Be young like me, and
+live under the blue sky."
+
+How was it she knew his thoughts always? He blushed while he
+stammered: "No--I won't think of it--or anything but you--Princess."
+
+"Daring one!" she said, "who told you to call me that? The hotel
+people have been talking, I suppose."
+
+"No," said Paul, surprised, "I called you Princess just because you
+seem like one to me--but now I guess from what you say, you are not
+plain Madame Zalenska."
+
+Her eyes clouded for a second. "Madame Zalenska does to travel
+with--but you shall call me what you like."
+
+He grew emboldened.
+
+"I suddenly feel I want so much--I want to know why your eyes were so
+mocking through the trees on the Buergenstock? They drove me nearly
+mad, you know, and I raced about after you like a dog after a hare!"
+
+"I thought you would--you did not control the expression when you
+gazed up at me! And so I was the true hare--and ran away!"
+
+She looked down suddenly and was silent for some moments, then she
+turned the conversation from these personal things. She led his
+thoughts into new channels--made him observe the trees and sky, and
+the wonderful beauty of it all, and with lightning flashes took him
+into unknown speculations on emotions and the meaning of things.
+
+A new existence seemed to open to Paul's view. And all the while she
+lay back in her chair almost motionless, only her wonderful eyes lit
+up the strange whiteness of her face. There was not a touch of
+_mauvaise honte_, or explanation of the unusualness of this
+situation in her manner. It had a perfect, quiet dignity, as if to
+look into the eyes of an unknown young man at night over an ivy
+terrace, and then spend a day with him alone, were the most natural
+things in the world to do.
+
+Paul felt she was a queen whose actions must be left unquestioned.
+
+Presently they came to a small village, and here she would land and
+lunch. And from somewhere behind the cabin Dmitry appeared, and was
+sent on ahead, so that when they walked into the little hotel a simple
+repast was waiting for them.
+
+By this time Paul was absolutely enthralled. Never in his whole life
+had he spent such a morning. His imagination was expanded. He saw new
+vistas. His brain almost whirled. Was it he--Paul Verdayne--who was
+seated opposite this divine woman, drinking in her voice, and
+listening to her subtle curious thoughts?
+
+And what were the commonplace, ordinary things which had hitherto
+occupied his mind? How had he ever wasted a moment on them?
+
+It was his first awakening.
+
+When it came to the end--this delightful repast--he called the waiter,
+and wanted to pay the bill; small enough in all conscience. But a new
+look appeared round the lady's mouth--imperious, with an instantaneous
+flash in her eyes--a pure, steel-grey they were to-day.
+
+"Leave it to Dmitry," she said quickly. "I never occupy myself with
+money. They displease me, these details--and why spoil my day?"
+
+But Paul was an Englishman, and resented any woman's paying for his
+food. His mouth changed, too, and looked obstinate.
+
+"I say, you know--" he began.
+
+Then she turned upon him.
+
+"Understand at once," she said haughtily. "Either you leave me
+unjarred by your English conventionalities, or you pay these miserable
+francs and go back to Lucerne alone!"
+
+Paul shrugged his shoulders. He was angry, but could not insist
+further.
+
+When they got outside, her voice grew caressing again as she led the
+way to a path up among the young beeches.
+
+"Paul--foolish one!" she said. "Do you not think I understand and know
+you--and your quaint English ways? But imagine how silly it is. I am
+quite aware that you have ample money to provide me with a feast of
+Midas--all of gold--if necessary, and you shall some day, if you
+really wish. But to stop over paltry sums of francs, to destroy the
+thread of our conversation and thoughts--to make it all banal and
+everyday! That is what I won't have. Dmitry is there for nothing else
+but to _eviter_ for me these details. It is my holiday, my
+pleasure-day, my time of joy. I felt young, Paul. You would not make
+one little shadow for me--would you, _ami?_"
+
+No voice that he had ever dreamt of possessed so many tones in it as
+hers--even one of pathos, as she lingered over the word "shadow," All
+his annoyance melted. He only felt he would change the very mainspring
+of his life if necessary to give her pleasure and joy.
+
+"Of course I would not make a shadow,--surely you know that," he
+said, moved. "Only you see a man generally pays for a woman's food."
+
+"When she belongs to him--but I don't belong to you, baby Paul. You,
+for the day, belong to me--and are my guest!"
+
+"Very well, then, we won't talk about it," he said, resigned by the
+caress in her words. To belong to her! That was something, if but for
+one day.
+
+"Only it must never come up again, this question", she
+insisted. "Should we spend more hours on this lake, or other lakes--or
+mountains, or rivers, or towns--let us speak never of money, or
+paying. If you only knew of how I hate it! the cruel yellow gold! I
+have heaps of it--heaps of it! and for it human beings have always
+paid so great a price. Just this once in life let it bring happiness
+and peace."
+
+He wondered at the concentrated feeling she expressed. What could the
+price be? And what was her history?"
+
+"So it is over, our little breeze," she said gently, after a
+pause. "And you will tease me no more, Paul?"
+
+"I would never tease you!" he exclaimed tenderly. And, if he had
+dared, he would have taken her hand.
+
+"You English are so wonderful! Full of your prejudices," she said in a
+contemplative way. "Bulldog tenacity of purpose, whether you are
+right or wrong. Things are a custom, and they must be done, or it is
+not 'playing the game,'" and she imitated a set English voice, her
+beautiful mouth pursed up, until Paul had to use violent restraint
+with himself to keep from kissing it. "A wonderful people--mostly
+gentlemen and generally honest, but of a common sense that is
+disastrous to sentiment or romance. If you were not so polished, and
+lazy and strong--and beautiful to look at, one would not consider you
+much beyond the German."
+
+"Not consider us beyond a beastly German!" exclaimed Paul
+indignantly.
+
+And the lady laughed like a child.
+
+"Oh! you darling Paul!" she said. "You dear, insular, arrogant
+Englishman! You have no equal in the world!"
+
+Paul was offended.
+
+"If you had said an Austrian now--but a German--" he growled sulkily.
+
+"The Austrians are charming," allowed the lady, "but they err the
+other way; they have not enough common sense, they are only great
+gentlemen. Also, they are naturally awake, whereas you English are
+naturally asleep, and you yourself are the Sleeping Beauty, Paul."
+
+They had climbed up the path now some two hundred feet, and all around
+them were stripling beeches of an unnaturally exquisite green, as
+fresh and pure and light almost as leaves of the forced lily of the
+valley.
+
+The whole world throbbed with youth and freshness, and here and there,
+wide of the path, by a mossy stone, a gentian raised its azure head,
+"small essences of sky;" the lady called them.
+
+"Let us sit down on this piece of rock," Paul said. "I want to hear
+why I am the Sleeping Beauty. It is so long since I read the story.
+But wasn't it about a girl, not a man--and didn't she get wakened up
+by a--kiss?"
+
+"She did!" said the lady, leaning back against a tree behind her; "but
+then it was just her faculties which were asleep, not her soul. Could
+a kiss wake a soul?"
+
+"I think so," Paul whispered. He was seated on a part of the rock
+which jutted out a little lower than her resting-place, and he was so
+close as to be almost touching her. He could look up under the brim of
+that tantalising hat, which so often hid her from his view as they
+walked. He was quivering with excitement at this moment, the result of
+the thought of a kiss--and his blue eyes blazed with desire as they
+devoured her face.
+
+"Yes--it is so," said the lady, a low note in her voice. "Because
+Huldebrand gave Undine a soul with a kiss."
+
+"Tell me about it," implored Paul. "I am so ignorant. Who was
+Huldebrand, and what did he do?"
+
+So she began in a dreamy voice, and you who have read De la Motte
+Fouque's dry version of this exquisite legend would hardly have
+recognised the poetry and pathos and tender sentiment she wove round
+those two, and the varied moods of Undine, and the passion of her
+knight. And when she came to the evening of their wedding, when the
+young priest had placed their hands together, and listened to their
+vows--when Undine had found her soul at last, in Huldebrand's
+arms--her voice faltered, and she stopped and looked down.
+
+"And then?" said Paul, and his breath came rather fast. "And then?"
+
+"He was a man, you see, Paul; so when he had won her love, he did not
+value it--he threw it away."
+
+"Oh, no! I don't believe it!" Paul exclaimed vehemently. "It was just
+this brute Huldebrand. But you don't know men--to think they do not
+value what they win--you don't know them, indeed!"
+
+She looked down straight into his face, as he gazed up at her, and to
+his intense surprise he could have sworn her eyes were green now! as
+green as emeralds. And they held him and fascinated him and paralysed
+him, like those of a snake.
+
+"I do not know men?" she said softly. "You think not, Paul?"
+
+But Paul could hardly speak, he buried his face in her lap, like a
+child, and kept it there, kissing her gloved hands. His straw hat,
+with its Zingari ribbon, lay on the grass beside him, and a tiny shaft
+of sunlight glanced through the trees, gilding the crisp waves of his
+brushed-back hair into dark burnished gold.
+
+The lady moved one hand from his impassioned caress, and touched the
+curl with her finger-tips. She smiled with the tenderness a mother
+might have done.
+
+"There--there!" she said. "Not yet." Then she drew her hand away from
+him and leant back, half closing her eyes.
+
+Paul sat up and stared around. Each moment of the day was providing
+new emotions for him. Surely this was what Columbus must have felt,
+nearing the new world. He pulled himself together. She was not angry
+then at his outburst, and his caress--though something in her face
+warned him not to err again.
+
+"Tell me the rest," he said pleadingly. "Why did he not value Undine's
+love, and what made the fool throw it away?"
+
+"Because he possessed it, you see," said the lady. "That was reason
+enough, surely."
+
+Then she told him of the ceasing of Undine's wayward moods after she
+had received her soul--of her docility--of her tenderness--of
+Huldebrand's certainty of her love. Then of his inevitable
+weariness. And at last of the Court, and the meeting again with
+Hildegarde, and of all the sorrow that followed, until the end, when
+the fountains burst their stoppings and rushed upwards, wreathing
+themselves into the figure of Undine, to take her Love to death with
+her kiss.
+
+"Oh! he was wise!" Paul said. "He chose to die with her kiss. He knew
+at last then--what he had thrown away."
+
+"That one learns often, Paul, when it has grown--too late! Come, let
+us live in the sunshine. Live while we may."
+
+And the lady rose, and giving him her hand, she almost ran into the
+bright light of day, where even no tender shadows fell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Their return journey was one of quiet. The lady talked little, she
+leant back and looked away across the blue lake, often apparently
+unconscious of his presence. This troubled Paul. Had he wearied her?
+What should he do? He was growing aware of the fact that she was not a
+bit like his mother, or Isabella, or any of the other women whom he
+knew--people whose moods he had never even speculated about--if they
+had any--which he doubted.
+
+Why wouldn't she speak? Had she forgotten him? He felt chilled and
+saddened.
+
+At last, as they neared a small bay where another tempting little
+chalet-hotel mirrored itself in the clear water, he spoke. A note in
+his voice--his charming young voice--as of a child in distress.
+
+"Are--are you cross with me?"
+
+Then she came back from her other world. "Cross with you? Foolish
+one! No, I am dreaming. And I forgot that you could not know yet, or
+understand. English Paul! who would have me make conversation and
+chatter commonplaces or he feels a _gene!_ See, I will take you
+where I have been into this infinite sky and air"--she let her hand
+fall on his arm and thrilled him--"look up at Pilatus. Do you see his
+head so snowy, and all the delicate shadows upon him, and his look of
+mystery? And those dark pines--and the great chasms, and the wild
+anger the giants were in when they hurled these huge rocks about? I
+have been with them, and you and I seem such little people, Paul. We
+cannot throw great rocks about--we are only two small ants in this
+grand world."
+
+Paul's face was puzzled, he did not believe in giants. His mind was
+not accustomed yet to these flights of speech, he felt stupid and
+irritated with himself, and in some way humiliated. The lady leant
+over him, her face playfully tender.
+
+"Great blue eyes!" she said. "So pretty, so pretty! What matter
+whether they can see or no?" And she touched his lids with her slender
+fingers.
+
+Paul quivered in his chair.
+
+"You know!" he gasped. "You make me mad--I----But won't you teach me
+to see? No one wants to be blind! Teach me to see with your eyes,
+lady--my lady."
+
+"Yes, I will teach you!" she said. "Teach you a number of
+things. Together we will put on the hat of darkness and go down into
+Hades. We shall taste the apples of the Hesperides--we will rob
+Mercure of his sandals--and Gyges of his ring. And one day, Paul--when
+together we have fathomed the meaning of it all--what will happen
+then, _enfant?_"
+
+Her last word, "_enfant,_" was a caress, and Paul was too
+bewildered with joy to answer her for a moment.
+
+"What will happen?" he said at last. "I shall just love you--that's
+all!"
+
+Then he remembered Isabella Waring, and suddenly covered his face with
+his hands.
+
+They stopped for tea at the quaint chalet-hotel, and after it they
+wandered to pick gentians. The lady was sweet and sympathetic and gay;
+she ceased startling him with wild fancies; indeed, she spoke of
+simple everyday things, and got him to tell her of his home and
+Oxford, and his horses and his dogs. And when they arrived at the
+subject of Pike, her sympathy drew Paul nearer to her than ever. Of
+course she would love Pike if she only knew him! Who could help loving
+a dog like Pike? And his master waxed eloquent. Then, when he looked
+away, the lady's weird chameleon eyes melted upon him in that strange
+tenderness which might have been a mother's watching the gambols of
+her babe.
+
+The shadows were quite deep when at last they decided to return to
+Lucerne--a small bunch of heaven's own blue flower the only trophy of
+the day.
+
+Paul had never enjoyed himself so much in his twenty-three years of
+life. And what would the evening bring? Surely more joy. This parting
+at the landing could not be good-night!
+
+But as the launch glided nearer and nearer his heart fell, and at last
+he could bear the uncertainty no longer.
+
+"And for dinner?" he said. "Won't you dine me, my Princess? Let me be
+your host, as you have been mine all to-day."
+
+But a stiffness seemed to fall upon her suddenly--she appeared to have
+become a stranger again almost.
+
+"Thank you, no. I cannot dine," she said. "I must write letters--and
+go to sleep."
+
+Paul felt an ice-hand clutching his heart. His face became so blank as
+to almost pale before her eyes.
+
+She leant forward, and smiled. "Will you be lonely, Paul? Then at ten
+o'clock you must come under the ivy and wish me good-night."
+
+And this was all he could gain from her. She landed him to walk back
+to the hotel at the same place from which they had embarked, and the
+launch struck out again into the lake.
+
+He walked fast, just to be near enough to see her step ashore on to
+the hotel wharf, but he could not arrive in time, and her grey figure
+disappearing up the terrace steps was all his hungry eyes were
+vouchsafed.
+
+The weariness of dinner! What did it matter what the food was? What
+did it matter that a new family of quite nice English people had
+arrived, and sat near? A fresh young girl and a youth, and a father
+and mother. People who would certainly play billiards and probably
+bridge. What did anything matter in the world? Time must be got
+through, simply got through until ten o'clock--that was all.
+
+At half-past nine he strode out and sat upon the bench. His thoughts
+went back in a constant review of the day. How she had looked, where
+they had sat, what she had said. Why her eyes seemed green in the wood
+and blue on the water. Why her voice had all those tones in it. Why
+she had been old and young, and wise and childish. Then he thought of
+the story of Undine and the lady's strange, snake's look when she had
+said: "I do not know men?--You think not, Paul?"
+
+His heart gave a great bound at the remembrance. He permitted himself
+no speculation as to where he was drifting. He just sat there
+thrilling in every limb and every sense and every quality of his
+brain.
+
+As the clocks chimed the hour something told him she was there above
+him, although he heard no sound.
+
+Not a soul was in sight in this quiet corner. He bounded on to the
+bench to be nearer--if she should come. If she were there hiding in
+the shadows. This was maddening--unbearable. He would climb the
+balustrade to see. Then out of the blackest gloom came a laugh of
+silver. A soft laugh that was almost a caress. And suddenly she crept
+close and leant down over the ivy.
+
+"Paul," she whispered. "I have come, you see, to wish
+you--good-night!"
+
+Paul stood up to his full height. He put out his arms to draw her to
+him, but she eluded him and darted aside.
+
+He gave a great sigh of pain.
+
+Slowly she came back and bent over and over of her own accord--so low
+that at last she was level with his face. And slowly her red lips
+melted into his young lips in a long, strange kiss.
+
+Then, before Paul could grasp her, or murmur one pleading word, she
+was gone.
+
+And again he found himself alone, intoxicated with emotion under the
+night sky studded with stars.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Rain, rain, rain! That was not an agreeable sound to wake to when one
+had not had more than a few hours' sleep, and one's only hope of the
+day was to see one's lady again.
+
+So Paul thought despairingly. What would happen? No lake, or mountain
+climb, was possible--but see her he must. After that kiss--that
+divine, enthralling, undreamed-of kiss. What did it mean? Did she
+love him? He loved her, that was certain. The poor feeble emotion he
+had experienced for Isabella was completely washed out and gone now.
+
+He felt horribly ashamed of himself when he thought about it. His
+parents were perfectly right, of course; they had known best, and
+fortunately Isabella had not perhaps believed him, and was not a
+person of deep feeling anyway.
+
+But the extreme discomfort of the thought of her made him toss in his
+bed. What ought he to do? Rush away from Lucerne? To what good? The
+die was cast, and in any case he was not bound to Isabella in any
+way. But at least he ought to write to her and tell her he had made a
+mistake. That was the only honest thing to do. A terrible duty, and
+he must brace himself up to accomplish it.
+
+He breakfasted in his sitting-room, his thoughts scourging him the
+while, and afterwards, with a bulldog determination, he faced the
+writing-table and began.
+
+He tore up at least three sheets to start with--no Greek lines of
+punishment in his boyhood had ever appeared such a task as this. He
+found himself scribbling profiles on the paper, chiselled profiles
+with inky hair--but no words would come.
+
+"Dear Isabella," he wrote at last. No--"My dear Isabella," then he
+paused and bit the pen. "I feel I ought to tell you something has
+happened to me. I see my parents were right when--" "Oh! dash it all,"
+he said to himself, "it's a beastly sneaking thing to do to put it
+like that," and he scratched the paragraph out and began again. "I
+have made a mistake in my feelings for you; I know now that they were
+those of a brother--" "O Lord, what am I to say next, it does sound
+bald, this!" The poor boy groaned and ran his hands through his curly
+hair, then seized the pen again, and continued--"as such I shall love
+you always, dear Isabella. Please forgive me if I have caused you any
+pain. It was all my fault, and I feel a beastly cad.--Your very
+unhappy PAUL."
+
+This was not a masterpiece! but it would have to do. So he copied it
+out on a fresh piece of paper. Then, when it was all finished and
+addressed he ran down and posted it himself in the hall, with some of
+the emotions Alexander may have experienced when he burnt his ships.
+
+The clock struck eleven. At what time would he see the
+lady--_his_ lady he called her now. Some instinct told him she
+did not wish the hotel people to be aware of their acquaintance. He
+felt it wiser not to send a note. He must wait and hope.
+
+Rain or not, he was too English to stay indoors all day. So out he
+went and into the town. The quaint bridge pleased him; he tried to
+think how she would have told him to use his eyes. He must not be
+stupid, he said to himself, and already he began to perceive new
+meanings in things. Coming back, he chanced to stop and look in at
+the fur shop under the hotel. There were some nice skins there, and
+what caught his attention most was a really splendid tiger. A
+magnificent creature the beast must have been. The deepest, most
+perfectly marked, largest one he had ever seen. He stood for some time
+admiring it. An infinitely better specimen than his lady had over her
+couch. Should he buy it for her? Would she take it? Would it please
+her to think he had remembered it might be what she would like?
+
+He went into the shop. It was not even dear as tigers go, and his
+parents had given him ample money for any follies.
+
+"Confound it, Henrietta! The boy must have his head!" Sir Charles
+Verdayne had said. "He's my son, you know, and you can't expect to
+cure him of one wench unless you provide him with shekels to buy
+another." Which crudely expressed wisdom had been followed, and Paul
+had no worries where his banking account was concerned.
+
+He bought the tiger, and ordered it to be sent to his rooms
+immediately.
+
+Then there was lunch to be thought of. She would not be there
+probably, but still he had a faint hope.
+
+She was not there, nor were any preparations made for her; but when
+one is twenty-three and hungry, even if deeply in love, one must
+eat. The English people had the next table beyond the sacred one of
+the lady. The girl was pretty and young, and laughing. But what a
+doll! thought Paul. What a meaningless wax doll! Not worth--not worth
+a moment's glancing at.
+
+And the pink and white fluffy girl was saying to herself: "There is
+Paul Verdayne again. I wish he remembered he had met me at the De
+Courcys', though we weren't introduced. I must get Percy to scrape up
+a conversation with him. I wish mamma had not made me wear this green
+alpaca to-day." But Paul's blue eyes gazed through and beyond her, and
+saw her not. So all this prettiness was wasted.
+
+And directly after lunch he returned to his sitting room. The tiger
+would probably have arrived, and he wanted to further examine it. Yes,
+it was there. He pulled it out and spread it over the floor. What a
+splendid creature--it reminded him in some way of her--his lady.
+
+Then he went into his bedroom and fetched a pair of scissors, and
+proceeded to kneel on the floor and pare away the pinked-out black
+cloth which came beyond the skin. It looked banal, and he knew she
+would not like that.
+
+Oh! he was awaking! this beautiful young Paul.
+
+He had scarcely finished when there was a tap at the door, and Dmitry
+appeared with a note. The thin, remembered paper thrilled him, and he
+took it from the servant's hand.
+
+"Paul--I am in the devil's mood to-day. About 5 o'clock come to me by
+the terrace steps."
+
+That was all--there was no date or signature. But Paul's heart beat
+in his throat with joy.
+
+"I want the skin to go to Madame," he said. "Have you any means of
+conveying it to her without the whole world seeing it go?"
+
+The stately servant bowed. "If the Excellency would help him to fold
+it up," he said, "he would take it now to his own room, and from
+thence to the _appartement numero 3_."
+
+It is not a very easy thing to fold up a huge tiger-skin into a brown
+paper parcel tied with string. But it was accomplished somehow and
+Dmitry disappeared noiselessly with it and an answer to the note:
+
+"I will be there, sweet lady.
+
+"Your own PAUL."
+
+And he was.
+
+A bright fire burnt in the grate, and some palest orchid-mauve silk
+curtains were drawn in the lady's room when Paul entered from the
+terrace. And loveliest sight of all, in front of the fire, stretched
+at full length, was his tiger--and on him--also at full
+length--reclined the lady, garbed in some strange clinging garment of
+heavy purple crepe, its hem embroidered with gold, one white arm
+resting on the beast's head, her back supported by a pile of the
+velvet cushions, and a heap of rarely bound books at her side, while
+between her red lips was a rose not redder than they--an almost
+scarlet rose. Paul had never seen one as red before.
+
+The whole picture was barbaric. It might have been some painter's
+dream of the Favourite in a harem. It was not what one would expect to
+find in a sedate Swiss hotel.
+
+She did not stir as he stepped in, dropping the heavy curtains after
+him. She merely raised her eyes, and looked Paul through and through.
+Her whole expression was changed; it was wicked and dangerous and
+_provocante_. It seemed quite true, as she had said--she was
+evidently in the devil's mood.
+
+Paul bounded forward, but she raised one hand to stop him.
+
+"No! you must not come near me, Paul. I am not safe to-day. Not
+yet. See, you must sit there and we will talk."
+
+And she pointed to a great chair of Venetian workmanship and wonderful
+old velvet which was new to his view.
+
+"I bought that chair in the town this morning at the curiosity shop on
+the top of Weggisstrasse, which long ago was the home of the Venetian
+envoy here--and you bought me the tiger, Paul. Ah! that was good. My
+beautiful tiger!" And she gave a movement like a snake, of joy to feel
+its fur under her, while she stretched out her hands and caressed the
+creature where the hair turned white and black at the side, and was
+deep and soft.
+
+"Beautiful one! beautiful one!" she purred. "And I know all your
+feelings and your passions, and now I have got your skin--for the joy
+of my skin!" And she quivered again with the movements of a snake.
+
+It is not difficult to imagine that Paul felt far from calm during
+this scene--indeed he was obliged to hold on to his great chair to
+prevent himself from seizing her in his arms.
+
+"I'm--I'm so glad you like him," he said in a choked voice. "I thought
+probably you would. And your own was not worthy of you. I found this
+by chance. And oh! good God! if you knew how you are making me
+feel--lying there wasting your caresses upon it!"
+
+She tossed the scarlet rose over to him; it hit his mouth.
+
+"I am not wasting them," she said, the innocence of a kitten in her
+strange eyes--their colour impossible to define to-day. "Indeed not,
+Paul! He was my lover in another life--perhaps--who knows?"
+
+"But I," said Paul, who was now quite mad, "want to be your lover in
+this!"
+
+Then he gasped at his own boldness.
+
+With a lightning movement she lay on her face, raised her elbows on
+the tiger's head, and supported her chin in her hands. Perfectly
+straight out her body was, the twisted purple drapery outlining her
+perfect shape, and flowing in graceful lines beyond--like a serpent's
+tail. The velvet pillows fell scattered at one side.
+
+"Paul--what do you know of lovers--or love?" she said. "My baby Paul!"
+
+"I know enough to know I know nothing yet which is worth knowing," he
+said confusedly. "But--but--don't you understand, I want you to teach
+me--"
+
+"You are so sweet, Paul! when you plead like that I am taking in every
+bit of you. In your way as perfect as this tiger. But we must
+talk--oh! such a great, great deal--first."
+
+A rage of passion was racing through Paul, his incoherent thoughts
+were that he did not want to talk--only to kiss her--to devour her--to
+strangle her with love if necessary.
+
+He bit the rose.
+
+"You see, Paul, love is a purely physical emotion," she continued. "We
+could speak an immense amount about souls, and sympathy, and
+understanding, and devotion. All beautiful things in their way, and
+possible to be enjoyed at a distance from one another. All the things
+which make passion noble--but without love--which _is_ passion--these
+things dwindle and become duties presently, when the hysterical
+exaltation cools. Love is _tangible_--it means to be close--close--to
+be clasped--to be touching--to be One!"
