THREE WEEKS

BYELINOR GLYN

1907

INTRODUCTION TOMY 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 themisunderstanding and misrepresentation it received from nearly theentire press and a section of the public in England, I would like tostate my view of its meaning. (As I wrote it, I suppose it could bebelieved I know something about that!) For me "the Lady" was a deepstudy, the analysis of a strange Slav nature, who, from circumstancesand education and her general view of life, was beyond the ordinarylaws of morality. If I were making the study of a Tiger, I would notgive it the attributes of a spaniel, because the public, and I myself, might prefer a spaniel! I would still seek to portray accuratelyevery 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 greatsplendid nature, full of the passionate realisation of primitiveinstincts, immensely cultivated, polished, blasé. You must see her atLucerne, obsessed with the knowledge of her horrible life with herbrutal, vicious husband, to whom she had been sacrificed for politicalreasons 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 theperson of his Uncle Hubert. She perceives in him at once the Soulsleeping there; and it produces in her a strong emotion. Then I wantyou to understand the effect of Love on them both. In her it rose fromcaprice to intense devotion, until the day at the Farm when it reachedthe highest point--a desire to reproduce his likeness. How, with themost passionate physical emotion, her mental influence upon Paul wasever to raise him to vast aims and noble desires for futuregreatness. In him love opened the windows of his Soul, so that he sawthe fine in everything. 

The immense rush of passion in Venice came from her knowledge thatthey soon must part. Notice the effect of the two griefs on Paul. Thefirst, with its undefined hope, making him do well in all things--evenhis prowess as a hunter--to raise himself to be more worthy in hereyes; the second and paralysing one of death, turning him into adamantuntil his soul awakens again with the returning spring of her spiritin his heart, and the consolation of the living essence of their lovein the child. 

The minds of some human beings are as moles, grubbing in the earth forworms. They have no eyes to see God's sky with the stars in it. Tosuch "Three Weeks" will be but a sensual record of passion. But thosewho 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 wassated--she would have daily grown nobler in her desire to make herLoved One's son a splendid man. 

And to all who read, I say--at least be just! and do not skip. No lineis written without its having a bearing upon the next, and in itssmall scope helping to make the presentment of these two human beingsvivid and clear. 

The verdict I must leave to the Public, but now, at all events, youknow, kind Reader, that _to me_, the "Imperatorskoye" appears anoble woman, because she was absolutely faithful to the man she hadselected as her mate, through the one motive which makes a union moralin ethics--Love. --ELINOR GLYN. 

THREE WEEKS

CHAPTER I

Now this is an episode in a young man's life, and has no realbeginning or ending. And you who are old and have forgotten thepassions of youth may condemn it. But there are others who areneither old nor young who, perhaps, will understand and find someinterest in the study of a strange woman who made the illumination ofa brief space. 

Paul Verdayne was young and fresh and foolish when his episodebegan. He believed in himself--he believed in his mother, and in anumber of other worthy things. Life was full of certainties forhim. He was certain he liked hunting better than anything else in theworld--for instance. He was certain he knew his own mind, andtherefore perfectly certain his passion for Isabella Waring would lastfor ever! Ready to swear eternal devotion with that delightfulinconsequence of youth in its unreason, thinking to control an emotionas Canute's flatterers would have had him do the waves. 

And the Creator of waves--and emotions--no doubt smiled to Himself--ifHe is not tired by now of smiling at the follies of the moles calledhuman beings, who for the most part inhabit His earth!

Paul was young, as I said, and fair and strong. He had been in theeleven at Eton and left Oxford with a record for all that should turna beautiful Englishman into a perfect athlete. Books had not worriedhim much! The fit of a hunting-coat, the pace of a horse, were thingsof more importance, but he scraped through his "Smalls" and his"Mods, " and was considered by his friends to be anything but afool. As for his mother--the Lady Henrietta Verdayne--she thought hima god among men!

Paul went to London like others of his time, and attended thetheatres, where perfectly virtuous young ladies display nightly theirinnocent charms in hilarious choruses, arrayed in the latest_modes_. He supped, too, with these houris--and felt himself aman of the world. 

He had stayed about in country houses for perhaps a year, and haddanced through the whole of a season with all the prettiest_débutantes_. And one or two of the young married women of fortyhad already marked him out for their prey. 

By all this you can see just the kind of creature Paul was. There arehundreds of others like him, and perhaps they, too, have the latentqualities which he developed during his episode--only they remain ashe was in the beginning--sound asleep. 

That fall out hunting in March, and being laid up with a sprainedankle and a broken collar-bone, proved the commencement of theIsabella Waring affair. 

She was the parson's daughter--and is still for the matter ofthat!--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 VerdaynePlace to write Lady Henrietta's letters for her. Isabella was mostamiable and delighted to make herself useful. 

And if her hands were big and red, she wrote clearly and well. TheLady Henrietta, who herself was of the delicate Later VictorianDresden China type, could not imagine a state of things whichcontained the fact that her god-like son might stoop to this daughterof the earthy earth!

Yet so it fell about. Isabella read aloud the sporting papers tohim--Isabella played piquet with him in the dull late afternoons ofhis convalescence--Isabella herself washed his dog Pike--that king ofrough terriers! And one terrible day Paul unfortunately kissed thelarge 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 onthe occasion referred to--but she was also a woman, and not aparticularly clever one. Thus Paul was soon irritated by oppositioninto thinking himself seriously in love with this daughter of themiddle classes, so far beneath his noble station. 

"Let the boy have his fling, " said Sir Charles Verdayne, who was acoarse person. "Damn it all! a man is not obliged to marry every womanhe kisses!"

"A gentlemen does not deliberately kiss an unmarried girl unless heintends to make her his wife!" retorted Lady Henrietta. "I fear theworst!"

Sir Charles snorted and chuckled, two unpleasant and annoying habitshis lady wife had never been able to break him of. So the affair grewand grew! Until towards the middle of April Paul was advised to travelfor his health. 

"Your father and I can sanction no engagement, Paul, before youreturn, " said Lady Henrietta. "If, in July, on your twenty-thirdbirthday, you still wish to break your mother's heart--I suppose youmust do so. But I ask of you the unfettered reflection of three monthsfirst. "

This seemed reasonable enough, and Paul consented to start upon a tourround Europe--not having spoken the final fatal and binding words toIsabella Waring. They made their adieux in the pouring rain under adripping oak in the lane by the Vicarage gate. 

Paul was six foot two, and Isabella quite six foot, and broad inproportion. They were dressed almost alike, and at a little distance, but for the lady's scanty petticoat, it would have been difficult todistinguish her sex. 

"Good-bye, old chap, " she said, "We have been real pals, and I'll notforget you!"

But Paul, who was feeling sentimental, put it differently. 

"Good-bye, darling, " he whispered with a suspicion of tremble in hischarming voice. "I shall never love any woman but you--never, never inmy life. "

Cuckoo! screamed the bird in the tree. 

And now we are getting nearer the episode. Paris bored Paul--he didnot know its joys and was in no mood to learn them. He mooned aboutand went to the races. His French was too indifferent to make theatresa pleasure, and the attractive ladies who smiled at his blue eyes werefor him _défendues_. A man so recently parted from the only womanhe could ever love had no right to look at such things, he thought. Howyoung and chivalrous and honest he was--poor Paul!

So he took to visiting Versailles and Fontainebleau and Compiègne witha 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 thebeginning of May? A feast of blue lakes, and snow-peaks, and thedivinest 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, youmust see it through the eyes of Paul. That is if you intend to readanother page of this bad book. 

It was pouring with rain when he drove from the station to thehotel. His temper was at its worst. Pilatus hid his head in mist, theBürgenstock was invisible--it was chilly, too, and the fire smoked inthe sitting-room when Paul had it lighted. 

His heart yearned for his own snug room at Verdayne Place, and thejolly voice of Isabella Waring counting point, quint and quatorze. What nonsense to send him abroad. As if such treatment could beeffectual as a cure for a love like his. He almost laughed at hismother's folly. How he longed to sit down and write to hisdarling. Write and tell how he hated it all, and was only gettingthrough the time until he saw her six feet of buxom charms again--onlyPaul did not put it like that--indeed, he never thought about hercharms at all--or want of them. He analysed nothing. He was soundasleep, you see, to _nuances_ as yet; he was just a splendidEnglish young animal of the best class. 

He had promised not to write to Isabella--or, if he _must_, atleast not to write a love-letter. 

"Dear boy, " the Lady Henrietta had said when giving him her fondparting kiss, "if you are very unhappy and feel you greatly wish towrite to Miss Waring, I suppose you must do so, but let your letter beabout the scenery and the impressions of travel, in no way to beinterpreted into a declaration of affection or a promise of futureunion--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 somehotel paper and began. 

"MY DEAR ISABELLA:

"I say--you know--I hate beginning like this--I have arrived at thisbeastly place, and I am awfully unhappy. I think it would have beenbetter if I had brought Pike with me, only those rotten laws aboutgetting the little chap back to England would have been hard. How isMoonlighter? And have they really looked after that strain, do yougather? Make Tremlett come down and report progress to you daily--Itold him to. My rooms look out on a beastly lake, and there aremountains, I suppose, but I can't see them. There is hardly any one inthe hotel, because the Easter visitors have all gone back and thesummer ones haven't come, so I doubt even if I can have a game ofbilliards. I am sick of guide-books, and I should like to take thenext train home again. I must dress for dinner now, and I'll finishthis to-night. "

Paul dressed for dinner; his temper was vile, and his valettrembled. Then he went down into the restaurant scowling, and wasungracious to the polite and conciliating waiters, ordering his foodand 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 infront of him, prodding at some olives with his fork, one occasionallyreaching his mouth, while he read, and awaited his soup. 

The table next to him in this quiet corner was laid for one, and had abunch of roses in the centre, just two or three exquisite blooms thathe was familiar with the appearance of in the Paris shops. Nearly allthe other tables were empty or emptying; he had dined very late. Whocould want roses eating alone? The _menu_, too, was written outand ready, and an expression of expectancy lightened the face of thehead waiter--who himself brought a bottle of most carefully decantedred wine, feeling the temperature through the fine glass with the airof a great connoisseur. 

"One of those over-fed foreign brutes of no sex, I suppose, " Paul saidto 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 touchedhis foot. He fancied he smelt tuberoses, but it was not until she satdown, and he again looked at her, that he perceived a knot of themtucked into the front of her bodice. 

A woman to order dinner for herself beforehand, and have special wineand special roses--special attention, too! It was simply disgusting!

Paul frowned. He brought his brown eyebrows close together, and glaredat the creature with his blue young eyes. 

An elderly, dignified servant in black livery stood behind herchair. She herself was all in black, and her hat--an expensive, distinguished-looking hat--cast a shadow over her eyes. He could justsee they were cast down on her plate. Her face was white, he saw thatplainly enough, startlingly white, like a magnolia bloom, andcontained no marked features. No features at all! he said tohimself. Yes--he was wrong, she had certainly a mouth worth looking atagain. It was so red. Not large and pink and laughingly open likeIsabella's, but straight and chiselled, and red, red, red. 

Paul was young, but he knew paint when he saw it, and this red wasreal, and vivid, and disconcerted him. 

He began his soup--hers came at the same time; she had only toyed withsome caviare by way of _hors d'oeuvre_, and it angered him tonotice the obsequiousness of the waiters, who passed each thing to thedignified servant to be placed before the lady by his hand. Who wasshe to be served with this respect and rapidity?

Only her red wine the _maître d'hôtel_ poured into her glasshimself. She lifted it up to the light to see the clear ruby, then shesipped it and scented its bouquet, the _maître d'hôtel_ anxiouslyawaiting her verdict the while. "_Bon_, " was all she said, andthe weight of the world seemed to fall from the man's slopingshoulders as he bowed and moved aside. 

Paul's irritation grew. "She's well over thirty, " he said tohimself. "I suppose she has nothing else to live for! I wonder whatthe devil she'll eat next!"

She ate a delicate _truite bleu_, but she did not touch her wineagain the while. She had almost finished the fish before Paul's_sole au vin blanc_ arrived upon the scene, and this angered himthe more. Why should he wait for his dinner while this woman feasted?Why, indeed. What would her next course be? He found himselfunpleasantly interested to know. The tenderest _selle d'agneau aulait_ and the youngest green peas made their appearance, and againthe _maître d'hôtel_ returned, having mixed the salad. 

Paul noticed with all these things the lady ate but a small portion ofeach. And it was not until a fat quail arrived later, while he himselfwas trying to get through two mutton chops _à l'anglaise_, thatshe again tasted her claret. Yes, it was claret, he felt sure, andprobably wonderful claret at that. Confound her! Paul turned to thewine list. What could it be? Château Latour at fifteen francs? ChâteauMargaux, or Château Lafite at twenty?--or possibly it was not here atall, and was special, too--like the roses and the attention. He calledhis waiter and ordered some port--he felt he could not drink anotherdrop of his modest St. Estèphe!

All this time the lady had never once looked at him; indeed, exceptthat one occasion when she had lifted her head to examine the winewith the light through it, he had not seen her raise her eyes, andthen the glass had been between himself and her. The white lids withtheir heavy lashes began to irritate him. What colour could they be?those eyes underneath. They were not very large, that wascertain--probably black, too, like her hair. Little black eyes! Thatwas ugly enough, surely! And he hated heavy black hair growing inthose unusual great waves. Women's hair should be light and fluffyand fuzzy, and kept tidy in a net--like Isabella's. This looked sothick--enough to strangle one, if she twisted it round one'sthroat. What strange ideas were those coming into his head? Why shouldshe think of twisting her hair round a man's throat? It must be theport mounting to his brain, he decided--he was not given tospeculating in this way about women. 

What would she eat next? And why did it interest him what she ate ordid not eat? The _maître d'hôtel_ again appeared with a dish ofmarvellous-looking nectarines. The waiter now handed the dignifiedservant the finger-bowl, into which he poured rose-water. Paul couldjust distinguish the scent of it, and then he noticed the lady'shands. Yes, they at least were faultless; he could not cavil at_them_; slender and white, with that transparent whiteness likemother-of-pearl. And what pink nails! And how polished! Isabella'shands--but he refused to think of them. 

By this time he was conscious of an absorbing interest thrilling hiswhole being--disapproving irritated interest. 

The _maître d'hôtel_ now removed the claret, out of which thelady had only drunk one glass. 

(What waste! thought Paul. )

And then he returned with a strange-looking bottle, and this time thedignified servant poured the brilliant golden fluid into a tinyliqueur-glass. What could it be? Paul was familiar with mostliqueurs. Had he not dined at every restaurant in London, and suppedwith houris who adored _crême de menthe_? But this was none heknew. He had heard of Tokay--Imperial Tokay--could it be that? Andwhere did she get it? And who the devil was the woman, anyway?

She peeled the nectarine leisurely--she seemed to enjoy it more thanall the rest of her dinner. And what could that expression mean onher face? Inscrutable--cynical was it? No--absorbed. As absolutelyunconscious 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 orjewels on--unless--yes, that was a great sapphire gleaming from thefolds of gauze on her neck. Not surrounded by diamonds like ordinarybrooches, but just a big single stone so dark and splendid it seemedalmost black. There was another on her hand, and yet others in herears. 

Her ears were not anything so very wonderful! Not so _very!_Isabella's were quite as good--and this thought comforted him alittle. As far as he could see beyond the roses and the table she wasa slender woman, and he had not noticed on her entrance if she weretall or short. He could not say why he felt she must be well overthirty--there was not a line or wrinkle on her face--not even theslight nip in under the chin, or the tell-tale strain beside the ears. 

She was certainly not pretty, _certainly_ not. Wellshaped--yes--and graceful as far as he could judge; but pretty--athousand times No!

Then the speculation as to her nationality began. French? assuredlynot. English? ridiculous! Equally so German. Italian? perhaps. Russian? possibly. Hungarian? probably. 

Paul had drunk his third glass of port and was beginning hisfourth. This was far more than his usual limit. Paul was, as a rule, an abstemious young man. Why he should have deliberately sat and drankthat night he never knew. His dinner had been moderate--distinctlymoderate--and he had watched a refined feast of Lucullus partaken ofby a woman who only _tasted_ each _plat!_

"I wonder what she will have to pay for it all?" he thought tohimself. "She will probably sign the bill, though, and I shan't see. "

But when the lady had finished her nectarine and dipped her slenderfingers in the rose-water she got up--she had not smoked, she couldnot be Russian then. Got up and walked towards the door, signing nobill, and paying no gold. 

Paul stared as she passed him--rudely stared--he knew it afterwardsand felt ashamed. However, the lady never so much as noticed him, nordid she raise her eyes, so that when she had finally disappeared hewas still unaware of their colour or expression. 

But what a figure she had! Sinuous, supple, rounded, and yet veryslight. 

"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 agazelle. "

She was tall, too, though not six feet--like Isabella!

The waiters and _maître d'hôtel_ all bowed and stood aside as sheleft, followed by her elderly, stately, silver-haired servant. 

Of course it would have been an easy matter to Paul to find out hername, and all about her. He would only have had to summon MonsieurJacques, and ask any question he pleased. But for some unexplainedreason he would not do this. Instead of which he scowled in front ofhim, and finished his fourth glass of port. Then his head swam alittle, and he went outside into the night. The rain had stopped andthe 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--sucha beastly thing to do! And not even good port either. 

He sat on a bench and smoked a cigar. A strange sense of lonelinesscame over him. It seemed as if he were far, far away from any one inthe world he had ever known. A vague feeling of oppression and comingcalamity passed through him, only he was really as yet too materialand thoroughly, solidly English to entertain it, or any other subtlemental emotion for more than a minute. But he undoubtedly felt strangeto-night; different from what he had ever done before. He would havesaid "weird" if he could have thought of the word. The woman and hersinuous, sensuous black shape filled the space of his mentalvision. Black hair, black hat, black dress--and of course blackeyes. Ah! if he could only know their colour really!

The damp bench where he sat was just under the ivy hanging from thebalustrade of the small terrace belonging to the ground-floor suite atthe end. 

There was a silence, very few people passed, frightened no doubt bythe recent rain. He seemed alone in the world. 

The wine now began to fire his senses. Why should he remain alone? Hewas young and rich and--surely even in Lucerne there must be--. Andthen he felt a beast, and looked out on to the lake. 

Suddenly his heart seemed to swell with some emotion, a faint scent oftuberoses filled the air--and from exactly above his head there came agentle, tender sigh. 

He started violently, and brusquely turned and looked up. Almostindistinguishable in the deep shadow he saw the woman's face. Itseemed to emerge from a mist of black gauze. And looking down into hiswere a pair of eyes--a pair of eyes. For a moment Paul's heart felt asif it had stopped beating, so wonderful was their effect uponhim. They seemed to draw him--draw something out of him--intoxicatehim--paralyse him. And as he gazed up motionless the woman movednoiselessly back on to the terrace, and he saw nothing but the nightsky 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 notknow their colour! Were they black, or blue, or grey, or green? He didnot 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 torise. However, the sun blazed in at his windows, and a bird sang in atree. 

His temper was the temper of next day--sodden, and sullen, andashamed. He even resented the sunshine. 

But what a beautiful creature he looked, as later he stepped into aboat for a row on the lake! His mother, the Lady Henrietta, had trulyreason to be proud of him. So tall and straight, and fair andstrong. And at the risk of causing a second fit among some of thecritics, I must add, he probably wore silk socks, and was "beautifullygroomed, " too, as all young Englishmen are of his class and age. Andhow supple his lithe body seemed as he bent over the oars, while theboat shot out into the blue water. 

The mountains were really very jolly, he thought, and it was not toohot, and he was glad he had come out, even though he had eaten nobreakfast and was feeling rather cheap still. Yes, very glad. 

After he had advanced a few hundred yards he rested on his oars, andlooked up at the hotel. Then wonder came back to him, where was sheto-day--the lady with the eyes? Or had he dreamed it--and was there nolady at all?

It should not worry him anyway--so he rowed ahead, and ceased tospeculate. 

The first thing he did when he came in for lunch was to finish hisletter to Isabella. 

"P. S. --Monday, " he added. "It is finer to-day, and I have had someexercise. The view isn't bad now the mist has gone. I shall do someclimbing, 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_déjeuner_. Would she be there? How would she seem in daylight?

But the little table where she had sat the night before wasunoccupied. There were the usual cloth and glass and silver, but nopreparations for any specially expected guest upon it. Paul feltannoyed with himself because his heart sank. Had she gone? Or did sheonly dine in public? Perhaps she lunched in the sitting-room beyondthe terrace, where he had seen her eyes the night before. 

The food was really very good, and the sun shone, and Paul was youngand hungry, so presently he forgot about the lady and enjoyed hismeal. 

The appearance of the Bürgenstock across the lake attracted him, asafterwards he smoked another cigar under the trees. He would hire anelectric launch and go there and explore the paths. If only Pike werewith him--or--Isabella!

This idea he put into execution. 

What a thing was a funicular railway. How steep and unpleasant, buthow quaint the tree-tops looked when one was up among them. Yes--Lucerne was a good deal jollier than Paris. And he roamed about amongthe trees, never noticing their beautiful colours. Presently he pausedto rest. He was soothed--even peaceful. If he had Pike he couldreally be quite happy, he thought. 

What was that rustle among the leaves above him? He looked up, andstarted then as violently almost as he had done the nightbefore. Because there, peeping at him from the tender green of theyoung beeches, was the lady in black. She looked down upon him throughthe parted boughs, her black hat and long black veil making a sharpsilhouette against the vivid verdure, her whole face in tender shadowand framed in the misty gauze. 

Paul's heart beat violently. He felt a pulse in his throat--for a fewseconds. 

He knew he was gazing into her eyes, and he thought he knew they weregreen. They looked larger than he had imagined them to be. They wereset so beautifully, too, just a suspicion of rise at the corners. Andtheir expression was mocking and compelling--and--But she let go thebranches and disappeared from view. 

Paul stood still. He was thrilling all over. Should he bound in amongthe 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 shemust have stood, he saw it was a junction of three paths, and he wasin perfect ignorance which one she had taken. He rushed down thefirst of them, but it twisted and turned, and when he had gone farenough to see ahead--there was no one in sight. So he retraced hissteps and tried the second. This, too, ended in disappointment. Andthe third led to an opening where he could see the descending_funiculaire_, and just as it sank out of view he caught sight ofa black dress, almost hidden by a standing man's figure, whom herecognised as the elderly silver-haired servant. 

Paul had learnt a number of swear-words at Eton and Oxford. And he letthe trees hear most of them then. 

He could not get down himself until the train returned, and by thattime where would she be? To go by the paths would take aneternity. This time circumstance had fairly done him. 

Presently he sauntered back to the little hotel whose terrace commandsthe lake far below, and eagerly watching the craft upon it, he thoughthe caught sight of a black figure reclining in an electric launchwhich sped over the blue water. 

Then he began to reason with himself. Why should the sight of thiswoman have caused him such violent emotion? Why? Women were jollythings that did not matter much--except Isabella. She mattered, ofcourse, but somehow her mental picture came less readily to his mindthan usual. The things he seemed to see most distinctly were herhands--her big red hands. And then he unconsciously drifted from allthought of her. 

"She certainly looks younger in daylight, " he said to himself. "Notmore than thirty perhaps. And what strange hats with that shadow overher eyes. What is she doing here all alone? She must be somebody fromthe people in the hotel making such a fuss--and that servant--Then whyalone?" He mused and mused. 

She was not a _demi-mondaine_. The English ones he knew were veryordinary people, but he had heard of some of the French ladies asbeing quite _grande dame_, and travelling _en prince_. Yet he wasconvinced 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 soby the next descending train he left the Bürgenstock. 

He walked up and down under the lime-trees outside the terrace of herrooms 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, hethought. So he consulted the _maître d'hôtel_ on his way up todress, and together they evolved a banquet. Paul longed to questionthe man about the unknown, but as yet he was no actor, and he found hefelt too much about it to do it naturally. 

