A QUESTION OF TWO MORALITIES.
The road towards the block-house ran along the river bank past the Kofn Ford. They went slowly on together through the starry windy night, Rallywood with his hand on the bridle and the wounded man holding limply to the saddle.
Thetsaraved and rocked in the pine trees, through the pauses of the storm a wolf barked, and the black, tumbled water was still swelling and gulping under the low stars. But the tumult of noises only served to accentuate the hideous loneliness which is the salient characteristic of the Frontier.
Counsellor, with an unaccustomed warfare in his heart—rage and the pity of it working together—stared into space across the leaping river.
As the two men drew near the ford, they saw the dim figure of a horseman riding down the bank on the opposite side, with the evident intention of crossing. The approaches to the ford were flooded, for the angry water fretted out its banks at such times and deepened into dangerous swirls over the crossing-place.
Rallywood checked the horse to shout and signal to the man that the ford was impassable, but his voice was drowned by the harsh throated noises of the night. Weak as was the starlight, something of the loose reckless swing in the saddle told Rallywood that the rider was Anthony Unziar. Unziar galloped down the stones of the incline and plunged into the torrent. It was clear from where he took the water that he intended to make for the little beach below the block-house. His course was marked by a whitish rise in the water; now and then the watchers on the bank lost sight of the struggling figure as a tree-trunk whirled past and hid him, or he seemed to sink in some tormented eddy, but he came into view again and always nearer. At the last moment, whether horse and man were exhausted or whether a furious tangle of cross-currents caught them, they were swung round and away from the landing-point.
It was now evident that Unziar saw Rallywood, for in answer to the latter's signs that he must make for the shallows lower down, Unziar waved some object over his head as if to call attention to it. The suck of the current was fast drawing him away, but with another strong effort he got the horse's head round; they heard his faint shout upon the wind then the words came more clearly:
'Carry them on—Selpdorf!' He flung something forwards; the gale caught and hurled it on to the rocks at Rallywood's feet.
When they looked again Unziar had disappeared.
Hurrying up to the block-house, Rallywood sent off some troopers to Unziar's assistance; then with some difficulty got his prisoner, who was stiff and dizzy, on his feet and supported him to the room where Madame de Sagan and Valerie had rested on the night of the snow-storm.
Rallywood did all that could be done for Counsellor, then he sat down at the narrow table to face his position. Thetsabattered at the little window, and the camp-bed creaked under Counsellor's weight as he turned and groaned upon it, while Rallywood sat with soul and body absorbed in the consciousness that at last the time of which Counsellor had warned him was come, the time when he should find his enemies dressed in red. Under almost any other circumstances it would have been possible to retire from the position with honour. Had war been declared between England and Maäsau, he could have resigned his commission. But to-night he found himself without any such means of escape, fast in the jaws of the cleverly-contrived trap set for him by Selpdorf.
But he scarcely yet knew the worst. Presently Counsellor spoke.
'This thing has gone beyond a joke,' he said, 'What does it mean?' The glance from under the overhanging gray brows had regained its fire.
'My orders are simple enough. I am to keep you here until to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock.'
'By doing so you will ruin Maäsau as a free State and bring a most serious defeat upon the British policy.' Counsellor's voice was rasping. 'Are you prepared for that?'
Both men were strenuous, and bred deep into the bone of each were the same dominant qualities.
'I am prepared to carry out my orders,' answered Rallywood; 'I had them practically from the Duke himself.'
'The Duke is of the same mind in which I found him at the Castle, though he may be forced to dissemble,' asserted Counsellor; then with a twist he sat up as his glance fell upon the square dark object lying on the table between them. 'John Rallywood, do you know what that is?'
'The despatches thrown to me by Unziar.'
'That case is mine; it contains my private instructions; you can guess something of their importance from the fact that I have been robbed of them. You must give them back to me! As an Englishman and an honest man, I call upon you to give them back to me.'
Rallywood's long nervous fingers closed over the packet.
'It is impossible!' he said. 'As an Englishman, yes, but as an honest man, well, it—it is hard to say.'
'Are you mad?' cried Counsellor.
'I have not had long to think it out, and it is a tangled question,' replied Rallywood wearily.
'A tangled question? I take it you are first of all an Englishman?'
'In my private capacity, and that deals with my private honour; but I have undertaken another responsibility from which I cannot withdraw at pleasure. I am a sworn soldier of Maäsau, and as such my public honour has first claim.'
It was a simple rendering of a tremendous problem, but it served for Rallywood.
'Then——' said Counsellor.
There was a rush and a scuffle, but Rallywood was young and strong and more active than the Major.
'Confound you!' Counsellor fell back a step or two, breathing hard. There are some situations which by their elemental force destroy all other emotions. The situation at Kofn guard-house was one of these. The point at issue between these two men pierced to the bed-rock of national loyalty. Perhaps Blivinski was right. Love of country was part of their physical equipment, yet by the irony of circumstances they were pitted against each other.
'Will you give me your parole?' asked Rallywood with his back to the door.
Counsellor drew out a big watch.
'For fifteen minutes,' he said. 'It is now half-past nine; at forty-five minutes past I shall hold myself once more free to do what I can. You understand? In the meantime we will talk.'
Rallywood motioned Counsellor back to the camp bed while he himself sat down on the table.
'I fancy, John, we are both rather in the dark about all this,' began Counsellor. 'Tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine.'
'My orders were clear enough,' Rallywood said. 'I was to take charge of a prisoner, to be brought to me by the incoming mail at the spot where I met you. You arrived queerly, I admit, rolling along the down line, but you are undoubtedly the person of whom I was instructed to take charge.'