+
+Her voice was low--so concentrated as to be startling in contrast to
+the drip of the rain outside, and her eyes--half closed and
+gleaming--burnt into his brain. It seemed as if strange flames of
+green darted from their pupils.
+
+"But that is what I want!" Paul said, unsteadily.
+
+"Without counting the cost? Tears and--cold steel--and blood!" she
+whispered. "Wait a while, beautiful Paul!"
+
+He started back chilled for a second, and in that second she changed
+her position, pulling the cushions around her, nestling into them and
+drawing herself cosily up like a child playing on a mat in front of
+the fire, while with a face of perfect innocence she looked up as she
+drew one of her great books nearer, and said in a dreamy voice:
+
+"Now we will read fairy-tales, Paul."
+
+But Paul was too moved to speak. These rapid changes were too much for
+him, greatly advanced though he had become in these short days since
+he had known her. He leant back in his chair, every nerve in his body
+quivering, his young fresh face almost pale.
+
+"Paul," she cooed plaintively, "to-morrow I shall be reasonable again,
+perhaps, and human, but to-day I am capricious and wayward, and
+mustn't be teased. I want to read about Cupid and Psyche from this
+wonderful 'Golden Ass' of Apuleius--just a simple tale for a wet
+day--and you and--me!"
+
+"Read then!" said Paul, resigned.
+
+And she commenced in Latin, in a chanting, tender voice. Paul had
+forgotten most of the Latin he knew, but he remembered enough to be
+aware that this must be as easy as English to her as it flowed along
+in a rich rhythmic sound.
+
+It soothed him. He seemed to be dreaming of flowery lands and running
+streams. After a while she looked up again, and then with one of her
+sudden movements like a graceful cat, she was beside him leaning from
+the back of his chair.
+
+"Paul!" she whispered right in his ear, "am I being wicked for you
+to-day? I cannot help it. The devil is in me--and now I must sing."
+
+"Sing then!" said Paul, maddened with again arising emotion.
+
+She seized a guitar that lay near, and began in a soft voice in some
+language he knew not--a cadence of melody he had never heard, but one
+whose notes made strange quivers all up his spine. An exquisite
+pleasure of sound that was almost pain. And when he felt he could bear
+no more, she flung the instrument aside, and leant over his chair
+again--caressing his curls with her dainty fingers, and purring
+unknown strange words in his ear.
+
+Paul was young and unlearned in many things. He was completely
+enthralled and under her dominion--but he was naturally no weakling of
+body or mind. And this was more than he could stand.
+
+"_You_ mustn't be teased. My God! it is you who are maddening
+me!" he cried, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Do you think I am a
+statue, or a table, or chair--or inanimate like that tiger there? I am
+not, I tell you!" and he seized her in his arms, raining kisses upon
+her which, whatever they lacked in subtlety, made up for in their
+passion and strength. "Some day some man will kill you, I suppose, but
+I shall be your lover--first!"
+
+The lady gasped. She looked up at him in bewildered surprise, as a
+child might do who sets a light to a whole box of matches in
+play. What a naughty, naughty toy to burn so quickly for such a little
+strike!
+
+But Paul's young, strong arms held her close, she could not struggle
+or move. Then she laughed a laugh of pure glad joy.
+
+"Beautiful, savage Paul," she whispered. "Do you love me? Tell me
+that?"
+
+"Love you!" he said. "Good God! Love you! Madly, and you know it,
+darling Queen."
+
+"Then," said the lady in a voice in which all the caresses of the
+world seemed melted, "then, sweet Paul, I shall teach you many things,
+and among them I shall teach you how--to--LIVE."
+
+And outside the black storm made the darkness fall early. And inside
+the half-burnt logs tumbled together, causing a cloud of golden
+sparks, and then the flames leapt up again and crackled in the grate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+At dinner that night the lady came in after Paul was seated. She was
+all in black velvet, stately and dignified and fine. She passed his
+chair and took her seat, not the faintest sign of recognition on her
+face. And although he was prepared for this, for some reason his
+heart sank for a moment. Her demeanour was the same as on the first
+night he had seen her, hardly raising her eyes, eating little of the
+most exquisite food, and appearing totally unconscious of her
+neighbours or their ways.
+
+She caused a flutter of excitement at the English table, the only
+other party, except two old men in a corner, who had dined so late,
+and they were half-way through their repast before she began
+hers. Paul was annoyed to see how they stared--stared at _his_
+lady. But what joy it was to sit there and realise that she was
+his--his very own! And only four nights ago he had been a rude
+stranger, too, criticising her every movement, and drinking too much
+port with annoyance over it all. And now his whole life was changed.
+He saw with new eyes, and heard with new ears, even his casual
+observation was altered and sharpened, so that he noticed the texture
+of the cloth and the quality of the glass, and the shape of the room
+and its decoration.
+
+And how insupportably commonplace the good English family seemed! That
+bread-and-butter miss with her pink cheeks and fluffy hair, without a
+hat! Women's hair should be black and grow in heavy waves. He was
+certain of that now. How like them to come into a foreign restaurant
+hatless, just because they were English and must impose their customs!
+He sat and mused on it all, as he looked at his velvet-clad Queen. A
+sense of complete joy and satisfaction stealing over him, his wild
+excitement and emotion calmed for the time.
+
+The delightful sensation of sharing a secret with her--a love-secret
+known only to themselves. Think, if these Philistines guessed at it
+even! their faces. And at this thought Paul almost laughed aloud.
+
+With passionate interest he absorbed every little detail about his
+lady. How exactly she knew what suited her. How refined and _grande
+dame_ and quiet it all was, and what an air of breeding and command
+she had in the poise of her little Greek head.
+
+What did it matter what age she was, or of what nation? What did
+anything matter since she was his? And at that thought his heart began
+to beat again and cause him to speculate as to his evening.
+
+Would she let him come back to the terrace room after dinner, or must
+he get through the time as best he could? When he had left her, half
+dazed with joy and languor, no arrangements had been made--no definite
+plans settled. But of course she could not mean him not to wish her
+good-night--not _now_. For one second before she left the room
+their eyes met, she raised a red rose, which she had taken from the
+silver vase, casually to her lips, and then passed out, but Paul knew
+she had meant the kiss for him, and his whole being was uplifted.
+
+It was still pouring with rain. No possible excuse to smoke on the
+terrace. It might be wiser to stay in the hall. Surely Dmitry would
+come with some message before very long, if he was patient and waited
+her pleasure. But ten o'clock struck and there was no sign. Only the
+English youth, Percy Trevellian, had got into conversation with him,
+and was proposing billiards to pass the time.
+
+Paul loved billiards--but not to-night. Heavens! what an idea! Go off
+to the billiard-room--now--to-night!
+
+He said he had a headache, and answered rather shortly in fact, and
+then, to escape further importunity, went up to his sitting-room,
+there to await the turn of events, leaving poor little Mabel
+Trevellian gazing after him with longing eyes.
+
+"Did you see at dinner how he stared at that foreign person, mamma?"
+she said. "Men are such fools! Clarkson told me, as she fastened my
+dress to-night, she'd heard she was some Grand Duchess, or Queen,
+travelling incognito for her health. Very plain and odd-looking,
+didn't you think so, mamma? And quite old!"
+
+"No, dear. Most distinguished. Not a girl, of course, but quite the
+appearance of a Princess," said Mabel's mother, who had seen the
+world.
+
+Paul meanwhile paced his room--an anxious excitement was now his
+portion. Surely, surely she could not mean him not to see her--not to
+say one little good-night. What should he do? What possible plan
+invent? As eleven chimed he could bear it no longer. Rain or no, he
+must go out on the terrace!
+
+"Those mad English!" the porter said to himself, as he watched Paul's
+tall figure disappear in the dripping night.
+
+And there till after twelve he paced the path under the trees. But no
+light showed; the terrace gate was locked. It was chilly and wet and
+miserable, and at last he crept back utterly depressed, to bed. But
+not to sleep. Even his youth and health were not proof against the mad
+emotions of the day. He tossed and turned, a thousand questions
+singing in his brain. Was it really he who had been chosen by this
+divine woman for her lover? And if so, why was he alone now instead of
+holding her in his arms? What did it all mean? Who was she? Where
+would it end? But here he refused to think further. He was living at
+all events--living as he had never dreamed was possible.
+
+And yet, poor Paul, he was only on the rim of all that he was soon to
+know of life.
+
+At last he fell asleep, one sentence ringing in his ears--"Tears
+and--cold steel--and blood!" But if he was young, he was a gallant
+gentleman, and Fear had no place in his dreams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Next day they went to the Buergenstock to stay. It was all arranged with
+consummate simplicity. Paul was to start for a climb, he told his valet,
+and for a week they would leave Lucerne. Mme. Zalenska was not very well,
+it appeared, and consented to try, at the suggestion of the amiable
+manager--inspired by Dmitry--a few days in higher air. There would not be
+a soul in their hotel on top of the Buergenstock probably, and she could
+have complete rest.
+
+They did not arrive together, Paul was the first. He had not seen her.
+Dmitry had given him his final instructions, and he awaited her coming
+with passionate impatience.
+
+He had written to her, on awaking, a coherent torrent of love,
+marvellously unlike the letter which had gone to poor Isabella only a few
+days before. In this to his lady he had said he could not bear it _now_,
+the uncertainty of seeing her, and had suggested the Buergenstock crudely,
+without any of the clever details which afterwards made it possible.
+
+He--Paul Verdayne, not quite twenty-three years old, and English--to
+suggest without a backward thought or a qualm that a lady whom he had
+known five days should come and live with him and be his love! None of his
+friends accustomed to his bashful habits would have believed it. Only his
+father perhaps might have smiled.
+
+As for the Lady Henrietta, she would have fainted on the spot. But fortune
+favoured him--they did not know.
+
+No excitement of the wildest day's hunting had ever made his pulses bound
+like this! Dmitry had arranged everything. Paul was a young English
+secretary to Madame, who had much writing to do. And in any case it is not
+the affair of respectable foreign hotels to pry into their clients'
+relationship when a large suite has been engaged.
+
+Paul's valet, the son of an old retainer of the family, was an honest
+fellow, and devoted to his master--but Sir Charles Verdayne had decided to
+make things doubly sure.
+
+"Tompson," he had said, the morning before they left, "however Mr.
+Verdayne may amuse himself while you are abroad, your eyes and mouth are
+shut, remember. No d----d gossip back to the servants here, or in hotels,
+or houses--and, above all, no details must ever reach her Ladyship. If he
+gets into any thundering mess let me know--but mum's the word, d'y
+understand, Tompson?"
+
+"I do, Sir Charles," said Tompson, stolidly.
+
+And he did, as events proved.
+
+The rooms on the Buergenstock looked so simple, so unlike the sitting-room
+at Lucerne! Just fresh and clean and primitive. Paul wandered through
+them, and in the one allotted to himself he came upon Anna--Madame's maid,
+whom Dmitry had pointed out to him--putting sheets as fine as gossamer on
+his bed; with the softest down pillows. How dear of his lady to think thus
+of him!--her secretary.
+
+The tiger--his tiger--had arrived in the sitting-room, and some simple
+cushions of silk; sweet-peas and spring flowers decorated the vases--there
+were no tuberoses, or anything hot-house, or forced.
+
+The sun blazed in at the windows, the green trees all washed and fresh
+from the rain gladdened his eye, and down below, a sapphire lake reflected
+the snow-capped mountains. What a setting for a love-dream. No wonder Paul
+trod on air!
+
+
+The only possible crumpled rose-leaves were some sentences in the lady's
+reply to his impassioned letter of the morning:
+
+"Yes, I will come, Paul--but only on one condition, that you never ask me
+questions as to who I am, or where I am going. You must promise me to take
+life as a summer holiday--an episode--and if fate gives us this great joy,
+you must not try to fetter me, now or at any future time, or control my
+movements. You must give me your word of honour for this--you will never
+seek to discover who or what was your loved one--you must never try to
+follow me. Yes, I will come for now--when I have your assurance--but I
+will go when I will go--in silence."
+
+And Paul had given his word. He felt he could not look ahead. He must just
+live in this gorgeous joy, and trust to chance. So he awaited her,
+thrilling in all his being.
+
+About tea time she drove up in a carriage--she and Dmitry having come the
+long way round.
+
+And was it not right that her secretary should meet and assist her out,
+and conduct her to her apartments?
+
+How beautiful she looked, all in palest grey, and somehow the things had a
+younger shape. Her skirt was short, and he could see her small and slender
+feet, while a straw hat and veil adorned her black hair. Everything was
+simple, and as it should be for a mountain top and unsophisticated
+surroundings.
+
+Tea was laid out on the balcony, fragrant Russian tea, and when Dmitry had
+lit the silver kettle lamp he retired and left them alone in peace.
+
+"Darling!" said Paul, as he folded her in his arms--"darling!--darling!"
+
+And when she could speak the lady cooed back to him:
+
+"So sweet a word is that, my Paul. Sweeter in English than in any other
+language. And you are glad I have come, and we shall live a little and be
+quite happy here in our pretty nest, all fresh and not a bit too grand--is
+it not so? Oh! what joys there are in life; and oh! how foolish just to
+miss them."
+
+"Indeed, _yes_," said Paul.
+
+Then they played with the tea, and she showed him how he was to drink it
+with lemon. She was sweet as a girl, and said no vague, startling things;
+it was as if she were a young bride, and Paul were complete master and
+lord! Wild happiness rushed through him. How had he ever endured the time
+before he had met her?
+
+When they had finished they went out. She must walk, she said, and Paul,
+being English, must want exercise! Oh! she knew the English and their
+exercise! And of course she must think of everything that would be for the
+pleasure of her lover Paul.
+
+And he? You old worn people of the world, who perhaps are reading, think
+what all this was to Paul--his young strong life vibrating to passionate
+joys, his imagination kindled, his very being uplifted and thrilled with
+happiness! His charming soul expanded, he found himself saying gracious
+tender phrases to her. Every moment he was growing more passionately in
+love, and in each new mood she seemed the more divine. Not one trace of
+her waywardness of the day before remained. Her eyes, as they glanced at
+him from under her hat, were bashful and sweet, no look of the devil to
+provoke a saint. She talked gently.
+
+He must take her to the place where she had peeped at him through the
+trees. And--
+
+"Oh! Paul!" she said. "If you had known that day, how you tempted me,
+looking up at me, your whole soul in your eyes! I had to run, run, run!"
+
+"And now I have caught you, darling mine," said Paul. "But you were wrong.
+I had no soul--it is you who are giving me one now."
+
+They sat on the bench where he had sat. She was getting joy out of the
+colour of the moss, the tints of the beeches, every little shade and shape
+of nature, and letting Paul see with her eyes.
+
+And all the while she was nestling near him like a tender ring-dove to her
+mate. Paul's heart swelled with exultation. He felt good, as if he could
+be kind to every one, as if his temper were a thing to be ashamed of, and
+all his faults, as if for ever he must be her own true knight and
+defender, and show her he was worthy of this great gift and joy. And ah!
+how could he put into words his tender worshipping love?
+
+So the afternoon faded into evening, and the young crescent moon began to
+show in the sky--a slender moon of silver, only born the night before.
+
+"See, this is our moon," said the lady, "and as she waxes, so will our
+love wax--but now she is young and fresh and fair, like it. Come, my Paul.
+Let us go to our house; soon we shall dine, and I want to be beautiful for
+you."
+
+So they went in to their little hotel.
+
+She was all in white when Paul found her in their inner salon, where they
+were to dine alone, waited on only by Dmitry. Her splendid hair was bound
+with a fillet of gold, and fell in two long strands, twisted with gold,
+nearly to her knees. Her garment was soft and clinging, and unlike any
+garment he had ever seen. They sat on a sofa together, the table in front
+of them, and they ate slowly and whispered much--and before Paul could
+taste his wine, she kissed his glass and sipped from it and made him do
+the same with hers. The food was of the simplest, and the only things
+exotic were the great red strawberries at the end.
+
+Dmitry had left them, placing the coffee on the table as he went, and a
+bottle of the rare golden wine.
+
+Then this strange lady grew more tender still. She must lie in Paul's
+arms, and he must feed her with strawberries. And the thought came to him
+that her mouth looked as red as they.
+
+To say he was intoxicated with pleasure and love is to put it as it was.
+It seemed as if he had arrived at a zenith, and yet he knew there would be
+more to come. At last she raised herself and poured out the yellow
+wine--into one glass.
+
+"My Paul," she said, "this is our wedding might, and this is our wedding
+wine. Taste from this our glass and say if it is good."
+
+And to the day of his death, if ever Paul should taste that wine again, a
+mad current of passionate remembrance will come to him--and still more
+passionate regret.
+
+Oh! the divine joy of that night! They sat upon the balcony presently, and
+Elaine in her worshipping thoughts of Lancelot--Marguerite wooed by
+Faust--the youngest girl bride--could not have been more sweet or tender
+or submissive than this wayward Tiger Queen.
+
+"Paul," she said, "out of the whole world tonight there are only you and I
+who matter, sweetheart. Is it not so? And is not that your English word
+for lover and loved--'sweetheart'?"
+
+And Paul, who had never even heard it used except in a kind of joke, now
+knew it was what he had always admired. Yes, indeed, it was
+"sweetheart"--and she was his!
+
+"Remember, Paul," she whispered when, passion maddening him, he clasped
+her violently in his arms--"remember--whatever happens--whatever
+comes--for now, to-night, there is no other reason in all of this but
+just--I love you--I love you, Paul!"
+
+"My Queen, my Queen!" said Paul, his voice hoarse in his throat.
+
+And the wind played in softest zephyrs, and the stars blazed in the sky,
+mirroring themselves in the blue lake below.
+
+Such was their wedding night.
+
+Oh! glorious youth! and still more glorious love!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Who can tell the joy of their awakening? The transcendent pleasure to
+Paul to be allowed to play with his lady's hair, all unbound for him to do
+with as he willed? The glory to realise she was his--his own--in his arms?
+And then to be tenderly masterful and give himself lordly airs of
+possession. She was almost silent, only the history of the whole world of
+passion seemed written in her eyes--slumbrous, inscrutable, their heavy
+lashes making shadows on her soft, smooth cheeks.
+
+The ring-dove was gone, a thing of mystery lay there instead--unresisting,
+motionless, white. Now and then Paul looked at her half in fear. Was she
+real? Was it some dream, and would he wake in his room at Verdayne Place
+among the sporting prints and solid Chippendale furniture to hear Tompson
+saying, "Eight o'clock, sir, and a fine day"?
+
+Oh, no, no, she was real! He raised himself, and bent down to touch her
+tenderly with his forefinger. Yes, all this fascination was indeed his,
+living and breathing and warm, and he was her lover and lord. Ah!
+
+The same coloured orchid-mauve silk curtains as at Lucerne were drawn over
+the open windows, so the sun in high heaven seemed only as dawn in the
+room, filtering though the _jalousies_ outside. But what was time? Time
+counts as one lives, and Paul was living now.
+
+It was twelve o'clock before they were ready for their dainty breakfast,
+laid out under the balcony awning.
+
+And the lady talked tenderly and occupied herself with the fancies of her
+lord, as a new bride should.
+
+But all the time the mystery stayed in her eyes. And the thought came to
+Paul that were he to live with her for a hundred years, he would never be
+sure of their real meaning.
+
+"What shall we do with our day, my Paul?" she said presently. "See, you
+shall choose. Shall we climb to the highest point on this mountain and
+look at our kingdom of trees and lake below? Or shall we rest in the
+launch and glide over the blue water, and dream sweet dreams? Or shall we
+drive in the carriage far inland to a quaint farmhouse I know, where we
+shall see people living in simple happiness with their cows and their
+sheep? Decide, sweetheart--decide!"
+
+"Whatever you would wish, my Queen," said Paul.
+
+Then the lady frowned, and summer lightnings flashed from her eyes.
+
+"Of course, what I shall wish! But I have told you to choose, feeble Paul!
+There is nothing so irritates me as these English answers. Should I have
+asked you to select our day had I decided myself? I would have commanded
+Dmitry to make the arrangements, that is all. But no! to-day I am thy
+obedient one. I ask my Love to choose for me. To-morrow I may want my own
+will; to-day I desire only thine, beloved," and she leant forward and
+looked into his eyes.
+
+"The mountain top, then!" said Paul, "because there we can sit, and I can
+gaze at you, and learn more of life, close to your lips. I might not touch
+you in the launch, and you might look at others at the farm--and it seems
+as if I could not bear one glance or word turned from myself today!"
+
+"You have chosen well. _Mylyi moi._"
+
+The strange words pleased him; he must know their meaning, and learn to
+pronounce them himself. And all this between their dainty dishes took
+time, so it was an hour later before they started for their walk.
+
+Up, up those winding paths among the firs and larches--up and up to the
+top. They dawdled slowly until they reached their goal. There, aloof from
+the beaten track, safe from the prying eyes of some chance stranger, they
+sat down, their backs against a giant rock, and all the glory of their
+lake and tree-tops to gaze at down below.
+
+Paul had carried her cloak, and now they spread it out, covering their
+couch of moss and lichen. A soft languor was over them both. Passion was
+asleep for the while. But what exquisite bliss to sit thus, undisturbed in
+their eyrie--he and she alone in all the world.
+
+Her words came back to him: "Love means to be clasped, to be close, to be
+touching, to be One!" Yes, they were One.
+
+Then she began to talk softly, to open yet more windows in his soul to joy
+and sunshine. Her mind seemed so vast, each hour gave him fresh surprises
+in the perception of her infinite knowledge, while she charmed his fancy
+by her delicate modes of expression and un-English perfect pronunciation,
+no single word slurred over.
+
+"Paul," she said presently, "how small seem the puny conventions of the
+world, do they not, beloved? Small as those little boats floating like
+scattered flower-leaves on the great lake down there. They were invented
+first to fill the place of the zest which fighting and holding one's own
+by the strength of one's arm originally gave to man. Now, he has only laws
+to combat, instead of a fiercer fellow creature--a dull exchange forsooth!
+Here are you and I--mated and wedded and perfectly happy--and yet by these
+foolish laws we are sinning, and you would be more nobly employed yawning
+with some bony English miss for your wife--and I by the side of a mad,
+drunken husband. All because the law made us swear a vow to keep for ever
+stationary an emotion! Emotion which we can no more control than the trees
+can which way the wind will blow their branches! To love! Oh! yes, they
+call it that at the altar--'joined together by God!' As likely as not two
+human creatures who hate each other, and are standing there swearing those
+impossibilities for some political purpose and advantage of their family.
+They desecrate the word love. Love is for us, Paul, who came together
+because our beings cried, 'This is my mate!' I should say nothing of
+it--oh no! if it had no pretence--marriage. If it were frankly a
+contract--'Yes, I give you my body and my dowry.' 'Yes, you give me your
+name and your state.' It is of the coarse, horrible things one must pass
+through in life--but to call the Great Spirit's blessing upon it, as an
+exaltation! To stand there and talk of love! Ah--that is what must make
+God angry, and I feel for Him."
+
+Paul noticed that she spoke as if she had no realisation of the lives of
+lesser persons who might possibly wed because they were "mated" as
+well--not for political reasons or ambition of family. Her keen senses
+divined his thought.
+
+"Yes, beloved, you would say--?"
+
+"Only that supposing you were not married to any one else, we should be
+swearing the truth if we swore before God that we loved. I would make any
+vows to you from my soul, in perfect honesty, for ever and ever, my
+darling Queen."
+
+His blue eyes, brimming with devotion and conviction of the truth of his
+thought, gazed up at her. And into her strange orbs there came that same
+look of tenderness that once before had made them as a mother's watching
+the gambols of her babe.
+
+"There, there," she said. "You would swear them and hug your chains of
+roses--but because they were chains they would turn heavy as lead. Make no
+vows, sweetheart! Fate will force you to break them if you do, and then
+the gods are angry and misfortune follows. Swear none, and that fickle one
+will keep you passionate, in hopes always to lure you into her
+pitfalls--to vow and to break--pain and regret. Live, live, Paul, and
+love, and swear nothing at all."
+
+Paul was troubled. "But, but," he said, "don't you believe I shall love
+you for ever?"
+
+The lady leant back against the rock and narrowed her eyes.
+
+"That will depend upon me, my Paul," she said. "The duration of love in a
+being always depends upon the loved one. I create an emotion in you, as
+you create one in me. You do not create it in yourself. It is because
+something in my personality causes an answering glow in yours that you
+love me. Were you to cease to do so, it would be because I was no longer
+able to call forth that answer in you. It would not be your fault any more
+than when you cease to please me it will be mine. That is where people are
+unjust."
+
+"But surely," said Paul, "it is only the fickle who can change?"
+
+"It is according to one's nature; if one is born a steadfast gentleman,
+one is more likely to continue than if one is a _farceur_--prince or
+no--but it depends upon the object of one's love--whether he or she can
+hold one or not. One would not blame a needle if it fell from a magnet,
+the attraction of the magnet being in some way removed, either by a
+stronger at the needle's side, or by some deadening of the drawing quality
+in the magnet itself--and so it is in love. Do you follow me, Paul?"
+
+"Yes." said Paul gloomily. "I must try to please you, or you will throw me
+away."
+
+"You see," she continued, "the ignorant make vows, and being
+weaklings--for the most part--vanity and fate easily remove their
+inclination from the loved one; it may not be his fault any more than a
+broken leg keeping him from walking would be his fault, beyond the fact
+that it was _his_ leg; but we have to suffer for our own things--so there
+it is. We will say the weakling's inclination wants to make him break his
+vows; so he does, either in the letter or spirit--or both! And then he
+feels degraded and cheap and low, as all must do who break their sacred
+word given of their own free will when inclination prompted them to. So
+how much better to make no vow; then at least when the cord of attraction
+snaps, we can go free, still defying the lightning in our untarnished
+pride."
+
+"Oh! darling, do not speak of it," cried Paul, "the cord of attraction
+between us can never snap. I worship, I adore you--you are just my life,
+my darling one, my Queen!"
+
+"Sweet Paul!" she whispered, "oh! so good, so good is love, keep me loving
+you, my beautiful one--keep my desire long to be your Queen."
+
+And after this they melted into one another's arms, and cooed and kissed,
+and were foolish and incoherent, as lovers always are and have been from
+the beginning of old time. More concentrated--more absorbed--than the
+sternest Eastern sage--absorbed in each other.