He dressed with the greatest care, and descended at exactly half-pasteight. Yes, the table was laid for her evidently--but there were giantcarnations, not roses, in the silver vase to-night. How quickly thewaiters seemed to bring things! And what a frightful lot there was toeat! And dawdle as he would, by nine o'clock he had almostfinished. Perhaps it would be as well to send for a newspaperagain. Anything to delay his having to rise and go out. An anxious, uncomfortable gnawing sense of expectancy dominated him. Howridiculous for a woman to be so late! What cook could do justice tohis dishes if they were thus to be kept waiting? She couldn't possiblyhave _ordered_ it for half past nine, surely! Gradually, as thathour passed and his second cup of coffee had been sipped to itsfinish, Paul felt a sickening sense of anger and disappointment. Hegot up abruptly and went out. In the hall, coming from the corridor ofher rooms, he met the lady face to face. 

Then rage with himself seized him. Why had he not waited? For nopossible reason could he go back now. And what a chance to look at hermissed--and all thrown away. 

He sat sullenly down in the hall, resisting the temptation to go intothe beautiful night. At least he would see her on her way back. But hewaited until nearly eleven, and she never appeared, and then themaddening thought came to him--she had probably passed to her roomsalong the terrace outside, under the lime-tree. 

He bounded up, and stalked into the starlight. He could see throughthe windows of the restaurant, and no one was there. Then he sat onthe bench again, under the ivy--but all was darkness and silence; andthoroughly depressed, Paul at last went to bed. 

Next day was so gloriously fine that youth and health sang withinhim. He was up and away quite early. Not a thought of this strangelady should cross his mind for the entire day, he determined as he atehis breakfast. And soon he started for the Rigi in a launch, takingthe English papers with him. Intense joy, too! A letter from Isabella!

Such a nice letter. All about Pike and Moonlighter, and the otherhorses--and Isabella was going to stay with a friend at Blackheath, where she hoped to get better golf than at home--and Lady Henriettahad been gracious to her, and given her Paul's address, and there hadbeen 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 addednaïvely. 

All this Paul read in his launch on the way to the Rigi, and for someunexplained reason the information seemed about things a long way off, and less thrilling than usual. He had a splendid climb, and when hegot back to Lucerne in the evening he was thoroughly tired, and sohungry he flew down to his dinner. 

It was nearly nine o'clock; at least if she came to-night he would bethere 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 untilhe reached his table. Yes, there she was, but dipping her whitefingers in the rosewater at the very end of her repast. 

And again, in spite of himself, a strange wild thrill ran throughPaul, and he knew it was what he had been subconsciously hoping forall day--and oh, alas! it mattered exceedingly. 

The lady never glanced at him. She swept from the room, her statelygraceful movements delighting his eye. He could understand andappreciate movement--was he not accustomed to thoroughbreds, and ableto judge of their action and line?

How blank the space seemed when she had gone--dull and unspeakablyuninteresting. He became impatient with the slowness of the waiters, who had seemed to hurry unnecessarily the night before. But at lasthis meal ended, and he went out under the trees. The sky was so fullof stars it hardly seemed dark. The air was soft, and in the distancea band played a plaintive valse tune. 

There were numbers of people walking about, and the lights from thehotel windows lit up the scene. Only the ivy terrace was in shadow ashe again sat down on the bench. 

How had she got in last night? That he must find out--he rose, andpeered about him. Yes, there was a little gate, a flight of steps, aprivate 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 openedthe little door with a key, she then entered and disappeared fromview. 

It seemed as if the stars danced to Paul. His whole being wasquivering with excitement, and now he sat on the bench again almosttrembling. 

He did not move for at least half an hour; then the clocks chimed inthe 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'sclimb. And as he stood up, there, above the ivy again, he saw her facelooking down upon him. 

How had she crossed the terrace without his hearing her? How long hadshe been there? But what matter? At least she was there. And thoseeyes looking into his out of the shadow, what did they say? Surelythey smiled at him. Paul jumped on to the bench. Now he was almostlevel with her face--almost--and his was raised eagerly inexpectation. Was he dreaming, or did she whisper something? The soundwas so soft he was not quite sure. He stretched out his arms to her inthe darkness, pulling himself by the ivy nearer still. And this timethere 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--everythingwas so wonderful, so unusual, so unlike his ordinary life. The gatewas unlocked he found when he got there, but no one appeared to beinside, and he bounded up the steps and on to the terrace. Silence anddarkness--was she fooling him then? No, there she was by one of thewindows; he could dimly see her outline as she passed into the roombeyond, through some heavy curtains. That was why no light camethrough to the terrace. He followed, dropping them after him also, andthen he found himself in a room as unlike a hotel as he couldimagine. It may have had the usual brocade walls and gilt chairs ofthe "best suite, " but its aspect was so transformed by her subtletaste and presence, it seemed to him unique, and there were masses offlowers--roses, big white ones--tuberoses--lilies of the valley, gardenias, late violets. The light were low and shaded, and a greatcouch filled one side of the room beyond the fireplace. Such a couch!covered with a tiger-skin and piled with pillows, all shades of richpurple velvet and silk, embroidered with silver and gold--unlike anypillows he had ever seen before, even to their shapes. The whole thingwas different and strange--and intoxicating. 

The lady had reached the couch, and sank into it. She was in blackstill, but gauzy, clinging black, which seemed to give some gleam ofpurple underneath. And if he had not been sure that in daylight he hadthought they were green, he would have sworn the eyes which now lookedinto his were deepest violet, too. 

"Come, " she said. "You may sit here beside me and tell me what youthink. "

And her voice was like rich music--but she had hardly any accent. Shemight have been an Englishwoman almost, for that matter, and yet hesomehow knew that she was not. Perhaps it was she pronounced eachword; nothing was slurred over. Without her hat she looked even moreattractive, and certainly younger. But what was age or youth? And whatwas beauty itself, when a woman whose face was neither young norbeautiful could make him feel he was looking at a divine goddess, andthrilling as he had never dreamt of doing in his short life?

If any one had told Paul this was going to happen to him, thisexperience, he would have laughed them to scorn. To begin with, he wasrather shy with ladies as a rule, and had not learnt a trick of_entreprenance_. It took him quite a while to know one wellenough to even talk at ease. And yet here he was, embarked upon anadventure which savoured of the Arabian Nights. 

He came forward and sat down, and he could feel the pulse beating inhis throat. It all seemed perfectly natural at the time, butafterwards he wondered how she had known his name was Paul--and how ithad 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 hiseyes. 

"We are both--how shall I say--drifting--holiday-making--trying toforget. And we must talk a little together, _n'est-ce pas_? Tellme?"

"Oh, yes!" said Paul. 

"You are beautiful, you know, Paul, " she went on. "So tall andstraight like you English, with curly hair of gold. Your mother musthave 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 youare--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 adivine 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. Andso you only resemble the Uncle Hubert on the outside--that is good. "

Paul felt jealous. Lord Hubert Aldringham's reputation--for somethings--was European. "I hope so, " he said with emphasis. "And youknew him well then, too?"

"I never said so, " replied the lady. "I saw him once--twiceperhaps--years ago--at the marriage of a princess. There, it has madeyou frown, we will speak no more of the Uncle Hubert!" and she leantback and laughed. 

Paul felt very young. He wanted to show her he was grown up, and hewanted a number of things which had never even formed themselves inhis imagination before. But she went on talking. 

"And your _cotelettes_ were tough, Paul, and you were so crossthat first evening, and hated me! And oh! Paul, you had far too muchwine for a boy like you!"

He reddened to the roots of his fair wavy hair, and then he hung hishead. 

"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 glidingfeline 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. Itthrilled him every time. 

Then he gained courage. 

"But how did you know anything about it--or what I had--or what Idrank? You never once raised your eyelids all the time!"

"Perhaps I can see through them when I want to--who knows!" and shelaughed. 

"And you wanted to--wanted to see through them?"

He was gazing at her now, and she suddenly looked down, while the mostbeautiful transparent pink flushed her soft white cheeks, turning herinto 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 therewas 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 ofthings. You seemed so young, and so beautiful, and so--asleep. "

"Indeed I wasn't asleep!" Paul exclaimed. "It would take a great dealmore port than that to make me go to sleep. I was thinking of--" Andthen he saw she had not meant that kind of sleep, and felt a fool--andwondered. 

She helped him out. 

"All this time you have not told me why you were upset--upset enoughto drink bad port. That was naughty of you, Paul. "

"I was upset--over you. I was angry because I was so interested--" andhe reddened again. 

She leant back among the purple cushions, her figure so supple in itslines, it made him think of a snake. She half closed her eyesagain--and she spoke low in a dreamy voice:

"It was fate, Paul. I knew it when I entered the room. I felt it againamong 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 mouthagain. It neither drooped nor smiled, it was straight, and chiselledand strong, and small rather, and the lower lip was rounded andslightly cleft in the centre. A most appetising red flower of a mouth. 

By this time Paul was more or less intoxicated with excitement, he hadlost all sense of time and place. It seemed as if he had known heralways--that there never had been a moment when she had not filled thewhole of his horizon. 

They were both silent for a couple of minutes. As far as he couldgather from her inscrutable face, she was weighing things--whatthings?

Suddenly she sprang up, one of those fine movements of hers full ofcat-like grace. 

"Paul, " she said, "listen, " and she spoke rather fast. "You are soyoung, so young--and I shall hurt you--probably. Won't you gonow--while there is yet time? Away from Lucerne, back to Paris--evenback to England. Anywhere away from me. "

She put her hand on his arm, and looked up into his eyes. And therewere 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 tolive! And I will chance the hurt, because I know that only you canteach me--just how--"'

Then his voice broke, and he bent down and covered her hand withkisses. 

She quivered a little and drew away. She picked up a great bunch oftuberoses, and broke off all their tops. "There, take them!" she said, pressing them into his hands, and those against his heart. "Take themand go--and dream of me. You have chosen. Dream of me to-night andremember--there is to-morrow. "

Then she glided back from him, and before he realised it she had gonenoiselessly away through another door. 

Paul stood still. The room swam; his head swam. Then he stumbled outon to the terrace, under the night sky, the white blossoms stillpressed against his heart. 

He must have walked about for hours. The grey dawn was creeping overthe silent world when at last he went back to the hotel and to hisbed. 

There he slept and dreamt--never a dream! For youth and health areglorious things. And he was tired out. 

The great sun was high in the heavens when next he awoke. And the roomwas full of the scent of tuberoses, scattered on the pillow besidehim. Presently, when his blue eyes began to take in the meaning ofthings, he remembered and bounded up. For was not this thecommencement of his first real day?

CHAPTER IV

The problem which faced Paul, when he had finished a very latebreakfast, was how he should see her soon--the lady in black. 

He could not go and call like an ordinary visitor, because he did notknow her name! That was wonderful--did not even know her name, oranything about her, only that his whole being was thrilling withanxiety to see her again. 

The simplest thing to do seemed to descend into the hall and look atthe 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 searchingfor. Zalenska--she was possibly Russian after all. And what was herchristian name? That he longed to know. 

As he stood staring, his fair forehead puckered into a frown ofthought, the silver-haired servant came up behind him and said, withhis 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, whilehe tore open the envelope. It had the most minute sphinx in thecorner, 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 greentrees. Come to the landing towards the station, and I will call foryou 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 hadindicated. Soon the launch glided up, he saw her there reclining underan awning of striped green. 

It was a well-arranged launch, the comfortable deck-chairs were in thebows, and the steering took place from a raised perch behind thecabin, so the two were practically alone. The lady was in grey to-day, and it suited her strangely. Her eyes gleamed at him, full ofmischief, under her large grey hat. 

Paul drew his chair a little forward, turning it so that he could lookat 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 thinkof the good for you, only I wanted you--to please myself. I wish to befoolish to-day, Paul, and see your eyes dance, and watch the light onyour 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 lookingindescribably beautiful, with the colours of the springtime. 

"Do you see the green of those beeches by the water, Paul? Look attheir tenderness, next the dark firs--and then the blue beyond--andsee, there is a copper beech, he is king of them all! I would like tobuild a châlet up in some part like that, and come there each year inMay--to read fairy-tales. "

For the first time in his life Paul saw with different eyes--just thebeauty of things--and forgot to gauge their sporting possibilities. Aninfinite joy was flooding his being, some sensation he had not dreamedabout even, of happiness and fulfilment. 

She appeared to him more alluring than ever, and young and gay--asyoung as Isabella! And then his thoughts caused him to take in hisbreath with a hiss--Isabella--how far away she seemed. Of course hecould never love any one else--but--

"Don't think of it, then, " the lady whispered. "Be young like me, andlive under the blue sky. "

How was it she knew his thoughts always? He blushed while hestammered: "No--I won't think of it--or anything but you--Princess. "

"Daring one!" she said, "who told you to call me that? The hotelpeople have been talking, I suppose. "

"No, " said Paul, surprised, "I called you Princess just because youseem like one to me--but now I guess from what you say, you are notplain Madame Zalenska. "

Her eyes clouded for a second. "Madame Zalenska does to travelwith--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 somocking through the trees on the Bürgenstock? They drove me nearlymad, 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 yougazed up at me! And so I was the true hare--and ran away!"

She looked down suddenly and was silent for some moments, then sheturned the conversation from these personal things. She led histhoughts into new channels--made him observe the trees and sky, andthe wonderful beauty of it all, and with lightning flashes took himinto unknown speculations on emotions and the meaning of things. 

A new existence seemed to open to Paul's view. And all the while shelay back in her chair almost motionless, only her wonderful eyes litup the strange whiteness of her face. There was not a touch of_mauvaise honte_, or explanation of the unusualness of thissituation in her manner. It had a perfect, quiet dignity, as if tolook into the eyes of an unknown young man at night over an ivyterrace, and then spend a day with him alone, were the most naturalthings 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 andlunch. And from somewhere behind the cabin Dmitry appeared, and wassent on ahead, so that when they walked into the little hotel a simplerepast was waiting for them. 

By this time Paul was absolutely enthralled. Never in his whole lifehad he spent such a morning. His imagination was expanded. He saw newvistas. His brain almost whirled. Was it he--Paul Verdayne--who wasseated opposite this divine woman, drinking in her voice, andlistening to her subtle curious thoughts?

And what were the commonplace, ordinary things which had hithertooccupied 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 newlook appeared round the lady's mouth--imperious, with an instantaneousflash in her eyes--a pure, steel-grey they were to-day. 

"Leave it to Dmitry, " she said quickly. "I never occupy myself withmoney. They displease me, these details--and why spoil my day?"

But Paul was an Englishman, and resented any woman's paying for hisfood. 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 meunjarred by your English conventionalities, or you pay these miserablefrancs and go back to Lucerne alone!"

Paul shrugged his shoulders. He was angry, but could not insistfurther. 

When they got outside, her voice grew caressing again as she led theway to a path up among the young beeches. 

"Paul--foolish one!" she said. "Do you not think I understand and knowyou--and your quaint English ways? But imagine how silly it is. I amquite aware that you have ample money to provide me with a feast ofMidas--all of gold--if necessary, and you shall some day, if youreally wish. But to stop over paltry sums of francs, to destroy thethread of our conversation and thoughts--to make it all banal andeveryday! That is what I won't have. Dmitry is there for nothing elsebut to _éviter_ for me these details. It is my holiday, mypleasure-day, my time of joy. I felt young, Paul. You would not makeone little shadow for me--would you, _ami?_"

No voice that he had ever dreamt of possessed so many tones in it ashers--even one of pathos, as she lingered over the word "shadow, " Allhis annoyance melted. He only felt he would change the very mainspringof his life if necessary to give her pleasure and joy. 

"Of course I would not make a shadow, --surely you know that, " hesaid, 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 thecaress in her words. To belong to her! That was something, if but forone day. 

"Only it must never come up again, this question", sheinsisted. "Should we spend more hours on this lake, or other lakes--ormountains, or rivers, or towns--let us speak never of money, orpaying. If you only knew of how I hate it! the cruel yellow gold! Ihave heaps of it--heaps of it! and for it human beings have alwayspaid so great a price. Just this once in life let it bring happinessand peace. "

He wondered at the concentrated feeling she expressed. What could theprice be? And what was her history?"

"So it is over, our little breeze, " she said gently, after apause. "And you will tease me no more, Paul?"

"I would never tease you!" he exclaimed tenderly. And, if he haddared, he would have taken her hand. 

"You English are so wonderful! Full of your prejudices, " she said in acontemplative way. "Bulldog tenacity of purpose, whether you areright or wrong. Things are a custom, and they must be done, or it isnot 'playing the game, '" and she imitated a set English voice, herbeautiful mouth pursed up, until Paul had to use violent restraintwith himself to keep from kissing it. "A wonderful people--mostlygentlemen and generally honest, but of a common sense that isdisastrous to sentiment or romance. If you were not so polished, andlazy and strong--and beautiful to look at, one would not consider youmuch beyond the German. "

"Not consider us beyond a beastly German!" exclaimed Paulindignantly. 

And the lady laughed like a child. 

"Oh! you darling Paul!" she said. "You dear, insular, arrogantEnglishman! 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 theother way; they have not enough common sense, they are only greatgentlemen. Also, they are naturally awake, whereas you English arenaturally asleep, and you yourself are the Sleeping Beauty, Paul. "

They had climbed up the path now some two hundred feet, and all aroundthem were stripling beeches of an unnaturally exquisite green, asfresh and pure and light almost as leaves of the forced lily of thevalley. 

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 hearwhy 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 upby a--kiss?"

"She did!" said the lady, leaning back against a tree behind her; "butthen it was just her faculties which were asleep, not her soul. Coulda kiss wake a soul?"

"I think so, " Paul whispered. He was seated on a part of the rockwhich jutted out a little lower than her resting-place, and he was soclose as to be almost touching her. He could look up under the brim ofthat tantalising hat, which so often hid her from his view as theywalked. He was quivering with excitement at this moment, the result ofthe thought of a kiss--and his blue eyes blazed with desire as theydevoured her face. 

"Yes--it is so, " said the lady, a low note in her voice. "BecauseHuldebrand gave Undine a soul with a kiss. "

"Tell me about it, " implored Paul. "I am so ignorant. Who wasHuldebrand, and what did he do?"

So she began in a dreamy voice, and you who have read De la MotteFouqué's dry version of this exquisite legend would hardly haverecognised the poetry and pathos and tender sentiment she wove roundthose two, and the varied moods of Undine, and the passion of herknight. And when she came to the evening of their wedding, when theyoung priest had placed their hands together, and listened to theirvows--when Undine had found her soul at last, in Huldebrand'sarms--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 notvalue it--he threw it away. "

"Oh, no! I don't believe it!" Paul exclaimed vehemently. "It was justthis brute Huldebrand. But you don't know men--to think they do notvalue what they win--you don't know them, indeed!"

She looked down straight into his face, as he gazed up at her, and tohis intense surprise he could have sworn her eyes were green now! asgreen as emeralds. And they held him and fascinated him and paralysedhim, 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 achild, and kept it there, kissing her gloved hands. His straw hat, with its Zingari ribbon, lay on the grass beside him, and a tiny shaftof sunlight glanced through the trees, gilding the crisp waves of hisbrushed-back hair into dark burnished gold. 

The lady moved one hand from his impassioned caress, and touched thecurl with her finger-tips. She smiled with the tenderness a mothermight have done. 

"There--there!" she said. "Not yet. " Then she drew her hand away fromhim and leant back, half closing her eyes. 

Paul sat up and stared around. Each moment of the day was providingnew emotions for him. Surely this was what Columbus must have felt, nearing the new world. He pulled himself together. She was not angrythen at his outburst, and his caress--though something in her facewarned him not to err again. 

"Tell me the rest, " he said pleadingly. "Why did he not value Undine'slove, and what made the fool throw it away?"

"Because he possessed it, you see, " said the lady. "That was reasonenough, surely. "

Then she told him of the ceasing of Undine's wayward moods after shehad received her soul--of her docility--of her tenderness--ofHuldebrand's certainty of her love. Then of his inevitableweariness. And at last of the Court, and the meeting again withHildegarde, and of all the sorrow that followed, until the end, whenthe fountains burst their stoppings and rushed upwards, wreathingthemselves into the figure of Undine, to take her Love to death withher kiss. 

"Oh! he was wise!" Paul said. "He chose to die with her kiss. He knewat last then--what he had thrown away. "

"That one learns often, Paul, when it has grown--too late! Come, letus live in the sunshine. Live while we may. "

And the lady rose, and giving him her hand, she almost ran into thebright light of day, where even no tender shadows fell. 

CHAPTER V

Their return journey was one of quiet. The lady talked little, sheleant back and looked away across the blue lake, often apparentlyunconscious 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 abit like his mother, or Isabella, or any of the other women whom heknew--people whose moods he had never even speculated about--if theyhad any--which he doubted. 

Why wouldn't she speak? Had she forgotten him? He felt chilled andsaddened. 

At last, as they neared a small bay where another tempting littlechalet-hotel mirrored itself in the clear water, he spoke. A note inhis 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? Foolishone! No, I am dreaming. And I forgot that you could not know yet, orunderstand. English Paul! who would have me make conversation andchatter commonplaces or he feels a _gêne!_ See, I will take youwhere I have been into this infinite sky and air"--she let her handfall on his arm and thrilled him--"look up at Pilatus. Do you see hishead so snowy, and all the delicate shadows upon him, and his look ofmystery? And those dark pines--and the great chasms, and the wildanger the giants were in when they hurled these huge rocks about? Ihave been with them, and you and I seem such little people, Paul. Wecannot throw great rocks about--we are only two small ants in thisgrand world. "

Paul's face was puzzled, he did not believe in giants. His mind wasnot accustomed yet to these flights of speech, he felt stupid andirritated with himself, and in some way humiliated. The lady leantover him, her face playfully tender. 

"Great blue eyes!" she said. "So pretty, so pretty! What matterwhether they can see or no?" And she touched his lids with her slenderfingers. 

Paul quivered in his chair. 

"You know!" he gasped. "You make me mad--I----But won't you teach meto 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 ofthings. Together we will put on the hat of darkness and go down intoHades. We shall taste the apples of the Hesperides--we will robMercure of his sandals--and Gyges of his ring. And one day, Paul--whentogether we have fathomed the meaning of it all--what will happenthen, _enfant?_"

Her last word, "_enfant, _" was a caress, and Paul was toobewildered with joy to answer her for a moment. 

"What will happen?" he said at last. "I shall just love you--that'sall!"

Then he remembered Isabella Waring, and suddenly covered his face withhis hands. 

They stopped for tea at the quaint châlet-hotel, and after it theywandered to pick gentians. The lady was sweet and sympathetic and gay;she ceased startling him with wild fancies; indeed, she spoke ofsimple everyday things, and got him to tell her of his home andOxford, and his horses and his dogs. And when they arrived at thesubject of Pike, her sympathy drew Paul nearer to her than ever. Ofcourse she would love Pike if she only knew him! Who could help lovinga dog like Pike? And his master waxed eloquent. Then, when he lookedaway, the lady's weird chameleon eyes melted upon him in that strangetenderness which might have been a mother's watching the gambols ofher babe. 

The shadows were quite deep when at last they decided to return toLucerne--a small bunch of heaven's own blue flower the only trophy ofthe day. 

Paul had never enjoyed himself so much in his twenty-three years oflife. And what would the evening bring? Surely more joy. This partingat the landing could not be good-night!

But as the launch glided nearer and nearer his heart fell, and at lasthe could bear the uncertainty no longer. 

"And for dinner?" he said. "Won't you dine me, my Princess? Let me beyour host, as you have been mine all to-day. "

But a stiffness seemed to fall upon her suddenly--she appeared to havebecome a stranger again almost. 

"Thank you, no. I cannot dine, " she said. "I must write letters--andgo to sleep. "

Paul felt an ice-hand clutching his heart. His face became so blank asto almost pale before her eyes. 

She leant forward, and smiled. "Will you be lonely, Paul? Then at teno'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 backto the hotel at the same place from which they had embarked, and thelaunch struck out again into the lake. 

He walked fast, just to be near enough to see her step ashore on tothe hotel wharf, but he could not arrive in time, and her grey figuredisappearing up the terrace steps was all his hungry eyes werevouchsafed. 

The weariness of dinner! What did it matter what the food was? Whatdid it matter that a new family of quite nice English people hadarrived, and sat near? A fresh young girl and a youth, and a fatherand mother. People who would certainly play billiards and probablybridge. What did anything matter in the world? Time must be gotthrough, simply got through until ten o'clock--that was all. 

At half-past nine he strode out and sat upon the bench. His thoughtswent back in a constant review of the day. How she had looked, wherethey had sat, what she had said. Why her eyes seemed green in the woodand blue on the water. Why her voice had all those tones in it. Whyshe had been old and young, and wise and childish. Then he thought ofthe story of Undine and the lady's strange, snake's look when she hadsaid: "I do not know men?--You think not, Paul?"

His heart gave a great bound at the remembrance. He permitted himselfno speculation as to where he was drifting. He just sat therethrilling in every limb and every sense and every quality of hisbrain. 

As the clocks chimed the hour something told him she was there abovehim, although he heard no sound. 

Not a soul was in sight in this quiet corner. He bounded on to thebench to be nearer--if she should come. If she were there hiding inthe shadows. This was maddening--unbearable. He would climb thebalustrade to see. Then out of the blackest gloom came a laugh ofsilver. A soft laugh that was almost a caress. And suddenly she creptclose and leant down over the ivy. 

"Paul, " she whispered. "I have come, you see, to wishyou--good-night!"

Paul stood up to his full height. He put out his arms to draw her tohim, 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 lowthat at last she was level with his face. And slowly her red lipsmelted into his young lips in a long, strange kiss. 

Then, before Paul could grasp her, or murmur one pleading word, shewas gone. 

And again he found himself alone, intoxicated with emotion under thenight sky studded with stars. 

CHAPTER VI

Rain, rain, rain! That was not an agreeable sound to wake to when onehad not had more than a few hours' sleep, and one's only hope of theday was to see one's lady again. 

So Paul thought despairingly. What would happen? No lake, or mountainclimb, was possible--but see her he must. After that kiss--thatdivine, enthralling, undreamed-of kiss. What did it mean? Did shelove him? He loved her, that was certain. The poor feeble emotion hehad experienced for Isabella was completely washed out and gone now. 

He felt horribly ashamed of himself when he thought about it. Hisparents were perfectly right, of course; they had known best, andfortunately Isabella had not perhaps believed him, and was not aperson of deep feeling anyway. 

But the extreme discomfort of the thought of her made him toss in hisbed. What ought he to do? Rush away from Lucerne? To what good? Thedie was cast, and in any case he was not bound to Isabella in anyway. But at least he ought to write to her and tell her he had made amistake. That was the only honest thing to do. A terrible duty, andhe must brace himself up to accomplish it. 

He breakfasted in his sitting-room, his thoughts scourging him thewhile, and afterwards, with a bulldog determination, he faced thewriting-table and began. 

He tore up at least three sheets to start with--no Greek lines ofpunishment in his boyhood had ever appeared such a task as this. Hefound himself scribbling profiles on the paper, chiselled profileswith inky hair--but no words would come. 

"Dear Isabella, " he wrote at last. No--"My dear Isabella, " then hepaused and bit the pen. "I feel I ought to tell you something hashappened 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 itlike that, " and he scratched the paragraph out and began again. "Ihave made a mistake in my feelings for you; I know now that they werethose of a brother--" "O Lord, what am I to say next, it does soundbald, this!" The poor boy groaned and ran his hands through his curlyhair, then seized the pen again, and continued--"as such I shall loveyou always, dear Isabella. Please forgive me if I have caused you anypain. It was all my fault, and I feel a beastly cad. --Your veryunhappy PAUL. "

This was not a masterpiece! but it would have to do. So he copied itout on a fresh piece of paper. Then, when it was all finished andaddressed he ran down and posted it himself in the hall, with some ofthe emotions Alexander may have experienced when he burnt his ships. 

The clock struck eleven. At what time would he see thelady--_his_ lady he called her now. Some instinct told him shedid not wish the hotel people to be aware of their acquaintance. Hefelt 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 hewent and into the town. The quaint bridge pleased him; he tried tothink how she would have told him to use his eyes. He must not bestupid, he said to himself, and already he began to perceive newmeanings in things. Coming back, he chanced to stop and look in atthe fur shop under the hotel. There were some nice skins there, andwhat caught his attention most was a really splendid tiger. Amagnificent creature the beast must have been. The deepest, mostperfectly marked, largest one he had ever seen. He stood for some timeadmiring it. An infinitely better specimen than his lady had over hercouch. Should he buy it for her? Would she take it? Would it pleaseher 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 hisparents had given him ample money for any follies. 

"Confound it, Henrietta! The boy must have his head!" Sir CharlesVerdayne had said. "He's my son, you know, and you can't expect tocure him of one wench unless you provide him with shekels to buyanother. " Which crudely expressed wisdom had been followed, and Paulhad no worries where his banking account was concerned. 

He bought the tiger, and ordered it to be sent to his roomsimmediately. 

Then there was lunch to be thought of. She would not be thereprobably, but still he had a faint hope. 

She was not there, nor were any preparations made for her; but whenone is twenty-three and hungry, even if deeply in love, one musteat. The English people had the next table beyond the sacred one ofthe lady. The girl was pretty and young, and laughing. But what adoll! thought Paul. What a meaningless wax doll! Not worth--not wortha moment's glancing at. 

And the pink and white fluffy girl was saying to herself: "There isPaul Verdayne again. I wish he remembered he had met me at the DeCourcys', though we weren't introduced. I must get Percy to scrape upa conversation with him. I wish mamma had not made me wear this greenalpaca to-day. " But Paul's blue eyes gazed through and beyond her, andsaw her not. So all this prettiness was wasted. 

And directly after lunch he returned to his sitting room. The tigerwould 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 asplendid creature--it reminded him in some way of her--his lady. 

Then he went into his bedroom and fetched a pair of scissors, andproceeded to kneel on the floor and pare away the pinked-out blackcloth which came beyond the skin. It looked banal, and he knew shewould not like that. 

Oh! he was awaking! this beautiful young Paul. 

He had scarcely finished when there was a tap at the door, and Dmitryappeared with a note. The thin, remembered paper thrilled him, and hetook it from the servant's hand. 

"Paul--I am in the devil's mood to-day. About 5 o'clock come to me bythe terrace steps. "

That was all--there was no date or signature. But Paul's heart beatin his throat with joy. 

"I want the skin to go to Madame, " he said. "Have you any means ofconveying it to her without the whole world seeing it go?"

The stately servant bowed. "If the Excellency would help him to foldit up, " he said, "he would take it now to his own room, and fromthence to the _appartement numero 3_. "

It is not a very easy thing to fold up a huge tiger-skin into a brownpaper parcel tied with string. But it was accomplished somehow andDmitry 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 silkcurtains were drawn in the lady's room when Paul entered from theterrace. And loveliest sight of all, in front of the fire, stretchedat full length, was his tiger--and on him--also at fulllength--reclined the lady, garbed in some strange clinging garment ofheavy purple crepe, its hem embroidered with gold, one white armresting on the beast's head, her back supported by a pile of thevelvet cushions, and a heap of rarely bound books at her side, whilebetween her red lips was a rose not redder than they--an almostscarlet rose. Paul had never seen one as red before. 

The whole picture was barbaric. It might have been some painter'sdream of the Favourite in a harem. It was not what one would expect tofind in a sedate Swiss hotel. 

She did not stir as he stepped in, dropping the heavy curtains afterhim. 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 wasevidently 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. Notyet. See, you must sit there and we will talk. "

And she pointed to a great chair of Venetian workmanship and wonderfulold velvet which was new to his view. 

"I bought that chair in the town this morning at the curiosity shop onthe top of Weggisstrasse, which long ago was the home of the Venetianenvoy here--and you bought me the tiger, Paul. Ah! that was good. Mybeautiful tiger!" And she gave a movement like a snake, of joy to feelits fur under her, while she stretched out her hands and caressed thecreature where the hair turned white and black at the side, and wasdeep and soft. 

"Beautiful one! beautiful one!" she purred. "And I know all yourfeelings and your passions, and now I have got your skin--for the joyof my skin!" And she quivered again with the movements of a snake. 

It is not difficult to imagine that Paul felt far from calm duringthis scene--indeed he was obliged to hold on to his great chair toprevent himself from seizing her in his arms. 

"I'm--I'm so glad you like him, " he said in a choked voice. "I thoughtprobably you would. And your own was not worthy of you. I found thisby chance. And oh! good God! if you knew how you are making mefeel--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 herstrange 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 inthis!"

Then he gasped at his own boldness. 

With a lightning movement she lay on her face, raised her elbows onthe tiger's head, and supported her chin in her hands. Perfectlystraight out her body was, the twisted purple drapery outlining herperfect shape, and flowing in graceful lines beyond--like a serpent'stail. 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, " hesaid confusedly. "But--but--don't you understand, I want you to teachme--"

"You are so sweet, Paul! when you plead like that I am taking in everybit of you. In your way as perfect as this tiger. But we musttalk--oh! such a great, great deal--first. "

A rage of passion was racing through Paul, his incoherent thoughtswere that he did not want to talk--only to kiss her--to devour her--tostrangle her with love if necessary. 

He bit the rose. 

"You see, Paul, love is a purely physical emotion, " she continued. "Wecould speak an immense amount about souls, and sympathy, andunderstanding, and devotion. All beautiful things in their way, andpossible to be enjoyed at a distance from one another. All the thingswhich make passion noble--but without love--which _is_ passion--these things dwindle and become duties presently, when the hystericalexaltation 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 tothe drip of the rain outside, and her eyes--half closed andgleaming--burnt into his brain. It seemed as if strange flames ofgreen darted from their pupils. 

"But that is what I want!" Paul said, unsteadily. 

"Without counting the cost? Tears and--cold steel--and blood!" shewhispered. "Wait a while, beautiful Paul!"

He started back chilled for a second, and in that second she changedher position, pulling the cushions around her, nestling into them anddrawing herself cosily up like a child playing on a mat in front ofthe fire, while with a face of perfect innocence she looked up as shedrew 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 forhim, greatly advanced though he had become in these short days sincehe had known her. He leant back in his chair, every nerve in his bodyquivering, 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, andmustn't be teased. I want to read about Cupid and Psyche from thiswonderful 'Golden Ass' of Apuleius--just a simple tale for a wetday--and you and--me!"

"Read then!" said Paul, resigned. 

And she commenced in Latin, in a chanting, tender voice. Paul hadforgotten most of the Latin he knew, but he remembered enough to beaware that this must be as easy as English to her as it flowed alongin a rich rhythmic sound. 

It soothed him. He seemed to be dreaming of flowery lands and runningstreams. After a while she looked up again, and then with one of hersudden movements like a graceful cat, she was beside him leaning fromthe back of his chair. 

"Paul!" she whispered right in his ear, "am I being wicked for youto-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 somelanguage he knew not--a cadence of melody he had never heard, but onewhose notes made strange quivers all up his spine. An exquisitepleasure of sound that was almost pain. And when he felt he could bearno more, she flung the instrument aside, and leant over his chairagain--caressing his curls with her dainty fingers, and purringunknown strange words in his ear. 

Paul was young and unlearned in many things. He was completelyenthralled and under her dominion--but he was naturally no weakling ofbody or mind. And this was more than he could stand. 

"_You_ mustn't be teased. My God! it is you who are maddeningme!" he cried, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Do you think I am astatue, or a table, or chair--or inanimate like that tiger there? I amnot, I tell you!" and he seized her in his arms, raining kisses uponher which, whatever they lacked in subtlety, made up for in theirpassion and strength. "Some day some man will kill you, I suppose, butI shall be your lover--first!"

The lady gasped. She looked up at him in bewildered surprise, as achild might do who sets a light to a whole box of matches inplay. What a naughty, naughty toy to burn so quickly for such a littlestrike!

But Paul's young, strong arms held her close, she could not struggleor move. Then she laughed a laugh of pure glad joy. 

"Beautiful, savage Paul, " she whispered. "Do you love me? Tell methat?"

"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 theworld 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 insidethe half-burnt logs tumbled together, causing a cloud of goldensparks, 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 wasall in black velvet, stately and dignified and fine. She passed hischair and took her seat, not the faintest sign of recognition on herface. And although he was prepared for this, for some reason hisheart sank for a moment. Her demeanour was the same as on the firstnight he had seen her, hardly raising her eyes, eating little of themost exquisite food, and appearing totally unconscious of herneighbours or their ways. 

She caused a flutter of excitement at the English table, the onlyother party, except two old men in a corner, who had dined so late, and they were half-way through their repast before she beganhers. Paul was annoyed to see how they stared--stared at _his_lady. But what joy it was to sit there and realise that she washis--his very own! And only four nights ago he had been a rudestranger, too, criticising her every movement, and drinking too muchport with annoyance over it all. And now his whole life was changed. He saw with new eyes, and heard with new ears, even his casualobservation was altered and sharpened, so that he noticed the textureof the cloth and the quality of the glass, and the shape of the roomand its decoration. 

And how insupportably commonplace the good English family seemed! Thatbread-and-butter miss with her pink cheeks and fluffy hair, without ahat! Women's hair should be black and grow in heavy waves. He wascertain of that now. How like them to come into a foreign restauranthatless, 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. Asense of complete joy and satisfaction stealing over him, his wildexcitement and emotion calmed for the time. 

The delightful sensation of sharing a secret with her--a love-secretknown only to themselves. Think, if these Philistines guessed at iteven! their faces. And at this thought Paul almost laughed aloud. 

With passionate interest he absorbed every little detail about hislady. How exactly she knew what suited her. How refined and _grandedame_ and quiet it all was, and what an air of breeding and commandshe had in the poise of her little Greek head. 

What did it matter what age she was, or of what nation? What didanything matter since she was his? And at that thought his heart beganto beat again and cause him to speculate as to his evening. 

Would she let him come back to the terrace room after dinner, or musthe get through the time as best he could? When he had left her, halfdazed with joy and languor, no arrangements had been made--no definiteplans settled. But of course she could not mean him not to wish hergood-night--not _now_. For one second before she left the roomtheir eyes met, she raised a red rose, which she had taken from thesilver vase, casually to her lips, and then passed out, but Paul knewshe had meant the kiss for him, and his whole being was uplifted. 

It was still pouring with rain. No possible excuse to smoke on theterrace. It might be wiser to stay in the hall. Surely Dmitry wouldcome with some message before very long, if he was patient and waitedher pleasure. But ten o'clock struck and there was no sign. Only theEnglish 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 offto the billiard-room--now--to-night!

He said he had a headache, and answered rather shortly in fact, andthen, to escape further importunity, went up to his sitting-room, there to await the turn of events, leaving poor little MabelTrevellian 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 mydress 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 theappearance of a Princess, " said Mabel's mother, who had seen theworld. 

Paul meanwhile paced his room--an anxious excitement was now hisportion. Surely, surely she could not mean him not to see her--not tosay one little good-night. What should he do? What possible planinvent? As eleven chimed he could bear it no longer. Rain or no, hemust go out on the terrace!

"Those mad English!" the porter said to himself, as he watched Paul'stall figure disappear in the dripping night. 

And there till after twelve he paced the path under the trees. But nolight showed; the terrace gate was locked. It was chilly and wet andmiserable, and at last he crept back utterly depressed, to bed. Butnot to sleep. Even his youth and health were not proof against the mademotions of the day. He tossed and turned, a thousand questionssinging in his brain. Was it really he who had been chosen by thisdivine woman for her lover? And if so, why was he alone now instead ofholding her in his arms? What did it all mean? Who was she? Wherewould it end? But here he refused to think further. He was living atall 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 toknow of life. 

At last he fell asleep, one sentence ringing in his ears--"Tearsand--cold steel--and blood!" But if he was young, he was a gallantgentleman, and Fear had no place in his dreams. 

CHAPTER VIII

Next day they went to the Bürgenstock to stay. It was all arranged withconsummate 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 amiablemanager--inspired by Dmitry--a few days in higher air. There would not bea soul in their hotel on top of the Bürgenstock probably, and she couldhave 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 comingwith 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 fewdays before. In this to his lady he had said he could not bear it _now_, the uncertainty of seeing her, and had suggested the Bürgenstock crudely, without any of the clever details which afterwards made it possible. 

He--Paul Verdayne, not quite twenty-three years old, and English--tosuggest without a backward thought or a qualm that a lady whom he hadknown five days should come and live with him and be his love! None of hisfriends accustomed to his bashful habits would have believed it. Only hisfather perhaps might have smiled. 

As for the Lady Henrietta, she would have fainted on the spot. But fortunefavoured him--they did not know. 

No excitement of the wildest day's hunting had ever made his pulses boundlike this! Dmitry had arranged everything. Paul was a young Englishsecretary to Madame, who had much writing to do. And in any case it is notthe 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 honestfellow, and devoted to his master--but Sir Charles Verdayne had decided tomake 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 areshut, 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 hegets into any thundering mess let me know--but mum's the word, d'yunderstand, Tompson?"

"I do, Sir Charles, " said Tompson, stolidly. 

And he did, as events proved. 

The rooms on the Bürgenstock looked so simple, so unlike the sitting-roomat Lucerne! Just fresh and clean and primitive. Paul wandered throughthem, 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 onhis bed; with the softest down pillows. How dear of his lady to think thusof him!--her secretary. 

The tiger--his tiger--had arrived in the sitting-room, and some simplecushions of silk; sweet-peas and spring flowers decorated the vases--therewere no tuberoses, or anything hot-house, or forced. 

The sun blazed in at the windows, the green trees all washed and freshfrom the rain gladdened his eye, and down below, a sapphire lake reflectedthe snow-capped mountains. What a setting for a love-dream. No wonder Paultrod on air!

The only possible crumpled rose-leaves were some sentences in the lady'sreply to his impassioned letter of the morning:

"Yes, I will come, Paul--but only on one condition, that you never ask mequestions as to who I am, or where I am going. You must promise me to takelife 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 mymovements. You must give me your word of honour for this--you will neverseek to discover who or what was your loved one--you must never try tofollow me. Yes, I will come for now--when I have your assurance--but Iwill go when I will go--in silence. "

And Paul had given his word. He felt he could not look ahead. He must justlive 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 thelong 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 ayounger shape. Her skirt was short, and he could see her small and slenderfeet, while a straw hat and veil adorned her black hair. Everything wassimple, and as it should be for a mountain top and unsophisticatedsurroundings. 

Tea was laid out on the balcony, fragrant Russian tea, and when Dmitry hadlit 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 otherlanguage. And you are glad I have come, and we shall live a little and bequite happy here in our pretty nest, all fresh and not a bit too grand--isit not so? Oh! what joys there are in life; and oh! how foolish just tomiss them. "

"Indeed, _yes_, " said Paul. 

Then they played with the tea, and she showed him how he was to drink itwith 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 andlord! Wild happiness rushed through him. How had he ever endured the timebefore 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 theirexercise! And of course she must think of everything that would be for thepleasure of her lover Paul. 

And he? You old worn people of the world, who perhaps are reading, thinkwhat all this was to Paul--his young strong life vibrating to passionatejoys, his imagination kindled, his very being uplifted and thrilled withhappiness! His charming soul expanded, he found himself saying gracioustender phrases to her. Every moment he was growing more passionately inlove, and in each new mood she seemed the more divine. Not one trace ofher waywardness of the day before remained. Her eyes, as they glanced athim from under her hat, were bashful and sweet, no look of the devil toprovoke a saint. She talked gently. 

He must take her to the place where she had peeped at him through thetrees. 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 thecolour of the moss, the tints of the beeches, every little shade and shapeof nature, and letting Paul see with her eyes. 

And all the while she was nestling near him like a tender ring-dove to hermate. Paul's heart swelled with exultation. He felt good, as if he couldbe kind to every one, as if his temper were a thing to be ashamed of, andall his faults, as if for ever he must be her own true knight anddefender, 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 toshow 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 ourlove 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 foryou. "

So they went in to their little hotel. 

She was all in white when Paul found her in their inner salon, where theywere to dine alone, waited on only by Dmitry. Her splendid hair was boundwith 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 anygarment he had ever seen. They sat on a sofa together, the table in frontof them, and they ate slowly and whispered much--and before Paul couldtaste his wine, she kissed his glass and sipped from it and made him dothe same with hers. The food was of the simplest, and the only thingsexotic were the great red strawberries at the end. 

Dmitry had left them, placing the coffee on the table as he went, and abottle of the rare golden wine. 

Then this strange lady grew more tender still. She must lie in Paul'sarms, and he must feed her with strawberries. And the thought came to himthat 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 bemore to come. At last she raised herself and poured out the yellowwine--into one glass. 

"My Paul, " she said, "this is our wedding might, and this is our weddingwine. 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, amad current of passionate remembrance will come to him--and still morepassionate regret. 

Oh! the divine joy of that night! They sat upon the balcony presently, andElaine in her worshipping thoughts of Lancelot--Marguerite wooed byFaust--the youngest girl bride--could not have been more sweet or tenderor submissive than this wayward Tiger Queen. 

"Paul, " she said, "out of the whole world tonight there are only you and Iwho matter, sweetheart. Is it not so? And is not that your English wordfor lover and loved--'sweetheart'?"

And Paul, who had never even heard it used except in a kind of joke, nowknew 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 claspedher violently in his arms--"remember--whatever happens--whatevercomes--for now, to-night, there is no other reason in all of this butjust--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 toPaul to be allowed to play with his lady's hair, all unbound for him to dowith 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 ofpossession. She was almost silent, only the history of the whole world ofpassion seemed written in her eyes--slumbrous, inscrutable, their heavylashes 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 shereal? Was it some dream, and would he wake in his room at Verdayne Placeamong the sporting prints and solid Chippendale furniture to hear Tompsonsaying, "Eight o'clock, sir, and a fine day"?

Oh, no, no, she was real! He raised himself, and bent down to touch hertenderly 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 overthe open windows, so the sun in high heaven seemed only as dawn in theroom, filtering though the _jalousies_ outside. But what was time? Timecounts 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 herlord, as a new bride should. 

But all the time the mystery stayed in her eyes. And the thought came toPaul that were he to live with her for a hundred years, he would never besure of their real meaning. 

"What shall we do with our day, my Paul?" she said presently. "See, youshall choose. Shall we climb to the highest point on this mountain andlook at our kingdom of trees and lake below? Or shall we rest in thelaunch and glide over the blue water, and dream sweet dreams? Or shall wedrive in the carriage far inland to a quaint farmhouse I know, where weshall see people living in simple happiness with their cows and theirsheep? 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 haveasked you to select our day had I decided myself? I would have commandedDmitry to make the arrangements, that is all. But no! to-day I am thyobedient one. I ask my Love to choose for me. To-morrow I may want my ownwill; to-day I desire only thine, beloved, " and she leant forward andlooked into his eyes. 

"The mountain top, then!" said Paul, "because there we can sit, and I cangaze at you, and learn more of life, close to your lips. I might not touchyou in the launch, and you might look at others at the farm--and it seemsas 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 topronounce them himself. And all this between their dainty dishes tooktime, 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 thetop. They dawdled slowly until they reached their goal. There, aloof fromthe beaten track, safe from the prying eyes of some chance stranger, theysat down, their backs against a giant rock, and all the glory of theirlake and tree-tops to gaze at down below. 

Paul had carried her cloak, and now they spread it out, covering theircouch of moss and lichen. A soft languor was over them both. Passion wasasleep for the while. But what exquisite bliss to sit thus, undisturbed intheir eyrie--he and she alone in all the world. 

Her words came back to him: "Love means to be clasped, to be close, to betouching, to be One!" Yes, they were One. 

Then she began to talk softly, to open yet more windows in his soul to joyand sunshine. Her mind seemed so vast, each hour gave him fresh surprisesin the perception of her infinite knowledge, while she charmed his fancyby 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 theworld, do they not, beloved? Small as those little boats floating likescattered flower-leaves on the great lake down there. They were inventedfirst to fill the place of the zest which fighting and holding one's ownby the strength of one's arm originally gave to man. Now, he has only lawsto 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 thesefoolish laws we are sinning, and you would be more nobly employed yawningwith 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 everstationary an emotion! Emotion which we can no more control than the treescan which way the wind will blow their branches! To love! Oh! yes, theycall it that at the altar--'joined together by God!' As likely as not twohuman creatures who hate each other, and are standing there swearing thoseimpossibilities for some political purpose and advantage of their family. They desecrate the word love. Love is for us, Paul, who came togetherbecause our beings cried, 'This is my mate!' I should say nothing ofit--oh no! if it had no pretence--marriage. If it were frankly acontract--'Yes, I give you my body and my dowry. ' 'Yes, you give me yourname and your state. ' It is of the coarse, horrible things one must passthrough in life--but to call the Great Spirit's blessing upon it, as anexaltation! To stand there and talk of love! Ah--that is what must makeGod angry, and I feel for Him. "

Paul noticed that she spoke as if she had no realisation of the lives oflesser persons who might possibly wed because they were "mated" aswell--not for political reasons or ambition of family. Her keen sensesdivined his thought. 