+
+The spirit of two natures vibrating as One.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+That evening it was so warm and peaceful they dined at the wide-open
+balcony windows. They could see far away over the terrace and down to the
+lake, with the distant lights towards Lucerne. The moon, still slender and
+fine, was drawing to her setting, and a few cloudlets floated over the
+sky, obscuring the stars here and there.
+
+The lady was quiet and tender, her eyes melting upon Paul, and something
+of her ring-dove mood was upon her again. Not once, since they had been on
+the Buergenstock, had she shown any of the tigerish waywardness that he had
+had glimpses of at first. It seemed as if her moods, like her chameleon
+eyes, took colour from her surroundings, and there all was primitive
+simplicity and nature and peace.
+
+Paul himself was in a state of ecstasy. He hardly knew whether he trod on
+air or no. No siren of old Greek fable had ever lured mortal more under
+her spell than this strange foreign woman thing--Queen or Princess or what
+you will. Nothing else in the world was of any consequence to him--and it
+was all the more remarkable because subjection was in no way part of his
+nature. Paul was a masterful youth, and ruled things to his will in his
+own home.
+
+The lady talked of him--of his tastes--of his pleasures. There was not an
+incident in his life, or of his family, that she had not fathomed by now.
+All about Isabella even--poor Isabella! And she told him how she
+sympathised with the girl, and how badly he had behaved.
+
+"Another proof, my Paul, of what I said today--no one must make vows about
+love."
+
+But Paul, in his heart, believed her not. He would worship her for ever,
+he knew.
+
+"Yes," she said, answering his thoughts. "You think so, beloved, and it
+may be so because you do not know from moment to moment how I shall be--if
+I shall stay here in your arms, or fly far away beyond your reach. You
+love me because I give you the stimulus of uncertainty, and so keep bright
+your passion, but once you were sure, I should become a duty, as all women
+become, and then my Paul would yawn and grow to see I was no longer young,
+and that the expected is always an _ennui_ when it comes!"
+
+"Never, never!" said Paul, with fervour.
+
+Presently their conversation drifted to other things, and Paul told her
+how he longed to see the world and its people and its ways. She had been
+almost everywhere, it seemed, and with her talent of word-painting, she
+took him with her on the magic carpet of her vivid description to east and
+west and north and south.
+
+Oh! their _entr'actes_ between the incoherence of just lovers' love were
+not banal or dull. And never she forgot her tender ways of insinuated
+caresses--small exquisite touches of sentiment and grace. The note ever of
+One--that they were fused and melted together into one body and soul.
+
+Through all her talk that night Paul caught glimpses of the life of a
+great lady, surrounded with state and cares, and now and then there was a
+savage echo which made him think of things barbaric, and wonder more than
+ever from whence she had come.
+
+It was quite late before the chill of night airs drove them into their
+salon, and here she made him some Russian tea, and then lay in his arms,
+and purred love-words to him, and nestled close like a child who wants
+petting to cure it of some imaginary hurt. Only, in her tenderest caresses
+he seemed at last to feel something of danger. A slumbering look of
+passion far under the calm exterior, but ready to break forth at any
+moment from its studied control.
+
+It thrilled and maddened him.
+
+"Beloved, beloved!" he cried, "let us waste no more precious moments. I
+want you--I want you--my sweet!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the first glow of dawn, he awoke, a strange sensation, almost of
+strangling and suffocation, upon him. There, bending over, framed in a
+mist of blue-black waves, he saw his lady's face. Its milky whiteness lit
+by her strange eyes--green as cats' they seemed, and blazing with the
+fiercest passion of love--while twisted round his throat he felt a great
+strand of her splendid hair. The wildest thrill as yet his life had known
+then came to Paul; he clasped her in his arms with a frenzy of mad,
+passionate joy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+The next day was Sunday, and even through the silk blinds they could hear
+the rain drip in monotonous fashion. Of what use to wake? Sleep is
+blissful and calm when the loved one is near.
+
+Thus it was late when Paul at last opened his eyes. He found himself
+alone, and heard his lady's voice singing softly from the sitting-room
+beyond, and through the open door he could perceive her stretched on the
+tiger, already dressed, reclining among the silk pillows, her guitar held
+in her hands.
+
+"Hasten, hasten, lazy one. Thy breakfast awaits thee," she called, and
+Paul bounded up without further delay.
+
+This day was to be a day of books, she said, and she read poetry to him,
+and made him read to her--but she would not permit him to sit too near
+her, or caress her--and often she was restless and moved about with the
+undulating grace of a cat. She would peep from the windows, and frown at
+the scene. The lake was hidden by mist, the skies cried, all nature was
+weeping and gloomy.
+
+And at last she flung the books aside, and crept up to Paul, who was
+huddled on the sofa, feeling rather morose from her decree that he must
+not touch or kiss her.
+
+"Weeping skies, I hate you!" she said. Then she called Dmitry in a sharp
+voice, and when he appeared from the passage where he always awaited her
+pleasure, she spoke to him in Russian, or some language Paul knew not, a
+fierce gleam in her eyes. Dmitry abased himself almost to the floor, and
+departing quickly, returned with sticks and lit a blazing pine-log fire in
+the open grate. Then he threw some powder into it, and with stealthy haste
+drew all the orchid-silk curtains, and departed from the room. A strange
+divine scent presently rose in the air, and over Paul seemed to steal a
+spell. The lady crept still nearer, and then with infinite sweetness, all
+her docility of the first hours of their union returned, she melted in his
+arms.
+
+"Paul--I am so wayward to-day, forgive me," she said in a childish,
+lisping voice. "See, I will make you forget the rain and damp. Fly with me
+to Egypt where the sun always shines."
+
+And Paul, like a sulky, hungry baby, who had been debarred, and now
+received its expected sweetmeat, clasped her and kissed her for a few
+minutes before he would let her speak.
+
+"See, we are getting near Cairo," she said, her eyes half closed, while
+she settled herself among the cushions, and drew Paul down to her until
+his head rested on her breast, and her arms held him like a mother with a
+child.
+
+Her voice was a dream-voice as she whispered on. "Do you not love those
+minarets and towers against the opal sky, and the rose-pink granite hills
+beyond? And look, Paul, at this peep of the Nile--those are the
+water-buffaloes--those strange beasts--you see they are pulling that
+ridiculous water-drawer--just the same as in Pharaoh's time. Ah! I smell
+the scent of the East. Look at the straight blue figures, the lines so
+pleasing and long. The dignity, the peace, the forever in it all.... Now
+we are there. See the brilliant crowd all moving with little haste, and
+listen to the strange noise. Look at the faces of the camels, disdainful
+and calm, and that of an old devil-man with tangled hair....
+
+"Come--come from this; I want the desert and the Sphinx!
+
+"Ah! it is bright day again, and we have all the green world between us
+and the great vast brown tract of sand. And those are the Pyramids
+clear-cut against the turquoise sky, and soon we shall be there, only you
+must observe this green around us first, my Paul--the green of no other
+country in all the world--pure emerald--nature's supreme concentrated
+effort of green for miles and miles. No, I do not want to live in that
+small village in a brown mud hut, shared with another wife to that gaunt
+blue linen-clad man; I would kill them all and be free. I want to go on,
+beloved--on to the desert for you and me alone, with its wonderful passion,
+and wonderful peace...."
+
+Her voice became still more dreamy; there was a cadence in it now as if
+some soul within were forcing her to chant it all, with almost the lilt of
+blank verse.
+
+"Oh! the strange drug of the glorious East, flooding your senses with
+beauty and life. 'Tis the spell of the Sphinx, and now we are there, close
+in her presence. Look, the sun has set....
+
+"Hush! hush! beloved! we are alone, the camels and guides afar off--we are
+alone, sweetheart, and we go on together, you and I and the moon. See, she
+is rising all silver and pure, and blue is the sky, and scented the night.
+Look, there is the Sphinx! Do you see the strange mystery of her smile and
+the glamour of her eyes? She is a goddess, and she knows men's souls, and
+their foolish unavailing passion and pain--never content with the _Is_
+which they have, always regretting the _Was_ which has passed, and
+building false hopes on the phantom _May be._ But you and I, my lover, my
+sweet, have fathomed the riddle which is hid in the smile of our goddess,
+our Sphinx--we have guessed it, and now are as high gods too. For we know
+it means to live in the present, and quaff life in its full. Sweetheart,
+beloved--joy and life in its full----"....
+
+Her voice grew faint and far away, like the echo of some exquisite song,
+and the lids closed over Paul's blue eyes, and he slept.
+
+The light of all the love in the world seemed to flood the lady's face.
+She bent over and kissed him, and smoothed his cheek with her velvet
+cheek, she moved so that his curly lashes might touch her bare neck, and
+at last she slipped from under him, and laid his head gently down upon the
+pillows.
+
+Then a madness of tender caressing seized her. She purred as a tiger might
+have done, while she undulated like a snake. She touched him with her
+finger-tips, she kissed his throat, his wrists, the palms of his hands,
+his eyelids, his hair. Strange, subtle kisses, unlike the kisses of women.
+And often, between her purrings, she murmured love-words in some strange
+fierce language of her own, brushing his ears and his eyes with her lips
+the while.
+
+And through it all Paul slept on, the Eastern perfume in the air still
+drugging his sense.
+
+It was quite dark when he awoke again, and beside him--seated on the
+floor, all propped with pillows, his lady reclined her head against his
+shoulder. And as he looked down at her in the firelight's flickering
+gleam, he saw that her wonderful eyes were wet with great glittering
+tears.
+
+"My soul, my soul!" he said tenderly, his heart wrung with emotion. "What
+is it, sweetheart--why have you these tears? Oh! what have I
+done--darling, my own?"
+
+"I am weary," she said, and fell to weeping softly, and refused to be
+comforted.
+
+Paul's distress was intense--what could have happened? What terrible thing
+had he done? What sorrow had fallen upon his beloved while he selfishly
+slept? But all she would say was that she was weary, while she clung to
+him in a storm of passion, as if some one threatened to take her out of
+his arms. Then she left him abruptly and went off to dress.
+
+But later, at dinner, it seemed as if a new and more radiant light than
+ever glowed on her face. She was gay and caressing, telling him merry
+tales of Paris and its plays. It was as if she meant to efface all
+suggestion of sorrow or pain--and gradually the impression wore off in
+Paul's mind, and ere it came to their sipping the golden wine, all was
+brightness and peace.
+
+"See," she said, looking from the window just before they retired to rest,
+"the sky has stopped crying, and there are our stars, sweetheart, come out
+to wish us good-night. Ah! for us tomorrow once more will be a glorious
+day."
+
+"My Queen," said Paul; "rain or fine, all days are glorious to me, so long
+as I have you to clasp in my arms. You are my sun, moon and stars--always,
+for ever."
+
+She laughed a laugh, the silver echo of satisfaction and joy.
+
+"Sweet Paul," she lisped mischievously, "so good you have been, so gentle
+with my moods. You must have some reward. Listen, beloved while I tell it
+to you."
+
+But what she said is written in his heart!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+His lady was so intensely _soignee_--that is what pleased Paul. He had
+never thought about such things, or noticed them much in other women, but
+she was a revelation.
+
+No Roman Empress with her bath of asses' milk could have had a more
+wonderful toilet than she. And ever she was illusive, and he never quite
+got to the end of her mystery. Always there was a veil, when he least
+expected it, and so these hours for the most part were passed at the
+boiling-point of excitement and bliss. The experiences of another man's
+whole lifetime Paul was going through in the space of days.
+
+It was the Monday following the wet Sunday when an incident happened which
+soon came back to him, and gave him food for reflection.
+
+They would spend the day in the launch, she decided, going whither they
+wished, stopping here to pick gentians, going there under the shadow of
+trees--landing where and when they desired--even sleeping at Flueclen if
+the fancy took them to. Anna was sent on with their things in case this
+contingency occurred. And earth, water and sky seemed smiling them a
+welcome.
+
+Just before they started, Dmitry, after the gentlest tap, noiselessly
+entered Paul's room. Paul was selecting some cigars from a box, and looked
+up in surprise as the stately servant cautiously closed the door.
+
+"Yes, Dmitry, what is it?" he said half impatiently.
+
+Dmitry advanced, and now Paul saw that he carried something in his hand.
+He bowed low with his usual courtly respect. Then he stammered a little as
+he began to speak.
+
+The substance of his sentence, Paul gathered, was that the Excellency
+would not be inconveniencing himself too much, he hoped, if he would
+consent to carry this pistol. A very good pistol, he assured him, which
+would take but little room.
+
+Paul's surprise deepened. Carry a pistol in peaceful Switzerland! It
+seemed too absurd.
+
+"What on earth for, my friend?" he said.
+
+But Dmitry would give no decided answer, only that it was wiser, when away
+from one's home and out with a lady, never to go unarmed. Real anxiety
+peeped from his cautious grey eyes.
+
+Did Paul know how to shoot? And would he be pardoned for asking the
+Excellency such a question?--but in England, he heard, they dealt little
+with revolvers--and this was a point to be assured of.
+
+Yes, Paul knew how to shoot! The idea made him laugh. But now he came to
+think of it, he had not had great practice with a revolver, and might not
+do so well as with a gun or rifle. But the whole thing seemed so absurd,
+he did not think it of much consequence.
+
+"Of course I'll take it to please you, Dmitry," he said, "though I wish
+you would tell me why."
+
+However, Dmitry escaped from the room without further words, his finger
+upon his lips.
+
+The lady was looking more exquisitely white than usual; she wore soft pale
+mauve, and appeared in Paul's eyes a thing of joy.
+
+When they were seated on the launch in their chairs, she let him hold her
+hand, but she did not talk much at first; only now he understood her
+silences, and did not worry over them--so great a teacher is love to
+quicken the perception of man.
+
+He sat there, and gazed at her, and tried to realise that it was really he
+who was experiencing all this happiness. This wonderful, wonderful
+woman--and he was her lover.
+
+At last something in her expression of sadness caught his watchful eye,
+and an ache came into his mind to know where hers had gone.
+
+"Darling," he said tenderly, "mayn't I come there, too?"
+
+She turned towards him--a shadow was in her eyes.
+
+"No, Paul," she said. "Not there. It is a land of rocks and
+precipices--not for lovers."
+
+"But if you can go--where is the danger for me, my Queen? Or, if there is
+danger, then it is my place to stand by your side."
+
+"Paul, my sweet Paul," she whispered, while her eyes filled with mist, "I
+was thinking how fair the world could be, perhaps, if fate allowed one to
+meet one's mate while there was yet time. Surely two souls together, like
+you and I, might climb to Paradise doing deeds of greatness by the way.
+But so much of life is like a rushing torrent tearing along making a
+course for itself, without power to choose through what country it will
+pass, until it meets the ocean and is swallowed up and lost. If one could
+only see--only know in time--could he change the course? Alas! who can
+tell?"
+
+Her voice was sad, and as ever it wrung Paul's heart.
+
+"My darling one," he said, "don't think of those odd things. Only remember
+that I am here beside you, and that I love you, love you so--"
+
+"My Paul!" she murmured, and she smiled a strange, sweet smile, "do you
+know, I find you like a rare violin which hitherto has been used by
+ordinary musicians to play their popular airs upon, but which is now
+highly strung and being touched by the bow of an artist who loves it. And
+oh! the exquisite sounds which are coming, and will yet come forth to
+enchant the ear, and satisfy the sense. All the capacity is there, Paul,
+in you, beautiful one--only I must bring it out with my bow of love! And
+what a progress you have made already--a great, great progress. Think,
+only a few days ago you had never noticed the colours of this lake, or
+even these great mountains, they said nothing to you at all except as
+places to take your exercise upon. Life, for you, was just eating and
+sleeping and strengthening your muscles." And she laughed softly.
+
+"I know I was a Goth," said Paul. "I can hardly realise it myself, the
+change that has happened to me. Everything now seems full of joy."
+
+"Your very phrases are altered, Paul, and will alter more yet, while our
+moon waxes and our love grows."
+
+"Can it grow? Can I possibly love you more intensely than I do now--surely
+no!" he exclaimed passionately. "And yet--"
+
+"And yet?"
+
+"Ah! yes, I know it. Yes, it can grow until it is my life--my very life."
+
+"Yes, Paul," she said, "your life"--and her strange eyes narrowed again,
+the Sphinx's inscrutable look of mystery in their chameleon depths.
+
+Then her mood altered, she became gay and laughing, and her wit sparkled
+like dry champagne, while the white launch glided through the blue waters
+with never a swirl of foam.
+
+"Paul," she said presently, "to-morrow we will go up the Rigi to the
+Kaltbad, and look from the little kiosk over the world, and over the
+Bernese Oberland. It gives me an emotion to stand so high and see so vast
+a view--but to-day we will play on the water and among the trees."
+
+He had no desires except to do what she would do, so they landed for lunch
+at one of the many little inviting hotels which border the lake in
+sheltered bays. All through the meal she entertained him with subtle
+flattery, drawing him out, and making him shine until he made flint for
+her steel. And when they came to the end she said with sudden, tender
+sweetness:
+
+"Paul--it is my caprice--you may pay the bill to-day--just for
+to-day--because--Ah! you must guess, my Paul! the reason why!"
+
+And she ran out into the sunlight, her cheeks bright pink.
+
+But Paul knew it was because now she _belonged_ to him. His heart swelled
+with joy--and who so proud as he?
+
+She had gone alone up a mountain path when he came out to join her, and
+stood there laughing at him provokingly from above. He bounded up and
+caught her, and would walk hand in hand, and made her feel that he was
+master and lord through the strength of his splendid, vigorous youth. He
+pretended to scold her if she stirred from him, and made her stand or walk
+and obey him, and gave himself the airs of a husband and prince.
+
+And the lady laughed in pure ecstatic joy. "Oh! I love you, my Paul--like
+this, like this! Beautiful one! Just a splendid primitive savage beneath
+the grace, as a man should be. When I feel how strong you are my heart
+melts with bliss!"
+
+And Paul, to show her it was true, seized her in his arms, and ran with
+her, placing her on a high rock, where he made her pay him with kisses and
+tell him she loved him before he would lift her down.
+
+And it was his lady's caprice, as she said, that this state of things
+should last all day. But by night time, when they got to Flueelen, the
+infinite mastery of her mind, and the uncertainty of his hold over her,
+made her his Queen again, and Paul once more her worshipping slave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, although his master was quite oblivious of posts, Tompson was not,
+and that Monday he took occasion to go into Lucerne, whence he returned
+with a pile of letters, which Paul found on again reaching the
+Buergenstock, after staying the night at Flueelen in a little hotel.
+
+That had been an experience! His lady quite childish in her glee at the
+smallness and simplicity of everything.
+
+"Our picnic," she called it to Paul--only it was a wonderfully _recherche_
+picnic, as Anna of course had brought everything which was required by
+heart of sybarite for the passing of a night.
+
+Ah! they had been happy. The Queen had been exquisitely gracious to her
+slave, and entranced him more deeply than ever. And here at the
+Buergenstock, when he got into his room, his letters stared him in the
+face.
+
+"Damned officiousness!" he said to himself, thinking of Tompson.
+
+He did not want to be reminded of any existence other than the dream of
+heaven he was now enjoying.
+
+Oh! they were all very real and material, these epistles--quite of earth!
+One was from his mother. He was enjoying Lucerne, she hoped, and she was
+longing for his return. She expected he also was craving for his home and
+horses and dogs. All were well. They--she and his father--were moving up
+to the town house in Berkeley Square the following week until the end of
+June, and great preparations were already in contemplation for his
+twenty-third birthday in July at Verdayne Place. There was no mention of
+Isabella except a paragraph at the end. Miss Waring was visiting friends
+at Blackheath, he was informed. Ah, so far away it all seemed! But it
+brought him back from heaven. The next was his father's writing. Laconic,
+but to the point. This parent hoped he was not wasting his time--d--d
+short in life! and that he was cured of his folly for the parson's girl,
+and found other eyes shone bright. If he wanted more money he was
+to say so.
+
+Several were from his friends, banal and everyday. And one was from
+Tremlett, his own groom, and this was full of Moonlighter and--Pike! That
+gave him just a moment's feeling--Pike! Tremlett had "made so bold" as to
+have some snapshots done by a friend, and he ventured to send one to his
+master. The "very pictur'" of the dog, he said, and it was true. Ah! this
+touched him, this little photograph of Pike.
+
+"Dear little chap," he said to himself as he looked. "My dear little
+chap."
+
+And then an instantaneous desire to show it to his lady came over him, and
+he went back to the sitting-room in haste.
+
+There she was--the post had come for her too, it seemed, and she looked up
+with an expression of concentrated fierceness from a missive she was
+reading as he entered the room. Her marvellous self-control banished all
+but love from her eyes after they had rested on him for an instant, but
+his senses--so fine now--had remarked the first glance, just as his eye
+had seen the heavy royal crown on the paper as she hastily folded it and
+threw it carelessly aside.
+
+"Darling!" he said "Oh! look! here is a picture of Pike!"
+
+And if it had been the most important document concerning the fate of
+nations the lady could not have examined it with more enthralled interest
+and attention than she did this snapshot photograph of a rough terrier
+dog.
+
+"What a sweet fellow!" she said. "Look at his eye! so intelligent; look at
+that _patte_! See, even he is asking one to love him--and I do--I do--"
+
+"Darling!" said Paul in ecstasy, "oh, if we only had him here, wouldn't
+that be good!"
+
+And he never knew why his lady suddenly threw her arms round his neck, and
+kissed him with passionate tenderness and love, her eyes soft as a dove's.
+
+"Oh, my Paul," she said, a break in her wonderful voice, whose tones said
+many things, "my young, darling, English Paul!"
+
+Presently they would drive to see that quaint farm she wanted to show him.
+The day was very warm, and to rest in the comfortable carriage would be
+nice. Paul thought so, too. So after a late lunch they started. And once
+or twice on the drive through the most peaceful and beautiful scenery, a
+flash of the same fierceness came into the lady's eyes, gazing away over
+distance as when she had read her letter, and it made Paul wonder and long
+to ask her why. He never allowed himself to speculate in coherent thought
+words even as to who she was, or her abode in life. He had given his word,
+and was an Englishman and would keep it, that was all. But in his
+subconsciousness there dwelt the conviction that she must be some Queen or
+Princess of a country south in Europe--half barbaric, half advanced. That
+she was unhappy and hated it all, he more than divined. It was a proof of
+the strength of his character that he did not let the terrible thought of
+inevitable parting mar the bliss of the tangible now. He had promised her
+to live while the sun of their union shone, and he had the force to keep
+his word.
+
+But oh! he wished he could drive all care from her path, and that this
+glorious life should go on for ever.
+
+When they got to the farm in the soft late afternoon light, the most
+gracious mood came over his lady. It was just a Swiss farmhouse of many
+storeys, the lower one for the cows and other animals, and the rest for
+the family and industries. All was clean and in order, with that wonderful
+outside neatness which makes Swiss chalets look like painted toy houses
+popped down on the greensward without yard or byre. And these people were
+well-to-do, and it was the best of its kind.
+
+The _Baeuerin_, a buxom mother of many little ones, was nursing another not
+four weeks old, a fat, prosperous infant in its quaint Swiss clothes. Her
+broad face beamed with pride as she welcomed the gracious lady. Old
+acquaintances they appeared, and they exchanged greetings. Foreign
+languages were not Paul's strong point, and he caught not a word of
+meaning in the German _patois_ the good woman talked. But his lady was
+voluble, and seemed to know each flaxen-haired child by name, though it
+was the infant which longest arrested her attention. She held it in her
+arms. And Paul had never seen her look so young or so beautiful.
+
+The good woman left them alone while she prepared some coffee for them in
+the adjoining kitchen, followed by her troop of _kinder_. Only the little
+one still lay in the lady's arms. She spoke not a word--she sang to it a
+cradle-song, and the thought came to Paul that she seemed as an angel, and
+this must be an echo of his own early heaven before his life had descended
+to earth.
+
+A strange peace came over him as he sat there watching her, his thoughts
+vague and dreamy of some beautiful sweet tenderness--he knew not what.
+
+Ere the woman returned with the coffee the lady looked up from her
+crooning and met his eyes--all her soul was aglow in hers--while she
+whispered as he bent over to meet her lips:
+
+"Yes, some day, my sweetheart--yes."
+
+And that magic current of sympathy which was between them made Paul know
+what she meant. And the gladness of the gods fell upon him and exalted
+him, and his blue eyes swam with tears.
+
+Ah! that was a thought, if that could ever be!
+
+All the way back in the carriage he could only kiss her. Their emotion
+seemed too deep for words.
+
+And this night was the most divine of any they had spent on the
+Buergenstock. But there was in it an essence about which only the angels
+could write.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Do you know the Belvedere at the Rigi Kaltbad, looking over the corner to
+a vast world below, on a fair day in May, when the air is clear as crystal
+and the lake ultra-marine? When the Bernese Oberland undulates away in
+unbroken snow, its pure whiteness like cold marble, the shadows grey-blue?
+
+Have you seen the tints of the beeches, of the pines, of the firs,
+clinging like some cloak of life to the hoary-headed mountains, a reminder
+that spring is eternal, and youth must have its day, however grey beards
+and white heads may frown?
+
+Ah--it is good!
+
+And so is the air up there. Hungry and strong and--young.
+
+Paul and his lady stood and looked down in rapt silence. It was giving
+her, as she said, an emotion, but of what sort he was not sure. They were
+all alone. No living soul was anywhere in view.
+
+She had been in a mood, all day when she seldom raised her eyes. It
+reminded him of the first time he had seen her, and wonder grew again in
+his mind. All the last night her soul had seemed melted into his in a
+fusion of tenderness and trust, exalted with the exquisite thought of the
+wish which was between them. And he had felt at last he had fathomed its
+inmost recess.
+
+But to-day, as he gazed down at her white-rose paleness, the heavy lashes
+making their violet shadow on her cheek--her red mouth mutinous and
+full--the conviction came back to him that there were breadths and depths
+and heights about which he had no conception even. And an ice hand
+clutched his heart. Of what strange thing was she thinking? leaning over
+the parapet there, her delicate nostrils quivering now and then.
+
+"Paul," she said at last, "did you ever want to kill any one? Did you ever
+long to have them there at your mercy, to choke their life out and throw
+them to hell?"