"Yes, beloved, you would say--?"

"Only that supposing you were not married to any one else, we should beswearing the truth if we swore before God that we loved. I would make anyvows to you from my soul, in perfect honesty, for ever and ever, mydarling Queen. "

His blue eyes, brimming with devotion and conviction of the truth of histhought, gazed up at her. And into her strange orbs there came that samelook of tenderness that once before had made them as a mother's watchingthe gambols of her babe. 

"There, there, " she said. "You would swear them and hug your chains ofroses--but because they were chains they would turn heavy as lead. Make novows, sweetheart! Fate will force you to break them if you do, and thenthe gods are angry and misfortune follows. Swear none, and that fickle onewill keep you passionate, in hopes always to lure you into herpitfalls--to vow and to break--pain and regret. Live, live, Paul, andlove, and swear nothing at all. "

Paul was troubled. "But, but, " he said, "don't you believe I shall loveyou 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 abeing always depends upon the loved one. I create an emotion in you, asyou create one in me. You do not create it in yourself. It is becausesomething in my personality causes an answering glow in yours that youlove me. Were you to cease to do so, it would be because I was no longerable to call forth that answer in you. It would not be your fault any morethan when you cease to please me it will be mine. That is where people areunjust. "

"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 orno--but it depends upon the object of one's love--whether he or she canhold 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 astronger at the needle's side, or by some deadening of the drawing qualityin 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 meaway. "

"You see, " she continued, "the ignorant make vows, and beingweaklings--for the most part--vanity and fate easily remove theirinclination from the loved one; it may not be his fault any more than abroken leg keeping him from walking would be his fault, beyond the factthat it was _his_ leg; but we have to suffer for our own things--so thereit is. We will say the weakling's inclination wants to make him break hisvows; so he does, either in the letter or spirit--or both! And then hefeels degraded and cheap and low, as all must do who break their sacredword given of their own free will when inclination prompted them to. Sohow much better to make no vow; then at least when the cord of attractionsnaps, we can go free, still defying the lightning in our untarnishedpride. "

"Oh! darling, do not speak of it, " cried Paul, "the cord of attractionbetween 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 lovingyou, 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 fromthe beginning of old time. More concentrated--more absorbed--than thesternest 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-openbalcony windows. They could see far away over the terrace and down to thelake, with the distant lights towards Lucerne. The moon, still slender andfine, was drawing to her setting, and a few cloudlets floated over thesky, obscuring the stars here and there. 

The lady was quiet and tender, her eyes melting upon Paul, and somethingof her ring-dove mood was upon her again. Not once, since they had been onthe Bürgenstock, had she shown any of the tigerish waywardness that he hadhad glimpses of at first. It seemed as if her moods, like her chameleoneyes, took colour from her surroundings, and there all was primitivesimplicity and nature and peace. 

Paul himself was in a state of ecstasy. He hardly knew whether he trod onair or no. No siren of old Greek fable had ever lured mortal more underher spell than this strange foreign woman thing--Queen or Princess or whatyou will. Nothing else in the world was of any consequence to him--and itwas all the more remarkable because subjection was in no way part of hisnature. Paul was a masterful youth, and ruled things to his will in hisown home. 

The lady talked of him--of his tastes--of his pleasures. There was not anincident 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 shesympathised with the girl, and how badly he had behaved. 

"Another proof, my Paul, of what I said today--no one must make vows aboutlove. "

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 itmay be so because you do not know from moment to moment how I shall be--ifI shall stay here in your arms, or fly far away beyond your reach. Youlove me because I give you the stimulus of uncertainty, and so keep brightyour passion, but once you were sure, I should become a duty, as all womenbecome, 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 herhow he longed to see the world and its people and its ways. She had beenalmost everywhere, it seemed, and with her talent of word-painting, shetook him with her on the magic carpet of her vivid description to east andwest and north and south. 

Oh! their _entr'actes_ between the incoherence of just lovers' love werenot banal or dull. And never she forgot her tender ways of insinuatedcaresses--small exquisite touches of sentiment and grace. The note ever ofOne--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 agreat lady, surrounded with state and cares, and now and then there was asavage echo which made him think of things barbaric, and wonder more thanever from whence she had come. 

It was quite late before the chill of night airs drove them into theirsalon, 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 wantspetting to cure it of some imaginary hurt. Only, in her tenderest caresseshe seemed at last to feel something of danger. A slumbering look ofpassion far under the calm exterior, but ready to break forth at anymoment from its studied control. 

It thrilled and maddened him. 

"Beloved, beloved!" he cried, "let us waste no more precious moments. Iwant you--I want you--my sweet!"

 * * * * *

At the first glow of dawn, he awoke, a strange sensation, almost ofstrangling and suffocation, upon him. There, bending over, framed in amist of blue-black waves, he saw his lady's face. Its milky whiteness litby her strange eyes--green as cats' they seemed, and blazing with thefiercest passion of love--while twisted round his throat he felt a greatstrand of her splendid hair. The wildest thrill as yet his life had knownthen 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 hearthe rain drip in monotonous fashion. Of what use to wake? Sleep isblissful and calm when the loved one is near. 

Thus it was late when Paul at last opened his eyes. He found himselfalone, and heard his lady's voice singing softly from the sitting-roombeyond, and through the open door he could perceive her stretched on thetiger, already dressed, reclining among the silk pillows, her guitar heldin her hands. 

"Hasten, hasten, lazy one. Thy breakfast awaits thee, " she called, andPaul 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 nearher, or caress her--and often she was restless and moved about with theundulating grace of a cat. She would peep from the windows, and frown atthe scene. The lake was hidden by mist, the skies cried, all nature wasweeping and gloomy. 

And at last she flung the books aside, and crept up to Paul, who washuddled on the sofa, feeling rather morose from her decree that he mustnot touch or kiss her. 

"Weeping skies, I hate you!" she said. Then she called Dmitry in a sharpvoice, and when he appeared from the passage where he always awaited herpleasure, she spoke to him in Russian, or some language Paul knew not, afierce gleam in her eyes. Dmitry abased himself almost to the floor, anddeparting quickly, returned with sticks and lit a blazing pine-log fire inthe open grate. Then he threw some powder into it, and with stealthy hastedrew all the orchid-silk curtains, and departed from the room. A strangedivine scent presently rose in the air, and over Paul seemed to steal aspell. The lady crept still nearer, and then with infinite sweetness, allher docility of the first hours of their union returned, she melted in hisarms. 

"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 meto Egypt where the sun always shines. "

And Paul, like a sulky, hungry baby, who had been debarred, and nowreceived its expected sweetmeat, clasped her and kissed her for a fewminutes before he would let her speak. 

"See, we are getting near Cairo, " she said, her eyes half closed, whileshe settled herself among the cushions, and drew Paul down to her untilhis head rested on her breast, and her arms held him like a mother with achild. 

Her voice was a dream-voice as she whispered on. "Do you not love thoseminarets and towers against the opal sky, and the rose-pink granite hillsbeyond? And look, Paul, at this peep of the Nile--those are thewater-buffaloes--those strange beasts--you see they are pulling thatridiculous water-drawer--just the same as in Pharaoh's time. Ah! I smellthe scent of the East. Look at the straight blue figures, the lines sopleasing and long. The dignity, the peace, the forever in it all. .. . Nowwe are there. See the brilliant crowd all moving with little haste, andlisten to the strange noise. Look at the faces of the camels, disdainfuland 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 usand the great vast brown tract of sand. And those are the Pyramidsclear-cut against the turquoise sky, and soon we shall be there, only youmust observe this green around us first, my Paul--the green of no othercountry in all the world--pure emerald--nature's supreme concentratedeffort of green for miles and miles. No, I do not want to live in thatsmall village in a brown mud hut, shared with another wife to that gauntblue 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 ifsome soul within were forcing her to chant it all, with almost the lilt ofblank verse. 

"Oh! the strange drug of the glorious East, flooding your senses withbeauty and life. 'Tis the spell of the Sphinx, and now we are there, closein her presence. Look, the sun has set. .. . 

"Hush! hush! beloved! we are alone, the camels and guides afar off--we arealone, sweetheart, and we go on together, you and I and the moon. See, sheis 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 andthe glamour of her eyes? She is a goddess, and she knows men's souls, andtheir foolish unavailing passion and pain--never content with the _Is_which they have, always regretting the _Was_ which has passed, andbuilding false hopes on the phantom _May be. _ But you and I, my lover, mysweet, 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 knowit 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 velvetcheek, she moved so that his curly lashes might touch her bare neck, andat last she slipped from under him, and laid his head gently down upon thepillows. 

Then a madness of tender caressing seized her. She purred as a tiger mighthave done, while she undulated like a snake. She touched him with herfinger-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 strangefierce language of her own, brushing his ears and his eyes with her lipsthe while. 

And through it all Paul slept on, the Eastern perfume in the air stilldrugging his sense. 

It was quite dark when he awoke again, and beside him--seated on thefloor, all propped with pillows, his lady reclined her head against hisshoulder. And as he looked down at her in the firelight's flickeringgleam, he saw that her wonderful eyes were wet with great glitteringtears. 

"My soul, my soul!" he said tenderly, his heart wrung with emotion. "Whatis it, sweetheart--why have you these tears? Oh! what have Idone--darling, my own?"

"I am weary, " she said, and fell to weeping softly, and refused to becomforted. 

Paul's distress was intense--what could have happened? What terrible thinghad he done? What sorrow had fallen upon his beloved while he selfishlyslept? But all she would say was that she was weary, while she clung tohim in a storm of passion, as if some one threatened to take her out ofhis 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 thanever glowed on her face. She was gay and caressing, telling him merrytales of Paris and its plays. It was as if she meant to efface allsuggestion of sorrow or pain--and gradually the impression wore off inPaul's mind, and ere it came to their sipping the golden wine, all wasbrightness 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 outto wish us good-night. Ah! for us tomorrow once more will be a gloriousday. "

"My Queen, " said Paul; "rain or fine, all days are glorious to me, so longas 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 gentlewith my moods. You must have some reward. Listen, beloved while I tell itto you. "

But what she said is written in his heart!

CHAPTER XII

His lady was so intensely _soignée_--that is what pleased Paul. He hadnever thought about such things, or noticed them much in other women, butshe was a revelation. 

No Roman Empress with her bath of asses' milk could have had a morewonderful toilet than she. And ever she was illusive, and he never quitegot to the end of her mystery. Always there was a veil, when he leastexpected it, and so these hours for the most part were passed at theboiling-point of excitement and bliss. The experiences of another man'swhole lifetime Paul was going through in the space of days. 

It was the Monday following the wet Sunday when an incident happened whichsoon came back to him, and gave him food for reflection. 

They would spend the day in the launch, she decided, going whither theywished, stopping here to pick gentians, going there under the shadow oftrees--landing where and when they desired--even sleeping at Flüclen ifthe fancy took them to. Anna was sent on with their things in case thiscontingency occurred. And earth, water and sky seemed smiling them awelcome. 

Just before they started, Dmitry, after the gentlest tap, noiselesslyentered Paul's room. Paul was selecting some cigars from a box, and lookedup 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 ashe began to speak. 

The substance of his sentence, Paul gathered, was that the Excellencywould not be inconveniencing himself too much, he hoped, if he wouldconsent to carry this pistol. A very good pistol, he assured him, whichwould take but little room. 

Paul's surprise deepened. Carry a pistol in peaceful Switzerland! Itseemed too absurd. 

"What on earth for, my friend?" he said. 

But Dmitry would give no decided answer, only that it was wiser, when awayfrom one's home and out with a lady, never to go unarmed. Real anxietypeeped from his cautious grey eyes. 

Did Paul know how to shoot? And would he be pardoned for asking theExcellency such a question?--but in England, he heard, they dealt littlewith 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 tothink of it, he had not had great practice with a revolver, and might notdo 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 wishyou would tell me why. "

However, Dmitry escaped from the room without further words, his fingerupon his lips. 

The lady was looking more exquisitely white than usual; she wore soft palemauve, and appeared in Paul's eyes a thing of joy. 

When they were seated on the launch in their chairs, she let him hold herhand, but she did not talk much at first; only now he understood hersilences, and did not worry over them--so great a teacher is love toquicken the perception of man. 

He sat there, and gazed at her, and tried to realise that it was really hewho was experiencing all this happiness. This wonderful, wonderfulwoman--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 andprecipices--not for lovers. "

"But if you can go--where is the danger for me, my Queen? Or, if there isdanger, then it is my place to stand by your side. "

"Paul, my sweet Paul, " she whispered, while her eyes filled with mist, "Iwas thinking how fair the world could be, perhaps, if fate allowed one tomeet one's mate while there was yet time. Surely two souls together, likeyou 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 acourse for itself, without power to choose through what country it willpass, until it meets the ocean and is swallowed up and lost. If one couldonly see--only know in time--could he change the course? Alas! who cantell?"

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 rememberthat 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 youknow, I find you like a rare violin which hitherto has been used byordinary musicians to play their popular airs upon, but which is nowhighly strung and being touched by the bow of an artist who loves it. Andoh! the exquisite sounds which are coming, and will yet come forth toenchant 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! Andwhat 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, oreven these great mountains, they said nothing to you at all except asplaces to take your exercise upon. Life, for you, was just eating andsleeping and strengthening your muscles. " And she laughed softly. 

"I know I was a Goth, " said Paul. "I can hardly realise it myself, thechange that has happened to me. Everything now seems full of joy. "

"Your very phrases are altered, Paul, and will alter more yet, while ourmoon waxes and our love grows. "

"Can it grow? Can I possibly love you more intensely than I do now--surelyno!" 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 sparkledlike dry champagne, while the white launch glided through the blue waterswith never a swirl of foam. 

"Paul, " she said presently, "to-morrow we will go up the Rigi to theKaltbad, and look from the little kiosk over the world, and over theBernese Oberland. It gives me an emotion to stand so high and see so vasta 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 lunchat one of the many little inviting hotels which border the lake insheltered bays. All through the meal she entertained him with subtleflattery, drawing him out, and making him shine until he made flint forher steel. And when they came to the end she said with sudden, tendersweetness:

"Paul--it is my caprice--you may pay the bill to-day--just forto-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 swelledwith joy--and who so proud as he?

She had gone alone up a mountain path when he came out to join her, andstood there laughing at him provokingly from above. He bounded up andcaught her, and would walk hand in hand, and made her feel that he wasmaster and lord through the strength of his splendid, vigorous youth. Hepretended to scold her if she stirred from him, and made her stand or walkand 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--likethis, like this! Beautiful one! Just a splendid primitive savage beneaththe grace, as a man should be. When I feel how strong you are my heartmelts with bliss!"

And Paul, to show her it was true, seized her in his arms, and ran withher, placing her on a high rock, where he made her pay him with kisses andtell him she loved him before he would lift her down. 

And it was his lady's caprice, as she said, that this state of thingsshould last all day. But by night time, when they got to Flüelen, theinfinite 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 returnedwith a pile of letters, which Paul found on again reaching theBürgenstock, after staying the night at Flüelen in a little hotel. 

That had been an experience! His lady quite childish in her glee at thesmallness and simplicity of everything. 

"Our picnic, " she called it to Paul--only it was a wonderfully _recherché_picnic, as Anna of course had brought everything which was required byheart of sybarite for the passing of a night. 

Ah! they had been happy. The Queen had been exquisitely gracious to herslave, and entranced him more deeply than ever. And here at theBürgenstock, when he got into his room, his letters stared him in theface. 

"Damned officiousness!" he said to himself, thinking of Tompson. 

He did not want to be reminded of any existence other than the dream ofheaven 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 waslonging for his return. She expected he also was craving for his home andhorses and dogs. All were well. They--she and his father--were moving upto the town house in Berkeley Square the following week until the end ofJune, and great preparations were already in contemplation for histwenty-third birthday in July at Verdayne Place. There was no mention ofIsabella except a paragraph at the end. Miss Waring was visiting friendsat Blackheath, he was informed. Ah, so far away it all seemed! But itbrought 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--dshort 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 wasto say so. 

Several were from his friends, banal and everyday. And one was fromTremlett, his own groom, and this was full of Moonlighter and--Pike! Thatgave him just a moment's feeling--Pike! Tremlett had "made so bold" as tohave some snapshots done by a friend, and he ventured to send one to hismaster. The "very pictur'" of the dog, he said, and it was true. Ah! thistouched him, this little photograph of Pike. 

"Dear little chap, " he said to himself as he looked. "My dear littlechap. "

And then an instantaneous desire to show it to his lady came over him, andhe went back to the sitting-room in haste. 

There she was--the post had come for her too, it seemed, and she looked upwith an expression of concentrated fierceness from a missive she wasreading as he entered the room. Her marvellous self-control banished allbut love from her eyes after they had rested on him for an instant, buthis senses--so fine now--had remarked the first glance, just as his eyehad seen the heavy royal crown on the paper as she hastily folded it andthrew 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 ofnations the lady could not have examined it with more enthralled interestand attention than she did this snapshot photograph of a rough terrierdog. 

"What a sweet fellow!" she said. "Look at his eye! so intelligent; look atthat _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'tthat be good!"

And he never knew why his lady suddenly threw her arms round his neck, andkissed 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 saidmany 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 benice. Paul thought so, too. So after a late lunch they started. And onceor twice on the drive through the most peaceful and beautiful scenery, aflash of the same fierceness came into the lady's eyes, gazing away overdistance as when she had read her letter, and it made Paul wonder and longto ask her why. He never allowed himself to speculate in coherent thoughtwords 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 hissubconsciousness there dwelt the conviction that she must be some Queen orPrincess of a country south in Europe--half barbaric, half advanced. Thatshe was unhappy and hated it all, he more than divined. It was a proof ofthe strength of his character that he did not let the terrible thought ofinevitable parting mar the bliss of the tangible now. He had promised herto live while the sun of their union shone, and he had the force to keephis word. 

But oh! he wished he could drive all care from her path, and that thisglorious life should go on for ever. 

When they got to the farm in the soft late afternoon light, the mostgracious mood came over his lady. It was just a Swiss farmhouse of manystoreys, the lower one for the cows and other animals, and the rest forthe family and industries. All was clean and in order, with that wonderfuloutside neatness which makes Swiss châlets look like painted toy housespopped down on the greensward without yard or byre. And these people werewell-to-do, and it was the best of its kind. 

The _Bäuerin_, a buxom mother of many little ones, was nursing another notfour weeks old, a fat, prosperous infant in its quaint Swiss clothes. Herbroad face beamed with pride as she welcomed the gracious lady. Oldacquaintances they appeared, and they exchanged greetings. Foreignlanguages were not Paul's strong point, and he caught not a word ofmeaning in the German _patois_ the good woman talked. But his lady wasvoluble, and seemed to know each flaxen-haired child by name, though itwas the infant which longest arrested her attention. She held it in herarms. 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 inthe adjoining kitchen, followed by her troop of _kinder_. Only the littleone still lay in the lady's arms. She spoke not a word--she sang to it acradle-song, and the thought came to Paul that she seemed as an angel, andthis must be an echo of his own early heaven before his life had descendedto earth. 

A strange peace came over him as he sat there watching her, his thoughtsvague and dreamy of some beautiful sweet tenderness--he knew not what. 

Ere the woman returned with the coffee the lady looked up from hercrooning and met his eyes--all her soul was aglow in hers--while shewhispered 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 knowwhat she meant. And the gladness of the gods fell upon him and exaltedhim, 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 emotionseemed too deep for words. 

And this night was the most divine of any they had spent on theBürgenstock. But there was in it an essence about which only the angelscould write. 

CHAPTER XIII

Do you know the Belvedere at the Rigi Kaltbad, looking over the corner toa vast world below, on a fair day in May, when the air is clear as crystaland the lake ultra-marine? When the Bernese Oberland undulates away inunbroken 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 reminderthat spring is eternal, and youth must have its day, however grey beardsand 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 givingher, as she said, an emotion, but of what sort he was not sure. They wereall alone. No living soul was anywhere in view. 

She had been in a mood, all day when she seldom raised her eyes. Itreminded him of the first time he had seen her, and wonder grew again inhis mind. All the last night her soul had seemed melted into his in afusion of tenderness and trust, exalted with the exquisite thought of thewish which was between them. And he had felt at last he had fathomed itsinmost recess. 

But to-day, as he gazed down at her white-rose paleness, the heavy lashesmaking their violet shadow on her cheek--her red mouth mutinous andfull--the conviction came back to him that there were breadths and depthsand heights about which he had no conception even. And an ice handclutched his heart. Of what strange thing was she thinking? leaning overthe parapet there, her delicate nostrils quivering now and then. 

"Paul, " she said at last, "did you ever want to kill any one? Did you everlong to have them there at your mercy, to choke their life out and throwthem 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 carrionspoiling God's world and encumbering my path! I would kill him if Icould--and more than ever today. "

"Oh, my Queen, my Queen!" said Paul, distressed. "Don't say suchthings--you, my own tender woman and love--"

"Yes, that is one side of me, and the best--but there is another, which hedraws forth, and that is the worst. You of calm England do not know whatit means--the true passion of hate. "

"Can I do nothing for you, beloved?" Paul asked. Here was a phase which hehad not yet seen. 

"Ah!" she said, bitterly, and threw up her head. "No! his high placeprotects 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 myselfwith these my own hands. "

Once Paul had seen two tigers fight in a travelling circus-van which cameto Oxford, and now the memory of the scene returned to him when he lookedat his lady's face. He had not known a human countenance could expresssuch fierce, terrible rage. A quiver ran through him. Yes, this was noidle boast of an angry woman--he felt those slender hands would indeed becapable of dealing death to any one who robbed her of her mate. 

But what passion was here! What force! He had somehow never even dreamtsuch feelings dwelt in women--or, indeed, in any human creatures out ofsensational books. Yet, gazing there at her, he dimly understood that inhimself, too, they could rise, were another to take her from him. Yes, hecould kill in suchlike case. 

They were silent for some moments, each vibrating with passionatethoughts; and then the lady leant over and laid her cheek against thesleeve of his coat. 

"Heart of my heart, " she said, "I frighten and ruffle you. The women ofyour country are sweet and soft, but they know not the passion I know, myPaul--the fierceness and madness of love--"

Paul clasped her in his arms. 

"It makes me worship you more, my Queen, " he said. "Englishwomen wouldseem like wax dolls now beside you and your exquisite face--they willnever again be anything but shadows in my life. It can only hold you, theone 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 handinadvertently touched against the pocket where Dmitry's pistol lay. Shestarted violently, and before he could divine her purpose she snatched theweapon out, and held it up to the light. 

Her face went like death, and for a second she leant against the parapetas if she were going to faint. 

"Paul, " she gasped with white lips, "this is Dmitry's pistol. I know itwell. 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 shallnever leave you. I will protect you from any danger in the world, onlydepend 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 stoodstraight up again with the majesty of a queen. "Do you think I feared forme--for myself? Oh! no, my own lover, never that! They can kill me whenthey choose, but they won't; it is you for whom I fear. Only your dangercould make me cower, no other in the whole world. "

Paul laughed with joy at her speech. "There is nothing to fear at allthen, darling, " he said. "I can take care of myself, you know. I am anEnglishman. "

And even in the tumult of her thoughts the lady found time to smile withtender amusement at the young insular arrogance of his last words. AnEnglishman, forsooth! Of course that meant a kind of god untouched by thefailings of other nations. A great rush of pride in him came over her andgladdened her. He was indeed a splendid picture of youth and strength, ashe stood there, the sunlight gilding his fair hair, and all themagnificent proportions of his figure thrown into relief against thebackground of grey stone and sky, an _insouciante_ smile on his lips, andall 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 atpeace. But all the way back through the wood to the Kalibad Hotel sheglanced furtively into the shadows, while she talked gaily as she heldPaul's arm. 