+
+"Good God, no!" said Paul aghast.
+
+Then at last she looked up at him, and her eyes were black with hate.
+"Well, I do, Paul. I would like to kill one man on earth--a useless,
+vicious weakling, too feeble to deserve a fine death--a rotting carrion
+spoiling God's world and encumbering my path! I would kill him if I
+could--and more than ever today."
+
+"Oh, my Queen, my Queen!" said Paul, distressed. "Don't say such
+things--you, my own tender woman and love--"
+
+"Yes, that is one side of me, and the best--but there is another, which he
+draws forth, and that is the worst. You of calm England do not know what
+it means--the true passion of hate."
+
+"Can I do nothing for you, beloved?" Paul asked. Here was a phase which he
+had not yet seen.
+
+"Ah!" she said, bitterly, and threw up her head. "No! his high place
+protects him. But for his life I would conquer all fate."
+
+"Darling, darling--" said Paul, who knew not what to say.
+
+"But, Paul, if a hair of your head should be hurt, I would kill him myself
+with these my own hands."
+
+Once Paul had seen two tigers fight in a travelling circus-van which came
+to Oxford, and now the memory of the scene returned to him when he looked
+at his lady's face. He had not known a human countenance could express
+such fierce, terrible rage. A quiver ran through him. Yes, this was no
+idle boast of an angry woman--he felt those slender hands would indeed be
+capable of dealing death to any one who robbed her of her mate.
+
+But what passion was here! What force! He had somehow never even dreamt
+such feelings dwelt in women--or, indeed, in any human creatures out of
+sensational books. Yet, gazing there at her, he dimly understood that in
+himself, too, they could rise, were another to take her from him. Yes, he
+could kill in suchlike case.
+
+They were silent for some moments, each vibrating with passionate
+thoughts; and then the lady leant over and laid her cheek against the
+sleeve of his coat.
+
+"Heart of my heart," she said, "I frighten and ruffle you. The women of
+your country are sweet and soft, but they know not the passion I know, my
+Paul--the fierceness and madness of love--"
+
+Paul clasped her in his arms.
+
+"It makes me worship you more, my Queen," he said. "Englishwomen would
+seem like wax dolls now beside you and your exquisite face--they will
+never again be anything but shadows in my life. It can only hold you, the
+one goddess and Queen."
+
+Her eyes were suffused with a mist of tenderness, the passion was gone;
+her head was thrown back against his breast, when suddenly her hand
+inadvertently touched against the pocket where Dmitry's pistol lay. She
+started violently, and before he could divine her purpose she snatched the
+weapon out, and held it up to the light.
+
+Her face went like death, and for a second she leant against the parapet
+as if she were going to faint.
+
+"Paul," she gasped with white lips, "this is Dmitry's pistol. I know it
+well. How did you come by it?--tell me, beloved. If he gave it to you,
+then it means danger, Paul--danger--"
+
+"My darling," said Paul, in his strong young pride "fear nothing, I shall
+never leave you. I will protect you from any danger in the world, only
+depend upon me, sweetheart. Nothing can hurt you while I am here."
+
+"Do you think I care a _sou_ for my life?" she said, while she stood
+straight up again with the majesty of a queen. "Do you think I feared for
+me--for myself? Oh! no, my own lover, never that! They can kill me when
+they choose, but they won't; it is you for whom I fear. Only your danger
+could make me cower, no other in the whole world."
+
+Paul laughed with joy at her speech. "There is nothing to fear at all
+then, darling," he said. "I can take care of myself, you know. I am an
+Englishman."
+
+And even in the tumult of her thoughts the lady found time to smile with
+tender amusement at the young insular arrogance of his last words. An
+Englishman, forsooth! Of course that meant a kind of god untouched by the
+failings of other nations. A great rush of pride in him came over her and
+gladdened her. He was indeed a splendid picture of youth and strength, as
+he stood there, the sunlight gilding his fair hair, and all the
+magnificent proportions of his figure thrown into relief against the
+background of grey stone and sky, an _insouciante_ smile on his lips, and
+all the light of love and self-confidence in his fine blue eyes.
+
+She responded to the fire in them, and appeared to grow comforted and at
+peace. But all the way back through the wood to the Kalibad Hotel she
+glanced furtively into the shadows, while she talked gaily as she held
+Paul's arm.
+
+And he never asked her a question as to where she expected the danger to
+come from. No anxiety for his own safety troubled him one jot--indeed, an
+unwonted extra excitement flooded his veins, making him enjoy himself with
+an added zest.
+
+Dmitry as usual awaited them at the hotel; his face was serene, but when
+Paul's back was turned for a moment while he lit a cigarette, the lady
+questioned her servant with whispered fierceness in the Russian tongue.
+Apparently his answer was satisfactory, for she looked relieved, and
+presently, seated on the terrace, they had a merry tea--the last they
+would have on mountain tops, for she broke it gently to Paul that on the
+morrow she must return to Lucerne. Paul felt as if his heart had stopped
+beating. Return to Lucerne! O God! not to part--surely not to part--so
+soon!
+
+"No, no," she said, the thought making her whiten too. "Oh no! my Paul,
+not that--yet!"
+
+Ah--he could bear anything if it did not mean parting, and he used no
+arguments to dissuade her. She was his Queen and must surely know best.
+Only he listened eagerly for details of how matters could be arranged
+there. Alas! they could never be the same as this glorious time they had
+had.
+
+"You must wait two days, sweetheart," she said, "before you follow me.
+Stay still in our nest if you will, but do not come on to Lucerne."
+
+"I could not stand it," said Paul. "Oh! darling, don't kill me with aching
+for your presence two whole days! It is a lifetime! not to be endured--"
+
+"Impatient one!" she laughed softly. "No--neither could I bear not to see
+you, sweetheart, but we must not be foolish. You must stay on in our rooms
+and each morning I will meet you somewhere in the launch. Dmitry knows
+every inch of the lake, and we can pass most of days thus,
+happy at last--"
+
+"But the nights!" said Paul, deep distress in his voice. "What on earth do
+you think I can do with the nights?"
+
+"Spend them in sleep, my beloved one," the lady said, while she smiled a
+soft fine smile.
+
+But to Paul this idea presented the poorest compensation--and in spite of
+his will to the contrary his thoughts flew ahead for an instant to the
+inevitable days and nights when--Ah! no, he could not face the picture.
+Life would be finished for him when that time came.
+
+The thought of only a temporary parting on the morrow made them cling
+together for this, their last evening, with almost greater closeness and
+tenderness than usual. Paul could hardly bear his lady out of his sight,
+even while she dressed for dinner, when they got back to the Buergenstock,
+and twice he came to the door and asked plaintively how long she would be,
+until Anna took pity on him, and implored to be allowed to ask him to come
+in while she finished her mistress's hair. And that was a joy to Paul! He
+sat there by the dressing-table, and played with the things, opening the
+lids of gold boxes, and sniffing bottles of scent with an air of right and
+possession which made his lady smile like a purring cat. Then he tried on
+her rings, but they would only go on to the second joint of his little
+finger, as he laughingly showed her--and finally he pushed Anna aside, and
+insisted upon putting the last touches himself to the glorious waves of
+black hair.
+
+And all the while he teased the maid, and chaffed her in infamous French,
+to her great delight, while his lady looked at him, whole wells of
+tenderness deep in her eyes. Paul had adorable ways when he chose. No
+wonder both mistress and maid should worship him.
+
+The moon was growing larger, her slender contours more developed, and the
+stars seemed fainter and farther off. Nothing more exquisite could be
+dreamed of, thought Paul, than the view from their balcony windows, the
+light on the silver snows. And he would let no thought that it was the
+last night they would see it together mar the passionate joy of the hours
+still to be. His lady had never been more sweet; it was as if this wayward
+Undine had at last found her soul, and lay conquered and unresisting in
+her lover's strong arms.
+
+Thus in perfect peace and happiness they; passed their last night on the
+Buergenstock.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The desolation which came over Paul when next day before lunch time he
+found himself alone on the terrace, looking down vainly trying to
+distinguish his lady's launch as it glided over the blue waters, seemed
+unendurable. An intense depression filled his being. It was as if a limb
+had been torn from him; he felt helpless and incomplete, and his whole
+soul drawn to Lucerne.
+
+The green trees and the exquisite day seemed to mock him. Alone,
+alone--with no prospect of seeing his Queen until the morrow, when at
+eleven he was to meet her at the landing-steps at the foot
+of the _funiculaire_.
+
+But that was to-morrow, and how could he get through to-day?
+
+After an early lunch he climbed to their rock at the summit, and sat there
+where they had sat together--alone with his thoughts.
+
+And what thoughts!
+
+What was this marvellous thing which had happened to him? A fortnight ago
+he was in Paris, disgusted with everything around him, and fancying
+himself in love with Isabella Waring. Poor Isabella! How had such things
+ever been possible? Why, he was a schoolboy then--a child--an infant! and
+now he was a man, and knew what life meant in its greatest and best. That
+was part of the wonder of this lady, with all her intense sensuousness and
+absence of what European nations call morality; there was yet nothing low
+or degrading in her influence, its tendency was to exalt and elevate into
+broad views and logical reasonings. Nothing small would ever again appeal
+to Paul. His whole outlook was vaster and more full of wide thoughts.
+
+And then among the other emotions in his breast came one of deep gratitude
+to her. For, apart from her love, had she not given him the royalest gift
+which mankind could receive--an awakened soul? Like her story of Undine it
+had truly been born with that first long kiss.
+
+Then his mind flew to their after-kisses, the immense divine bliss of
+these whole six days.
+
+Was it only six days since they had come there? Six days of Paradise. And
+surely fate would not part them now. Surely more hours of joy lay in store
+for them yet. The moon was seven days old--and his lady had said, "While
+she waxes our love will wax." Thus, even by that calculation, there was
+still time to live a little longer.
+
+Paul's will was strong. He sternly banished all speculations as to the
+future. He remembered her counsel of the riddle which lay hidden in the
+eyes of the Sphinx--to live in the present and quaff life in its full.
+
+He was in a mood of such worship that he could have kissed the grey rock
+because she had leant against it. And to himself he made vows that, come
+what might, he would ever try to be worthy of her great spirit and
+teaching. Dmitry's pistol still lay in his pocket; he took it out and
+examined it--all six chambers were loaded. A deadly small thing, with a
+finely engraved stock made in Paris. There was a date scratched. It was
+about a year old.
+
+What danger could they possibly have dreaded for him?--he almost laughed.
+He stayed up on the highest point until after the sun had set; somehow he
+dreaded going back to the rooms where they had been so happy--going back
+alone! But this was weakness, and he must get over the feeling. After
+dinner he would spend the evening writing his letters home. But when this
+solitary meal was over, the moon tempted him out on to the terrace, and
+there he stayed obsessed with passionate thoughts until he crept in to his
+lonely couch.
+
+He could not sleep. It had no memories there to comfort him. He got up,
+and went across the sitting-room to the room his lady had left so lately.
+Alas! it was all dismantled of her beautiful things. The bed unmade and
+piled with uncovered hotel pillows, and a large German eiderdown, on top
+of folded blankets, it all looked ghastly and sad and cold. And more
+depressed than ever he crept back to his own bed.
+
+Next morning was grey--not raining, but dull grey clouds all over the sky.
+Not a tempting prospect to spend it in a launch on the lake. A wind, too,
+swept the water into small rough wavelets. Would she come? The uncertainty
+was almost agony. He was waiting long before the time appointed, and
+walked up and down anxiously scanning the direction towards Lucerne.
+
+Yes, that was the launch making its way along, not a moment late. Oh! what
+joy thrilled his being! He glowed all over--in ten minutes or less he
+could clasp her hands.
+
+But when the launch came in full view, he perceived no lady was
+there--only Dmitry's black form stood alone by the chairs.
+
+Paul's heart sank like lead. He could hardly contain his anxiety until the
+servant stepped ashore and handed him a letter, and this was its contents:
+
+"My beloved one--I am not well to-day--a foolish chill. Nothing of
+consequence, only the cold wind of the lake I could not face. At one
+o'clock, when Lucerne is at lunch, come to me by the terrace gate. Come to
+me, I cannot live without you, Paul."
+
+"What is it, Dmitry?" he said anxiously. "Madame is not ill, is she? Tell
+me--"
+
+"Not ill--oh no!" the servant said, only Paul must know Madame was of a
+delicacy at times in the cold weather, and had to be careful of herself.
+He added, too, that it would be wiser if Paul would lunch early before
+they started, because, as he explained, it was not for the people of the
+hotel to know he was there, and how else could he eat?
+
+All of which advice was followed, and at one o'clock they landed at
+Lucerne, and Paul walked quickly towards his goal, Dmitry in front to see
+that the way was clear. Yes--there was no one about for the moment, and
+like ghosts they glided through the little terrace door, and Paul went
+into the room by the window, while Dmitry held the heavy curtains, and
+then disappeared.
+
+It was empty--the fact struck a chill note, in spite of the great bowls of
+flowers and the exquisite scent. His tiger was there, and the velvet
+pillows of old. All was warm and luxurious, as befitting the shrine of his
+goddess and Queen. Only he was alone--alone with his thoughts.
+
+An incredible excitement swept through him, his heart beat to suffocation
+in the longing for her to come. Was it possible--was it true that soon she
+would be in his arms? A whole world of privation and empty hours to make
+up for in their first kiss.
+
+Then from behind the screen of the door to her room she came at last--a
+stately figure in long black draperies, her face startlingly white, and
+her head wrapped in a mist of black veil. But who can tell of the note of
+gladness and welcome she put into the two words, "My Paul!"?
+
+And who can tell of the passionate joy of their long, tender embrace, or
+of their talk of each one's impossible night? His lady, too, had not
+slept, it appeared. She had cried, she said, and fought with her pillow,
+and been so wicked to Anna that the good creature had wept. She had torn
+her fine night raiment, and bitten a handkerchief through! But now he had
+come, and her soul was at rest. What wonder, when all this was said in his
+ear with soft, broken sighs and kisses divine, that Paul should feel like
+a god in his pride!
+
+Then he held her at arms'-length and looked at her face. Yes, it was very
+pale indeed, and the violet shadows lay under her black lashes. Had she
+suffered, his darling--was she ill? But no, the fire in her strange eyes
+gave no look of ill-health.
+
+"I was frightened, my own," he said, "in case you were really not well. I
+must pet and take care of you all the day. See, you must lie on the sofa
+among the cushions, and I will sit beside you and soothe you to rest." And
+he lifted her in his strong arms and carried her to the couch as if she
+had been a baby, and settled her there, every touch a caress.
+
+His lady delighted in these exhibitions of his strength. He had grown to
+understand that he could always affect her when he pretended to dominate
+her by sheer brute force. She had explained it to him thus one day:
+
+"You see, Paul, a man can always keep a woman loving him if he kiss her
+enough, and make her feel that there is no use struggling because he is
+too strong to resist. A woman will stand almost anything from a passionate
+lover. He may beat her and pain her soft flesh; he may shut her up and
+deprive her of all other friends--while the motive is raging love and
+interest in herself on his part, it only makes her love him the more. The
+reason why women become unfaithful is because the man grows casual, and
+having awakened a taste for passionate joys, he no longer gratifies
+them--so she yawns and turns elsewhere."
+
+Well, there was no fear of her doing so if he could help it! He was more
+than willing to follow this receipt. Indeed, there was something about her
+so agitating and alluring that he knew in his heart all men would feel the
+same towards her in a more or less degree, and wild jealousy coursed
+through his veins at the thought.
+
+"My Paul," she said, "do you know I have a plan in my head that we shall
+go to Venice?"
+
+"To Venice!" said Paul in delight. "To Venice!"
+
+"Yes--I cannot endure any more of Lucerne, parted from you, with only the
+prospect of snatched meetings. It is not to be borne. We shall go to that
+home of strange joy, my lover, and there for a space at least we can live
+in peace."
+
+Paul asked no better gift of fate. Venice he had always longed to see, and
+now to see it with her! Ah! the very thought was ecstasy to him, and made
+the blood bound in his veins.
+
+"When, when, my darling?" he asked. "Tomorrow? When?"
+
+"To-day is Friday," she said. "One must give Dmitry time to make the
+arrangements and take a palace for us. Shall we say Sunday, Paul? I shall
+go on Sunday, and you can follow the next day--so by Tuesday evening we
+shall be together again, not to part until--the end."
+
+"The end?" said Paul, with sinking heart.
+
+"Sweetheart," she whispered, while she drew his face down to hers, "think
+nothing evil. I said the end--but fate alone knows when that must be. Do
+not let us force her hand by speculating about it. Remember always to live
+while we may."
+
+And Paul was more or less comforted, but in moments of silence all through
+the day he seemed to hear the echo of the words--The End.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+It was a beautiful apartment that Dmitry had found for them on the Grand
+Canal in Venice, in an old palace looking southwest. A convenient door in
+a side canal cloaked the exit and entry of its inhabitants from curious
+eyes--had there been any to indulge in curiosity; but in Venice there is a
+good deal of the feeling of live and let live, and the _dolce far niente_
+of the life is not conducive to an over-anxious interest in the doings of
+one's neighbours.
+
+Money and intelligence can achieve a number of things in a short space of
+time, and Dmitry had had both at his command, so everything, including a
+_chef_ from Paris and a retinue of Italian servants, was ready when on the
+Tuesday evening Paul arrived at the station.
+
+What a wonderland it seemed to him, Venice! A wonderland where was
+awaiting him his heart's delight--more passionately desired than ever
+after three days of total abstinence.
+
+As after the Friday afternoon he had spent more or less in hiding in the
+terrace-room, his lady had judged it wiser for him not to come at all to
+Lucerne, and on the Saturday had met him at a quiet part of the shore of
+the lake, beyond the landing-steps of the _funiculaire,_ and for a few
+short hours they had cruised about on the blue waters--but her sweetest
+tenderness and ready wit had not been able entirely to eliminate the
+feeling of unrest which troubled them. And then there were the nights, the
+miserable evenings and nights of separation. On the Sunday she had
+departed to Venice, and after she had gone, Paul had returned for one day
+to Lucerne, leaving again on the Monday, apparently as unacquainted with
+Madame Zalenska as he had been the first night of his arrival.
+
+He had not seen her since Saturday. Three whole days of anguishing
+longing. And now in half an hour at least she would be in his arms. The
+journey through the beautiful scenery from Lucerne had been got through at
+night--all day from Milan a feverish excitement had dominated him, and
+prevented his taking any interest in outward surroundings. A magnetic
+attraction seemed drawing him on--on--to the centre of light and joy--his
+lady's presence.
+
+Dmitry and an Italian servant awaited his arrival; not an instant's delay
+for luggage called a halt. Tompson and the Italian were left for that, and
+Paul departed with his trusty guide.
+
+It was about seven o'clock, the opalescent lights were beginning to show
+in the sky, and their reflection in the water, as he stooped his tall head
+to enter the covered gondola. It was all too beautiful and wonderful to
+take in at once, and then he only wanted wings the sooner to arrive, not
+eyes to see the passing objects. Afterwards the strange soft cry of the
+gondoliers and the sights appealed to him; but on this first evening every
+throb of his being was centred upon the one moment when he should hold his
+beloved one to his heart.
+
+He could hardly contain his impatience, and walk sedately beside Dmitry
+when they ascended the great stone staircase--he felt like bounding up
+three steps at a time. Dmitry had been respectfully silent. Madame was
+well--that was all he would say. He opened the great double door with a
+latch-key, and Paul found himself in vast hall almost unfurnished but for
+some tapestry on the walls, and a huge gilt marriage-chest, and a couple
+of chairs. It was ill lit, and there was something of decay and gloom in
+its aspect.
+
+On they went, through other doors to a salon, vast and gloomy too, and
+then the glory and joy of heaven seemed to spring upon Paul's view when
+the shrine of the goddess was reached--a smaller room, whose windows faced
+the Grand Canal, now illuminated by the setting sun in all its splendour,
+coming in shafts from the balcony blinds. And among the quaintest and most
+old-world surroundings, mixed with her own wonderful personal notes of
+luxury, his lady rose from the tiger couch to meet him.
+
+His lady! His Queen!
+
+And, indeed, she seemed a queen when at last he held her at arms'-length
+to look at her. She was garbed all ready for dinner in a marvellous
+garment of shimmering purple, while round her shoulders a scarf of
+brilliant pale emerald gauze, all fringed with gold, fell in two long
+ends, and on her neck and in her ears great emeralds gleamed--a
+pear-shaped one of unusual brilliancy fell at the parting of her waves
+of hair on to her white smooth forehead. But the colour of her eyes he
+could not be sure of--only they were two wells of love and passion
+gazing into his own.
+
+All the simplicity of the Buergenstock surroundings was gone. The flowers
+were in the greatest profusion, rare and heavy-scented; the pillows of the
+couch were more splendid than ever; cloths of gold and silver and
+wonderful shades of orange and green velvet were among the purple ones he
+already knew. Priceless pieces of brocade interwoven with gold covered the
+screens and other couches; and, near enough to pick up when she wanted
+them, stood jewelled boxes of cigarettes and bonbons, and stands of
+perfume.
+
+Her expression, too, was altered. A new mood shone there; and later, when
+Paul learnt the history of the wonderful women of _cinquecento_ Venice, it
+seemed as if something of their exotic voluptuous spirit now lived in her.
+
+This was a new queen to worship--and die for, if necessary. He dimly felt,
+even in these first moments, that here he would drink still deeper of the
+mysteries of life and passionate love.
+
+_"Beztzenny-moi,"_ she said, "my priceless one. At last I have you again
+to make me _live_. Ah! I must know it is really you, my Paul!"
+
+They were sitting on the tiger by now, and she undulated round and all
+over him, feeling his coat, and his face, and his hair, as a blind person
+might, till at last it seemed as if she were twined about him like a
+serpent. And every now and then a narrow shaft of the glorious dying
+sunlight would strike the great emerald on her forehead, and give forth
+sparks of vivid green which appeared reflected again in her eyes. Paul's
+head swam, he felt intoxicated with bliss.
+
+"This Venice is for you and me, my Paul," she said. "The air is full of
+love and dreams; we have left the slender moon behind us in Switzerland;
+here she is nearing her full, and the summer is upon us with all her
+richness and completeness--the spring of our love has passed."
+Her voice fell into its rhythmical cadence, as if she were whispering a
+prophecy inspired by some presence beyond.
+
+"We will drink deep of the cup of delight, my lover, and bathe in the
+wine of the gods. We shall feast on the tongues of nightingales, and rest
+on couches of flowers. And thou shalt cede me thy soul, beloved, and I
+will give thee mine--"
+
+But the rest was lost in the meeting of their lips.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They dined on the open loggia, its curtains drawn, hiding them from the
+view of the palaces opposite, but not preventing the soft sounds of the
+singers in the gondolas moored to the poles beneath from reaching their
+ears. And above the music now and then would come the faint splash of
+water, and the "Stahi"--"Preme" of some moving gondolier.
+
+The food was of the richest, beginning with strange fishes and quantities
+of _hors d'oeuvres_ that Paul knew not, accompanied by _vodka_ in several
+forms. And some of the _plats_ she would just taste, and some send
+instantly away.
+
+And all the while a little fountain of her own perfume played from a group
+of sportive cupids in silver, while the table in the centre was piled with
+red roses. Dmitry and two Italian footmen waited, and everything was done
+with the greatest state. A regal magnificence was in the lady's air and
+mien. She spoke of the splendours of Venice's past, and let Paul feel the
+atmosphere of that subtle time of passion and life. Of here a love-scene,
+and there a murder. Of wisdom and vice, and intoxicating emotion, all
+blended in a kaleidoscope of gorgeousness and colour.
+
+And once again her vast knowledge came as a fresh wonder to Paul--no
+smallest detail of history seemed wanting in her talk, so that he lived
+again in that old world and felt himself a Doge.
+
+When they were alone at last, tasting the golden wine, she rose and drew
+him to the loggia balustrade. Dmitry had drawn back the curtains and
+extinguished the lights, and only the brilliant moon lit the scene; a
+splendid moon, two nights from the full. There she shone straight down
+upon them to welcome them to this City of Romance.
+
+What loveliness met Paul's view! A loveliness in which art and nature
+blended in one satisfying whole.
+
+"Darling," he said, "this is better than the Buergenstock. Let us go out on
+the water and float about, too."
+
+It was exceedingly warm these last days of May, and that night not a
+zephyr stirred a ripple. A cloak and scarf of black gauze soon hid the
+lady's splendour, and they descended the staircase hand in hand to the
+waiting open gondola.
+
+It was a new experience of joy for Paul to recline there, and drift away
+down the stream, amidst the music and the coloured lanterns, and the
+wonderful, wonderful spell of the place.
+
+The lady was silent for a while, and then she began to whisper passionate
+words of love. She had never before been thus carried away--and he must
+say them to her--as he held her hand--burning words, inflaming the
+imagination and exciting the sense. It seemed as if all the other nights
+of love were concentrated into this one in its perfect joy.
+
+Who can tell of the wild exaltation which filled Paul? He was no longer
+just Paul Verdayne, the ordinary young Englishman; he was a god--and this
+was Olympus.
+
+"Look, Paul!" she said at last. "Can you not see Desdemona peeping from
+the balcony of her house there? And to think she will have no happiness
+before her Moor will strangle her to-night! Death without joys. Ah! that
+is cruel. Some joys are well worth death, are they not, my lover, as you
+and I should know?"
+
+"Worth death and eternity," said Paul. "For one such night as this with
+you a man would sell his soul."
+
+It was not until they turned at the opening of the Guidecca to return to
+their palazzo that they both became aware of another gondola following
+them, always at the same distance behind--a gondola with two solitary
+figures in it huddled on the seats.
+
+The lady gave a whispered order in Italian to her gondolier, who came to a
+sudden stop, thus forcing the other boat to come much nearer before it,
+too, arrested its course. There a moonbeam caught the faces of the men as
+they leant forward to see what had occurred. One of them was Dmitry, and
+the other a younger man of the pure Kalmuck type whom Paul had never seen.
+
+"Vasili!" exclaimed the lady, in passionate surprise. "Vasili! and they
+have not told me!"
+
+She trembled all over, while her eyes blazed green flames of anger and
+excitement. "If it is unnecessary they shall feel the whip for this."
+
+Her cloak had fallen aside a little, disclosing a shimmer of purple
+garment and flashing emeralds. She looked barbaric, her raven brows knit.
+It might have been Cleopatra commanding the instant death of an offending
+slave.
+
+It made Paul's pulses bound, it seemed so of the picture and the night.
+All was a mad dream of exotic emotion, and this was just an extra note.
+
+But who was Vasili? And what did his presence portend? Something fateful
+at all events.
+
+The lady did not speak further, only by the quiver of her nostrils and the
+gleam in her eyes he knew how deeply she was stirred.
+
+Yes, one or the other would feel the whip, if they had been over-zealous
+in their duties!
+
+It seemed out of sheer defiance of some fate that she decided to go on
+into the lagoon when they passed San Georgio. It was growing late, and
+Paul's thoughts had turned to greater joys. He longed to clasp her in his
+arms, to hold her, and prove her his own. But she sat there, her small
+head held high, and her eyes fearless and proud--thus he did not dare to
+plead with her.
+
+But presently, when she perceived the servants were no longer following,
+her mood changed, the sweetness of the serpent of old Nile fell upon her,
+and all of love that can be expressed in whispered words and tender
+hand-clasps, she lavished upon Paul, after ordering the gondolier to
+hasten back to the palazzo. It seemed as if she, too, could not contain
+her impatience to be again in her lover's arms.
+
+"I will not question them to-night," she said when they arrived, and she
+saw Dmitry awaiting her on the steps. "To-night we will live and love at
+least, my Paul. Live and love in passionate bliss!"
+
+But she could not repress the flash of her eyes which appeared to
+annihilate the old servant. He fell on his knees with the murmured words
+of supplication:
+
+_"O Imperatorskoye!"_ And Paul guessed it meant Imperial Highness, and a
+great wonder grew in his mind.
+
+Their supper was laid in the loggia again, and under the windows the
+musicians still played and sang a gentle accompaniment to their sighs of
+love.
+
+But later still Paul learnt what fiercest passion meant, making other
+memories as moonlight unto sunlight--as water unto wine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+To some natures security hath no charm--the sword of Damocles suspended
+over their heads adds to their enjoyment of anything. Of such seemed Paul
+and his lady. It was as if they were snatching astonishing pleasures from
+the very brink of some danger, none the less in magnitude because unknown.
+
+They did not breakfast until after one o'clock the next day, and then she
+bade him sleep--sleep on this other loggia where they sat, which gave upon
+the side canal obliquely, while looking into a small garden of roses and
+oleanders below. Here were shade and a cool small breeze.
+
+"We are so weary, my beloved one," the lady said. "Let us sleep on these
+couches of smooth silk, sleep the heavy hours of the afternoon away, and
+go to the Piazza when the heat of the sun has lessened in measure."
+
+An immense languor was over Paul--he asked nothing better than to rest
+there in the perfumed shade, near enough to his loved one to be able to
+stretch out his arm and touch her hair. And soon a sweet sleep claimed
+him, and all was oblivion and peace.
+
+The lady lay still on her couch for a while, her eyes gleaming between
+their half-closed lids. But at last, when she saw that Paul indeed slept
+deeply, she rose stealthily and crept from the place back to the room, the
+gloomy vast room within, where she summoned Dmitry, and ordered the man
+she had called Vasili the night before into her presence. He came with
+cringing diffidence, prostrating himself to the ground before her, and
+kissing the hem of her dress, mute adoration in his dark eyes, like those
+of a faithful dog--a great scar showing blue on his bronzed cheek and
+forehead.
+
+She questioned him imperiously, while he answered humbly in fear. Dmitry
+stood by, an anxious, strained look on his face, and now and then he put
+in a word.
+
+Of what danger did they warn her, these two faithful servants? One came
+from afar for no other purpose, it seemed. Whatever it was she received
+the news in haughty defiance. She spoke fiercely at first, and they
+humbled themselves the more. Then Anna appeared, and joined her
+supplications to theirs, till at last the lady, like a pettish child
+chasing a brood of tiresome chickens, shooed them all from the room,
+'twixt laughter and tears. Then she threw up her arms in rage for a
+moment, and ran back to the loggia where Paul still slept. Here she sat
+and looked at him with burning eyes of love.
+
+He was certainly changed in the eighteen days since she had first seen
+him. His face was thinner, the beautiful lines of youth were drawn with a
+finer hand. He was paler, too, and a shadow lay under his curly lashes.
+But even in his sleep it seemed as if his awakened soul had set its seal
+upon his expression--he had tasted of the knowledge of good and evil now.
+
+The lady crept near him and kissed his hair. Then she flung herself on her
+own couch, and soon she also slept.
+
+It was six o'clock before they awoke, Paul first--and what was his joy to
+be able to kneel beside her and watch her for a few seconds before her
+white lids lifted themselves! An attitude of utter weariness and _abandon_
+was hers. She was as a child tired out with passionate weeping, who had
+fallen to sleep as she had flung herself down. There was something even
+pathetic about that proud head laid low upon her clasped arms.
+
+Paul gazed and gazed. How he worshipped her! Wayward, tigerish, beautiful
+Queen. But never selfish or small. And what great thing had she not done
+for him--she who must have been able to choose from all the world a
+lover--and she had chosen him. How poor and narrow were all the thoughts
+of his former life, everywhere hedged in with foolish prejudice and
+ignorant certainty. Now all the world should be his lesson-book, and some
+day he would show her he was worthy of her splendid teaching and belief in
+him, and her gift of an awakened soul. He bent still lower on his knees,
+and kissed her feet with deepest reverence. She stirred not. She was so
+very pale--fear came to him for an instant--and then he kissed her mouth.
+
+Her wonderful eyes unclosed themselves with none of the bewildered stare
+people often wake with when aroused suddenly. It seemed that even in her
+sleep she had been conscious of her loved one's presence. Her lips parted
+in a smile, while her heavy lashes again swept her cheeks.
+
+"Sweetheart," she said, "you could awake me from the dead, I think. But we
+are living still, my Paul--waste we no more time, in dreams."
+
+They made haste, and were soon in the gondola on their way to the Piazza.
+
+"Paul," she said, with a wave of her hand which included all the beauty
+around, "I am so glad you only see Venice now, when your eyes can take it
+in, sweetheart. At first it would have said almost nothing to you," and
+she smiled playfully. "In fact, my Paul would have spent most of his time
+in wondering how he could get exercise enough, there being so few places
+to walk in! He would have bought a nigger boy with a dish for his father,
+and some Venetian mirrors for his aunts, and perhaps--yes--a piece of Mr.
+Jesurum's lace for his mother, and some blown glass for his friends. He
+would have walked through St. Mark's, and thought it was a tumble-down
+place, with uneven pavements, and he would have noticed there were a
+'jolly lot of pigeons' in the square! Then he would have been captious
+with the food at his hotel, grumbled at the waiters, scolded poor
+Tompson--and left for Rome!"
+
+"Oh! darling!" said Paul, laughing too, in spite of his protest. "Surely,
+surely, I never was so bad as that--and yet I expect it is probably true.
+How can I ever thank you enough for giving me eyes and an understanding?"
+
+"There--there, beloved," she said.
+
+They walked through the Piazza; the pigeons amused Paul, and they stopped
+and bought corn for them, and fed the greedy creatures, ever ready for the
+unending largess of strangers. One or two, bolder than the rest, alighted
+on the lady's hat and shoulder, taking the corn from between her red lips,
+and Paul felt jealous even of the birds, and drew her on to see the
+Campanile, still standing then. They looked at it all, they looked at the
+lion, and finally they entered St. Mark's.
+
+And here Paul held her arm, and gazed with bated breath. It was all so
+beautiful and wonderful, and new to his eyes. He had scarcely ever been in
+a Roman Catholic church before, and had not guessed at the gorgeous beauty
+of this half-Byzantine shrine. They hardly spoke. She did not weary him
+with details like a guide-book--that would be for his after-life
+visits--but now he must see it just as a glorious whole.
+
+"They worshipped here, and endowed their temple with gold and jewels," she
+whispered, "and then they went into the Doge's Palace, and placed a word
+in the lion's mouth which meant death or destruction to their best
+friends! A wonderful people, those old Venetians! Sly and fierce--cruel
+and passionate--but with ever a shrewd smile in their eye, even in their
+love-affairs. I often ask myself, Paul, if we are not too civilised, we of
+our time. We think too much of human suffering, and so we cultivate the
+nerves to suffer more, instead of hardening them. Picture to yourself, in
+my grandfather's boyhood we had still the serfs! I am of his day, though
+it is over--I have beaten Dmitry--"
+
+Then she stopped speaking abruptly, as though aware she had localised her
+nation too much. A strange imperious expression came into her eyes as they
+met Paul's--almost of defiance.
+
+Paul was moved. He began as if to speak, then he remembered his promise
+never to question her, and remained silent.
+
+"Yes, my Paul--you have promised, you know," she said. "I am for you, your
+love--your love--but living or dead you must never seek to know more!"
+
+"Ah!" he cried, "you torture me when you speak like that. 'Living or
+dead.' My God! that means us both--we stand or fall together."
+
+"Dear one"--her voice fell softly into a note of intense
+earnestness--"while fate lets us be together--yes--living or dead--but
+if we must part, then either would be the cause of the death of the other
+by further seeking--never forget that, my beloved one. Listen"--her eyes
+took a sudden fierceness--"once I read your English book, 'The Lady and
+the Tiger.' You remember it, Paul? She must choose which she would give
+her lover to--death and the tiger, or to another and more beautiful woman.
+One was left, you understand, to decide the end one's self. It caused
+question at the moment; some were for one choice, some for the other--but
+for me there was never any hesitation. I would give you to a thousand
+tigers sooner than to another woman--just as I would give my life a
+thousand times for your life, my lover."
+
+"Darling," said Paul, "and I for yours, my fierce, adorable Queen. But why
+should we speak of terrible things? Are we not happy today, and now, and
+have you not told me to live while we may?"
+
+"Come!" she said, and they walked on down to the gondola again, and
+floated away out to the lagoon. But when they were there, far away from
+the world, she talked in a new strain of earnestness to Paul. He must
+promise to do something with his life--something useful and great in
+future years.
+
+"You must not just drift, my Paul, like so many of your countrymen do. You
+must help to stem the tide of your nation's decadence, and be a strong
+man. For me, when I read now of England, it seems as if all the hereditary
+legislators--it is what you call your nobles, eh?--these men have for
+their motto, like Louis XV., _Apres moi le deluge_--It will last my time.
+Paul, wherever I am, it will give me joy for you to be strong and great,
+sweetheart. I shall know then I have not loved just a beautiful shell,
+whose mind I was able to light for a time. That is a sadness, Paul,
+perhaps the greatest of all, to see a soul one has illuminated and
+awakened to the highest point gradually slipping back to a browsing sheep,
+to live for _la chasse_ alone, and horses, and dogs, with each day no
+higher aim than its own mean pleasure. Ah, Paul!" she continued with
+sudden passion, "I would rather you were dead--dead and cold with me, than
+I should have to feel you were growing a _rien du tout_--a thing who will
+go down into nothingness, and be forgotten by men!"
+
+Her face was aflame with the _feu sacre_. The noble brow and line of her
+throat will ever remain in Paul's memory as a thing apart in womankind.
+Who could have small or unworthy thoughts who had known her--this splendid
+lady?
+
+And his worship grew and grew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+That night, as they looked from the loggia on the Grand Canal after
+dinner, the moonlight making things almost light as day, Dmitry begged
+admittance from the doorway of the great salon. The lady turned
+imperiously, and flashed upon him. How dared he interrupt their happy hour
+with things of earth? Then she saw he was loth to speak before Paul, and
+that his face was grey with fear.
+
+Paul realised the situation, and moved aside, pretending to lean from the
+wide windows and watch the passing gondolas, his wandering attention,
+however, fixing itself upon one which was moored not far from the palazzo,
+and occupied by a solitary figure reclining motionless in the seats. It
+had no coloured lights, this gondola, or merry musicians; it was just a
+black object of silence, tenanted by one man.
+
+Dmitry whispered, and the lady listened, a quiver of rage going through
+her lithe body. Then she turned and surveyed the moored gondola, the same
+storm of passion and hate in her eyes as once before had come there, at
+the Rigi Kaltbad Belvedere.
+
+"Shall I kill the miserable spy? Vasili would do it this night," she
+hissed between her clenched teeth. "But to what end? A day's respite,
+perhaps, and then another, and another to face."
+
+Dmitry raised an imploring hand to draw her from the wide arched opening,
+where she must be in full view of those watching below. She motioned him
+furiously aside, and took Paul's hand. "Come, my lover," she said, "we
+will look no more on this treacherous stream! It is full of the ghosts of
+past murders and fears. Let us return to our shrine and shut out all jars;
+we will sit on our tiger and forget even the moon. Beloved one--come!"
+
+And she led him to the open doorway, but the hand which held his was cold
+as ice.
+
+A tumult of emotion was dominating Paul. He understood now that danger was
+near--he guessed they were being watched--but by whom? By the orders
+of--her husband? Ah! that thought drove him mad with rage--her husband!
+She--his own--the mate of his soul--of his body and soul--was the legal
+belonging of somebody else! Some vile man whom she hated and loathed, a
+"rotting carrion spoiling God's earth." And he--Paul--was powerless to
+change this fact--was powerless altogether except to love her and die for
+her if that would be for her good.
+
+"Queen," he said, his voice hoarse with passion and pain, "let us leave
+Venice--leave Europe altogether--let me take you away to some far land of
+peace, and live there in safety and joy for the rest of our lives. You
+would always be the empress of my being and soul."
+
+She flung herself on the tiger couch, and writhed there for some moments,
+burying her clenched fists in the creature's deep fur. Then she opened
+wide her arms, and drew Paul to her in a close, passionate embrace.
+
+"_Moi-Lioubimyi_--My beloved--my darling one!" she whispered in anguish.
+"If we were lesser persons--yes, we could hide and live for a time in a
+tent under the stars--but we are not They would track me, and trap us, and
+sooner or later there would be the end, the ignominious, ordinary end of
+disgrace--" Then she clasped him closer, and whispered right in his ear in
+her wonderful voice, now trembling with love.
+
+"Sweetheart--listen! Beyond all of this there is that thought, that hope,
+ever in my heart that one day a son of ours shall worthily fill a throne,
+so we must not think of ourselves, my Paul, of the Thou, and the I, and
+the Now, beloved. A throne which is filled most ignobly at present, and
+only filled at all through my birth and my family's influence. Think not I
+want to plant a cheat. No! I have a right to find an heir as I will, a
+splendid heir who shall redeem the land--the spirit of our two selves
+given being by love, and endowed by the gods. Ah! think of it, Paul. Dream
+of this joy and pride, it will help to still the unrest we are both
+suffering now. It must quiet this wild, useless rage against fate. Is it
+not so, my lover?"
+
+Her voice touched his very heartstrings, but he was too deeply moved to
+answer her for a moment. The renewal of this thought exalted his very
+soul. All that was noble and great in his nature seemed rising up in one
+glad triumph-song.
+
+A son of his and hers to fill a throne! Ah! God, if that were so!
+
+"I love the English," she whispered. "I have known the men of all
+nations--but I love the English best. They are straight and just--the
+fine ones at least. They are brave and fair--and fearless. And our baby
+Paul shall be the most splendid of any. Beloved one, you must not think me
+a visionary--a woman dreaming of what might never be--I see it--I know it.
+This will come to pass as I say, and then we shall both find consolation
+and rest."
+
+Thus she whispered on until Paul was intoxicated with joy and glory, and
+forgot time and place and danger and possible parting. A host of
+triumphant angels seemed singing in his ears.
+
+Then she read him poetry, and let him caress her, and smiled in his arms.
+
+But towards morning, if he had awakened, he would have found his lady
+prostrate with silent weeping. The intense concentrated grief of a strong
+nature taking its farewell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Now this Thursday was the night of the full moon. A cloudless morning sky
+promised a glorious evening.
+
+The lovers woke early, and had their breakfast on the loggia overlooking
+the oleander garden. The lady was in an enchanting mood of sunshine, and
+no one could have guessed of the sorrow of her dawn vigil thoughts. She was
+wayward and playful--one moment petting Paul with exquisite sweetness, the
+next teasing his curls and biting the lobes of his ears. She never left him
+for one second--it seemed she must teach him still more subtle caresses,
+and call forth even new shades of emotion and bliss. All fear was banished,
+only a brilliant glory remained. She laughed and half-closed her eyes with
+provoking smiles. She undulated about, creeping as a serpent over her
+lover, and kissing his eyelids and hair. They were so infinitely happy it
+was growing to afternoon before they thought of leaving their loggia, and
+then they started in the open gondola, and glided away through quaint,
+narrow canals until they came to the lagoon.
+
+"We shall not stay in the gondola long, my Paul," she said. "I cannot bear
+to be out of your arms, and our palace is fair. And oh! my beloved,
+to-night I shall feast you as never before. The night of our full moon!
+Paul, I have ordered a bower of roses and music and song. I want you to
+remember it the whole of your life."
+
+"As though I could forget a moment of our time, my sweet," said Paul. "It
+needs no feasts or roses--only whatever delights you to do, delights me
+too."
+
+"Paul," she cooed after a while, during which her hand had lain in his and
+there had been a soft silence, "is not this a life of joy, so smooth and
+gliding, this way of Venice? It seems far from ruffles and storms. I shall
+love it always, shall not you? and you must come back in other years and
+study its buildings and its history, Paul--with your new, fine eyes."
+
+"We shall come together, my darling," he answered. "I should never want
+anything alone."
+
+"Sweetheart!" she cooed again in his ears; and then presently, "Paul," she
+said, "some day you must read 'Salammbo,' that masterpiece of Flaubert's.
+There is a spirit of love in that which now you would understand--the love
+which looked out of Matho's eyes when his body was beaten to jelly. It is
+the love I have for you, my own--a love 'beyond all words or sense'--as one
+of your English poets says. Do you know, with the strange irony of things,
+when a woman's love for a man rises to the highest point there is in it
+always an element of _the wife_? However wayward and tigerish and
+undomestic she may be, she then desires to be the acknowledged possession
+and belonging of the man, even to her own dishonour. She desires to
+reproduce his likeness, she wants to compass his material good. She will
+think of his food, and his raiment, and his well-being, and never of her
+own--only, if she is wise she will hide all these things in her heart, for
+the average man cannot stand this great light of her sweetness, and when
+her love becomes selfless, his love will wane."
+
+"The average man's--yes, perhaps so," agreed Paul. "But then, what does the
+average person of either sex know of love at all?"
+
+"They think they know," she said. "Really think it, but love like ours
+happens perhaps once in a century, and generally makes history of some
+sort--bad or good."
+
+"Let it!" said Paul. "I am like Antony in that poem you read me last
+night. I must have you for my own, 'Though death, dishonour, anything you
+will, stand in the way.' He knew what he was talking about, Antony! so did
+the man who wrote the poem!"
+
+"He was a great sculptor as well as a poet," the lady said. "And yes, he
+knew all about those wonderful lovers better far than your Shakespeare did,
+who leaves me quite cold when I read his view of them. Cleopatra was to me
+so subtle, so splendid a queen."
+
+"Of course she was just you, my heart," said Paul. "You are her soul living
+over again, and that poem you must give me to keep some day, because it
+says just what I shall want to say if ever I must be away from you for a
+time. See, have I remembered it right?
+
+"'Tell her, till I see Those eyes, I do not live--that Rome to me Is
+hateful,--tell her--oh!--I know not what--That every thought and feeling,
+space and spot, Is like an ugly dream where she is not; All persons
+plagues; all living wearisome; All talking empty...'.
+
+"Yes, that is what I should say--I say it to myself now even in the short
+while I am absent from you dressing!"
+
+The lady's eyes brimmed with tenderness. "Paul!--you do love me, my own!"
+she said.
+
+"Oh, why can't we go on and travel together, darling?" Paul continued. "I
+want you to show me the world--at least the best of Europe. In every
+country you would make me feel the spirit of the place. Let us go to
+Greece, and see the temples and worship those old gods. They knew about
+love, did they not?"
+
+The lady leant back and smiled, as if she liked to hear him talk.
+
+"I often ask myself did they really know," she said. "They knew the whole
+material part of it at any rate. They were perhaps too practical to have
+indulged in the mental emotions we weave into it now--but they were wise,
+they did not educate the wives and daughters, they realised that to perform
+well domestic duties a woman's mind should not be over-trained in learning.
+Learning and charm and grace of mind were for the others, the _hetaerae_ of
+whom they asked no tiresome ties. And in all ages it is unfortunately not
+the simple good women who have ruled the hearts of men. Think of Pericles
+and Aspasia--Antony and Cleopatra--Justinian and Theodora--Belisarius and
+Antonina--and later, all the mistresses of the French kings--even, too,
+your English Nelson and Lady Hamilton! Not one of these was a man's ideal
+of what a wife and mother ought to be. So no doubt the Greeks were right in
+that principle, as they were right in all basic principles of art and
+balance. And now we mix the whole thing up, my Paul--domesticity and
+learning--nerves and art, and feverish cravings for the impossible new--so
+we get a conglomeration of false proportions, and a ceaseless unrest."
+
+"Yes," said Paul, and thought of his mother. She was a perfectly domestic
+and beautiful woman, but somehow he felt sure she had never made his
+father's heart beat. Then his mind went back to the argument in what the
+lady had said--he wanted to hear more.
+
+"If this is so, that would prove that all the very clever women of history
+were immoral--do you mean that?" he asked.
+
+The lady laughed.
+
+"Immoral! It is so quaint a word, my Paul! Each one sees it how they
+will. For me it is immoral to be false, to be mean, to steal, to cheat, to
+stoop to low actions and small ends. Yet one can be and do all those
+things, and if one remains as well the faithful beast of burden to one man,
+one is counted in the world a moral woman! But that shining light of
+hypocrisy and virtue--to judge by her sentiments in her writings--your
+George Eliot, must be classed as immoral because, having chosen her mate
+without the law's blessing, she yet wrote the highest sentiments of British
+respectability! To me she was being immoral _only_ because she was
+deliberately doing what--, again I say, judging by her writings--she felt
+must be a grievous wrong. That is immoral--deliberately to still one's
+conscience and indulge in a pleasure against it. But to live a life with
+one's love, if it engenders the most lofty aspirations, to me is highly
+moral and good. I feel myself ennobled, exalted, because you are my lover,
+and our child, when it comes to us, will have a noble mind."
+
+The thought of this, as ever, made Paul thrill; he forgot all other
+arguments, and a quiver ran through him of intense emotion; his eyes swam
+and he clasped more tightly her hand. The lady, too, leant back and closed
+her eyes.
+
+"Oh! the beautiful dream!" she said, "the beautiful, beautiful--certainly!
+Sweetheart, let us have done with all this philosophising and go back to
+our palace, where we are happy in the temple of the greatest of all
+Gods--the God of Love!"
+
+Then she gave the order for home.
+
+But on the way they stopped at Jesurum's, and she supervised Paul's
+purchases for his mother, and allowed him to buy herself some small gifts.
+And between them they spent a good deal of money, and laughed over it like
+happy children. So when they got back to the palazzo there was joy in
+their hearts like the sunlight of the late afternoon.
+
+She would not let Paul go on to the loggia overlooking the Grand Canal. He
+had noticed as they passed that some high screens of lilac-bushes had been
+placed in front of the wide arched openings. No fear of prying eyes from
+opposite houses now! And yet they were not too high to prevent those in the
+loggia from seeing the moon and the sky. Their feast was preparing
+evidently, and he knew it would be a night of the gods.
+
+But from then until it was time to dress for dinner his lady decreed that
+they should rest in their rooms.
+
+"Thou must sleep, my Paul," she said, "so that thy spirit may be fresh for
+new joys."
+
+And it was only after hard pleading she would allow him to have it that
+they rested on the other loggia couches, so that his closing eyes might
+know her near.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+No Englishwoman would have thought of the details which made the Feast of
+the Full Moon so wonderful in Paul's eyes. It savoured rather of other
+centuries and the days of Imperial Rome, and indeed, had his lady been one
+of Britain's daughters, he too might have found it a little _bizarre_. As
+it was, it was all in the note--the exotic note of Venice and her spells.
+
+The lady had gone to her room when he woke on the loggia, and he had only
+time to dress before the appointed moment when he was to meet her in the
+little salon.
+
+She was seated on the old Venetian chair she had bought in Lucerne when
+Paul entered--the most radiant vision he had yet seen. Her garment was
+pale-green gauze. It seemed to cling in misty folds round her exquisite
+shape; it was clasped with pearls; the most magnificent ones hung in a row
+round her throat and fell from her ears. A diadem confined her glorious
+hair, which descended in the two long strands twisted with chains of
+emeralds and diamonds. Her whole personality seemed breathing magnificence
+and panther-like grace. And her eyes glowed with passion, and mystery, and
+force.
+
+Paul knelt like a courtier, and kissed her hand. Then he led her to their
+feast.
+
+Dmitry raised the curtain of the loggia door as they approached, and what a
+sight met Paul's view!
+
+The whole place had been converted into a bower of roses. The walls were
+entirely covered with them. A great couch of deepest red ones was at one
+side, fixed in such masses as to be quite resisting and firm. From the roof
+chains of roses hung, concealing small lights--while from above the screen
+of lilac-bushes in full bloom the moon in all her glory mingled with the
+rose-shaded lamps and cast a glamour and unreality over the whole.
+
+The dinner was laid on a table in the centre, and the table was covered
+with tuberoses and stephanotis, surrounding the cupid fountain of perfume.
+The scent of all these flowers! And the warm summer night! No wonder Paul's
+senses quivered with exaltation. No wonder his head swam.
+
+They had scarcely been seated when from the great salon, whose open doors
+were hidden by falling trellises of roses, there came the exquisite sounds
+of violins, and a boy's plaintive voice. A concert of all sweet airs played
+softly to further excite the sense. Paul had not thought such musicians
+could be obtained in Venice, and guessed, and rightly, that, like the cook
+and the artist who had designed it, they hailed from Paris, to beautify
+this night.
+
+Throughout the repast his lady bewildered him with her wild fascination.