And he never asked her a question as to where she expected the danger tocome from. No anxiety for his own safety troubled him one jot--indeed, anunwonted extra excitement flooded his veins, making him enjoy himself withan added zest. 

Dmitry as usual awaited them at the hotel; his face was serene, but whenPaul's back was turned for a moment while he lit a cigarette, the ladyquestioned her servant with whispered fierceness in the Russian tongue. Apparently his answer was satisfactory, for she looked relieved, andpresently, seated on the terrace, they had a merry tea--the last theywould have on mountain tops, for she broke it gently to Paul that on themorrow she must return to Lucerne. Paul felt as if his heart had stoppedbeating. Return to Lucerne! O God! not to part--surely not to part--sosoon!

"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 noarguments to dissuade her. She was his Queen and must surely know best. Only he listened eagerly for details of how matters could be arrangedthere. Alas! they could never be the same as this glorious time they hadhad. 

"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 achingfor 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 seeyou, sweetheart, but we must not be foolish. You must stay on in our roomsand each morning I will meet you somewhere in the launch. Dmitry knowsevery 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 doyou think I can do with the nights?"

"Spend them in sleep, my beloved one, " the lady said, while she smiled asoft fine smile. 

But to Paul this idea presented the poorest compensation--and in spite ofhis will to the contrary his thoughts flew ahead for an instant to theinevitable 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 clingtogether for this, their last evening, with almost greater closeness andtenderness than usual. Paul could hardly bear his lady out of his sight, even while she dressed for dinner, when they got back to the Bürgenstock, 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 comein while she finished her mistress's hair. And that was a joy to Paul! Hesat there by the dressing-table, and played with the things, opening thelids of gold boxes, and sniffing bottles of scent with an air of right andpossession which made his lady smile like a purring cat. Then he tried onher rings, but they would only go on to the second joint of his littlefinger, as he laughingly showed her--and finally he pushed Anna aside, andinsisted upon putting the last touches himself to the glorious waves ofblack 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 oftenderness deep in her eyes. Paul had adorable ways when he chose. Nowonder both mistress and maid should worship him. 

The moon was growing larger, her slender contours more developed, and thestars seemed fainter and farther off. Nothing more exquisite could bedreamed of, thought Paul, than the view from their balcony windows, thelight on the silver snows. And he would let no thought that it was thelast night they would see it together mar the passionate joy of the hoursstill to be. His lady had never been more sweet; it was as if this waywardUndine had at last found her soul, and lay conquered and unresisting inher lover's strong arms. 

Thus in perfect peace and happiness they; passed their last night on theBürgenstock. 

CHAPTER XIV

The desolation which came over Paul when next day before lunch time hefound himself alone on the terrace, looking down vainly trying todistinguish his lady's launch as it glided over the blue waters, seemedunendurable. An intense depression filled his being. It was as if a limbhad been torn from him; he felt helpless and incomplete, and his wholesoul 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 ateleven he was to meet her at the landing-steps at the footof 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 therewhere they had sat together--alone with his thoughts. 

And what thoughts!

What was this marvellous thing which had happened to him? A fortnight agohe was in Paris, disgusted with everything around him, and fancyinghimself in love with Isabella Waring. Poor Isabella! How had such thingsever been possible? Why, he was a schoolboy then--a child--an infant! andnow he was a man, and knew what life meant in its greatest and best. Thatwas part of the wonder of this lady, with all her intense sensuousness andabsence of what European nations call morality; there was yet nothing lowor degrading in her influence, its tendency was to exalt and elevate intobroad views and logical reasonings. Nothing small would ever again appealto 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 gratitudeto her. For, apart from her love, had she not given him the royalest giftwhich mankind could receive--an awakened soul? Like her story of Undine ithad truly been born with that first long kiss. 

Then his mind flew to their after-kisses, the immense divine bliss ofthese whole six days. 

Was it only six days since they had come there? Six days of Paradise. Andsurely fate would not part them now. Surely more hours of joy lay in storefor them yet. The moon was seven days old--and his lady had said, "Whileshe waxes our love will wax. " Thus, even by that calculation, there wasstill time to live a little longer. 

Paul's will was strong. He sternly banished all speculations as to thefuture. He remembered her counsel of the riddle which lay hidden in theeyes 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 rockbecause she had leant against it. And to himself he made vows that, comewhat might, he would ever try to be worthy of her great spirit andteaching. Dmitry's pistol still lay in his pocket; he took it out andexamined it--all six chambers were loaded. A deadly small thing, with afinely engraved stock made in Paris. There was a date scratched. It wasabout 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 hedreaded going back to the rooms where they had been so happy--going backalone! But this was weakness, and he must get over the feeling. Afterdinner he would spend the evening writing his letters home. But when thissolitary meal was over, the moon tempted him out on to the terrace, andthere he stayed obsessed with passionate thoughts until he crept in to hislonely 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 andpiled with uncovered hotel pillows, and a large German eiderdown, on topof folded blankets, it all looked ghastly and sad and cold. And moredepressed 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 uncertaintywas almost agony. He was waiting long before the time appointed, andwalked up and down anxiously scanning the direction towards Lucerne. 

Yes, that was the launch making its way along, not a moment late. Oh! whatjoy thrilled his being! He glowed all over--in ten minutes or less hecould clasp her hands. 

But when the launch came in full view, he perceived no lady wasthere--only Dmitry's black form stood alone by the chairs. 

Paul's heart sank like lead. He could hardly contain his anxiety until theservant 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 ofconsequence, only the cold wind of the lake I could not face. At oneo'clock, when Lucerne is at lunch, come to me by the terrace gate. Come tome, I cannot live without you, Paul. "

"What is it, Dmitry?" he said anxiously. "Madame is not ill, is she? Tellme--"

"Not ill--oh no!" the servant said, only Paul must know Madame was of adelicacy 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 beforethey started, because, as he explained, it was not for the people of thehotel to know he was there, and how else could he eat?

All of which advice was followed, and at one o'clock they landed atLucerne, and Paul walked quickly towards his goal, Dmitry in front to seethat the way was clear. Yes--there was no one about for the moment, andlike ghosts they glided through the little terrace door, and Paul wentinto the room by the window, while Dmitry held the heavy curtains, andthen disappeared. 

It was empty--the fact struck a chill note, in spite of the great bowls offlowers and the exquisite scent. His tiger was there, and the velvetpillows of old. All was warm and luxurious, as befitting the shrine of hisgoddess and Queen. Only he was alone--alone with his thoughts. 

An incredible excitement swept through him, his heart beat to suffocationin the longing for her to come. Was it possible--was it true that soon shewould be in his arms? A whole world of privation and empty hours to makeup for in their first kiss. 

Then from behind the screen of the door to her room she came at last--astately figure in long black draperies, her face startlingly white, andher head wrapped in a mist of black veil. But who can tell of the note ofgladness and welcome she put into the two words, "My Paul!"?

And who can tell of the passionate joy of their long, tender embrace, orof their talk of each one's impossible night? His lady, too, had notslept, 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 tornher fine night raiment, and bitten a handkerchief through! But now he hadcome, and her soul was at rest. What wonder, when all this was said in hisear with soft, broken sighs and kisses divine, that Paul should feel likea god in his pride!

Then he held her at arms'-length and looked at her face. Yes, it was verypale indeed, and the violet shadows lay under her black lashes. Had shesuffered, his darling--was she ill? But no, the fire in her strange eyesgave no look of ill-health. 

"I was frightened, my own, " he said, "in case you were really not well. Imust pet and take care of you all the day. See, you must lie on the sofaamong the cushions, and I will sit beside you and soothe you to rest. " Andhe lifted her in his strong arms and carried her to the couch as if shehad been a baby, and settled her there, every touch a caress. 

His lady delighted in these exhibitions of his strength. He had grown tounderstand that he could always affect her when he pretended to dominateher 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 herenough, and make her feel that there is no use struggling because he istoo strong to resist. A woman will stand almost anything from a passionatelover. He may beat her and pain her soft flesh; he may shut her up anddeprive her of all other friends--while the motive is raging love andinterest in herself on his part, it only makes her love him the more. Thereason why women become unfaithful is because the man grows casual, andhaving awakened a taste for passionate joys, he no longer gratifiesthem--so she yawns and turns elsewhere. "

Well, there was no fear of her doing so if he could help it! He was morethan willing to follow this receipt. Indeed, there was something about herso agitating and alluring that he knew in his heart all men would feel thesame towards her in a more or less degree, and wild jealousy coursedthrough his veins at the thought. 

"My Paul, " she said, "do you know I have a plan in my head that we shallgo to Venice?"

"To Venice!" said Paul in delight. "To Venice!"

"Yes--I cannot endure any more of Lucerne, parted from you, with only theprospect of snatched meetings. It is not to be borne. We shall go to thathome of strange joy, my lover, and there for a space at least we can livein peace. "

Paul asked no better gift of fate. Venice he had always longed to see, andnow to see it with her! Ah! the very thought was ecstasy to him, and madethe 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 thearrangements and take a palace for us. Shall we say Sunday, Paul? I shallgo on Sunday, and you can follow the next day--so by Tuesday evening weshall 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, "thinknothing evil. I said the end--but fate alone knows when that must be. Donot let us force her hand by speculating about it. Remember always to livewhile we may. "

And Paul was more or less comforted, but in moments of silence all throughthe 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 GrandCanal in Venice, in an old palace looking southwest. A convenient door ina side canal cloaked the exit and entry of its inhabitants from curiouseyes--had there been any to indulge in curiosity; but in Venice there is agood 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 ofone's neighbours. 

Money and intelligence can achieve a number of things in a short space oftime, 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 theTuesday evening Paul arrived at the station. 

What a wonderland it seemed to him, Venice! A wonderland where wasawaiting him his heart's delight--more passionately desired than everafter three days of total abstinence. 

As after the Friday afternoon he had spent more or less in hiding in theterrace-room, his lady had judged it wiser for him not to come at all toLucerne, and on the Saturday had met him at a quiet part of the shore ofthe lake, beyond the landing-steps of the _funiculaire, _ and for a fewshort hours they had cruised about on the blue waters--but her sweetesttenderness and ready wit had not been able entirely to eliminate thefeeling of unrest which troubled them. And then there were the nights, themiserable evenings and nights of separation. On the Sunday she haddeparted to Venice, and after she had gone, Paul had returned for one dayto Lucerne, leaving again on the Monday, apparently as unacquainted withMadame Zalenska as he had been the first night of his arrival. 

He had not seen her since Saturday. Three whole days of anguishinglonging. And now in half an hour at least she would be in his arms. Thejourney through the beautiful scenery from Lucerne had been got through atnight--all day from Milan a feverish excitement had dominated him, andprevented his taking any interest in outward surroundings. A magneticattraction seemed drawing him on--on--to the centre of light and joy--hislady's presence. 

Dmitry and an Italian servant awaited his arrival; not an instant's delayfor luggage called a halt. Tompson and the Italian were left for that, andPaul departed with his trusty guide. 

It was about seven o'clock, the opalescent lights were beginning to showin the sky, and their reflection in the water, as he stooped his tall headto enter the covered gondola. It was all too beautiful and wonderful totake in at once, and then he only wanted wings the sooner to arrive, noteyes to see the passing objects. Afterwards the strange soft cry of thegondoliers and the sights appealed to him; but on this first evening everythrob of his being was centred upon the one moment when he should hold hisbeloved one to his heart. 

He could hardly contain his impatience, and walk sedately beside Dmitrywhen they ascended the great stone staircase--he felt like bounding upthree steps at a time. Dmitry had been respectfully silent. Madame waswell--that was all he would say. He opened the great double door with alatch-key, and Paul found himself in vast hall almost unfurnished but forsome tapestry on the walls, and a huge gilt marriage-chest, and a coupleof chairs. It was ill lit, and there was something of decay and gloom inits aspect. 

On they went, through other doors to a salon, vast and gloomy too, andthen the glory and joy of heaven seemed to spring upon Paul's view whenthe shrine of the goddess was reached--a smaller room, whose windows facedthe Grand Canal, now illuminated by the setting sun in all its splendour, coming in shafts from the balcony blinds. And among the quaintest and mostold-world surroundings, mixed with her own wonderful personal notes ofluxury, 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'-lengthto look at her. She was garbed all ready for dinner in a marvellousgarment of shimmering purple, while round her shoulders a scarf ofbrilliant pale emerald gauze, all fringed with gold, fell in two longends, and on her neck and in her ears great emeralds gleamed--apear-shaped one of unusual brilliancy fell at the parting of her wavesof hair on to her white smooth forehead. But the colour of her eyes hecould not be sure of--only they were two wells of love and passiongazing into his own. 

All the simplicity of the Bürgenstock surroundings was gone. The flowerswere in the greatest profusion, rare and heavy-scented; the pillows of thecouch were more splendid than ever; cloths of gold and silver andwonderful shades of orange and green velvet were among the purple ones healready knew. Priceless pieces of brocade interwoven with gold covered thescreens and other couches; and, near enough to pick up when she wantedthem, stood jewelled boxes of cigarettes and bonbons, and stands ofperfume. 

Her expression, too, was altered. A new mood shone there; and later, whenPaul learnt the history of the wonderful women of _cinquecento_ Venice, itseemed 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 themysteries of life and passionate love. 

_"Beztzenny-moi, "_ she said, "my priceless one. At last I have you againto 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 allover him, feeling his coat, and his face, and his hair, as a blind personmight, till at last it seemed as if she were twined about him like aserpent. And every now and then a narrow shaft of the glorious dyingsunlight would strike the great emerald on her forehead, and give forthsparks of vivid green which appeared reflected again in her eyes. Paul'shead swam, he felt intoxicated with bliss. 

"This Venice is for you and me, my Paul, " she said. "The air is full oflove 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 herrichness and completeness--the spring of our love has passed. "Her voice fell into its rhythmical cadence, as if she were whispering aprophecy inspired by some presence beyond. 

"We will drink deep of the cup of delight, my, lover, and bathe in thewine of the gods. We shall feast on the tongues of nightingales, and reston couches of flowers. And thou shalt cede me thy soul, beloved, and Iwill 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 theview of the palaces opposite, but not preventing the soft sounds of thesingers in the gondolas moored to the poles beneath from reaching theirears. And above the music now and then would come the faint splash ofwater, and the "Stahi"--"Premé" of some moving gondolier. 

The food was of the richest, beginning with strange fishes and quantitiesof _hors d'oeuvres_ that Paul knew not, accompanied by _vodka_ in severalforms. And some of the _plats_ she would just taste, and some sendinstantly away. 

And all the while a little fountain of her own perfume played from a groupof sportive cupids in silver, while the table in the centre was piled withred roses. Dmitry and two Italian footmen waited, and everything was donewith the greatest state. A regal magnificence was in the lady's air andmien. She spoke of the splendours of Venice's past, and let Paul feel theatmosphere of that subtle time of passion and life. Of here a love-scene, and there a murder. Of wisdom and vice, and intoxicating emotion, allblended in a kaleidoscope of gorgeousness and colour. 

And once again her vast knowledge came as a fresh wonder to Paul--nosmallest detail of history seemed wanting in her talk, so that he livedagain in that old world and felt himself a Doge. 

When they were alone at last, tasting the golden wine, she rose and drewhim to the loggia balustrade. Dmitry had drawn back the curtains andextinguished the lights, and only the brilliant moon lit the scene; asplendid moon, two nights from the full. There she shone straight downupon them to welcome them to this City of Romance. 

What loveliness met Paul's view! A loveliness in which art and natureblended in one satisfying whole. 

"Darling, " he said, "this is better than the Bürgenstock. Let us go out onthe water and float about, too. "

It was exceedingly warm these last days of May, and that night not azephyr stirred a ripple. A cloak and scarf of black gauze soon hid thelady's splendour, and they descended the staircase hand in hand to thewaiting open gondola. 

It was a new experience of joy for Paul to recline there, and drift awaydown the stream, amidst the music and the coloured lanterns, and thewonderful, wonderful spell of the place. 

The lady was silent for a while, and then she began to whisper passionatewords of love. She had never before been thus carried away--and he mustsay them to her--as he held her hand--burning words, inflaming theimagination and exciting the sense. It seemed as if all the other nightsof love were concentrated into this one in its perfect joy. 

Who can tell of the wild exaltation which filled Paul? He was no longerjust Paul Verdayne, the ordinary young Englishman; he was a god--and thiswas Olympus. 

"Look, Paul!" she said at last. "Can you not see Desdemona peeping fromthe balcony of her house there? And to think she will have no happinessbefore her Moor will strangle her to-night! Death without joys. Ah! thatis cruel. Some joys are well worth death, are they not, my lover, as youand I should know?"

"Worth death and eternity, " said Paul. "For one such night as this withyou a man would sell his soul. "

It was not until they turned at the opening of the Guidecca to return totheir palazzo that they both became aware of another gondola followingthem, always at the same distance behind--a gondola with two solitaryfigures in it huddled on the seats. 

The lady gave a whispered order in Italian to her gondolier, who came to asudden 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 asthey leant forward to see what had occurred. One of them was Dmitry, andthe other a younger man of the pure Kalmuck type whom Paul had never seen. 

"Vasili!" exclaimed the lady, in passionate surprise. "Vasili! and theyhave not told me!"

She trembled all over, while her eyes blazed green flames of anger andexcitement. "If it is unnecessary they shall feel the whip for this. "

Her cloak had fallen aside a little, disclosing a shimmer of purplegarment and flashing emeralds. She looked barbaric, her raven brows knit. It might have been Cleopatra commanding the instant death of an offendingslave. 

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 fatefulat all events. 

The lady did not speak further, only by the quiver of her nostrils and thegleam in her eyes he knew how deeply she was stirred. 

Yes, one or the other would feel the whip, if they had been over-zealousin their duties!

It seemed out of sheer defiance of some fate that she decided to go oninto the lagoon when they passed San Georgio. It was growing late, andPaul's thoughts had turned to greater joys. He longed to clasp her in hisarms, to hold her, and prove her his own. But she sat there, her smallhead held high, and her eyes fearless and proud--thus he did not dare toplead 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 tenderhand-clasps, she lavished upon Paul, after ordering the gondolier tohasten back to the palazzo. It seemed as if she, too, could not containher impatience to be again in her lover's arms. 

"I will not question them to-night, " she said when they arrived, and shesaw Dmitry awaiting her on the steps. "To-night we will live and love atleast, my Paul. Live and love in passionate bliss!"

But she could not repress the flash of her eyes which appeared toannihilate the old servant. He fell on his knees with the murmured wordsof supplication:

_"O Imperatorskoye!"_ And Paul guessed it meant Imperial Highness, and agreat wonder grew in his mind. 

Their supper was laid in the loggia again, and under the windows themusicians still played and sang a gentle accompaniment to their sighs oflove. 

But later still Paul learnt what fiercest passion meant, making othermemories as moonlight unto sunlight--as water unto wine. 

CHAPTER XVI

To some natures security hath no charm--the sword of Damocles suspendedover their heads adds to their enjoyment of anything. Of such seemed Pauland his lady. It was as if they were snatching astonishing pleasures fromthe 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 shebade him sleep--sleep on this other loggia where they sat, which gave uponthe side canal obliquely, while looking into a small garden of roses andoleanders below. Here were shade and a cool small breeze. 

"We are so weary, my beloved one, " the lady said. "Let us sleep on thesecouches of smooth silk, sleep the heavy hours of the afternoon away, andgo 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 restthere in the perfumed shade, near enough to his loved one to be able tostretch out his arm and touch her hair. And soon a sweet sleep claimedhim, and all was oblivion and peace. 

The lady lay still on her couch for a while, her eyes gleaming betweentheir half-closed lids. But at last, when she saw that Paul indeed sleptdeeply, she rose stealthily and crept from the place back to the room, thegloomy vast room within, where she summoned Dmitry, and ordered the manshe had called Vasili the night before into her presence. He came withcringing diffidence, prostrating himself to the ground before her, andkissing the hem of her dress, mute adoration in his dark eyes, like thoseof a faithful dog--a great scar showing blue on his bronzed cheek andforehead. 

She questioned him imperiously, while he answered humbly in fear. Dmitrystood by, an anxious, strained look on his face, and now and then he putin a word. 

Of what danger did they warn her, these two faithful servants? One camefrom afar for no other purpose, it seemed. Whatever it was she receivedthe news in haughty defiance. She spoke fiercely at first, and theyhumbled themselves the more. Then Anna appeared, and joined hersupplications to theirs, till at last the lady, like a pettish childchasing a brood of tiresome chickens, shooed them all from the room, 'twixt laughter and tears. Then she threw up her arms in rage for amoment, and ran back to the loggia where Paul still slept. Here she satand looked at him with burning eyes of love. 

He was certainly changed in the eighteen days since she had first seenhim. His face was thinner, the beautiful lines of youth were drawn with afiner 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 sealupon 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 herown couch, and soon she also slept. 

It was six o'clock before they awoke, Paul first--and what was his joy tobe able to kneel beside her and watch her for a few seconds before herwhite lids lifted themselves! An attitude of utter weariness and _abandon_was hers. She was as a child tired out with passionate weeping, who hadfallen to sleep as she had flung herself down. There was something evenpathetic about that proud head laid low upon her clasped arms. 

Paul gazed and gazed. How he worshipped her! Wayward, tigerish, beautifulQueen. But never selfish or small. And what great thing had she not donefor him--she who must have been able to choose from all the world alover--and she had chosen him. How poor and narrow were all the thoughtsof his former life, everywhere hedged in with foolish prejudice andignorant certainty. Now all the world should be his lesson-book, and someday he would show her he was worthy of her splendid teaching and belief inhim, 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 sovery pale--fear came to him for an instant--and then he kissed her mouth. 

Her wonderful eyes unclosed themselves with none of the bewildered starepeople often wake with when aroused suddenly. It seemed that even in hersleep she had been conscious of her loved one's presence. Her lips partedin a smile, while her heavy lashes again swept her cheeks. 

"Sweetheart, " she said, "you could awake me from the dead, I think. But weare 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 beautyaround, "I am so glad you only see Venice now, when your eyes can take itin, sweetheart. At first it would have said almost nothing to you, " andshe smiled playfully. "In fact, my Paul would have spent most of his timein wondering how he could get exercise enough, there being so few placesto 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. Hewould have walked through St. Mark's, and thought it was a tumble-downplace, with uneven pavements, and he would have noticed there were a'jolly lot of pigeons' in the square! Then he would have been captiouswith the food at his hotel, grumbled at the waiters, scolded poorTompson--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 stoppedand bought corn for them, and fed the greedy creatures, ever ready for theunending largess of strangers. One or two, bolder than the rest, alightedon 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 theCampanile, still standing then. They looked at it all, they looked at thelion, and finally they entered St. Mark's. 

And here Paul held her arm, and gazed with bated breath. It was all sobeautiful and wonderful, and new to his eyes. He had scarcely ever been ina Roman Catholic church before, and had not guessed at the gorgeous beautyof this half-Byzantine shrine. They hardly spoke. She did not weary himwith details like a guide-book--that would be for his after-lifevisits--but now he must see it just as a glorious whole. 

"They worshipped here, and endowed their temple with gold and jewels, " shewhispered, "and then they went into the Doge's Palace, and placed a wordin the lion's mouth which meant death or destruction to their bestfriends! A wonderful people, those old Venetians! Sly and fierce--crueland passionate--but with ever a shrewd smile in their eye, even in theirlove-affairs. I often ask myself, Paul, if we are not too civilised, we ofour time. We think too much of human suffering, and so we cultivate thenerves to suffer more, instead of hardening them. Picture to yourself, inmy grandfather's boyhood we had still the serfs! I am of his day, thoughit is over--I have beaten Dmitry--"

Then she stopped speaking abruptly, as though aware she had localised hernation too much. A strange imperious expression came into her eyes as theymet Paul's--almost of defiance. 

Paul was moved. He began as if to speak, then he remembered his promisenever to question her, and remained silent. 

"Yes, my Paul--you have promised, you know, " she said. "I am for you, yourlove--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 ordead. ' My God! that means us both--we stand or fall together. "

"Dear one"--her voice fell softly into a note of intenseearnestness--"while fate lets us be together--yes--living or dead--butif we must part, then either would be the cause of the death of the otherby further seeking--never forget that, my beloved one. Listen"--her eyestook a sudden fierceness--"once I read your English book, 'The Lady andthe Tiger. ' You remember it, Paul? She must choose which she would giveher 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 causedquestion at the moment; some were for one choice, some for the other--butfor me there was never any hesitation. I would give you to a thousandtigers sooner than to another woman--just as I would give my life athousand times for your life, my lover. "

"Darling, " said Paul, "and I for yours, my fierce, adorable Queen. But whyshould we speak of terrible things? Are we not happy today, and now, andhave you not told me to live while we may?"

"Come!" she said, and they walked on down to the gondola again, andfloated away out to the lagoon. But when they were there, far away fromthe world, she talked in a new strain of earnestness to Paul. He mustpromise to do something with his life--something useful and great infuture years. 

"You must not just drift, my Paul, like so many of your countrymen do. Youmust help to stem the tide of your nation's decadence, and be a strongman. For me, when I read now of England, it seems as if all the hereditarylegislators--it is what you call your nobles, eh?--these men have fortheir motto, like Louis XV. , _Après moi le déluge_--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 andawakened to the highest point gradually slipping back to a browsing sheep, to live for _la chasse_ alone, and horses, and dogs, with each day nohigher aim than its own mean pleasure. Ah, Paul!" she continued withsudden passion, "I would rather you were dead--dead and cold with me, thanI should have to feel you were growing a _rien du tout_--a thing who willgo down into nothingness, and be forgotten by men!"

Her face was aflame with the _feu sacré_. The noble brow and line of herthroat 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 splendidlady?

And his worship grew and grew. 

CHAPTER XVII

That night, as they looked from the loggia on the Grand Canal afterdinner, the moonlight making things almost light as day, Dmitry beggedadmittance from the doorway of the great salon. The lady turnedimperiously, and flashed upon him. How dared he interrupt their happy hourwith things of earth? Then she saw he was loth to speak before Paul, andthat his face was grey with fear. 

Paul realised the situation, and moved aside, pretending to lean from thewide 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. Ithad no coloured lights, this gondola, or merry musicians; it was just ablack object of silence, tenanted by one man. 

Dmitry whispered, and the lady listened, a quiver of rage going throughher lithe body. Then she turned and surveyed the moored gondola, the samestorm of passion and hate in her eyes as once before had come there, atthe Rigi Kaltbad Belvedere. 

"Shall I kill the miserable spy? Vasili would do it this night, " shehissed 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 himfuriously aside, and took Paul's hand. "Come, my lover, " she said, "wewill look no more on this treacherous stream! It is full of the ghosts ofpast 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 coldas ice. 

A tumult of emotion was dominating Paul. He understood now that danger wasnear--he guessed they were being watched--but by whom? By the ordersof--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 legalbelonging of somebody else! Some vile man whom she hated and loathed, a"rotting carrion spoiling God's earth. " And he--Paul--was powerless tochange this fact--was powerless altogether except to love her and die forher if that would be for her good. 

"Queen, " he said, his voice hoarse with passion and pain, "let us leaveVenice--leave Europe altogether--let me take you away to some far land ofpeace, and live there in safety and joy for the rest of our lives. Youwould 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 openedwide 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 atent under the stars--but we are not They would track me, and trap us, andsooner or later there would be the end, the ignominious, ordinary end ofdisgrace--" Then she clasped him closer, and whispered right in his ear inher 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, andthe Now, beloved. A throne which is filled most ignobly at present, andonly filled at all through my birth and my family's influence. Think not Iwant to plant a cheat. No! I have a right to find an heir as I will, asplendid heir who shall redeem the land--the spirit of our two selvesgiven being by love, and endowed by the gods. Ah! think of it, Paul. Dreamof this joy and pride, it will help to still the unrest we are bothsuffering now. It must quiet this wild, useless rage against fate. Is itnot so, my lover?"

Her voice touched his very heartstrings, but he was too deeply moved toanswer her for a moment. The renewal of this thought exalted his verysoul. All that was noble and great in his nature seemed rising up in oneglad 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 allnations--but I love the English best. They are straight and just--thefine ones at least. They are brave and fair--and fearless. And our babyPaul shall be the most splendid of any. Beloved one, you must not think mea 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 consolationand rest. "

Thus she whispered on until Paul was intoxicated with joy and glory, andforgot time and place and danger and possible parting. A host oftriumphant 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 ladyprostrate with silent weeping. The intense concentrated grief of a strongnature taking its farewell. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Now this Thursday was the night of the full moon. A cloudless morning skypromised a glorious evening. 

The lovers woke early, and had their breakfast on the loggia overlookingthe oleander garden. The lady was in an enchanting mood of sunshine, andno one could have guessed of the sorrow of her dawn vigil thoughts. She waswayward and playful--one moment petting Paul with exquisite sweetness, thenext teasing his curls and biting the lobes of his ears. She never left himfor 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 withprovoking smiles. She undulated about, creeping as a serpent over herlover, and kissing his eyelids and hair. They were so infinitely happy itwas growing to afternoon before they thought of leaving their loggia, andthen 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 bearto 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 toremember it the whole of your life. "

"As though I could forget a moment of our time, my sweet, " said Paul. "Itneeds no feasts or roses--only whatever delights you to do, delights metoo. "

"Paul, " she cooed after a while, during which her hand had lain in his andthere had been a soft silence, "is not this a life of joy, so smooth andgliding, this way of Venice? It seems far from ruffles and storms. I shalllove it always, shall not you? and you must come back in other years andstudy its buildings and its history, Paul--with your new, fine eyes. "

"We shall come together, my darling, " he answered. "I should never wantanything alone. "

"Sweetheart!" she cooed again in his ears; and then presently, "Paul, " shesaid, "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 lovewhich looked out of Matho's eyes when his body was beaten to jelly. It isthe love I have for you, my own--a love 'beyond all words or sense'--as oneof 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 italways an element of _the wife_? However wayward and tigerish andundomestic she may be, she then desires to be the acknowledged possessionand belonging of the man, even to her own dishonour. She desires toreproduce his likeness, she wants to compass his material good. She willthink of his food, and his raiment, and his well-being, and never of herown--only, if she is wise she will hide all these things in her heart, forthe average man cannot stand this great light of her sweetness, and whenher love becomes selfless, his love will wane. "

"The average man's--yes, perhaps so, " agreed Paul. "But then, what does theaverage person of either sex know of love at all?"

"They think they know, " she said. "Really think it, but love like ourshappens perhaps once in a century, and generally makes history of somesort--bad or good. "

"Let it!" said Paul. "I am like Antony in that poem you read me lastnight. I must have you for my own, 'Though death, dishonour, anything youwill, stand in the way. ' He knew what he was talking about, Antony! so didthe man who wrote the poem!"

"He was a great sculptor as well as a poet, " the lady said. "And yes, heknew 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 meso subtle, so splendid a queen. "

"Of course she was just you, my heart, " said Paul. "You are her soul livingover again, and that poem you must give me to keep some day, because itsays just what I shall want to say if ever I must be away from you for atime. See, have I remembered it right?

"'Tell her, till I see Those eyes, I do not live--that Rome to me Ishateful, --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 personsplagues; all living wearisome; All talking empty. .. '. 

"Yes, that is what I should say--I say it to myself now even in the shortwhile 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. "Iwant you to show me the world--at least the best of Europe. In everycountry you would make me feel the spirit of the place. Let us go toGreece, and see the temples and worship those old gods. They knew aboutlove, 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 wholematerial part of it at any rate. They were perhaps too practical to haveindulged 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 performwell 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_ ofwhom they asked no tiresome ties. And in all ages it is unfortunately notthe simple good women who have ruled the hearts of men. Think of Periclesand Aspasia--Antony and Cleopatra--Justinian and Theodora--Belisarius andAntonina--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 idealof what a wife and mother ought to be. So no doubt the Greeks were right inthat principle, as they were right in all basic principles of art andbalance. And now we mix the whole thing up, my Paul--domesticity andlearning--nerves and art, and feverish cravings for the impossible new--sowe get a conglomeration of false proportions, and a ceaseless unrest. "

"Yes, " said Paul, and thought of his mother. She was a perfectly domesticand beautiful woman, but somehow he felt sure she had never made hisfather's heart beat. Then his mind went back to the argument in what thelady had said--he wanted to hear more. 

"If this is so, that would prove that all the very clever women of historywere immoral--do you mean that?" he asked. 

The lady laughed. 

"Immoral! It is so quaint a word, my Paul! Each one sees it how theywill. For me it is immoral to be false, to be mean, to steal, to cheat, tostoop to low actions and small ends. Yet one can be and do all thosethings, 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 ofhypocrisy and virtue--to judge by her sentiments in her writings--yourGeorge Eliot, must be classed as immoral because, having chosen her matewithout the law's blessing, she yet wrote the highest sentiments of Britishrespectability! To me she was being immoral _only_ because she wasdeliberately doing what--, again I say, judging by her writings--she feltmust be a grievous wrong. That is immoral--deliberately to still one'sconscience and indulge in a pleasure against it. But to live a life withone's love, if it engenders the most lofty aspirations, to me is highlymoral 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 otherarguments, and a quiver ran through him of intense emotion; his eyes swamand he clasped more tightly her hand. The lady, too, leant back and closedher eyes. 

"Oh! the beautiful dream!" she said, "the beautiful, beautiful--certainly!Sweetheart, let us have done with all this philosophising and go back toour palace, where we are happy in the temple of the greatest of allGods--the God of Love!"

Then she gave the order for home. 

But on the way they stopped at Jesurum's, and she supervised Paul'spurchases 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 likehappy children. So when they got back to the palazzo there was joy intheir hearts like the sunlight of the late afternoon. 

She would not let Paul go on to the loggia overlooking the Grand Canal. Hehad noticed as they passed that some high screens of lilac-bushes had beenplaced in front of the wide arched openings. No fear of prying eyes fromopposite houses now! And yet they were not too high to prevent those in theloggia from seeing the moon and the sky. Their feast was preparingevidently, 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 thatthey should rest in their rooms. 

"Thou must sleep, my Paul, " she said, "so that thy spirit may be fresh fornew joys. "

And it was only after hard pleading she would allow him to have it thatthey rested on the other loggia couches, so that his closing eyes mightknow her near. 

CHAPTER XIX

No Englishwoman would have thought of the details which made the Feast ofthe Full Moon so wonderful in Paul's eyes. It savoured rather of othercenturies and the days of Imperial Rome, and indeed, had his lady been oneof Britain's daughters, he too might have found it a little _bizarre_. Asit 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 onlytime to dress before the appointed moment when he was to meet her in thelittle salon. 

She was seated on the old Venetian chair she had bought in Lucerne whenPaul entered--the most radiant vision he had yet seen. Her garment waspale-green gauze. It seemed to cling in misty folds round her exquisiteshape; it was clasped with pearls; the most magnificent ones hung in a rowround her throat and fell from her ears. A diadem confined her glorioushair, which descended in the two long strands twisted with chains ofemeralds and diamonds. Her whole personality seemed breathing magnificenceand panther-like grace. And her eyes glowed with passion, and mystery, andforce. 

Paul knelt like a courtier, and kissed her hand. Then he led her to theirfeast. 

Dmitry raised the curtain of the loggia door as they approached, and what asight met Paul's view!

The whole place had been converted into a bower of roses. The walls wereentirely covered with them. A great couch of deepest red ones was at oneside, fixed in such masses as to be quite resisting and firm. From the roofchains of roses hung, concealing small lights--while from above the screenof lilac-bushes in full bloom the moon in all her glory mingled with therose-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 coveredwith tuberoses and stephanotis, surrounding the cupid fountain of perfume. The scent of all these flowers! And the warm summer night! No wonder Paul'ssenses quivered with exaltation. No wonder his head swam. 

They had scarcely been seated when from the great salon, whose open doorswere hidden by falling trellises of roses, there came the exquisite soundsof violins, and a boy's plaintive voice. A concert of all sweet airs playedsoftly to further excite the sense. Paul had not thought such musicianscould be obtained in Venice, and guessed, and rightly, that, like the cookand the artist who had designed it, they hailed from Paris, to beautifythis 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, andthe exaltation of Paul's spirit had reached its zenith. 

"My Paul, " she said, when at last only the rare fruits and the golden wineremained, and they were quite alone--even the musicians had retired, andtheir airs floated up from a gondola below. "My Paul, I want you never toforget this night--never to think of me but as gloriously happy, clasped inyour arms amid the roses. And see, we must drink once more together of ourwedding wine, and complete our souls' delight. "

An eloquence seemed to come to Paul and loosen his tongue, so that hewhispered back paeans of worship in language as fine as her own. And themoon flooded the loggia with her light, and the roses gave forth theirscent. It was the supreme effort of art and nature to cover them withglorious joy. 

"My darling one, " the lady whispered in his ear, as she lay in his arms onthe 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 partmore. "

 * * * * *

Dawn was creeping through the orchid blinds of their sleeping chamber whenthis strange Queen disengaged herself from her lover's embrace, and bentover him, kissing his young curved lips. He stirred not--the languor ofutter prostration was upon him, and held him in its grasp. In the uncertainlight his sleep looked pale as death. 

The lady gazed at him, an anguish too deep for tears in her eyes. For wasnot this the end--the very end? Fierce, dry sobs shook her. There wassomething terrible and tigerish in her grief. And yet her will made hernot linger--there was still one thing to do. 

She rose and turned to the writing-table by the window, then drawing theblind aside a little she began rapidly to write. When she had finished, without reading the missive over, she went and placed it with a flatleather jewel-case on her pillow beside Paul. And soon she commenced amadness of farewells--all restrained and gentle for fear he should awake. 

"My love, my love, " she wailed between her kisses, "God keep yousafe--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, drowsynoontide. 

He stretched out his arm to touch his loved one, as was his custom, to drawher near and envelop her with caresses and greeting--an instinct which cameto him while yet half asleep. 

But his arm met empty space. What was this? He opened his eyes wide and satup in bed. He was alone--where had she gone? He had slept so late, that wasit. She was playing one of her sweet tricks upon him. Perhaps she was evenhiding behind the curtain which covered the entrance to the side loggiawhere they were accustomed to breakfast. He would look and see. He rosequickly and lifted the heavy drapery. No--the loggia was untenanted, andbreakfast was laid for one! That was the first chill--for one! Was sheangry at his drowsiness? Good God! what could it mean? He staggered alittle, and sat on the bed, clutching the fine sheet. And as he did so itdisclosed the letter and the flat leather case, which had fallen from thepillow and become hidden in the clothes. 

A deadly faintness came over Paul. For a few seconds he trembled so hisshaking fingers refused to hold the paper. Then with a mighty effort hemastered himself, and tearing the envelope open began to read. 

It was a wonderful letter. The last passionate cry of her great lovingheart. It passed in review their glorious days in burning words--from thefirst moment of their meeting. And then, towards the end, "My Paul, " shewrote, "that first night you were my caprice, and afterwards my love, butnow 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 ifthere were any other way. Fate is too strong for us, and I must bow myhead. Were I to remain even another hour, all Dmitry's watching could notkeep you safe. Darling, while I thought they menaced me alone, it onlyangered me, but now I know that you would pay the penalty, I can but go. Ifyou follow me, it will mean death for us both. Oh! Paul, I implore you, byour 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--ifwe never meet again in this sad world let this thought stay with youalways, that I love you--heart and mind--body and soul--I am utterly andforever YOURS. "

As he read the last words the room became dark for Paul, and he fell backlike a log on the bed, the paper fluttering to the floor from his nervelessfingers. 

She was gone--and life seemed over for him. 

Here, perhaps an hour later, Tompson found him still unconscious, and interrified haste sent off for a doctor, and telegraphed to Sir CharlesVerdayne:

"Come at once, TOMPSON. "

But ere his father could arrive on Sunday, Paul was lying 'twixt life anddeath, 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 ofdelirium to awaken in great weakness to a sense of hideous anguish andloss--to the prospect of days of aching void and hopeless longing, to thehourly, momentary sting of remembrance of things vaster than death, moredear 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 toPaul. 

He never really questioned the finality of her decree, he _sensed_ it meantparting for ever. And yet, with that spring of eternal hope which animatesall living souls, unbidden arguings and possibilities rose in his enfeebledbrain, and deepened his unrest. Thus his progress towards convalescence waslong and slow. 

And all this time his father and Tompson had nursed him in the old Venetianpalazzo with tenderest devotion. 

The Italian servants had been left, paid up for a month, but the lady andher Russian retinue had vanished, leaving no trace. 

Both Tompson and Sir Charles knew almost the whole story now from Paul'sravings, and neither spoke of it--except that Tompson supplied some linksto complete Sir Charles' picture. 

"She was the most splendid lady you could wish to see, Sir Charles, " thestolid creature finished with. "Her servants worshipped her--and ifMr. 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 noconsolation. 

The difficulty had been to prevent his mother from descending uponthem. 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 haveunderstood. It would have been an undying shock and horrified grief to theend of her life--excellent, loving, conventional lady!

So after the first terrible danger was over, Sir Charles made light oftheir son's illness. Paul and he were enjoying Venice, he said, and wouldsoon be home. "D--d hard luck the boy getting fever like this!" he wrotein 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 heartto see Paul prostrate there, as weak as an infant. All his splendid youthand strength conquered by this raging blast. It was sad to have to listento his ever-constant moan:

"Darling, come back to me--darling, my Queen. "

And even after he regained consciousness, it was equally pitiful to watchhim lying nerveless and white, blue shadows on his once fresh skin. Andmost pitiful of all were his hands, now veined and transparent, fallingidly upon the sheet. 

But at least the father realised it could have been no ordinary woman whosegoing caused the shock which--even after a life of three weeks' continualemotion--could prostrate his young Hercules. She must have been worthsomething--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 monotonousvoice:

"She was that forcible-looking, a man couldn't say when he got close, shekind of dazzled him. She had black hair, and a white face, and--and--witch's eyes, but she was very kind and overpowering, haughty andgenerous. 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 abouttwenty-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 nogentleman, " Tompson ventured to add presently, fearing the "Humph" perhapsmeant disapprobation of this splendid Queen. "Her servants were close, anddid not speak good English, so I could not get much out of them, but theman Vasili, who came the last days, did say in a funny lingo, which I hadto 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 gotdefending the Queen from her husband's brutality, when he was the worse fordrink, 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 leathercase were in his despatch-box. Tompson had handed them to him on hisarrival. And one day when Paul appeared well enough to be lifted into along 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 littleItalian doctor had pronounced him out of danger, in one unending languidquietude. He expressed interest in no single thing. He was polite, andindifferent, and numb. 

"He must be roused now, " Sir Charles said to the doctor. "It is too hot forVenice, he must be moved to higher air, " and the little man had nodded hishead. 

So this warm late afternoon, as he lay under the mosquito curtains--whichthe coming of June had made necessary in this paradise--his father said tohim:

"I have a letter and a parcel of yours, Paul: you had better look atthem--we hope to start north in a day or two--you must get to a morebracing place. "

Then he had pushed them under the net-folds, and turned his back on thescene. 

The blood rushed to Paul's face, but left him deathly pale after a fewmoments. And presently he broke the seal. The minute Sphinx in the cornerof the paper seemed to mock at him. Indeed, life was a riddle of anguishand pain. He read the letter all over--and read it again. The passionatewords 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 futureand of our hope. Our love is not dead with our parting, and one daythere will be the living sign--" Yes, that thought was comfort--but howshould he know?

Then he turned to the leather case. His fingers were still so feeble thatwith difficulty he pressed the spring to open it. 

He glanced up at his father's distinguished-looking back outlined againstthe loggia's opening arches. It appeared uncompromising. A fixeddetermination to stare at the oleanders below seemed the only spiritanimating this parent. 

Yes--he must open the box. It gave suddenly with a jerk, and there lay adog's collar, made of small flexible plates of pure beaten gold, mounted onRussian leather, all of the finest workmanship. And on a slip of paper inhis 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 toPaul Verdayne. "

Then the floodgates of Paul's numbed soul were opened, a great sob rose inhis breast. He covered his face with his hands, and cried like a child. 

Oh! her dear thought! her dear, tender thought--for Pike! His littlefriend!

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 reluctanceon Paul's part to return through Switzerland changed their plans. Instead, by a fortunate chance, the large schooner yacht of a rather eccentric oldfriend came in to Venice, and the father eagerly accepted the invitation togo on board and bring his invalid. 

The owner, one Captain Grigsby, had been quite alone, so the three menwould be in peace, and nothing could be better for Paul than this warm seaair. 

"Typhoid fever?" Mark Grigsby had asked. 

"No, " Sir Charles had replied, "considerable mental tribulation over awoman. "

"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 Igather--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 thesun-lit Adriatic. 

These were better days for Paul. Each hour brought him back some health andvigour. Youth and strength were asserting their own again, and the absenceof familiar objects, and the glory of the air and the blue sea helpedsometimes to deaden the poignant agony of his aching heart. But there itwas underneath, an ever-present, dull anguish. And only when he becamesufficiently strong to help the sailors with the ropes, and exert physicalforce, did he get one moment's respite. The two elder men watched him withkind, furtive eyes, but they never questioned him, or made the slightestallusion to his travels. 

And the first day they heard him laugh Sir Charles looked down at the whitefoam because a mist was in his eyes. 

They had coasted round Italy and Sicily, and not among the Ionian Isles, ashad been Captain Grigsby's intention. 

"I fancy the lady came from some of those Balkan countries, " Sir Charleshad 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 Paulhauling ropes. "He'll probably never get quite over this, but he isfighting like a man, Charles--tell me as much as you feel inclined to ofthe story. "

So Sir Charles began in his short, broken sentences:

"Parson's girl to start with--sympathy over a broken collar-bone. The wifebehaved unwisely about it, so the boy thought he was in love. We sent himto travel to get rid of that idea. It appears he met this lady inLucerne--seems to have been an exceptional person--a Russian, Tompsonsays--a Queen or Princess _incog. , _ the fellow tells me--but I can't spother as yet. Hubert will know who she was, though--but it does notmatter--the woman herself was the thing. Gather she was quite a remarkablewoman--ten years older than Paul. "

"Always the case, " growled Captain Grigsby. 

Sir Charles puffed at his pipe--and then: "They were only together threeweeks, " he said. "And during that time she managed to cram more knowledgeof everything into the boy's head than you and I have got in alifetime. 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 sportsmanwhen he left home in the spring! Cleopatra, he called her one day, and Ifancy that was the keynote--she must have been one of those exceptionalwomen 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 aswildly even at the price. We've both been about the world, Grig, since thedays we fastened on our cuirasses together for the first time, and eachthought himself the devil of a fine fellow--but I rather doubt if we nowknow as much of what is really worth having as my boy there--justtwenty-three years old. "

"Nonsense!" snapped Captain Grigsby--but there was a tone of regret in hisprotest. 

"Lucky to have got off without a knife or a bullet through him--dangerousnations to grapple with, " he said. 

"Yes--I gather some pretty heavy menace was over their heads, and that iswhat made the lady decamp, so we've much to be thankful for, " agreed SirCharles. 

"Had she any children?" the other asked. 

"Tompson says no. Rotten fellow the husband, it appears, and no heir to thethrone, or principality, or whatever it is--so when I have had a talk withHubert--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 heanswered, and then his voice was gruffer than ever with tendernesssuppressed. 

"Give him his head, Grig, " he said. "He's true blue underneath, and he'llcome up to the collar in time, old friend--only I shall have to keep hismother's love from harrying him. Best and greatest lady in the world, mywife, but she's rather apt to jog the bridle now and then. "

At this moment Paul joined them. His paleness showed less than usualbeneath the sunburn, and his eyes seemed almost bright. A wave of thankfulgladness 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 thegentlest breezes to waft them slowly along. A suitable soothing idle lifefor one who had but lately been near death. And each day Paul's strengthreturned, until his father began to hope they might still be home for hisbirthday 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 ofPaestum they decided to anchor for the night. 