+Never before had she seemed to collect all her moods into one subtle whole,
+cemented together by passionate love. It truly was a night of the gods, and
+the exaltation of Paul's spirit had reached its zenith.
+
+"My Paul," she said, when at last only the rare fruits and the golden wine
+remained, and they were quite alone--even the musicians had retired, and
+their airs floated up from a gondola below. "My Paul, I want you never to
+forget this night--never to think of me but as gloriously happy, clasped in
+your arms amid the roses. And see, we must drink once more together of our
+wedding wine, and complete our souls' delight."
+
+An eloquence seemed to come to Paul and loosen his tongue, so that he
+whispered back paeans of worship in language as fine as her own. And the
+moon flooded the loggia with her light, and the roses gave forth their
+scent. It was the supreme effort of art and nature to cover them with
+glorious joy.
+
+"My darling one," the lady whispered in his ear, as she lay in his arms on
+the couch of roses, crushed deep and half buried in their velvet leaves,
+"this is our souls' wedding. In life and in death they can never part
+more."
+
+        *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dawn was creeping through the orchid blinds of their sleeping chamber when
+this strange Queen disengaged herself from her lover's embrace, and bent
+over him, kissing his young curved lips. He stirred not--the languor of
+utter prostration was upon him, and held him in its grasp. In the uncertain
+light his sleep looked pale as death.
+
+The lady gazed at him, an anguish too deep for tears in her eyes. For was
+not this the end--the very end? Fierce, dry sobs shook her. There was
+something terrible and tigerish in her grief. And yet her will made her
+not linger--there was still one thing to do.
+
+She rose and turned to the writing-table by the window, then drawing the
+blind aside a little she began rapidly to write. When she had finished,
+without reading the missive over, she went and placed it with a flat
+leather jewel-case on her pillow beside Paul. And soon she commenced a
+madness of farewells--all restrained and gentle for fear he should awake.
+
+"My love, my love," she wailed between her kisses, "God keep you
+safe--though He may never bring you back to me."
+
+Then with a wild, strangled sob, she fled from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+A hush was over everything when Paul first awoke--the hush of a hot, drowsy
+noontide.
+
+He stretched out his arm to touch his loved one, as was his custom, to draw
+her near and envelop her with caresses and greeting--an instinct which came
+to him while yet half asleep.
+
+But his arm met empty space. What was this? He opened his eyes wide and sat
+up in bed. He was alone--where had she gone? He had slept so late, that was
+it. She was playing one of her sweet tricks upon him. Perhaps she was even
+hiding behind the curtain which covered the entrance to the side loggia
+where they were accustomed to breakfast. He would look and see. He rose
+quickly and lifted the heavy drapery. No--the loggia was untenanted, and
+breakfast was laid for one! That was the first chill--for one! Was she
+angry at his drowsiness? Good God! what could it mean? He staggered a
+little, and sat on the bed, clutching the fine sheet. And as he did so it
+disclosed the letter and the flat leather case, which had fallen from the
+pillow and become hidden in the clothes.
+
+A deadly faintness came over Paul. For a few seconds he trembled so his
+shaking fingers refused to hold the paper. Then with a mighty effort he
+mastered himself, and tearing the envelope open began to read.
+
+It was a wonderful letter. The last passionate cry of her great loving
+heart. It passed in review their glorious days in burning words--from the
+first moment of their meeting. And then, towards the end, "My Paul," she
+wrote, "that first night you were my caprice, and afterwards my love, but
+now you are my life, and for this I must leave you, to save that life,
+sweet lover. Seek me not, heart of my heart. Believe me, I would not go if
+there were any other way. Fate is too strong for us, and I must bow my
+head. Were I to remain even another hour, all Dmitry's watching could not
+keep you safe. Darling, while I thought they menaced me alone, it only
+angered me, but now I know that you would pay the penalty, I can but go. If
+you follow me, it will mean death for us both. Oh! Paul, I implore you, by
+our great love, go into safety as soon as you can. You must leave Venice,
+and return straight to England, and your home. Darling--beloved--lover--if
+we never meet again in this sad world let this thought stay with you
+always, that I love you--heart and mind--body and soul--I am utterly and
+forever YOURS."
+
+As he read the last words the room became dark for Paul, and he fell back
+like a log on the bed, the paper fluttering to the floor from his nerveless
+fingers.
+
+She was gone--and life seemed over for him.
+
+Here, perhaps an hour later, Tompson found him still unconscious, and in
+terrified haste sent off for a doctor, and telegraphed to Sir Charles
+Verdayne:
+
+"Come at once, TOMPSON."
+
+But ere his father could arrive on Sunday, Paul was lying 'twixt life and
+death, madly raving with brain fever.
+
+And thus ended the three weeks of his episode.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+Have any of you who read crept back to life from nearly beyond the grave?
+Crept back to find it shorn of all that made it fair? After hours of
+delirium to awaken in great weakness to a sense of hideous anguish and
+loss--to the prospect of days of aching void and hopeless longing, to the
+hourly, momentary sting of remembrance of things vaster than death, more
+dear than life itself? If you have come through this valley of the shadow,
+then you can know what the first days of returning consciousness meant to
+Paul.
+
+He never really questioned the finality of her decree, he _sensed_ it meant
+parting for ever. And yet, with that spring of eternal hope which animates
+all living souls, unbidden arguings and possibilities rose in his enfeebled
+brain, and deepened his unrest. Thus his progress towards convalescence was
+long and slow.
+
+And all this time his father and Tompson had nursed him in the old Venetian
+palazzo with tenderest devotion.
+
+The Italian servants had been left, paid up for a month, but the lady and
+her Russian retinue had vanished, leaving no trace.
+
+Both Tompson and Sir Charles knew almost the whole story now from Paul's
+ravings, and neither spoke of it--except that Tompson supplied some links
+to complete Sir Charles' picture.
+
+"She was the most splendid lady you could wish to see, Sir Charles," the
+stolid creature finished with. "Her servants worshipped her--and if
+Mr. Verdayne is ill now, he is ill for no less than a Queen."
+
+This fact comforted Tompson greatly, but Paul's father found in it no
+consolation.
+
+The difficulty had been to prevent his mother from descending upon
+them. She must ever be kept in ignorance of this episode in her son's life.
+She belonged to the class of intellect which could never have
+understood. It would have been an undying shock and horrified grief to the
+end of her life--excellent, loving, conventional lady!
+
+So after the first terrible danger was over, Sir Charles made light of
+their son's illness. Paul and he were enjoying Venice, he said, and would
+soon be home. "D--d hard luck the boy getting fever like this!" he wrote
+in his laconic style, "but one never could trust foreign countries'
+drains!"
+
+And the Lady Henrietta waited in unsuspecting, well-bred patience.
+
+Those were weary days for every one concerned. It wrung his father's heart
+to see Paul prostrate there, as weak as an infant. All his splendid youth
+and strength conquered by this raging blast. It was sad to have to listen
+to his ever-constant moan:
+
+"Darling, come back to me--darling, my Queen."
+
+And even after he regained consciousness, it was equally pitiful to watch
+him lying nerveless and white, blue shadows on his once fresh skin. And
+most pitiful of all were his hands, now veined and transparent, falling
+idly upon the sheet.
+
+But at least the father realised it could have been no ordinary woman whose
+going caused the shock which--even after a life of three weeks' continual
+emotion--could prostrate his young Hercules. She must have been worth
+something--this tiger Queen.
+
+And one day, contrary to his usual custom, he addressed Tompson:
+
+"What sort of a looking woman, Tompson?"
+
+And Tompson, although an English valet, did not reply, "Who, Sir
+Charles?"--he just rounded his eyes stolidly and said in his monotonous
+voice:
+
+"She was that forcible-looking, a man couldn't say when he got close, she
+kind of dazzled him. She had black hair, and a white face,
+and--and--witch's eyes, but she was very kind and overpowering, haughty
+and generous. Any one would have known she was a Queen."
+
+"Young?" asked Sir Charles.
+
+Tompson smoothed his chin: "I could not say, Sir Charles. Some days about
+twenty-five, and other days past thirty. About thirty-three to thirty-five,
+I expect she was, if the truth were known."
+
+"Pretty?"
+
+The eyes rounded more and more. "Well, she was so fascinatin', I can't say,
+Sir Charles--the most lovely lady I ever did see at times, Sir Charles."
+
+"Humph," said Paul's father, and then relapsed into silence.
+
+"She'd a beast of a husband; he might have been a King, but he was no
+gentleman," Tompson ventured to add presently, fearing the "Humph" perhaps
+meant disapprobation of this splendid Queen. "Her servants were close, and
+did not speak good English, so I could not get much out of them, but the
+man Vasili, who came the last days, did say in a funny lingo, which I had
+to guess at, as how he expected he should have to kill him some time.
+Vasili had a scar on his face as long as your finger that he'd got
+defending the Queen from her husband's brutality, when he was the worse for
+drink, only last year. And Mr. Verdayne is so handsome. It is no wonder,
+Sir Charles--"
+
+"That will do, Tompson," said Sir Charles, and he frowned.
+
+The fatal letter, carefully sealed up in a new envelope, and the leather
+case were in his despatch-box. Tompson had handed them to him on his
+arrival. And one day when Paul appeared well enough to be lifted into a
+long chair on the side loggia, his father thought fit to give them to him.
+
+Paul's apathy seemed paralysing. The days had passed, since the little
+Italian doctor had pronounced him out of danger, in one unending languid
+quietude. He expressed interest in no single thing. He was polite, and
+indifferent, and numb.
+
+"He must be roused now," Sir Charles said to the doctor. "It is too hot for
+Venice, he must be moved to higher air," and the little man had nodded his
+head.
+
+So this warm late afternoon, as he lay under the mosquito curtains--which
+the coming of June had made necessary in this paradise--his father said to
+him:
+
+"I have a letter and a parcel of yours, Paul: you had better look at
+them--we hope to start north in a day or two--you must get to a more
+bracing place."
+
+Then he had pushed them under the net-folds, and turned his back on the
+scene.
+
+The blood rushed to Paul's face, but left him deathly pale after a few
+moments. And presently he broke the seal. The minute Sphinx in the corner
+of the paper seemed to mock at him. Indeed, life was a riddle of anguish
+and pain. He read the letter all over--and read it again. The passionate
+words of love warmed him now that he had passed the agony of the farewell.
+One sentence he had hardly grasped before, in particular held balm.
+"Sweetheart," it said, "you must not grieve--think always of the future
+and of our hope. Our love is not dead with our parting, and one day
+there will be the living sign--" Yes, that thought was comfort--but how
+should he know?
+
+Then he turned to the leather case. His fingers were still so feeble that
+with difficulty he pressed the spring to open it.
+
+He glanced up at his father's distinguished-looking back outlined against
+the loggia's opening arches. It appeared uncompromising. A fixed
+determination to stare at the oleanders below seemed the only spirit
+animating this parent.
+
+Yes--he must open the box. It gave suddenly with a jerk, and there lay a
+dog's collar, made of small flexible plates of pure beaten gold, mounted on
+Russian leather, all of the finest workmanship. And on a slip of paper in
+his darling's own writing he read:
+
+"This is for Pike, my beloved one; let him wear it always--a gift from me."
+
+On the collar itself, finely engraved, were the words, "Pike, belonging to
+Paul Verdayne."
+
+Then the floodgates of Paul's numbed soul were opened, a great sob rose in
+his breast. He covered his face with his hands, and cried like a child.
+
+Oh! her dear thought! her dear, tender thought--for Pike! His little
+friend!
+
+And Sir Charles made believe he saw nothing, as he stole from the place,
+his rugged face twitching a little, and his keen eyes dim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+They did not go north, as Sir Charles intended, an unaccountable reluctance
+on Paul's part to return through Switzerland changed their plans. Instead,
+by a fortunate chance, the large schooner yacht of a rather eccentric old
+friend came in to Venice, and the father eagerly accepted the invitation to
+go on board and bring his invalid.
+
+The owner, one Captain Grigsby, had been quite alone, so the three men
+would be in peace, and nothing could be better for Paul than this warm sea
+air.
+
+"Typhoid fever?" Mark Grigsby had asked.
+
+"No," Sir Charles had replied, "considerable mental tribulation over a
+woman."
+
+"D--d kittle cattle!" was Captain Grigsby's polite comment. "A fine boy,
+too, and promising--"
+
+"Appears to have been almost worth while," Sir Charles added, "from what I
+gather--and, confound it, Grig, we'd have done the same in our day."
+
+But Captain Grigsby only repeated: "D--d kittle cattle!"
+
+And so they weighed anchor, and sailed along the Italian shores of the
+sun-lit Adriatic.
+
+These were better days for Paul. Each hour brought him back some health and
+vigour. Youth and strength were asserting their own again, and the absence
+of familiar objects, and the glory of the air and the blue sea helped
+sometimes to deaden the poignant agony of his aching heart. But there it
+was underneath, an ever-present, dull anguish. And only when he became
+sufficiently strong to help the sailors with the ropes, and exert physical
+force, did he get one moment's respite. The two elder men watched him with
+kind, furtive eyes, but they never questioned him, or made the slightest
+allusion to his travels.
+
+And the first day they heard him laugh Sir Charles looked down at the white
+foam because a mist was in his eyes.
+
+They had coasted round Italy and Sicily, and not among the Ionian Isles, as
+had been Captain Grigsby's intention.
+
+"I fancy the lady came from some of those Balkan countries," Sir Charles
+had said. "Don't let us get in touch with even the outside of one of them."
+
+And Mark Grigsby had grunted an assent.
+
+"The boy is a fine fellow," he said one morning as they looked at Paul
+hauling ropes. "He'll probably never get quite over this, but he is
+fighting like a man, Charles--tell me as much as you feel inclined to of
+the story."
+
+So Sir Charles began in his short, broken sentences:
+
+"Parson's girl to start with--sympathy over a broken collar-bone. The wife
+behaved unwisely about it, so the boy thought he was in love. We sent him
+to travel to get rid of that idea. It appears he met this lady in
+Lucerne--seems to have been an exceptional person--a Russian, Tompson
+says--a Queen or Princess _incog.,_ the fellow tells me--but I can't spot
+her as yet. Hubert will know who she was, though--but it does not
+matter--the woman herself was the thing. Gather she was quite a remarkable
+woman--ten years older than Paul."
+
+"Always the case," growled Captain Grigsby.
+
+Sir Charles puffed at his pipe--and then: "They were only together three
+weeks," he said. "And during that time she managed to cram more knowledge
+of everything into the boy's head than you and I have got in a
+lifetime. Give you my word, Grig, when he was off his chump in the fever,
+he raved like a poet, and an orator, and he was only an ordinary sportsman
+when he left home in the spring! Cleopatra, he called her one day, and I
+fancy that was the keynote--she must have been one of those exceptional
+women we read of in the sixth form."
+
+"And fortunately never met!" said Captain Grigsby.
+
+"I don't know," mused Sir Charles. "It might have been good to live as
+wildly even at the price. We've both been about the world, Grig, since the
+days we fastened on our cuirasses together for the first time, and each
+thought himself the devil of a fine fellow--but I rather doubt if we now
+know as much of what is really worth having as my boy there--just
+twenty-three years old."
+
+"Nonsense!" snapped Captain Grigsby--but there was a tone of regret in his
+protest.
+
+"Lucky to have got off without a knife or a bullet through him--dangerous
+nations to grapple with," he said.
+
+"Yes--I gather some pretty heavy menace was over their heads, and that is
+what made the lady decamp, so we've much to be thankful for," agreed Sir
+Charles.
+
+"Had she any children?" the other asked.
+
+"Tompson says no. Rotten fellow the husband, it appears, and no heir to the
+throne, or principality, or whatever it is--so when I have had a talk with
+Hubert--Henrietta's brother, you know--the one in the Diplomatic Service,
+it will be easy to locate her--gathered Paul doesn't know himself."
+
+"Pretty romance, anyway. And what will you do with the boy now, Charles?"
+
+Paul's father puffed quite a long while at his meerschaum before he
+answered, and then his voice was gruffer than ever with tenderness
+suppressed.
+
+"Give him his head, Grig," he said. "He's true blue underneath, and he'll
+come up to the collar in time, old friend--only I shall have to keep his
+mother's love from harrying him. Best and greatest lady in the world, my
+wife, but she's rather apt to jog the bridle now and then."
+
+At this moment Paul joined them. His paleness showed less than usual
+beneath the sunburn, and his eyes seemed almost bright. A wave of thankful
+gladness filled his father's heart.
+
+"Thank God," he said, below his breath. "Thank God."
+
+The weather had been perfection, hardly a drop of rain, and just the
+gentlest breezes to waft them slowly along. A suitable soothing idle life
+for one who had but lately been near death. And each day Paul's strength
+returned, until his father began to hope they might still be home for his
+birthday the last day of July. They had crept up the coast of Italy now,
+when an absolute calm fell upon them, and just opposite the temple of
+Paestum they decided to anchor for the night.
+
+For the last evenings, as the moon had grown larger, Paul had been
+strangely restless. It seemed as if he preferred to tire himself out with
+unnecessary rope-pulling, and then retire to his berth the moment that
+dinner was over, rather than go on deck. His face, too, which had been
+controlled as a mask until now, wore a look of haunting anguish which was
+grievous to see. He ate his dinner--or rather, pretended to play with the
+food--in absolute silence.
+
+Uneasiness overcame Sir Charles, and he glanced at his old friend. But
+Paul, after lighting a cigar, and letting it out once or twice, rose, and
+murmuring something about the heat, went up on deck.
+
+It was the night of the full moon--eight weeks exactly since the joy of
+life had finished for him.
+
+He felt he could not bear even the two kindly gentlemen whose unspoken
+sympathy he knew was his. He could not bear anything human. To-night, at
+least, he must be alone with his grief.
+
+All nature was in a mood divine. They were close enough inshore to see the
+splendid temples clearly with the naked eye. The sky and the sea were of
+the colour only the Mediterranean knows.
+
+It was hot and still, and the moon in her pure magnificence cast her
+never-ending spell.
+
+Not a sound of the faintest ripple met his ear. The sailors supped
+below. All was silence. On one side the vast sea, on the other the shore,
+with this masterpiece of man's genius, the temple of the great god
+Poseidon, in this vanished settlement of the old Greeks. How marvellously
+beautiful it all was, and how his Queen would have loved it! How she would
+have told him its history and woven round it the spirit of the past, until
+his living eyes could almost have seen the priests and the people, and
+heard their worshipping prayers!
+
+His darling had spoken of it once, he remembered, and had told him it was a
+place they must see. He recollected her very words:
+
+"We must look at it first in the winter from the shore, my Paul, and see
+those splendid proportions outlined against the sky--so noble and so
+perfectly balanced--and then we must see it from the sea, with the
+background of the olive hills. It is ever silent and deserted and calm, and
+death lurks there after the month of March. A cruel malaria, which we must
+not face, dear love. But if we could, we ought to see it from a yacht in
+safety in the summer time, and then the spell would fall upon us, and we
+would know it was true that rose-trees really grew there which gave the
+world their blossoms twice a year. That was the legend of the Greeks."
+
+Well, he was seeing it from a yacht, but ah, God! seeing it
+alone--alone. And where was she?
+
+So intense and vivid was his remembrance of her that he could feel her
+presence near. If he turned his head, he felt he should see her standing
+beside him, her strange eyes full of love. The very perfume of her seemed
+to fill the air--her golden voice to whisper in his ear--her soul to
+mingle with his soul. Ah yes, in spirit, as she had said, they could never
+be parted more.
+
+A suppressed moan of anguish escaped his lips, and his father, who had come
+silently behind him, put his hand on his arm.
+
+"My poor boy," he said, his gruff voice hoarse in his throat, "if only to
+God I could do something for you!"
+
+"Oh, father!" said Paul.
+
+And the two men looked in each other's eyes, and knew each other as never
+before.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+Next day there was a fresh breeze, and they scudded before it on to Naples.
+Here Paul seemed well enough to take train, and so arrive in England in
+time for his birthday. He owed this to his mother, he and his father both
+felt. She had been looking forward to it for so long, as at the time of his
+coming of age the festivities had been interrupted by the sudden death of
+his maternal grandfather, and the people had all been promised a
+continuance of them on this, his twenty-third birthday. So, taking the
+journey by sufficiently easy stages, sleeping three nights on the way, they
+calculated to arrive on the eve of the event.
+
+The Lady Henrietta would have everything in readiness for them, and her
+darling Paul was not to be over-hurried. Only guests of the most congenial
+kind had been invited, and such a number of nice girls!
+
+The prospect was perfectly delightful, and ought to cause any young man
+pure joy.
+
+It was with a heart as heavy as lead Paul mounted the broad steps of his
+ancestral home that summer evening, and was folded in his mother's
+arms. (The guests were all fortunately dressing for dinner.)
+
+Captain Grigsby had been persuaded to abandon his yacht and accompany them
+too.
+
+"Yes, I'll come, Charles," he said. "Getting too confoundedly hot in these
+seas; besides, the boy will want more than one to see him through among
+those cackling women."
+
+So the three had travelled together through Italy and France--Switzerland
+had been strictly avoided.
+
+"Paul! darling!" his mother exclaimed, in a voice of pained surprise as she
+stood back and looked at him. "But surely you have been very ill. My
+darling, darling son--"
+
+"I told you he had had a sharp attack of fever, Henrietta," interrupted Sir
+Charles quickly, "and no one looks their best after travelling in this
+grilling weather. Let the boy get to his bath, and you will see a different
+person."
+
+But his mother's loving eyes were not to be deceived. So with infinite
+fuss, and terms of endearment, she insisted upon accompanying her offspring
+to his room, where the dignified housekeeper was summoned, and his every
+imaginable and unimaginable want arranged to be supplied.
+
+Once all this would have irritated Paul to the verge of bearish rudeness,
+but now he only kissed his mother's white jewelled hand. He remembered his
+lady's tender counsel to him, given in one of their many talks: "You must
+always reverence your mother, Paul, and accept her worship with love." So
+now he said:
+
+"Dear mother, it is so good of you, but I'm all right--fever does knock one
+over a bit, you know. You'll see, though, being at home again will make me
+perfectly well in no time--and I'll be as good as you like, and eat and
+drink all Mrs. Elwyn's beef-teas and jellies, and other beastly stuff, if
+you will just let me dress now, like a darling."
+
+However, his mother was obliged to examine and assure herself that his
+beautiful hair was still thick and waving--and she had to pause and sigh
+over every sharpened line of his face and figure--though the thought of
+being permitted to lavish continuous care for long days to come held a
+certain consolation for her.
+
+At last Paul was left alone, and there came a moment he had been longing
+for. He had sent written orders that Tremlett should bring Pike, and leave
+him in his dressing-room beyond--and all the while his mother had talked he
+had heard suppressed whines and scratchings. Somehow he had not wanted to
+see his dog before any of the people; the greeting between himself and his
+little friend must be in solitude, for was there not a secret link between
+them in that golden collar given by his Queen?
+
+And Pike would understand--he certainly would understand!
+
+If short, passionate barks, and a madness of wagging tail-stump,
+accompanied by jumps of crazy joy, could comfort any one--then Paul had his
+full measure when the door was opened, and this rough white terrier bounded
+in upon him, and, frantic with welcome and ecstasy, was with difficulty
+quieted at last in his master's fond arms.
+
+"Oh! Pike, Pike!" Paul said, while tears of weakness flowed down his
+cheeks. "I can talk to you--and when you wear her collar you will know my
+Queen--our Queen."
+
+And Pike said everything of sympathy a dog could say. But it was not until
+late at night, when the interminable evening had been got through, that his
+master had the pleasure of trying his darling's present on.
+
+That first evening of his homecoming was an ordeal for Paul. He was still
+feeble, and dead tired from travelling, to begin with--and to have to
+listen and reply to the endless banalities of his mother's guests was
+almost more than he could bear.
+
+They were a nice cheery company of mostly young friends. Pretty girls and
+his own boon companions abounded, and they chaffed and played silly games
+after dinner--until Paul could have groaned.
+
+Captain Grigsby had eventually caught Sir Charles' eye:
+
+"You will have the boy fainting if you don't get him off alone soon," he
+said. "These girls would tire a man in strong health!"
+
+And at last Paul had escaped to his own room.
+
+He leant out of his window, and looked at the gibbous moon. Pike was there
+on the broad sill beside him, under his arm, and he could feel the golden
+collar on the soft fur neck--a wave of perhaps the most hopeless anguish he
+had yet felt was upon his spirit now. The unutterable blankness--the
+impossible vista of the endless days to come, with no prospect of
+meeting--no aim--no hope. Yes, she had said there was one hope--one hope
+which could bring peace to their crud unrest. But how and when should he
+ever know? And if it were so--then more than ever he should be by her
+side. The number of beautiful things he would want to say to her about it
+all--the oceans of love he would desire to pour upon her--the tender care
+which should be his hourly joy. To honour and worship her, and chase all
+pain away. And he did not even know her name, or the country where one day
+this hope should reign. That was incredible--and it would be so easy to
+find out. But he had promised her never to make inquiries, and he would
+keep his word. He saw her reason now; it had arisen in an instinct of
+tender protection for himself. She had known if he knew her place of abode
+no fear of death would keep him from trying to see her. Ah! he had had the
+tears--and why not the cold steel and blood? It was no price to pay could
+he but hear once more her golden voice, and feel her loving, twining arms.
+
+He was only held back by the fear of the danger for her. And instead of
+being with her, and waiting on her footsteps, he should have to spend his
+next hours with those ridiculous Englishwomen! Those foolish, flippant
+girls! One had quoted poetry to him at dinner, the very scrap his lady had
+spoken a line of--this new poet's, who was taking the world of London by
+storm that year: "Loved with a love beyond all words or sense!" And it had
+sounded like bathos or sacrilege. What did these dolls know of love, or
+life? Chattering parrots to weary a man's brain! Yes, the Greeks were
+right, it would be better to keep them spinning flax, and uneducated.
+
+And so in his young intolerance, maddened by pain, he saw all things
+gibbous like the mocking moon. Pike stirred under his arm and licked his
+hand, a faint whine of love making itself heard in the night.