For the last evenings, as the moon had grown larger, Paul had beenstrangely restless. It seemed as if he preferred to tire himself out withunnecessary rope-pulling, and then retire to his berth the moment thatdinner was over, rather than go on deck. His face, too, which had beencontrolled as a mask until now, wore a look of haunting anguish which wasgrievous to see. He ate his dinner--or rather, pretended to play with thefood--in absolute silence. 

Uneasiness overcame Sir Charles, and he glanced at his old friend. ButPaul, after lighting a cigar, and letting it out once or twice, rose, andmurmuring something about the heat, went up on deck. 

It was the night of the full moon--eight weeks exactly since the joy oflife had finished for him. 

He felt he could not bear even the two kindly gentlemen whose unspokensympathy he knew was his. He could not bear anything human. To-night, atleast, he must be alone with his grief. 

All nature was in a mood divine. They were close enough inshore to see thesplendid temples clearly with the naked eye. The sky and the sea were ofthe colour only the Mediterranean knows. 

It was hot and still, and the moon in her pure magnificence cast hernever-ending spell. 

Not a sound of the faintest ripple met his ear. The sailors suppedbelow. 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 godPoseidon, in this vanished settlement of the old Greeks. How marvellouslybeautiful it all was, and how his Queen would have loved it! How she wouldhave told him its history and woven round it the spirit of the past, untilhis living eyes could almost have seen the priests and the people, andheard their worshipping prayers!

His darling had spoken of it once, he remembered, and had told him it was aplace they must see. He recollected her very words:

"We must look at it first in the winter from the shore, my Paul, and seethose splendid proportions outlined against the sky--so noble and soperfectly balanced--and then we must see it from the sea, with thebackground of the olive hills. It is ever silent and deserted and calm, anddeath lurks there after the month of March. A cruel malaria, which we mustnot face, dear love. But if we could, we ought to see it from a yacht insafety in the summer time, and then the spell would fall upon us, and wewould know it was true that rose-trees really grew there which gave theworld their blossoms twice a year. That was the legend of the Greeks. "

Well, he was seeing it from a yacht, but ah, God! seeing italone--alone. And where was she?

So intense and vivid was his remembrance of her that he could feel herpresence near. If he turned his head, he felt he should see her standingbeside him, her strange eyes full of love. The very perfume of her seemedto fill the air--her golden voice to whisper in his ear--her soul tomingle with his soul. Ah yes, in spirit, as she had said, they could neverbe parted more. 

A suppressed moan of anguish escaped his lips, and his father, who had comesilently behind him, put his hand on his arm. 

"My poor boy, " he said, his gruff voice hoarse in his throat, "if only toGod 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 neverbefore. 

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 intime for his birthday. He owed this to his mother, he and his father bothfelt. She had been looking forward to it for so long, as at the time of hiscoming of age the festivities had been interrupted by the sudden death ofhis maternal grandfather, and the people had all been promised acontinuance of them on this, his twenty-third birthday. So, taking thejourney by sufficiently easy stages, sleeping three nights on the way, theycalculated to arrive on the eve of the event. 

The Lady Henrietta would have everything in readiness for them, and herdarling Paul was not to be over-hurried. Only guests of the most congenialkind had been invited, and such a number of nice girls!

The prospect was perfectly delightful, and ought to cause any young manpure joy. 

It was with a heart as heavy as lead Paul mounted the broad steps of hisancestral home that summer evening, and was folded in his mother'sarms. (The guests were all fortunately dressing for dinner. )

Captain Grigsby had been persuaded to abandon his yacht and accompany themtoo. 

"Yes, I'll come, Charles, " he said. "Getting too confoundedly hot in theseseas; besides, the boy will want more than one to see him through amongthose cackling women. "

So the three had travelled together through Italy and France--Switzerlandhad been strictly avoided. 

"Paul! darling!" his mother exclaimed, in a voice of pained surprise as shestood back and looked at him. "But surely you have been very ill. Mydarling, darling son--"

"I told you he had had a sharp attack of fever, Henrietta, " interrupted SirCharles quickly, "and no one looks their best after travelling in thisgrilling weather. Let the boy get to his bath, and you will see a differentperson. "

But his mother's loving eyes were not to be deceived. So with infinitefuss, and terms of endearment, she insisted upon accompanying her offspringto his room, where the dignified housekeeper was summoned, and his everyimaginable 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 hislady's tender counsel to him, given in one of their many talks: "You mustalways reverence your mother, Paul, and accept her worship with love. " Sonow he said:

"Dear mother, it is so good of you, but I'm all right--fever does knock oneover a bit, you know. You'll see, though, being at home again will make meperfectly well in no time--and I'll be as good as you like, and eat anddrink all Mrs. Elwyn's beef-teas and jellies, and other beastly stuff, ifyou will just let me dress now, like a darling. "

However, his mother was obliged to examine and assure herself that hisbeautiful hair was still thick and waving--and she had to pause and sighover every sharpened line of his face and figure--though the thought ofbeing permitted to lavish continuous care for long days to come held acertain consolation for her. 

At last Paul was left alone, and there came a moment he had been longingfor. He had sent written orders that Tremlett should bring Pike, and leavehim in his dressing-room beyond--and all the while his mother had talked hehad heard suppressed whines and scratchings. Somehow he had not wanted tosee his dog before any of the people; the greeting between himself and hislittle friend must be in solitude, for was there not a secret link betweenthem 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 hisfull measure when the door was opened, and this rough white terrier boundedin upon him, and, frantic with welcome and ecstasy, was with difficultyquieted at last in his master's fond arms. 

"Oh! Pike, Pike!" Paul said, while tears of weakness flowed down hischeeks. "I can talk to you--and when you wear her collar you will know myQueen--our Queen. "

And Pike said everything of sympathy a dog could say. But it was not untillate at night, when the interminable evening had been got through, that hismaster had the pleasure of trying his darling's present on. 

That first evening of his homecoming was an ordeal for Paul. He was stillfeeble, and dead tired from travelling, to begin with--and to have tolisten and reply to the endless banalities of his mother's guests wasalmost more than he could bear. 

They were a nice cheery company of mostly young friends. Pretty girls andhis own boon companions abounded, and they chaffed and played silly gamesafter 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, " hesaid. "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 thereon the broad sill beside him, under his arm, and he could feel the goldencollar on the soft fur neck--a wave of perhaps the most hopeless anguish hehad yet felt was upon his spirit now. The unutterable blankness--theimpossible vista of the endless days to come, with no prospect ofmeeting--no aim--no hope. Yes, she had said there was one hope--one hopewhich could bring peace to their crud unrest. But how and when should heever know? And if it were so--then more than ever he should be by herside. The number of beautiful things he would want to say to her about itall--the oceans of love he would desire to pour upon her--the tender carewhich should be his hourly joy. To honour and worship her, and chase allpain away. And he did not even know her name, or the country where one daythis hope should reign. That was incredible--and it would be so easy tofind out. But he had promised her never to make inquiries, and he wouldkeep his word. He saw her reason now; it had arisen in an instinct oftender protection for himself. She had known if he knew her place of abodeno fear of death would keep him from trying to see her. Ah! he had had thetears--and why not the cold steel and blood? It was no price to pay couldhe 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 ofbeing with her, and waiting on her footsteps, he should have to spend hisnext hours with those ridiculous Englishwomen! Those foolish, flippantgirls! One had quoted poetry to him at dinner, the very scrap his lady hadspoken a line of--this new poet's, who was taking the world of London bystorm that year: "Loved with a love beyond all words or sense!" And it hadsounded like bathos or sacrilege. What did these dolls know of love, orlife? Chattering parrots to weary a man's brain! Yes, the Greeks wereright, it would be better to keep them spinning flax, and uneducated. 

And so in his young intolerance, maddened by pain, he saw all thingsgibbous like the mocking moon. Pike stirred under his arm and licked hishand, 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 throughthis 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'sspeech at the great dinner given to the tenants next day. No one hadguessed at his powers before, and the county papers, and indeed some Londonreporters, had predicted a splendid political future for this youngorator. It had been quite a long speech, and contained sound arguments andcommon sense, and was expressed in language so lofty and refined that itsent ecstatic admiration through his mother's fond breast. 

And all the time Paul spoke he saw no sea of faces below him--only hissoul's eyes were looking into those strange chameleon orbs of his lady. Hesaid every word as if she had been there, and at the end it almost seemedshe must have heard him, so soft a peace fell on his spirit. Yes, she wouldhave been pleased with her lover, he knew, and that held large grains ofconsolation. And so these days passed in well-accomplished duty; and atlast all the festivities were over, and he could rest. 

Captain Grigsby and his father had helped him whenever they could, and aneternal bond of friendship was cemented between the three. 

"By Jove, Charles! You ought to be thundering proud of that boy!" CaptainGrigsby said the morning of his departure for Scotland on August 10. "He'scome up to the scratch like a hero, and whatever the damage, the lady musthave 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 thathe looked a year or so older there were no outward traces of the passingthrough that valley of the shadow, from whence he had escaped with just hislife. 

But the three weeks of his lady's influence had changed the inner manbeyond all recognition. His spirit was stamped with her namelessdistinction, and all the vistas she had opened for him to the tree ofknowledge he now followed up. No smallest incident of his day seemedunconnected with some thought or wish of hers--so that in truth she stillguided and moulded him by the power of her great soul. 

But in spite of all these things, the weeks and months held hours of achinglonging and increasing anxiety to know how she fared. If she should beill. If their hope was coming true, then now she must be suffering, andsuffering all alone. Sometimes the agony of the thought was more than Paulcould bear, and took him off with Pike alone into the leafless woods whichcrowned a hill at the top of the park. And then he would pause, and lookout at the view, and the dull November sky, a madness of agonising unresttorturing his heart. 

The one thing he felt glad of was the absence of his Uncle Hubert, who hadbeen made Minister in a South American Republic, and would not return toEngland for more than a year. So there would be no temptation to questionhim, or perchance to hear one of his clever, evil jests which might containsome allusion to his lady. Lord Hubert Aldringham was fond of boasting ofhis royal acquaintances, and was of a mind that found "not even Lancelotbrave, nor Galahad clean. " Now all Paul could do was to wait and hope. Atleast his Queen had his address. She could write to him, even though hecould 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 waswhat he liked best in all the world. 

And now it just served to pass the time and distract some hours from theanguishing ache by its physical pleasure. But in that, as in everything hedid at this time, Paul tried to outshine his fellows, and gain one morelaurel to lay at the feet of his Queen. Socially he was having an immensesuccess. He began to be known as some one worth listening to by men, andwomen hung on his words. It was peculiarly delightful to find so young andbeautiful a creature with all the knowledge and fascinating _cachet_ of aman of the world. And then his complete indifference to them piqued andallured them still more. Always polite and chivalrous, but as aloof as amountain top. Paul had no small vanity to be soothed by their worship intoforgetting for one moment his Queen. So his shooting-visits passed, and hisexperience of life grew. 

Isabella had returned at Christmas, engaged to a High Church curate, andbeaming with satisfaction and health. And it gave Paul, and indeed themboth, 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 attractedby 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. "Didyou ever! You extravagant boy! It is good enough for a lady's bracelet. Youhad 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 hadlaughed 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 tomarry. 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 agood age, and a sweet, gentle wife of Paul's would be the joy of herdeclining years--to say nothing of several grandchildren. But when thismatter was broached to him first, Paul laughed, and when it became a dailysubject of conversation, he almost lost that quick temper of his, which wasnot quite yet under perfect control. 

"I tell you what it is, mother, " he said, "if you tease me like this Ishall go away on a voyage round the world!"

So the Lady Henrietta subsided into pained silence, and sulked with heradored son for more than a day. 

"Paul is so unaccountably changed since his visit abroad, " she said to herhusband plaintively. "I sometimes wonder, Charles, if we really know allthe 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--forhe saw a good deal with his shrewd eyes, though he said no words ofsympathy to his son. He knew that Paul was suffering still, perhaps askeenly 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 behere. Ah! with what passionate anxiety the end of that month was awaited byPaul, only his own heart knew. 

CHAPTER XXV

The days passed on, March had almost come, and Paul heard nothing. Hisfather noticed the daily look of strain, and his mother anxiously inquiredif 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 gracehe could. 

An intense temptation came over him to read all the Court news. He longedto pick up the ladies' papers he saw in his mother's sitting-room; suchjournals, he knew, delighted to publish the doings of royal lives. But thestern self-control which now he practised in all the ruling of his lifeprevented him. No, he had promised never to investigate--and neither in theletter, nor the spirit, would he break his word, whatever thesuffering. 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 wasshe? The days passed in a gnawing anxiety. He was so restless he couldhardly fix his attention on anything. It required the whole of his will tokeep him taking in the sense of the Parliamentary books which were now hisstudy. The constant query would raise its head between each page--"Whatnews of my Queen?--what news of my Queen?"

Each mail as it came in made his heart beat, and often his hand trembled ashe lifted his pile of letters. But no sight of her writing gladdened hiseyes, until he began to be like the sea and its tides, rising twice a dayin a rushing hope with the posts, and sinking again in disappointment. 

He grew to look haggard, and his father's heart ached for him insilence. At length one morning, when he had almost trained himself not toglance at his correspondence, which came as he was dawdling over an earlybreakfast, his eye caught a foreign-looking letter lying on the top. Itwas no hand he knew--but something told him it contained a message--fromhis Queen. 

He dominated himself; he would not even look at the postmark until he wasaway up in his own room. No eye but Pike's must see his joy--or sorrow anddisappointment. And so the letter burnt in his pocket until his sanctum wasreached, 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 anenclosure, but the sheet was blank. With wildly beating heart and tremblingfingers Paul undid the smaller packet's folded ends. And there the morningsunbeams fell on a tiny curl of hair, of that peculiar nondescript shade ofinfant fairness which later would turn to gold. It was less than an inchlong, and of the fineness of down, while in tender care it had been tiedwith 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 seraphimswere singing in his ears. 

Then he looked at this minute lock again, and touched it with hisforefinger. The strangest emotion he had ever known quivered through hisbeing--the concentrated sensation of what he used to feel when his lady hadspoken of their hope--a weird, tremulous, physical thrill. The dear smallcurl of hair! The actual, tangible proof of his own living son. He liftedit with the greatest reverence to his lips, and a mist of joy swam in hisblue eyes. Ah! it was all too wonderful--too divine the thought! Theessence 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 andQueen--the mainspring of his watch of life--the supreme and absolutemistress of his heart and soul. Never had he more madly desired and lovedher 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 beensuffering? Oh! that he could fly to her. More than ever the terrible gallof 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 hesoon would see her. 

It was like a voice from heaven, her little written words, bridging theimpossible--drawing him back to the knowledge and certainty that she wasthere, for him to love, and one day to go to. Fate could never be so unjustas to part him from--the mother of his child. 

And then a state of mad ecstasy came over Paul with that vision; he couldnot stay in the house; he must go out under God's sky, and let hissoul-thoughts fly into space. Dazzling pictures came to him; surely thespring was in his heart breaking through the frozen ground like a singlegolden crocus he saw at his feet--surely, surely the sun of life wouldshine again, and living he should see her. 

He strode away, Pike gambolling beside him, and racing ahead and backagain, seeming to understand and participate in his master's inward joy. 

Paul hardly noticed where he went, his thoughts exalting him so that he didnot even heed to choose his favourite haunt, the wood against thesky-line. It was as if great blocks of icy fear and anguish were melting inthe 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 passedsome 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 littlechild--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 delightbounding in Paul's veins. 

He walked and walked, stopping to lunch at an inn miles away. He could notbear even to see his parents--or the familiar scenes at home; and as oncebefore 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 wildhappiness had crystallised itself into coherent thought and question. Surely she would send him some more words and make some plan to seehim. But at least he was in touch with her again and knew she was hisown--his own. The silence had broken, and human ingenuity would find someway of meeting. 

The postmark was Vienna--though that meant nothing at all; she could havesent 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! Thenthe realisation of that proud fact of parenthood came over him again. Hesaid the words aloud, "My son!"

And with a cry of wild exaltation he vaulted a gate like a schoolboy andran along the path, Pike bounding in the air in frantic sympathy. Thus Paulreturned to his home again, hope singing in his heart. 

 * * * * *

But even his father did not guess why that night at dinner he raised hischampagne glass and drank a silent toast--his eyes gazing into distance asif he there saw heaven. 

CHAPTER XXVI

Of course as the days went by the sparkle of Paul's joy subsided. Aninfinite unrest took its place--a continual mad desire for furthernews. Supposing she were ill, his darling one? Many times a day he read herwords; the pencil writing was certainly feeble and shaky--supposing--But herefused to face any terrible picture. The letter had come on the 2d ofMarch; his son had been eleven days old then--two days and a half toVienna--that brought it to eight when the letter was posted--and fromwhence had it come there? If he allowed two days more, say--she must havewritten it only five or six days after the baby's birth. 

Paul knew very little about such things, though he understood vaguely thata woman might possibly be very ill even after then. But surely, if so, Annaor Dmitry would have told him on their own initiative. This thoughtcomforted him a little, but still anxiety--like a sleuth-hound--pursued hisevery 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 theirthree weeks of happiness was lived over again--every word she had said hadsunk for ever in his memory. And away in his solitary walks, or his rideshome from hunting in the dusk of the afternoon, he let them echo in hisheart. 

But the desire to be near her was growing an obsession. 

Some days when a wild gallop had made his blood run, triumphant thoughtsof his son would come to him. How he should love to teach him to sit ahorse in days to come, to ride to hounds, and shoot, and be an Englishgentleman. Oh! why was she a Queen, his loved one, and far away--why nothere, and his wife, whom he could cover with devotion and honour? Surelythat 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 theywere together. 

The two--Paul and his father--were a silent pair for the most part, as theyjogged along the lanes on their way back from hunting. 

One afternoon, when this sense of parenthood was strong upon Paul, he wentin to tea in his mother's sitting-room. And as he leant upon themantelpiece, his tall, splendid figure in its scarlet coat outlined againstthe bright blaze, his eye took in--perhaps for the first time--the immensenumber of portraits of himself which decorated this apartment--himself inevery stage, from infantile days upward, through the toy rocking-horseperiod to the real dog companion--in Eton collars and Fourth of Junehats--in cricketing flannels and Oxford Bullingdon groups--and then not somany, until one taken last year. How young it looked and smiling! Therewas one particular miniature of him in the holy of holiest positions in thecentre of the writing-table--a real work of art, well painted on ivory. Itwas mounted in a frame of fine pearls, and engraved with the name and dateat 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 bluevelvet suit and a lace turn-over collar, while curls of brightest gold fellrippling to his neck--rather short bunchy curls which evidently would notbe repressed. 

"Was I ever like that, mother?" he said. 

And the Lady Henrietta, only too enchanted to expand upon this enthrallingsubject, launched forth on a full description. 

Like it! Of course! Only much more beautiful. No child had ever had suchgolden curls, or such eyes or eye-lashes! No child had ever, in fact, beenable to compare with him in any way, or ever would! The Lady Henrietta'sdelicate shell-tinted cheeks flushed rose with joy at the recollection. 

"Darling mother, " said Paul, as he kissed her, "how you loved me. And howcold I have often been. Forgive me--"

Then he was silent while she fondled him in peace, his thoughts turning asever to his lady. She, too, probably, would be foolish, and tender, andsweet over her son--and how his mother would love her grandchild. Oh! howcruel, how cruel was fate!

Then he asked: "Mother, does it take women a long time to get well whenthey have children? Ladies, I mean, who are finely nurtured? Theygenerally 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 isalways a faint danger, but then it is so well worth it. What a strangething 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 withhim--"unless some complications occur"--and the thought opened a freshfield of anxious wonderment. 

At last it all seemed unbearable. A wild idea of rushing off to Vienna cameto him--to rush there on the clue of a postmark--but common sense put thisaside. It might be the means of just missing some message. No, he must bearthings and wait. This silence, perhaps, meant good news--and if by the endof April nothing came, then he should have to break his promise andinvestigate. 

About this time Captain Grigsby again came to stay with them. And the nextday, as he and his host smoked their pipes while they walked up and downthe 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 havejust 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 dealmore. 

"Well, then--out with it, Grig, " Sir Charles said impatiently. 

And Captain Grigsby proceeded in his own style to weave together a chain ofcoincidences which had struck him, until this final certainty. They were aclear set of arguments, and Paul's father was convinced, too. 

"You see, Tompson told you in the beginning she was Russian, " CaptainGrigsby said after talking for some time, "and the rest was easy to findout. We're not here to judge the morals of the affair, Charles; you and Ican only be thundering glad your grandson will sit on that throne allright. "

He had read in one paper--he proceeded to say--that a most difficultpolitical situation had been avoided by the birth of this child, as therewas no possible heir at all, and immense complications would ensue upon thedeath of the present ruler--the scurrilous rag even gave a _résumé_ of thisruler's dissolute life, and a broad hint that the child could in no case behis; but, as they pithily remarked, this added to the little prince'swelcome in Ministerial circles, where the lady was greatly beloved andrevered, and the King had only been put upon his tottering throne, and keptthere, by the fact of being her husband. The paper added, the King hadtaken the chief part in the rejoicings over the heir, so there was nothingto be said. There were hints also of his mad fits of debauchery anddrunkenness, and a suppressed tale of how in one of them he had strangled akeeper, 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? Nowonder 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 frompeaceful England towards a hornets' nest, and he--his father--would bepowerless to prevent it. 

CHAPTER XXVII

April's days were lengthening out in showers and sunshine and cold eastwind. Easter and a huge party had come and gone at Verdayne Place, and theLady Henrietta had had her hopes once more blighted by noticing Paul'sindomitable indifference to all the pretty girls. 

He was going to stand for Parliament in the autumn, when their very oldmember should retire, and he made that an excuse for his isolation; he wasworking too hard for social functions, he said. But in reality life wasgrowing more than he could bear. 

Captain Grigsby had sold the old _Blue Heather_ and bought a new steamyacht of seven hundred tons--large enough to take him round the world, hesaid--and he had had her put in commission for the Mediterranean, and shewas waiting for him now at Marseilles. Would Paul join him for a trip? heasked, and Paul hesitated for a moment. 

If no news came by Friday--this was a Monday--then he should go to Londonand deliberately find out his lady's name and kingdom. In that case tocruise in those waters might suit his book passing well. 

So he asked for a few days' grace, and Captain Grigsby gave a friendlygrowl in reply, and thus it was settled. By Saturday he was to give hisanswer. 

Tuesday passed, and Wednesday, and on Thursday a telegram came for Paulwhich drove him mad with joy. It was short and to the point: "Meet Dmitryin Paris, " Then followed an address. By rushing things he could just catchthe night boat. 

He went to his father's room, where Sir Charles was discussing affairs withhis land steward. The man retired. 

"Father, " said Paul, "I am going immediately to Paris. I have not even timeto 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 andI are with you to the bone. Wire if you want us--and let me have yournews. "

So they had parted without fuss, deep feeling in their hearts. 

Paul had telegraphed to the address given, for Dmitry, that he would be inParis, and at what hotel, by the following morning. He chose a largecaravanserai as being more suitable to unremarked comings and goings, should Dmitry's visit be anything of a secret one. And with intenseimpatience he awaited the faithful servant's visit. 

He was eating his early breakfast in his sitting-room when the old manappeared. In all the journey Paul had not allowed himself anyspeculation--he would see and know soon, that was enough. But he feltinclined to grind this silver-haired retainer's hand with joy as he madehis 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 beingso inaccessible as England--and first, Yes, Madame was well--There wassomething in his voice as he said this which made Paul exclaim and questionhim closely, but he would only repeat that--Yes, his lady was well--alittle delicate still, but well--and the never-sufficiently-to-be-belovedson was well, too, his lady had told him to assure the Excellency--and wasthe portrait of his most illustrious father. And the old man lowered hiseyes, while Paul looked out of the window, and thrilled allover. Circumstances made things very difficult for Madame to leave thesouthern country where she was at present, but she had a very strong desireto see the Excellency again--if such meeting could be managed. 

He paused, and Paul exclaimed that of course it could be managed, and hecould start that night. 