+
+"O God!" said Paul, as he buried his face in his hands, "let me get through
+this time as she would have me do; let me not show the anguish in my heart,
+but be at least a man and gentleman."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+The neighbours and his parents were astonished at the eloquence of Paul's
+speech at the great dinner given to the tenants next day. No one had
+guessed at his powers before, and the county papers, and indeed some London
+reporters, had predicted a splendid political future for this young
+orator. It had been quite a long speech, and contained sound arguments and
+common sense, and was expressed in language so lofty and refined that it
+sent ecstatic admiration through his mother's fond breast.
+
+And all the time Paul spoke he saw no sea of faces below him--only his
+soul's eyes were looking into those strange chameleon orbs of his lady. He
+said every word as if she had been there, and at the end it almost seemed
+she must have heard him, so soft a peace fell on his spirit. Yes, she would
+have been pleased with her lover, he knew, and that held large grains of
+consolation. And so these days passed in well-accomplished duty; and at
+last all the festivities were over, and he could rest.
+
+Captain Grigsby and his father had helped him whenever they could, and an
+eternal bond of friendship was cemented between the three.
+
+"By Jove, Charles! You ought to be thundering proud of that boy!" Captain
+Grigsby said the morning of his departure for Scotland on August 10. "He's
+come up to the scratch like a hero, and whatever the damage, the lady must
+have been well worth while to turn him out polished like that. Gad!
+Charles, I'd take a month's journey to see her myself."
+
+And Paul's father grunted with satisfaction as he said: "I told you so."
+
+Thus the summer days went by in the strengthening of Paul's
+character--trying always to live up to an ideal--trying ever to dominate
+his grief--but never trying to forget.
+
+By the autumn shooting time his health was quite restored, and except that
+he looked a year or so older there were no outward traces of the passing
+through that valley of the shadow, from whence he had escaped with just his
+life.
+
+But the three weeks of his lady's influence had changed the inner man
+beyond all recognition. His spirit was stamped with her nameless
+distinction, and all the vistas she had opened for him to the tree of
+knowledge he now followed up. No smallest incident of his day seemed
+unconnected with some thought or wish of hers--so that in truth she still
+guided and moulded him by the power of her great soul.
+
+But in spite of all these things, the weeks and months held hours of aching
+longing and increasing anxiety to know how she fared. If she should be
+ill. If their hope was coming true, then now she must be suffering, and
+suffering all alone. Sometimes the agony of the thought was more than Paul
+could bear, and took him off with Pike alone into the leafless woods which
+crowned a hill at the top of the park. And then he would pause, and look
+out at the view, and the dull November sky, a madness of agonising unrest
+torturing his heart.
+
+The one thing he felt glad of was the absence of his Uncle Hubert, who had
+been made Minister in a South American Republic, and would not return to
+England for more than a year. So there would be no temptation to question
+him, or perchance to hear one of his clever, evil jests which might contain
+some allusion to his lady. Lord Hubert Aldringham was fond of boasting of
+his royal acquaintances, and was of a mind that found "not even Lancelot
+brave, nor Galahad clean." Now all Paul could do was to wait and hope. At
+least his Queen had his address. She could write to him, even though he
+could not write to her--and surely, surely, some news of her must come.
+
+Thus the winter arrived, and the hunting--hunting that he had been sure was
+what he liked best in all the world.
+
+And now it just served to pass the time and distract some hours from the
+anguishing ache by its physical pleasure. But in that, as in everything he
+did at this time, Paul tried to outshine his fellows, and gain one more
+laurel to lay at the feet of his Queen. Socially he was having an immense
+success. He began to be known as some one worth listening to by men, and
+women hung on his words. It was peculiarly delightful to find so young and
+beautiful a creature with all the knowledge and fascinating _cachet_ of a
+man of the world. And then his complete indifference to them piqued and
+allured them still more. Always polite and chivalrous, but as aloof as a
+mountain top. Paul had no small vanity to be soothed by their worship into
+forgetting for one moment his Queen. So his shooting-visits passed, and his
+experience of life grew.
+
+Isabella had returned at Christmas, engaged to a High Church curate, and
+beaming with satisfaction and health. And it gave Paul, and indeed them
+both, pleasure to meet and talk for an hour. She was a good sort always,
+and if he marvelled to himself how he had even been even mildly attracted
+by her, he did not let it appear in his manner.
+
+But one thing jarred.
+
+"My goodness, Paul, how smart Pike's collar is!" Isabella had said. "Did
+you ever! You extravagant boy! It is good enough for a lady's bracelet. You
+had better give it to me! It will make the finest wedding gift I'll have!"
+
+But Paul had snatched Pike up, the blood burning in his cheeks, and had
+laughed awkwardly and turned the conversation.
+
+No one's fingers but his own were ever allowed to touch the sacred gold.
+
+About this time his mother began to have the idea he ought really to
+marry. His father had been thirty at the time of his wedding with herself,
+and she had always thought that was starting too late. Twenty-three was a
+good age, and a sweet, gentle wife of Paul's would be the joy of her
+declining years--to say nothing of several grandchildren. But when this
+matter was broached to him first, Paul laughed, and when it became a daily
+subject of conversation, he almost lost that quick temper of his, which was
+not quite yet under perfect control.
+
+"I tell you what it is, mother," he said, "if you tease me like this I
+shall go away on a voyage round the world!"
+
+So the Lady Henrietta subsided into pained silence, and sulked with her
+adored son for more than a day.
+
+"Paul is so unaccountably changed since his visit abroad," she said to her
+husband plaintively. "I sometimes wonder, Charles, if we really know all
+the people he met."
+
+And Sir Charles had replied, "Nonsense! Henrietta--the lad is a man now,
+and immensely improved; do leave him in peace."
+
+But when he was alone the father had smiled to himself--rather sadly--for
+he saw a good deal with his shrewd eyes, though he said no words of
+sympathy to his son. He knew that Paul was suffering still, perhaps as
+keenly as ever, and he honoured his determination to keep it all from view.
+
+So the old year died, and the new one came--and soon February would be
+here. Ah! with what passionate anxiety the end of that month was awaited by
+Paul, only his own heart knew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+The days passed on, March had almost come, and Paul heard nothing. His
+father noticed the daily look of strain, and his mother anxiously inquired
+if he were dull, and if he would not like her to have some people to stay,
+and thus divert him in some fashion. And Paul had answered with what grace
+he could.
+
+An intense temptation came over him to read all the Court news. He longed
+to pick up the ladies' papers he saw in his mother's sitting-room; such
+journals, he knew, delighted to publish the doings of royal lives. But the
+stern self-control which now he practised in all the ruling of his life
+prevented him. No, he had promised never to investigate--and neither in the
+letter, nor the spirit, would he break his word, whatever the
+suffering. The news, when it came, must be from his beloved one direct.
+
+But oh! the unrest of these hours. Had their hope come true?--and how was
+she? The days passed in a gnawing anxiety. He was so restless he could
+hardly fix his attention on anything. It required the whole of his will to
+keep him taking in the sense of the Parliamentary books which were now his
+study. The constant query would raise its head between each page--"What
+news of my Queen?--what news of my Queen?"
+
+Each mail as it came in made his heart beat, and often his hand trembled as
+he lifted his pile of letters. But no sight of her writing gladdened his
+eyes, until he began to be like the sea and its tides, rising twice a day
+in a rushing hope with the posts, and sinking again in disappointment.
+
+He grew to look haggard, and his father's heart ached for him in
+silence. At length one morning, when he had almost trained himself not to
+glance at his correspondence, which came as he was dawdling over an early
+breakfast, his eye caught a foreign-looking letter lying on the top. It
+was no hand he knew--but something told him it contained a message--from
+his Queen.
+
+He dominated himself; he would not even look at the postmark until he was
+away up in his own room. No eye but Pike's must see his joy--or sorrow and
+disappointment. And so the letter burnt in his pocket until his sanctum was
+reached, and then with agonised impatience he opened the envelope.
+
+Within was another of the familiar paper he knew, and ah! thank God,
+addressed in pencil in his lady's own hand. Inside it contained an
+enclosure, but the sheet was blank. With wildly beating heart and trembling
+fingers Paul undid the smaller packet's folded ends. And there the morning
+sunbeams fell on a tiny curl of hair, of that peculiar nondescript shade of
+infant fairness which later would turn to gold. It was less than an inch
+long, and of the fineness of down, while in tender care it had been tied
+with a thread of blue silk.
+
+Written on the paper underneath were the words:
+
+"Beloved, he is so strong and fair, thy son, born the 19th of February."
+
+For a moment Paul closed his eyes, and as once before a choir of seraphims
+were singing in his ears.
+
+Then he looked at this minute lock again, and touched it with his
+forefinger. The strangest emotion he had ever known quivered through his
+being--the concentrated sensation of what he used to feel when his lady had
+spoken of their hope--a weird, tremulous, physical thrill. The dear small
+curl of hair! The actual, tangible proof of his own living son. He lifted
+it with the greatest reverence to his lips, and a mist of joy swam in his
+blue eyes. Ah! it was all too wonderful--too divine the thought! The
+essence of their great love--this child of his and hers. His and hers!
+Yes, their hope had not deceived them. It was true! It was true!
+
+Then his mind rose in passionate worship of his lady. His goddess and
+Queen--the mainspring of his watch of life--the supreme and absolute
+mistress of his heart and soul. Never had he more madly desired and loved
+her than this day. He kissed and kissed her words in deep devotion.
+
+But how and where was she?--was she well?--was she ill? Had she been
+suffering? Oh! that he could fly to her. More than ever the terrible gall
+of their separation came to him. It was his right, by every law of nature,
+to now be by her side.
+
+But she was well--she must be well, or she would have said, and surely he
+soon would see her.
+
+It was like a voice from heaven, her little written words, bridging the
+impossible--drawing him back to the knowledge and certainty that she was
+there, for him to love, and one day to go to. Fate could never be so unjust
+as to part him from--the mother of his child.
+
+And then a state of mad ecstasy came over Paul with that vision; he could
+not stay in the house; he must go out under God's sky, and let his
+soul-thoughts fly into space. Dazzling pictures came to him; surely the
+spring was in his heart breaking through the frozen ground like a single
+golden crocus he saw at his feet--surely, surely the sun of life would
+shine again, and living he should see her.
+
+He strode away, Pike gambolling beside him, and racing ahead and back
+again, seeming to understand and participate in his master's inward joy.
+
+Paul hardly noticed where he went, his thoughts exalting him so that he did
+not even heed to choose his favourite haunt, the wood against the
+sky-line. It was as if great blocks of icy fear and anguish were melting in
+the warmth. Hope and glory shone on his path, almost blinding him.
+
+He left the park far behind, and struck away across the moor. As he passed
+some gipsy vans a swarthy young woman looked out, an infant in her arms,
+and gave him a smiling greeting. But Paul stopped and said good-day,
+tossing her a sovereign with laughing, cheery words--for her little
+child--and so passed on, his glad face radiant as the morn.
+
+But the woman called after him in gratitude:
+
+"Blessings on your honour. Your own will grace a throne."
+
+And the strange coincidence of her prophecy set fresh thrills of delight
+bounding in Paul's veins.
+
+He walked and walked, stopping to lunch at an inn miles away. He could not
+bear even to see his parents--or the familiar scenes at home; and as once
+before he had felt in his grief--he and his joy must be alone to-day.
+
+When he turned to come back in the late afternoon, the torrent of his wild
+happiness had crystallised itself into coherent thought and question.
+Surely she would send him some more words and make some plan to see
+him. But at least he was in touch with her again and knew she was his
+own--his own. The silence had broken, and human ingenuity would find some
+way of meeting.
+
+The postmark was Vienna--though that meant nothing at all; she could have
+sent Dmitry there to post the letter. But at best, even if it were Russia,
+a few days' journey only separated him from his darling and--his son! Then
+the realisation of that proud fact of parenthood came over him again. He
+said the words aloud, "My son!"
+
+And with a cry of wild exaltation he vaulted a gate like a schoolboy and
+ran along the path, Pike bounding in the air in frantic sympathy. Thus Paul
+returned to his home again, hope singing in his heart.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But even his father did not guess why that night at dinner he raised his
+champagne glass and drank a silent toast--his eyes gazing into distance as
+if he there saw heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Of course as the days went by the sparkle of Paul's joy subsided. An
+infinite unrest took its place--a continual mad desire for further
+news. Supposing she were ill, his darling one? Many times a day he read her
+words; the pencil writing was certainly feeble and shaky--supposing--But he
+refused to face any terrible picture. The letter had come on the 2d of
+March; his son had been eleven days old then--two days and a half to
+Vienna--that brought it to eight when the letter was posted--and from
+whence had it come there? If he allowed two days more, say--she must have
+written it only five or six days after the baby's birth.
+
+Paul knew very little about such things, though he understood vaguely that
+a woman might possibly be very ill even after then. But surely, if so, Anna
+or Dmitry would have told him on their own initiative. This thought
+comforted him a little, but still anxiety--like a sleuth-hound--pursued his
+every moment. He would not leave home--London saw him not even for a day.
+Some word might come in his absence, some message or summons to go to her,
+and he would not chance being out of its reach. More than ever all their
+three weeks of happiness was lived over again--every word she had said had
+sunk for ever in his memory. And away in his solitary walks, or his rides
+home from hunting in the dusk of the afternoon, he let them echo in his
+heart.
+
+But the desire to be near her was growing an obsession.
+
+Some days when a wild gallop had made his blood run, triumphant thoughts
+of his son would come to him. How he should love to teach him to sit a
+horse in days to come, to ride to hounds, and shoot, and be an English
+gentleman. Oh! why was she a Queen, his loved one, and far away--why not
+here, and his wife, whom he could cover with devotion and honour? Surely
+that would be enough for them both--a life of trust and love and sweetness;
+but even if it were not--there was the world to choose from, if only they
+were together.
+
+The two--Paul and his father--were a silent pair for the most part, as they
+jogged along the lanes on their way back from hunting.
+
+One afternoon, when this sense of parenthood was strong upon Paul, he went
+in to tea in his mother's sitting-room. And as he leant upon the
+mantelpiece, his tall, splendid figure in its scarlet coat outlined against
+the bright blaze, his eye took in--perhaps for the first time--the immense
+number of portraits of himself which decorated this apartment--himself in
+every stage, from infantile days upward, through the toy rocking-horse
+period to the real dog companion--in Eton collars and Fourth of June
+hats--in cricketing flannels and Oxford Bullingdon groups--and then not so
+many, until one taken last year. How young it looked and smiling! There
+was one particular miniature of him in the holy of holiest positions in the
+centre of the writing-table--a real work of art, well painted on ivory. It
+was mounted in a frame of fine pearls, and engraved with the name and date
+at the back:
+
+"Paul Verdayne--aged five years and three months."
+
+It was a full-length picture of him standing next a great chair, in a blue
+velvet suit and a lace turn-over collar, while curls of brightest gold fell
+rippling to his neck--rather short bunchy curls which evidently would not
+be repressed.
+
+"Was I ever like that, mother?" he said.
+
+And the Lady Henrietta, only too enchanted to expand upon this enthralling
+subject, launched forth on a full description.
+
+Like it! Of course! Only much more beautiful. No child had ever had such
+golden curls, or such eyes or eye-lashes! No child had ever, in fact, been
+able to compare with him in any way, or ever would! The Lady Henrietta's
+delicate shell-tinted cheeks flushed rose with joy at the recollection.
+
+"Darling mother," said Paul, as he kissed her, "how you loved me. And how
+cold I have often been. Forgive me--"
+
+Then he was silent while she fondled him in peace, his thoughts turning as
+ever to his lady. She, too, probably, would be foolish, and tender, and
+sweet over her son--and how his mother would love her grandchild. Oh! how
+cruel, how cruel was fate!
+
+Then he asked: "Mother, does it take women a long time to get well when
+they have children? Ladies, I mean, who are finely nurtured? They
+generally get well, though, don't they--and it is quite simple--"
+
+And the Lady Henrietta blushed as she answered:
+
+"Oh! yes, quite simple--unless some complications occur. Of course there is
+always a faint danger, but then it is so well worth it. What a strange
+thing to ask, though, dear boy! Were you thinking of Cousin Agatha?"
+
+"Cousin Agatha!" said Paul vaguely, and then recollected himself. "Oh, yes,
+of course--how is she?"
+
+But when he went off to his room to change, his mother's words stayed with
+him--"unless some complications occur"--and the thought opened a fresh
+field of anxious wonderment.
+
+At last it all seemed unbearable. A wild idea of rushing off to Vienna came
+to him--to rush there on the clue of a postmark--but common sense put this
+aside. It might be the means of just missing some message. No, he must bear
+things and wait. This silence, perhaps, meant good news--and if by the end
+of April nothing came, then he should have to break his promise and
+investigate.
+
+About this time Captain Grigsby again came to stay with them. And the next
+day, as he and his host smoked their pipes while they walked up and down
+the sunny terrace, he took occasion to give forth this information:
+
+"I say, Charles--I have located her--have you?"
+
+"No! By Jove!" said Paul's father. "Hubert is away, you know, and I have
+just let the thing slide--"
+
+"About the end of February did you notice the boy looking at all worried?"
+
+Sir Charles thought a moment.
+
+"Yes--I recollect--d--d worried and restless--and he is again now."
+
+"Ah! I thought so!" said Mark Grigsby, as though he could say a good deal
+more.
+
+"Well, then--out with it, Grig," Sir Charles said impatiently.
+
+And Captain Grigsby proceeded in his own style to weave together a chain of
+coincidences which had struck him, until this final certainty. They were a
+clear set of arguments, and Paul's father was convinced, too.
+
+"You see, Tompson told you in the beginning she was Russian," Captain
+Grigsby said after talking for some time, "and the rest was easy to find
+out. We're not here to judge the morals of the affair, Charles; you and I
+can only be thundering glad your grandson will sit on that throne all
+right."
+
+He had read in one paper--he proceeded to say--that a most difficult
+political situation had been avoided by the birth of this child, as there
+was no possible heir at all, and immense complications would ensue upon the
+death of the present ruler--the scurrilous rag even gave a _resume_ of this
+ruler's dissolute life, and a broad hint that the child could in no case be
+his; but, as they pithily remarked, this added to the little prince's
+welcome in Ministerial circles, where the lady was greatly beloved and
+revered, and the King had only been put upon his tottering throne, and kept
+there, by the fact of being her husband. The paper added, the King had
+taken the chief part in the rejoicings over the heir, so there was nothing
+to be said. There were hints also of his mad fits of debauchery and
+drunkenness, and a suppressed tale of how in one of them he had strangled a
+keeper, and had often threatened the Queen's life. Her brother, however,
+was with her now, and would see Russian supremacy was not upset.
+
+"Husband seems a likely character to hobnob with, don't he, Charles? No
+wonder she turned her eye on Paul, eh?" Mark Grigsby ended with.
+
+But Sir Charles answered not, his thoughts were full of his son.
+
+All the forces of nature and emotion seemed to be drawing him away from
+peaceful England towards a hornets' nest, and he--his father--would be
+powerless to prevent it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+April's days were lengthening out in showers and sunshine and cold east
+wind. Easter and a huge party had come and gone at Verdayne Place, and the
+Lady Henrietta had had her hopes once more blighted by noticing Paul's
+indomitable indifference to all the pretty girls.
+
+He was going to stand for Parliament in the autumn, when their very old
+member should retire, and he made that an excuse for his isolation; he was
+working too hard for social functions, he said. But in reality life was
+growing more than he could bear.
+
+Captain Grigsby had sold the old _Blue Heather_ and bought a new steam
+yacht of seven hundred tons--large enough to take him round the world, he
+said--and he had had her put in commission for the Mediterranean, and she
+was waiting for him now at Marseilles. Would Paul join him for a trip? he
+asked, and Paul hesitated for a moment.
+
+If no news came by Friday--this was a Monday--then he should go to London
+and deliberately find out his lady's name and kingdom. In that case to
+cruise in those waters might suit his book passing well.
+
+So he asked for a few days' grace, and Captain Grigsby gave a friendly
+growl in reply, and thus it was settled. By Saturday he was to give his
+answer.
+
+Tuesday passed, and Wednesday, and on Thursday a telegram came for Paul
+which drove him mad with joy. It was short and to the point: "Meet Dmitry
+in Paris," Then followed an address. By rushing things he could just catch
+the night boat.
+
+He went to his father's room, where Sir Charles was discussing affairs with
+his land steward. The man retired.
+
+"Father," said Paul, "I am going immediately to Paris. I have not even time
+to wait and see my mother--she is out driving, I hear. Will you understand,
+father, and make it all right with her?"
+
+And Sir Charles said, as he wrung his son's hand:
+
+"Take care of yourself, Paul--I understand, my boy--and remember, Grig and
+I are with you to the bone. Wire if you want us--and let me have your
+news."
+
+So they had parted without fuss, deep feeling in their hearts.
+
+Paul had telegraphed to the address given, for Dmitry, that he would be in
+Paris, and at what hotel, by the following morning. He chose a large
+caravanserai as being more suitable to unremarked comings and goings,
+should Dmitry's visit be anything of a secret one. And with intense
+impatience he awaited the faithful servant's visit.
+
+He was eating his early breakfast in his sitting-room when the old man
+appeared. In all the journey Paul had not allowed himself any
+speculation--he would see and know soon, that was enough. But he felt
+inclined to grind this silver-haired retainer's hand with joy as he made
+his respectful obeisance.
+
+"The Excellency was well?"
+
+"Yes." And now for his news.
+
+Madame had bid him come and see the Excellency here in Paris, as not being
+so inaccessible as England--and first, Yes, Madame was well--There was
+something in his voice as he said this which made Paul exclaim and question
+him closely, but he would only repeat that--Yes, his lady was well--a
+little delicate still, but well--and the never-sufficiently-to-be-beloved
+son was well, too, his lady had told him to assure the Excellency--and was
+the portrait of his most illustrious father. And the old man lowered his
+eyes, while Paul looked out of the window, and thrilled all
+over. Circumstances made things very difficult for Madame to leave the
+southern country where she was at present, but she had a very strong desire
+to see the Excellency again--if such meeting could be managed.
+
+He paused, and Paul exclaimed that of course it could be managed, and he
+could start that night.
+
+But Dmitry shook his head. That would be impossible, he said. Much planning
+would be needed first. A yacht must be taken, and not until the end of May
+would it be safe for the Excellency to journey south. At that time Madame
+would be in a chateau on the seacoast, and if the Excellency in his cruise
+could be within sight, he might possibly land at a suitable moment and see
+her for a few hours.
+
+Paul thought of Captain Grigsby.
+
+"I will come in a yacht, whenever I may," he said to Dmitry.
+
+So they began to settle details. Paul imagined from Dmitry continuing to
+call his Queen plain "Madame" that she still wished to preserve her
+incognito, so, madly as he desired to know, he would wait until he saw her
+face to face, and then ask to be released from his promise. The time had
+come when he could bear the mystery no longer, but he would not question
+Dmitry. All his force was turned to extracting every detail of his
+darling's health and well-being from the old servant, and in his guarded,
+respectful manner he answered all he could.
+
+His lady had indeed been very ill, Paul gathered--at death's door. Ah!
+this was terrible to hear--but lately she was mending rapidly, only she had
+been too ill to plan or make any arrangements to see him. How all this made
+his heart ache! Something had told him his passionate anxiety had not been
+without cause. Dmitry continued: Madame's life was not a happy one, the
+Excellency must know, and the difficulties surrounding her had become
+formidable once or twice. However, the brother of Madame was with her now,
+and had been made guardian of her son--so things were peaceful and the
+cause of all her trouble would not dare to menace further.
+
+For once Dmitry had let himself go, as he spoke, and a passionate hate
+appeared in his quiet eyes. The "Trouble" was of so impossible a
+viciousness that only the nobility and goodness of Madame had prevented his
+assassination numbers of times. He was hated, he said, hated and loathed;
+his life--spent in continual drunkenness, and worse, unspeakable
+wickedness--was not worth a day's purchase, but for her. The son of Madame
+would be loved forever, for her sake, so the Excellency need not fear for
+that, and Madame's brother was there, and would see all was well.
+
+Then Paul asked Dmitry if his lady had been aware that he had been ill in
+Venice. And he heard that, Yes, indeed, she had kept herself informed of
+all his movements, and had even sent Vasili back on learning of his danger,
+and was on the point of throwing all prudence to the winds and returning
+herself. Oh! Madame had greatly suffered in the past year--the old man
+said, but she was more beautiful than ever, and of the gentleness of an
+angel, taking continuous pleasure in her little son--indeed, Anna had said
+this was her only joy, to caress the illustrious infant and call him
+Paul--such name he had been christened--after a great-uncle. And again
+Dmitry lowered his eyes, and again Paul looked out of the window and
+thrilled.
+
+Paul! She had called him Paul, their son. It touched him to the heart. Oh!
+the mad longing to see her! Must he wait a whole month? Yes--Dmitry said
+there was no use his coming before the 28th of May, for reasons which he
+could not explain connected with the to-be-hated Troublesome one.
+
+Every detail was then arranged, and Dmitry was to send Paul maps, and a
+chart, and the exact description and name of the place where the yacht was
+to lie. The whole thing would take some time, even if they were to depart
+to-morrow.
+
+"The yacht is at Marseilles now," Paul said, "and we shall start on the
+cruise next week. Let me have every last instruction _poste restante_, at
+Constantinople--and for God's sake send me news to Naples on the way."
+
+Dmitry promised everything, and then as he made his obeisance to go, he
+slipped a letter into Paul's hand. Madame had bidden him give the
+Excellency this when they had talked and all was settled. He would leave
+again that night, and his present address would find him till six o'clock
+if the Excellency had aught to send in return.
+
+And then he backed out with deep bows, and Paul stood there, clasping his
+letter, a sudden spring of wild joy in his heart.
+
+And what a letter it was! The very soul of his loved one expressed in her
+own quaint words.
+
+First she told him that now she expected he knew who she was, and as they
+were to meet again--which in the beginning she feared might never be--all
+reason for her incognito was over. Then she told him--to make sure he
+knew--her name and kingdom. "But, sweetheart," she added, "remember
+this--my proudest titles ever are to be thy Loved one, and the Mother of
+thy son." Here Paul kissed the words, madly thrilling with pride and
+worship. She spoke of her still undying love, and of her anguishing sorrow
+all the winter at their separation, and at length the joy of their little
+one's arrival.
+
+"Thy image, my Paul! English and beautiful, as I said he would be--not
+black and white like me. And oh! beloved, thou must always increase thy
+knowledge of statesmancraft to help me to train him well."
+
+Then she made a glorious picture of their child's future, and Paul lay back
+in his chair and closed his eyes--the brightness of it all dazzled
+him--while his heart flew to her in passionate adoration. She went on to
+speak of their possible meeting. Her villa was but two hundred yards from
+the sea, only he must follow exactly all Dmitry's instructions, or there
+might be danger for them both; but at all costs she _could not live_ much
+longer without seeing her lover.
+
+"Thou art more than a lover _now_, my Paul--and I am more than ever THINE."
+
+Thus it ended. And Paul spent most of the rest of his day reading and
+re-reading it, and writing his worshipping answer.
+
+By night both he and Dmitry had started on their homeward journeys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The Lady Henrietta was desolated when Paul and his father announced their
+intention of taking a month or six weeks' cruise with Captain Grigsby. So
+unnecessary, she said, at this time of the year, almost the beginning of
+May, when England was really getting most enjoyable. And they were obliged
+to pacify her as best they could.
+
+The Mediterranean! Such miles off--and so eccentric, too, starting when
+other people would be leaving! Really, she had never ceased regretting ever
+having tolerated her son's travels the year before. Since then there had
+been no certainty in any of his movements.
+
+"Darling mother," said Paul, "I must see the world."
+
+And Sir Charles had snorted and chuckled, as was his habit.
+
+So they sailed away from Marseilles, this party of three, like a gunboat
+under sealed orders. A cruise to the Greek Isles, and beyond, was what they
+said attracted them. "Especially the beyond!" Captain Grigsby had added,
+with a grunt to Sir Charles. And if the ardour of love and impatience
+boiled in Paul's veins, the spirit of interested adventure animated his old
+friend and his parent.
+
+They had not spoken much on the subject to the young man. He had briefly
+asked Mark Grigsby to do him this service to take him to a far sea in the
+new _Blue Heather_, and there to land him when he should give the word.
+
+May was a fair month, and an adventure is an adventure all the world over,
+so Mark Grigsby had given a joyful assent.
+
+Then Sir Charles had suggested accompanying them, and was welcomed by the
+other two as a third for their party with extra pleasure.
+
+"I shall grow a young man again before I have done, Grig!" he had said
+happily. But down in his heart lurked some undefined fear for Paul, and
+that was the real reason for his journey.
+
+They had a pleasant voyage, and picked up letters at Naples, which only
+added to Paul's impatience to be there. But they were not to arrive before
+the end of May, so the Grecian Archipelago could be investigated.
+
+Life in these sunny seas was a joy to all concerned, and Paul's
+eyes--illuminated by his lady's ever-present spirit--saw beauties and felt
+shades and balances of which his companions never dreamed. So they came at
+last to the Bosphorus and Constantinople.
+
+Here full instructions awaited them. That night Paul took his father and
+his friend some way into his confidence, as he showed them the chart and
+read aloud the directions. On the 29th of May, should the weather prove
+favourable, they were to anchor towards night at a certain spot--latitude
+and longitude given--and when they heard a sea-bird cry sharply three
+times, Paul was to come ashore to where he would see a green light. Vasili
+would be waiting for him, and from there it was but a few steps to the
+garden gate of the villa by the sea, in which his lady was passing the
+summer. It all seemed perfectly simple--only, the directions added, he must
+leave again before dawn, and the yacht be out of sight before daylight, as
+complications had occurred since the letter to Naples, and the To-be-hated
+one had not left the capital, so things were not so easy to manage, or
+safe.
+
+Paul's impatience knew no bounds. The concentrated pent-up longing of all
+these months was animating him. To see his lady again! To clasp her! To
+kiss her--to kneel to her--and give her homage and worship. And to behold
+his little son. Always he carried the minute flaxen curl in a locket, and
+often he had looked at it, and tried to picture the wee head from which it
+had been cut. But she--his love--would bring his son to him--and perhaps
+let him hold him in his arms. Ah! he shut his eyes and imagined the tender
+scene. Would she be changed? Should he see the traces of suffering? But he
+would caress all memory of pain away, and surely this meeting would only be
+the forerunner of others to come. Fate could never intend such deep, true
+love as theirs to be apart. An exaltation uplifted him. And if his lady
+were a Queen, and wore a crown, he felt himself the greatest king on earth,
+for was not he the absolute ruler of her heart? And who could wish for a
+more glorious kingdom?
+
+The hours from Constantinople seemed longer than the whole voyage. He could
+hardly keep his attention to talk coherently about ordinary things at
+meals, and his father and Mark Grigsby left him practically alone.
+
+At last, at last, the 29th of May dawned, boiling hot and cloudlessly fair.
+
+For obvious reasons they stayed beyond sight of the coast until darkness
+fell, and then came close inshore. It was a starlit night, with not a
+breath of air, and no moon would illuminate their whereabouts.
+
+Paul dressed with the greatest care; never had he been more particular over
+his toilet. Tompson found him _exigeant!_
+
+He had broadened and filled out in the past year, and his fair face was
+tanned, and blooming with health and excitement.
+
+"The best-looking young devil a woman's eye could light on!" Mark Grigsby
+said, as he and Sir Charles watched him descend the gangway to the boat,
+when the impatiently awaited signal had been given.
+
+"God keep him safe, Grig," was all Sir Charles could mutter, with a grunt
+in his throat.
+
+The maddest excitement was racing through Paul, as he held the tiller-ropes
+and made straight for the light. And once he felt in his pocket to assure
+himself he had not forgotten Dmitry's pistol, which he had cleaned and
+loaded himself that afternoon.
+
+He knew this adventure might be a dangerous one, simple as it looked
+superficially, and now he was an expert revolver shot, thanks to constant
+practice.
+
+The light proved to be in a little sheltered cove, with a small
+landing-stage. And--yes--the man who held it was the Kalmuck, Vasili.
+
+"Welcome, welcome to the _Siyatelstvo_," he whispered, as he kissed Paul's
+hand. And then in perfect silence they began to ascend a path. Presently
+it stopped abruptly. They had come up perhaps not fifty feet, when their
+way was barred by a great nail-studded door.
+
+"Hist!" said Vasili softly, and instantly it was opened from within, and
+Dmitry peered anxiously at them.
+
+"Ah, the saints be blessed, the Excellency is safe," he said. But they must
+not delay a minute, he added. The Excellency must return to the waiting
+boat! A slight but unexpected ill-fortune had befallen them, connected with
+the to-be-execrated Troublesome one, and it would not be safe for the
+Imperial Highness if the Excellency should land tonight. She had sent him
+to say that the Excellency was to keep out at sea for two days, and return
+steaming past, and if he saw a white flag flying from the villa roof, then
+at night he was to anchor and come ashore at this same time. If not, for
+the moment he must go on back to Constantinople, where news and further
+instructions would be sent him.
+
+As he spoke Dmitry indicated the return path, and bid the Excellency follow
+him, and hasten, hasten. This was a terrible blow to Paul, but the thought
+that he might bring danger to his beloved one made him not hesitate a
+moment.
+
+They descended the path in silence, and as he stepped into the boat the old
+servant whispered, the Imperial Highness had bid him assure the Excellency
+that all was well, the meeting was only deferred, when they should have
+several days together in safety. "The saints protect the Excellency," the
+faithful creature added. Then, when Paul was safely in the boat, he stood
+back to make sharply three times the sea-bird's cry.
+
+The weird minor notes floating out on the night seemed a wailing echo of
+the agonised disappointment in Paul's heart--more than once a mad impulse
+to go back convulsed his being before he reached the yacht--but it was not
+till afterwards that he remembered as a strange circumstance the fact that
+with Dmitry's first words at the nail-studded door Vasili had vanished into
+darkness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+The two days out at sea were a raging impatience to Paul, in which he
+learnt to understand all the torments of Tantalus. To know and feel her
+near, and yet not to be allowed to get to her! It was an impossible
+cruelty.
+
+The two grey-headed men's hearts ached for him, and Captain Grigsby
+delivered himself of this aphorism:
+
+"Say what you will, Charles, but youth pays the devil of a long price for
+its pleasures. Here you and I snored like a couple of porpoises all last
+night, while the boy paced the deck and cursed everything."
+
+And Sir Charles had only grunted, for he was feeling very deeply for his
+son.
+
+There was a fresh breeze blowing when the time was up and they sighted land
+again, and long before any possible shore could be examined, Paul
+stood--his strongest glasses in his hand--on the look-out.
+
+At length they came in full view, and alas! there could be no mistake, the
+flagstaff upon the villa roof was empty.
+
+To the day of his death Paul will keep a vivid picture of the pure
+white-columned house. No semi-Oriental architecture met his view, but a
+beautiful marble structure in the graceful Ionic style, seeming a suitable
+habitation for his Queen.
+
+It was approached by groves of ilex, from a wall at the edge of the
+sea. And now Paul could discern the landing-stage, and the great studded
+door.
+
+A sensation of foreboding--a wild, mad anxiety, filled his being. What had
+happened? Why might he not land? Then for the first time that fact of
+Vasili's vanishment came into his mind. Was there something sinister in
+it? Had he scented any danger to his Queen, and gone to see? A whirlwind of
+questions and frenzied speculation shook Paul's brain. But there was
+nothing to be done now but to cram on all steam and make for
+Constantinople.
+
+He looked again. The green _jalousies_ were lowered over the windows, all
+seemed peaceful, silent and deserted. No living being wandered in the
+gardens. It might have been a mausoleum for the dead. And as this thought
+came to him Paul almost cried aloud.
+
+Then he dominated himself. How weak and intolerably foolish to imagine evil
+where perhaps none was! Why should his thoughts fly to terrible reasons for
+the postponement of his joy, when in truth they could as well be of the
+simplest? A sudden call to the city--a descent of some undesirable spying
+eye--a hundred and one possible things, all much more likely than any ones
+of fear.
+
+He would not permit another moment of wonder. He would regain his calm and
+wait like a man for certainty. Thus his face wore an iron mask and his
+thoughts an iron band. And presently they came to Constantinople.
+
+But of what followed afterwards it is difficult to write. For fate struck
+Paul on that warm June morning, and blasted his life, so that for many days
+he only saw red, and lived in hell.
+
+Every one knows the story which at the time convulsed Europe. How a certain
+evil-living King, after a wild orgie of mad drunkenness, rode out with two
+boon companions to the villa of his Queen, and there, forcing an entrance,
+ran a dagger through her heart before her faithful servants could protect
+her. And most people were glad, too, that this brute paid the penalty of
+his crime by his own death--his worthless life choked out of him by the
+Queen's devoted Kalmuck groom.
+
+But only Paul and his father, and Mark Grigsby, know the details, which
+were told in Dmitry's heart-broken letter. How that night, the 29th of May,
+at the hour the Excellency was expected, he--Dmitry--was waiting in the
+garden to meet him and conduct him through the gloom, when, while he stood
+there under the stars, the Imperial Highness had called him softly, telling
+him to take the message down to the Excellency, which he did. How he had
+never dreamed that immediate danger threatened her, or that the King was
+there, or he would not have left her for any peril to the Excellency, who
+was after all a man and could fight. And How Vasili, being younger and more
+quick of wit, had suspected, hearing his message as he gave it to the
+Excellency, that all was not well, and had hastened to the house--too late
+to save his Queen.
+
+And then the faithful servant took up Anna's tale. How this good girl had
+been watching on the side of the villa towards the town, and had heard the
+King come battering at the gate. How she had flown to warn her mistress,
+but that the _Imperatorskoye_ had sent her back to watch, saying she
+herself would call Dmitry to protect them. Of course--as they now
+guessed--on purpose that Anna should not hear her message to him--as the
+Queen knew full well if he--Dmitry--heard from Anna the King was there, and
+she--the Queen--in danger, he would not leave her, even to do her
+bidding. Then of how the King had thrust the frightened servants aside, and
+strode with threats and oaths into the hall, accompanied by his two vile
+men. And how Anna had implored the Queen to hide while there was yet time.
+But how that shining one had stood only listening intently for the
+sea-bird's cry, and then when she heard it, had turned in triumph to the
+entering King, saying to Anna that nothing mattered now the Excellency was
+safe!
+
+On her face, as she looked at this monster, was no dread of death, or aught
+but scorn and fearless pride. How Anna, seeing the dagger, had screamed,
+and tried to get between, but had been seized by one of the execrated men,
+and there been forced to watch the murder of her worshipped Queen. Ah! that
+had been a moment the saints could never efface! The splendid lady had
+stood quite still, her head thrown back, while this hound of hell had
+lurched towards her--hissing through his evil teeth this dreadful sentence:
+"Since thou hast at last obeyed me and found me an heir, making the people
+love me, I have no more use for thee. It will be a joy to kill thee!"
+
+And with that he had plunged the dagger in her heart.
+
+Of all that followed the Excellency would know. How Vasili had entered,
+scattering the minions like a mad bull, and springing upon the villainous
+King, had torn his life out on the marble floor.
+
+Thus ended the letter.
+
+Ah, God! For Paul had come the tears. But for her--cold steel and blood.
+
+And so, as ever, the woman paid the price.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+Now some of you who read will think her death was just, because she was not
+a moral woman. But others will hold with Paul she was the noblest lady who
+ever wore a crown. And in all cases she is beyond our puny reasonings.
+
+But her work in Paul's heart still lives, and will live to the end of his
+life. Although for long months after the agony of that June day, nothing
+but hate and passion and misery had the ruling of him.
+
+He could not bear his kind. His father and Captain Grigsby had left the
+yacht to him and let him cruise alone. But who can know of the hideous,
+ghastly hours that Paul spent then, ever obsessed with this one bitter
+thought? Why had he not gone back? Why had he not gone back when that
+impulse had seized him? Why had Vasili, and not he, had the satisfaction of
+killing this vile slayer of his Queen?
+
+Even the remembrance of his child did not rouse him. It was safe with the
+Grand Duke Peter--a king at four months old! But what of sons, or kings or
+countries--nothing could make up for the loss of his Queen! And to think
+that she had died to save him! Save him from what? A brush with three
+besotted drunkards, whom it would have been great joy to kill!
+
+There were moments when Paul went mad with passion, and lay and writhed in
+his berth. So long months passed, and at last he dominated himself enough
+to come back to his home.
+
+And if the Lady Henrietta had exclaimed that he appeared ill before on his
+return, she was dumb now with sorrow at the change. For Paul had looked
+upon Medusa's head of horror, and, as well as his heart, his face seemed
+turned to stone. He was gentle with his mother, and let her caress him as
+much as she would, but nothing any one could say could move him--even
+Pike's joyous greeting.
+
+The whole of God's world was his enemy--for was he not alone there, robbed
+of his mate? Presently the reaction from this violence came, and an
+intense apathy set in. A saltless, tasteless existence. What was Parliament
+to him? What was his country or his nation? or even his home? Only the
+hunting when it came gave him some relief, and then if the run were fast
+enough, or the jumps prodigiously high, or his horses sufficiently fresh to
+be difficult, his blood ran again for a brief space. But beyond this life
+was hell, and often he was tempted to use that little pistol of Dmitry's,
+and end it, and sleep. Only the inherent manly English spirit in him, deep
+down somewhere, prevented him.
+
+All this time his father grieved and grieved, and the Lady Henrietta spent
+hours in tears and prayer. Sir Charles had told her their son had met with
+a great sorrow, and they must bow their heads and leave him in peace, so
+there were no more gay young parties at Verdayne Place, and gone for ever
+were the visions of the grandchildren. Only Mark Grigsby was a constant
+visitor, but then--he knew.
+
+Thus a year passed away, and Paul left on a voyage round the world. An
+Englishman's stern duty to be a man at all costs was calling him at
+last--bidding him in change of scene to try and overcome the paralysing
+dominion of his grief. But as far as that went the experiment proved
+futile. If moments came when circumstances did divert him, such as one or
+two great storms he happened to come across, and one or two exciting
+situations--still, when things were fair and peaceful, back would rush the
+ever-living ache. That passionate void and loss for which there seems no
+remedy.
+
+Gentle, pleasant women longed to lavish worship upon him, and Paul talked
+and was polite, but all their sweetness touched him no more than summer
+ripples stir the bottom of a lake. He seemed impervious to any human
+influence, though when the look of a mountain or the colour of beech-trees
+would remind him of the Buergenstock anguish as fresh as ever stabbed his
+heart. Yet all this while, unknown to himself, his faculties were
+developing. He read deeply. He had unconsciously grown to apply his
+darling's lucid reasoning to every detail of his judgment of life. It was
+as if it had before been written in cypher for him, and she had now given
+him the key. His mind was untiring in its efforts to master subjects, as
+his splendid physique seemed tireless in all manner of sport.
+
+Thus he saw the world and its peoples, and was an honoured guest among the
+great ones of the earth. But the hardness of adamant was in him. He had no
+beliefs--no ambitions. He dissected everything with all the pitiless
+certainty of a surgeon's cold knife. And if his life contained an aim at
+all, it was to get through with it and find oblivion in eternal sleep.
+
+Thoughts of his little son would sometimes come to him, but when they did
+he thrust them back, and shut his heart up in a casing of ice.
+
+To feel--was to suffer! That perhaps was his only creed; that and a blind,
+sullen rage against fate. This was the lesson his suffering had taught him,
+and they were weary years before he knew another side.
+
+The first time he saw a tiger in India was one of the landmarks in the
+history of his inner emotions. He had gone to shoot the beasts with a
+well-known Rajah, and it had chanced he came upon a magnificent creature at
+very close quarters and had shot it on sight. But when it lay dead, its
+wonderful body gracefully moving no more, a sickening regret came over
+Paul. Of all things in creation none reminded him so forcibly of his lost
+worshipped Queen. In a flash came back to him the first day she had lain on
+the skin which had been his gift. Out of the jungle her eyes seemed to
+gleam. In his ears rang her words, "I know all your feelings and your
+passions. And now I have your skin--for the joy of my skin." Yes, she had
+loved tigers, and been in sympathy with them always, and here was one whose
+joy of life he had ended!
+
+No, he could never kill one more. After this expedition for weeks he was
+restless--the incident seemed to have pierced through his carefully
+cultivated calm. For days and days, fresh as in the first hours of his
+grief, came an infinite sensation of pain--just hideous personal pain.
+
+So time, and his journeys, went on. But no country and no change of scene
+could dull Paul's sense of loss, and the great vast terrible finality of
+all hope.
+
+The hackneyed phrase would continually ring in his brain of--Never
+again--never again! Ah! God! it was true he would hold his beloved
+one--never again. And often unavailing rebellion against destiny would rise
+up in him, and he would almost go mad and see red once more. Then he would
+rush away from civilisation out into the wild.
+
+But these violent emotions were always followed by a heavy, numb lethargy
+until some echo or resemblance roused him to suffering again. The scent of
+tuberoses caused him anguish unspeakable. One night in New York he was
+obliged to leave the opera because a woman he was with wore some in her
+dress.
+
+Thus, with all his strong will, there were times when he could not control
+himself or his grief.
+
+He had been absent from England for over two years, when the news came to
+him far out in America of his Uncle Hubert's death. So he had gone to join
+the world of spirits in the vast beyond! Paul did not care! His only
+feeling was one of relief. No more fear of hearing, perhaps, some chance
+idle word. But he remembered his mother had loved her handsome brother, and
+he wrote a tender letter home.
+
+Then something in the Lady Henrietta's answer touched him vaguely and
+decided him to return. After all--because life was a black barren waste to
+him--what right had he to dim all joy in the two who had given him being?
+Yes, he would go back, and try to pick up the threads anew.
+
+There were great quiet rejoicings in his parents' hearts at their son's
+third homecoming. And like a wild beast tamed for a time to perform tricks
+in a circus, Paul conformed to the ordinary routine. The question of his
+entering Parliament was mooted again, but this he put aside. As yet he
+could face no ties. He would do his best by staying at home most of the
+year--but when that call of anguish was upon him, he must be free once more
+to roam.
+
+Then hope began to bloom in the Lady Henrietta's heart as flowers after
+rain. Surely this great unknown grief was passing--surely her adored one
+would settle down again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+
+But the months went by without healing Paul's grief. Time only coated it
+with a dull, callous crust. He had got into a hard way of taking everything
+as it came. He did not fly from society, or ape the manners of the
+misanthrope; he went to London, and stayed about and played the game. But
+all with a stony, bald indifference which made people wonder.
+
+No faintest inkling of his story had ever leaked out. And it seemed an
+incomprehensible attitude towards life for a young and fortunate man.
+Those who had looked for great things from his birthday speech shook their
+heads sadly at the unfulfilment.
+
+So time passed on, until one day at the beginning of February, nearly five
+years after the light had gone out of his life, a circumstance happened
+which proved a turning-point of great magnitude.
+
+It was quite a small thing--just the brutalised hardness in a gipsy woman's
+face!
+
+The sun was setting that late afternoon when he strode home across the moor
+with Pike, and they came upon some gipsy vans. Paul looked up--it was no
+unaccustomed sight, only they happened to be in exactly the same spot where
+the like had stood that morning long ago, when in his exuberant happiness
+at the news of his little son's birth he had tossed the young woman the
+sovereign.
+
+The door of the last van was open, and there, sitting on the steps in an
+attitude of dull sullen idleness, was the same swarthy lass, only now she
+was altered sadly! No more the proud young mother met his view, but a hard,
+gaunt, evil-looking woman.
+
+She knew him instantly, and her black eyes fiercened; as he came up close
+to her she said without any greeting:
+
+"I lost him, your honour--him and my Bill in the same blasted year, and I
+ain't never had no other."
+
+Paul stopped and peered into her brown face in the fading light.
+
+"So we have been both through hell since then, my poor girl?" he said.
+
+The gipsy woman laughed with bitter harshness as she echoed back the one
+word "Hell!"--and afterwards she added with a wail: "Yes, they're dead! and
+there won't be never no meeting."
+
+And Paul went on--but her face haunted him.
+
+Was there the same hard change in himself, he wondered? Was he, too,
+brutalised and branded with the five years of hell? Surely if so he had
+gone on a lower road than his darling would have had him travel.
+
+Then out of the mist of the dying day came the memory of her noble face as
+it had been in that happy hour when they had floated out to the lagoon, and
+she had told him--her eyes alight with the _feu sacre_--her wishes for his
+future.
+
+But what had he done to carry them out--those lofty wishes? Surely
+nothing. For, obsessed with his own selfish anguish, he had lived on with
+no single worthy aim, with no aim at all except to forget and deaden his
+suffering.
+
+Forget! Ah God! that could never be. For had she not said there was an
+eternal marriage of their souls--in life or in death they could never be
+parted?
+
+And he had tried to break this sacred tender bond, when he should have
+cherished every memory to comfort his deep pain with its sweetness. What
+had he done? Let sorrow sink him to the level of the poor gipsy girl,
+instead of trying to do some fine thing as a tribute to his lady's noble
+teaching.
+
+He strode on in the dusk towards his home, his thoughts lashing him with
+shame and remorse.
+
+And that night, when he and Pike were alone in his own panelled room, he
+broke the seal of those beautiful letters which, with directions for them
+to be buried with his body at his death, had lain in a packet hidden away
+from sight all these years, freighted with agonised memory.
+
+He read them over carefully, from the first brief note to the last long cry
+of love which Dmitry had brought him to Paris. Then he lay back in his
+chair, while his strong frame shook with sobs, and his eyes were blinded by
+scorching, bitter tears.
+
+But suddenly it seemed as if his lady's spirit stood beside him in the
+firelight's flickering gleam, whispering words of hope, pleading to come
+back from the cold grave to his heart, there to abide and comfort him.
+
+He heard her golden voice once more, and it fell like soft, healing rain,
+so that he stretched out his arms, and cried aloud:
+
+"My darling, beloved one, forgive me for these five wasted
+years--sweetheart, come back to me never to part again. Come back to my
+heart, and dwell there, Angel Queen!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then, as the days went on, all the world altered for him. Instead of the
+terrible bitterness against fate which had ruled his heart, a new
+tenderness grew there. It seemed now as though he were never alone, but
+lived in her ever-present memory. And with this golden change came thoughts
+of his child--that little life neglected for so long. What had he done?
+What cruel, terrible thing had he done in his selfish pain?
+
+Each year Dmitry had sent him a letter of news, and each year that day had
+held ghastly hours for him in the reopening of old anguish--the missive to
+be read and quickly thrust out of sight, the thought of it to be strangled
+and forgotten.
+
+And now the little one would soon be five years old, and his father's
+living eyes had never seen him! But this should no more be so, and he wrote
+at once to Dmitry.
+
+By return of post came the answer. The Excellency indeed would be
+welcome. The Regent--the Grand Duke Peter--had bidden him say that if the
+Excellency should be travelling for pleasure, as the nobility of his
+country often did, he would gladly be received by the Regent, who was
+himself a great _chasseur_ and _voyageur_. The Excellency would then see
+the never-to-be-sufficiently-beloved baby King. Of this glorious child
+he--Dmitry--found it difficult to write. It was as if the _Imperatorskoye_
+breathed again in his spirit, while he was the portrait of his illustrious
+father, proving how deeply and well the _Imperatorskoye_ must have loved
+that father. If the Excellency could arrive in time for the Majesty's fifth
+birthday, on the 19th of February, there was to be a special ceremony in
+the great church which the Regent thought might be of interest to the
+Excellency.
+
+Paul wired back he would travel night and day to be in time, and he
+instructed Dmitry to have the necessary arrangements made that he might go
+straight to the church, in case unforeseen delay should not permit him to
+arrive until that morning.
+
+It was in a shaft of sunlight from the great altar window that Paul first
+saw his son. The tiny upright figure in its blue velvet suit, heavily
+trimmed with sable, standing there proudly. A fair, rosy-cheeked,
+golden-haired English child--the living reality of that miniature painted
+on ivory and framed in fine pearls, which made the holy of holies on Lady
+Henrietta's writing-table.
+
+And as he gazed at his little son, while the organ pealed out a Te Deum and
+the sweet choir sang, a great rush of tenderness filled Paul's heart, and
+melted forever the icebergs of grief and pain.
+
+And as he knelt there, watching their child, it seemed as if his darling
+stood beside him, telling him that he must look up and thank God, too--for
+in her spirit's constant love, and this glory of their son, he would one
+day find rest and consolation.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Weeks, by Elinor Glyn
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