But Dmitry shook his head. That would be impossible, he said. Much planningwould be needed first. A yacht must be taken, and not until the end of Maywould it be safe for the Excellency to journey south. At that time Madamewould be in a château on the seacoast, and if the Excellency in his cruisecould be within sight, he might possibly land at a suitable moment and seeher 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 tocall his Queen plain "Madame" that she still wished to preserve herincognito, so, madly as he desired to know, he would wait until he saw herface to face, and then ask to be released from his promise. The time hadcome when he could bear the mystery no longer, but he would not questionDmitry. All his force was turned to extracting every detail of hisdarling'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 hadbeen too ill to plan or make any arrangements to see him. How all this madehis heart ache! Something had told him his passionate anxiety had not beenwithout cause. Dmitry continued: Madame's life was not a happy one, theExcellency must know, and the difficulties surrounding her had becomeformidable 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 thecause of all her trouble would not dare to menace further. 

For once Dmitry had let himself go, as he spoke, and a passionate hateappeared in his quiet eyes. The "Trouble" was of so impossible aviciousness that only the nobility and goodness of Madame had prevented hisassassination numbers of times. He was hated, he said, hated and loathed;his life--spent in continual drunkenness, and worse, unspeakablewickedness--was not worth a day's purchase, but for her. The son of Madamewould be loved forever, for her sake, so the Excellency need not fear forthat, 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 inVenice. And he heard that, Yes, indeed, she had kept herself informed ofall 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 returningherself. Oh! Madame had greatly suffered in the past year--the old mansaid, but she was more beautiful than ever, and of the gentleness of anangel, taking continuous pleasure in her little son--indeed, Anna had saidthis was her only joy, to caress the illustrious infant and call himPaul--such name he had been christened--after a great-uncle. And againDmitry lowered his eyes, and again Paul looked out of the window andthrilled. 

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 saidthere was no use his coming before the 28th of May, for reasons which hecould not explain connected with the to-be-hated Troublesome one. 

Every detail was then arranged, and Dmitry was to send Paul maps, and achart, and the exact description and name of the place where the yacht wasto lie. The whole thing would take some time, even if they were to departto-morrow. 

"The yacht is at Marseilles now, " Paul said, "and we shall start on thecruise next week. Let me have every last instruction _poste restante_, atConstantinople--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, heslipped a letter into Paul's hand. Madame had bidden him give theExcellency this when they had talked and all was settled. He would leaveagain that night, and his present address would find him till six o'clockif the Excellency had aught to send in return. 

And then he backed out with deep bows, and Paul stood there, clasping hisletter, a sudden spring of wild joy in his heart. 

And what a letter it was! The very soul of his loved one expressed in herown quaint words. 

First she told him that now she expected he knew who she was, and as theywere to meet again--which in the beginning she feared might never be--allreason for her incognito was over. Then she told him--to make sure heknew--her name and kingdom. "But, sweetheart, " she added, "rememberthis--my proudest titles ever are to be thy Loved one, and the Mother ofthy son. " Here Paul kissed the words, madly thrilling with pride andworship. She spoke of her still undying love, and of her anguishing sorrowall the winter at their separation, and at length the joy of their littleone's arrival. 

"Thy image, my Paul! English and beautiful, as I said he would be--notblack and white like me. And oh! beloved, thou must always increase thyknowledge of statesmancraft to help me to train him well. "

Then she made a glorious picture of their child's future, and Paul lay backin his chair and closed his eyes--the brightness of it all dazzledhim--while his heart flew to her in passionate adoration. She went on tospeak of their possible meeting. Her villa was but two hundred yards fromthe sea, only he must follow exactly all Dmitry's instructions, or theremight be danger for them both; but at all costs she _could not live_ muchlonger 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 andre-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 theirintention of taking a month or six weeks' cruise with Captain Grigsby. Sounnecessary, she said, at this time of the year, almost the beginning ofMay, when England was really getting most enjoyable. And they were obligedto pacify her as best they could. 

The Mediterranean! Such miles off--and so eccentric, too, starting whenother people would be leaving! Really, she had never ceased regretting everhaving tolerated her son's travels the year before. Since then there hadbeen 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 gunboatunder sealed orders. A cruise to the Greek Isles, and beyond, was what theysaid attracted them. "Especially the beyond!" Captain Grigsby had added, with a grunt to Sir Charles. And if the ardour of love and impatienceboiled in Paul's veins, the spirit of interested adventure animated his oldfriend and his parent. 

They had not spoken much on the subject to the young man. He had brieflyasked Mark Grigsby to do him this service to take him to a far sea in thenew _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 theother two as a third for their party with extra pleasure. 

"I shall grow a young man again before I have done, Grig!" he had saidhappily. But down in his heart lurked some undefined fear for Paul, andthat was the real reason for his journey. 

They had a pleasant voyage, and picked up letters at Naples, which onlyadded to Paul's impatience to be there. But they were not to arrive beforethe end of May, so the Grecian Archipelago could be investigated. 

Life in these sunny seas was a joy to all concerned, and Paul'seyes--illuminated by his lady's ever-present spirit--saw beauties and feltshades and balances of which his companions never dreamed. So they came atlast to the Bosphorus and Constantinople. 

Here full instructions awaited them. That night Paul took his father andhis friend some way into his confidence, as he showed them the chart andread aloud the directions. On the 29th of May, should the weather provefavourable, they were to anchor towards night at a certain spot--latitudeand longitude given--and when they heard a sea-bird cry sharply threetimes, Paul was to come ashore to where he would see a green light. Vasiliwould be waiting for him, and from there it was but a few steps to thegarden gate of the villa by the sea, in which his lady was passing thesummer. It all seemed perfectly simple--only, the directions added, he mustleave again before dawn, and the yacht be out of sight before daylight, ascomplications had occurred since the letter to Naples, and the To-be-hatedone had not left the capital, so things were not so easy to manage, orsafe. 

Paul's impatience knew no bounds. The concentrated pent-up longing of allthese months was animating him. To see his lady again! To clasp her! Tokiss her--to kneel to her--and give her homage and worship. And to beholdhis little son. Always he carried the minute flaxen curl in a locket, andoften he had looked at it, and tried to picture the wee head from which ithad been cut. But she--his love--would bring his son to him--and perhapslet him hold him in his arms. Ah! he shut his eyes and imagined the tenderscene. Would she be changed? Should he see the traces of suffering? But hewould caress all memory of pain away, and surely this meeting would only bethe forerunner of others to come. Fate could never intend such deep, truelove as theirs to be apart. An exaltation uplifted him. And if his ladywere 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 amore glorious kingdom?

The hours from Constantinople seemed longer than the whole voyage. He couldhardly keep his attention to talk coherently about ordinary things atmeals, 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 darknessfell, and then came close inshore. It was a starlit night, with not abreath of air, and no moon would illuminate their whereabouts. 

Paul dressed with the greatest care; never had he been more particular overhis toilet. Tompson found him _exigeant!_

He had broadened and filled out in the past year, and his fair face wastanned, and blooming with health and excitement. 

"The best-looking young devil a woman's eye could light on!" Mark Grigsbysaid, 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 gruntin his throat. 

The maddest excitement was racing through Paul, as he held the tiller-ropesand made straight for the light. And once he felt in his pocket to assurehimself he had not forgotten Dmitry's pistol, which he had cleaned andloaded himself that afternoon. 

He knew this adventure might be a dangerous one, simple as it lookedsuperficially, and now he was an expert revolver shot, thanks to constantpractice. 

The light proved to be in a little sheltered cove, with a smalllanding-stage. And--yes--the man who held it was the Kalmuck, Vasili. 

"Welcome, welcome to the _Siyatelstvo_, " he whispered, as he kissed Paul'shand. And then in perfect silence they began to ascend a path. Presentlyit stopped abruptly. They had come up perhaps not fifty feet, when theirway was barred by a great nail-studded door. 

"Hist!" said Vasili softly, and instantly it was opened from within, andDmitry peered anxiously at them. 

"Ah, the saints be blessed, the Excellency is safe, " he said. But they mustnot delay a minute, he added. The Excellency must return to the waitingboat! A slight but unexpected ill-fortune had befallen them, connected withthe to-be-execrated Troublesome one, and it would not be safe for theImperial Highness if the Excellency should land tonight. She had sent himto say that the Excellency was to keep out at sea for two days, and returnsteaming past, and if he saw a white flag flying from the villa roof, thenat night he was to anchor and come ashore at this same time. If not, forthe moment he must go on back to Constantinople, where news and furtherinstructions would be sent him. 

As he spoke Dmitry indicated the return path, and bid the Excellency followhim, and hasten, hasten. This was a terrible blow to Paul, but the thoughtthat he might bring danger to his beloved one made him not hesitate amoment. 

They descended the path in silence, and as he stepped into the boat the oldservant whispered, the Imperial Highness had bid him assure the Excellencythat all was well, the meeting was only deferred, when they should haveseveral days together in safety. "The saints protect the Excellency, " thefaithful creature added. Then, when Paul was safely in the boat, he stoodback to make sharply three times the sea-bird's cry. 

The weird minor notes floating out on the night seemed a wailing echo ofthe agonised disappointment in Paul's heart--more than once a mad impulseto go back convulsed his being before he reached the yacht--but it was nottill afterwards that he remembered as a strange circumstance the fact thatwith Dmitry's first words at the nail-studded door Vasili had vanished intodarkness. 

CHAPTER XXIX

The two days out at sea were a raging impatience to Paul, in which helearnt to understand all the torments of Tantalus. To know and feel hernear, and yet not to be allowed to get to her! It was an impossiblecruelty. 

The two grey-headed men's hearts ached for him, and Captain Grigsbydelivered himself of this aphorism:

"Say what you will, Charles, but youth pays the devil of a long price forits pleasures. Here you and I snored like a couple of porpoises all lastnight, while the boy paced the deck and cursed everything. "

And Sir Charles had only grunted, for he was feeling very deeply for hisson. 

There was a fresh breeze blowing when the time was up and they sighted landagain, and long before any possible shore could be examined, Paulstood--his strongest glasses in his hand--on the look-out. 

At length they came in full view, and alas! there could be no mistake, theflagstaff upon the villa roof was empty. 

To the day of his death Paul will keep a vivid picture of the purewhite-columned house. No semi-Oriental architecture met his view, but abeautiful marble structure in the graceful Ionic style, seeming a suitablehabitation for his Queen. 

It was approached by groves of ilex, from a wall at the edge of thesea. And now Paul could discern the landing-stage, and the great studdeddoor. 

A sensation of foreboding--a wild, mad anxiety, filled his being. What hadhappened? Why might he not land? Then for the first time that fact ofVasili's vanishment came into his mind. Was there something sinister init? Had he scented any danger to his Queen, and gone to see? A whirlwind ofquestions and frenzied speculation shook Paul's brain. But there wasnothing to be done now but to cram on all steam and make forConstantinople. 

He looked again. The green _jalousies_ were lowered over the windows, allseemed peaceful, silent and deserted. No living being wandered in thegardens. It might have been a mausoleum for the dead. And as this thoughtcame to him Paul almost cried aloud. 

Then he dominated himself. How weak and intolerably foolish to imagine evilwhere perhaps none was! Why should his thoughts fly to terrible reasons forthe postponement of his joy, when in truth they could as well be of thesimplest? A sudden call to the city--a descent of some undesirable spyingeye--a hundred and one possible things, all much more likely than any onesof fear. 

He would not permit another moment of wonder. He would regain his calm andwait like a man for certainty. Thus his face wore an iron mask and histhoughts an iron band. And presently they came to Constantinople. 

But of what followed afterwards it is difficult to write. For fate struckPaul on that warm June morning, and blasted his life, so that for many dayshe only saw red, and lived in hell. 

Every one knows the story which at the time convulsed Europe. How a certainevil-living King, after a wild orgie of mad drunkenness, rode out with twoboon companions to the villa of his Queen, and there, forcing an entrance, ran a dagger through her heart before her faithful servants could protecther. And most people were glad, too, that this brute paid the penalty ofhis crime by his own death--his worthless life choked out of him by theQueen's devoted Kalmuck groom. 

But only Paul and his father, and Mark Grigsby, know the details, whichwere 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 thegarden to meet him and conduct him through the gloom, when, while he stoodthere under the stars, the Imperial Highness had called him softly, tellinghim to take the message down to the Excellency, which he did. How he hadnever dreamed that immediate danger threatened her, or that the King wasthere, or he would not have left her for any peril to the Excellency, whowas after all a man and could fight. And How Vasili, being younger and morequick of wit, had suspected, hearing his message as he gave it to theExcellency, that all was not well, and had hastened to the house--too lateto save his Queen. 

And then the faithful servant took up Anna's tale. How this good girl hadbeen watching on the side of the villa towards the town, and had heard theKing come battering at the gate. How she had flown to warn her mistress, but that the _Imperatorskoye_ had sent her back to watch, saying sheherself would call Dmitry to protect them. Of course--as they nowguessed--on purpose that Anna should not hear her message to him--as theQueen knew full well if he--Dmitry--heard from Anna the King was there, andshe--the Queen--in danger, he would not leave her, even to do herbidding. Then of how the King had thrust the frightened servants aside, andstrode with threats and oaths into the hall, accompanied by his two vilemen. 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 thesea-bird's cry, and then when she heard it, had turned in triumph to theentering King, saying to Anna that nothing mattered now the Excellency wassafe!

On her face, as she looked at this monster, was no dread of death, or aughtbut 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! thathad been a moment the saints could never efface! The splendid lady hadstood quite still, her head thrown back, while this hound of hell hadlurched towards her--hissing through his evil teeth this dreadful sentence:"Since thou hast at last obeyed me and found me an heir, making the peoplelove 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 villainousKing, 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 nota moral woman. But others will hold with Paul she was the noblest lady whoever 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 hislife. Although for long months after the agony of that June day, nothingbut hate and passion and misery had the ruling of him. 

He could not bear his kind. His father and Captain Grigsby had left theyacht 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 bitterthought? Why had he not gone back? Why had he not gone back when thatimpulse had seized him? Why had Vasili, and not he, had the satisfaction ofkilling this vile slayer of his Queen?

Even the remembrance of his child did not rouse him. It was safe with theGrand Duke Peter--a king at four months old! But what of sons, or kings orcountries--nothing could make up for the loss of his Queen! And to thinkthat she had died to save him! Save him from what? A brush with threebesotted drunkards, whom it would have been great joy to kill!

There were moments when Paul went mad with passion, and lay and writhed inhis berth. So long months passed, and at last he dominated himself enoughto come back to his home. 

And if the Lady Henrietta had exclaimed that he appeared ill before on hisreturn, she was dumb now with sorrow at the change. For Paul had lookedupon Medusa's head of horror, and, as well as his heart, his face seemedturned to stone. He was gentle with his mother, and let her caress him asmuch as she would, but nothing any one could say could move him--evenPike's joyous greeting. 

The whole of God's world was his enemy--for was he not alone there, robbedof his mate? Presently the reaction from this violence came, and anintense apathy set in. A saltless, tasteless existence. What was Parliamentto him? What was his country or his nation? or even his home? Only thehunting when it came gave him some relief, and then if the run were fastenough, or the jumps prodigiously high, or his horses sufficiently fresh tobe difficult, his blood ran again for a brief space. But beyond this lifewas 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, deepdown somewhere, prevented him. 

All this time his father grieved and grieved, and the Lady Henrietta spenthours in tears and prayer. Sir Charles had told her their son had met witha great sorrow, and they must bow their heads and leave him in peace, sothere were no more gay young parties at Verdayne Place, and gone for everwere the visions of the grandchildren. Only Mark Grigsby was a constantvisitor, but then--he knew. 

Thus a year passed away, and Paul left on a voyage round the world. AnEnglishman's stern duty to be a man at all costs was calling him atlast--bidding him in change of scene to try and overcome the paralysingdominion of his grief. But as far as that went the experiment provedfutile. If moments came when circumstances did divert him, such as one ortwo great storms he happened to come across, and one or two excitingsituations--still, when things were fair and peaceful, back would rush theever-living ache. That passionate void and loss for which there seems noremedy. 

Gentle, pleasant women longed to lavish worship upon him, and Paul talkedand was polite, but all their sweetness touched him no more than summerripples stir the bottom of a lake. He seemed impervious to any humaninfluence, though when the look of a mountain or the colour of beech-treeswould remind him of the Bürgenstock anguish as fresh as ever stabbed hisheart. Yet all this while, unknown to himself, his faculties weredeveloping. He read deeply. He had unconsciously grown to apply hisdarling's lucid reasoning to every detail of his judgment of life. It wasas if it had before been written in cypher for him, and she had now givenhim the key. His mind was untiring in its efforts to master subjects, ashis splendid physique seemed tireless in all manner of sport. 

Thus he saw the world and its peoples, and was an honoured guest among thegreat ones of the earth. But the hardness of adamant was in him. He had nobeliefs--no ambitions. He dissected everything with all the pitilesscertainty of a surgeon's cold knife. And if his life contained an aim atall, 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 didhe 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 thehistory of his inner emotions. He had gone to shoot the beasts with awell-known Rajah, and it had chanced he came upon a magnificent creature atvery close quarters and had shot it on sight. But when it lay dead, itswonderful body gracefully moving no more, a sickening regret came overPaul. Of all things in creation none reminded him so forcibly of his lostworshipped Queen. In a flash came back to him the first day she had lain onthe skin which had been his gift. Out of the jungle her eyes seemed togleam. In his ears rang her words, "I know all your feelings and yourpassions. And now I have your skin--for the joy of my skin. " Yes, she hadloved tigers, and been in sympathy with them always, and here was one whosejoy of life he had ended!

No, he could never kill one more. After this expedition for weeks he wasrestless--the incident seemed to have pierced through his carefullycultivated calm. For days and days, fresh as in the first hours of hisgrief, came an infinite sensation of pain--just hideous personal pain. 

So time, and his journeys, went on. But no country and no change of scenecould dull Paul's sense of loss, and the great vast terrible finality ofall hope. 

The hackneyed phrase would continually ring in his brain of--Neveragain--never again! Ah! God! it was true he would hold his belovedone--never again. And often unavailing rebellion against destiny would riseup in him, and he would almost go mad and see red once more. Then he wouldrush away from civilisation out into the wild. 

But these violent emotions were always followed by a heavy, numb lethargyuntil some echo or resemblance roused him to suffering again. The scent oftuberoses caused him anguish unspeakable. One night in New York he wasobliged to leave the opera because a woman he was with wore some in herdress. 

Thus, with all his strong will, there were times when he could not controlhimself or his grief. 

He had been absent from England for over two years, when the news came tohim far out in America of his Uncle Hubert's death. So he had gone to jointhe world of spirits in the vast beyond! Paul did not care! His onlyfeeling was one of relief. No more fear of hearing, perhaps, some chanceidle word. But he remembered his mother had loved her handsome brother, andhe wrote a tender letter home. 

Then something in the Lady Henrietta's answer touched him vaguely anddecided him to return. After all--because life was a black barren waste tohim--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'sthird homecoming. And like a wild beast tamed for a time to perform tricksin a circus, Paul conformed to the ordinary routine. The question of hisentering Parliament was mooted again, but this he put aside. As yet hecould face no ties. He would do his best by staying at home most of theyear--but when that call of anguish was upon him, he must be free once moreto roam. 

Then hope began to bloom in the Lady Henrietta's heart as flowers afterrain. Surely this great unknown grief was passing--surely her adored onewould settle down again. 

CHAPTER XXXI

But the months went by without healing Paul's grief. Time only coated itwith a dull, callous crust. He had got into a hard way of taking everythingas it came. He did not fly from society, or ape the manners of themisanthrope; he went to London, and stayed about and played the game. Butall with a stony, bald indifference which made people wonder. 

No faintest inkling of his story had ever leaked out. And it seemed anincomprehensible attitude towards life for a young and fortunate man. Those who had looked for great things from his birthday speech shook theirheads sadly at the unfulfilment. 

So time passed on, until one day at the beginning of February, nearly fiveyears after the light had gone out of his life, a circumstance happenedwhich proved a turning-point of great magnitude. 

It was quite a small thing--just the brutalised hardness in a gipsy woman'sface!

The sun was setting that late afternoon when he strode home across the moorwith Pike, and they came upon some gipsy vans. Paul looked up--it was nounaccustomed sight, only they happened to be in exactly the same spot wherethe like had stood that morning long ago, when in his exuberant happinessat the news of his little son's birth he had tossed the young woman thesovereign. 

The door of the last van was open, and there, sitting on the steps in anattitude of dull sullen idleness, was the same swarthy lass, only now shewas 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 closeto her she said without any greeting:

"I lost him, your honour--him and my Bill in the same blasted year, and Iain'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 oneword "Hell!"--and afterwards she added with a wail: "Yes, they're dead! andthere 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 hadgone 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 asit had been in that happy hour when they had floated out to the lagoon, andshe had told him--her eyes alight with the _feu sacré_--her wishes for hisfuture. 

But what had he done to carry them out--those lofty wishes? Surelynothing. For, obsessed with his own selfish anguish, he had lived on withno single worthy aim, with no aim at all except to forget and deaden hissuffering. 

Forget! Ah God! that could never be. For had she not said there was aneternal marriage of their souls--in life or in death they could never beparted?

And he had tried to break this sacred tender bond, when he should havecherished every memory to comfort his deep pain with its sweetness. Whathad 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 nobleteaching. 

He strode on in the dusk towards his home, his thoughts lashing him withshame and remorse. 

And that night, when he and Pike were alone in his own panelled room, hebroke the seal of those beautiful letters which, with directions for themto be buried with his body at his death, had lain in a packet hidden awayfrom sight all these years, freighted with agonised memory. 

He read them over carefully, from the first brief note to the last long cryof love which Dmitry had brought him to Paris. Then he lay back in hischair, while his strong frame shook with sobs, and his eyes were blinded byscorching, bitter tears. 

But suddenly it seemed as if his lady's spirit stood beside him in thefirelight's flickering gleam, whispering words of hope, pleading to comeback 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 wastedyears--sweetheart, come back to me never to part again. Come back to myheart, and dwell there, Angel Queen!"

 * * * * *

Then, as the days went on, all the world altered for him. Instead of theterrible bitterness against fate which had ruled his heart, a newtenderness grew there. It seemed now as though he were never alone, butlived in her ever-present memory. And with this golden change came thoughtsof 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 hadheld ghastly hours for him in the reopening of old anguish--the missive tobe read and quickly thrust out of sight, the thought of it to be strangledand forgotten. 

And now the little one would soon be five years old, and his father'sliving eyes had never seen him! But this should no more be so, and he wroteat once to Dmitry. 

By return of post came the answer. The Excellency indeed would bewelcome. The Regent--the Grand Duke Peter--had bidden him say that if theExcellency should be travelling for pleasure, as the nobility of hiscountry often did, he would gladly be received by the Regent, who washimself a great _chasseur_ and _voyageur_. The Excellency would then seethe never-to-be-sufficiently-beloved baby King. Of this glorious childhe--Dmitry--found it difficult to write. It was as if the _Imperatorskoye_breathed again in his spirit, while he was the portrait of his illustriousfather, proving how deeply and well the _Imperatorskoye_ must have lovedthat father. If the Excellency could arrive in time for the Majesty's fifthbirthday, on the 19th of February, there was to be a special ceremony inthe great church which the Regent thought might be of interest to theExcellency. 

Paul wired back he would travel night and day to be in time, and heinstructed Dmitry to have the necessary arrangements made that he might gostraight to the church, in case unforeseen delay should not permit him toarrive until that morning. 

It was in a shaft of sunlight from the great altar window that Paul firstsaw his son. The tiny upright figure in its blue velvet suit, heavilytrimmed with sable, standing there proudly. A fair, rosy-cheeked, golden-haired English child--the living reality of that miniature paintedon ivory and framed in fine pearls, which made the holy of holies on LadyHenrietta's writing-table. 

And as he gazed at his little son, while the organ pealed out a Te Deum andthe sweet choir sang, a great rush of tenderness filled Paul's heart, andmelted forever the icebergs of grief and pain. 

And as he knelt there, watching their child, it seemed as if his darlingstood beside him, telling him that he must look up and thank God, too--forin her spirit's constant love, and this glory of their son, he would oneday find rest and consolation. 

THE END.