'Ah—I begin to see. There may be many men in Maäsau who would rob me, but there is only one man who could do it so clumsily.'
'Count Sagan?'
'Naturally. But to return, I left you at the Castle looking for Colendorp; whether you found him or not does not come into this affair. Perhaps he was in Sagan's way and he removed him——'
'With a knife.'
'That is quite in the Count's manner. Well, I got safely to England, where my business took a day and a half longer than I expected. I received my despatches, and five hundred miles from here I took the precaution of removing them from my despatch-box. After we left the Frontier station I noticed that our train had lost half its length, and that I was in the last carriage. I didn't like it. It is never healthy for a despatch-box to travel in an end compartment. That is tempting of Fate.'
Counsellor stopped as if to collect his thoughts again.
'After a little the pace slackened and I felt a sharp jolt. They were switching me on to the down line, an improvement upon the original plan so like the Count's manner that it almost proves he must have been on the spot superintending operations. Next it was a face at the window. I used my revolver, but they stunned me and robbed me and left it to the night mail to close my mouth for good. Now you know where you are, John Rallywood; you are abetting a crime, and a crime against your own country, against England!'
Rallywood laughed, but a laugh against oneself has a bad sound with it.
'It seems the day has come when I find my enemies dressed in red!' he said.
'Why, yes, if you choose to put it so. If you either carry these despatches on for Unziar or remain to keep me prisoner, you play Germany's game for her.'
'Perhaps not,' suggested Rallywood. 'The Chancellor sent me here.'
Counsellor's short angry grunt of derision surprised him.
'Mademoiselle Valerie may be loyal, but Selpdorf is at the bottom of the whole plot. Does he guess there is any bond of liking or interest between you and his daughter? If so, he sent you here to break you! He knew that between the conflicting claims of a man's public and private honour lie shame and often death. Do you not see that amongst them they are bent on ruining you? Just now, when I hoped all might be yours that a man can ask for! Your Chicago cousin at Queen's Fain is dying and you are his heir. Yet you are to be ruined—ruined by the hate of Elmur and Sagan, and what are you to Selpdorf but a fly to be crushed whose presence annoys him?'
'Are you sure of this? His sending me to be witness of your assassination fits in badly with the theory of his collusion.'
'Perfectly; Sagan stultified the scheme, that was all. Selpdorf forgot that Sagan is a wild beast who can only be fed with blood!' Counsellor paused. 'The highway robbery with violence to which I have been subjected is Sagan's bull-headed translation of Selpdorf's hint to detain me. Thus, according to their calculations, before I can get to Révonde the Duke will have been induced to lend himself to some other course. It is not hard to read their tactics. They run on old lines. So you see there is only one way out of it—you must help me, John.'
What advice he might have offered to Rallywood as simple man to man occupied no place in Counsellor's intentions. He was England's envoy as opposed to her antagonists, and into the scale in her favour he meant to throw the whole of his personal influence with Rallywood.
Rallywood made a sign of dissent.
'But surely you will not side with Sagan's party as against the Duke?' urged Counsellor.
'The Duke has been known to change his mind before now.'
Counsellor bit savagely at his moustache. The minutes were flying.
'I wonder if old Gustave has allowed himself to be humbugged yet once more!' he said to himself. 'John, on which side do you suppose Valerie Selpdorf would wish to see you?'
'We need not mention her,' answered Rallywood stiffly.
'What? Have you not spoken? Does she not know?'
'She knows—yes, and others know too that I love her. But it is ended. There is nothing more; there never can be now.'
Counsellor put his hand to his head.
'Will you help me? That after all is the question.'
Rallywood looked down at him, and Counsellor fancied there was a shadow of reproach in the glance.
'For you that is the question, but for me there is another,' Rallywood said deliberately. 'Until I can resign my oath to Maäsau, honour holds me her sworn soldier.'
'Of all things in the world what is so arbitrary as honour?' cried Counsellor. 'Honour is a wild flower; God plants it, but man prunes it, and the devil only can be responsible for the sports one sometimes meets with. Well, go your own and the devil's way!' The Major turned irritably round. 'In my creed a man's first duty is to his country.'
'I wish I could see it so,' said Rallywood sadly. Then the hush of the mighty battle fell upon the little room. The air was stifling to both, for Counsellor knew what was in his companion's heart and even felt a far-off pity for him, but no relenting. Rallywood's handsome brown face had grown suddenly sharp and aged, and his gray eyes contracted to dark points under their frowning lids. The man was looking on the wreck of his life, and slowly coming to the conclusion that he must choose that course which would add the defeat of the land he loved to his own ruin. He would have died for England, happy in the sacrifice, but to lose all in her despite was a bitter thing.
'Time's up,' said the Major. 'You have one minute to give me your decision.'
'A soldier should see no further than the point of his sword,' replied Rallywood. 'An oath stands between me and my desires. These despatches may be yours, but you know how they have come into my charge. As long as I am a soldier of Maäsau, my duty to her comes first of all. I cannot let you go nor can I give up these despatches! Curse you!' a strong flash of emotion breaking in upon the restraint of his speech, 'why have you no sword? If you had killed me——'
Counsellor put his watch back into his pocket.
'A man's country should be his conscience,' said the old diplomatist, as one who pronounces a definite and unassailable truth. Then he waited.
Rallywood stood up.
'I cannot argue,' he said, 'but Major, you will believe me when I say that I see my duty plainly. I refuse!'
'I have had a great regard for you,' replied Counsellor slowly, 'but if you were my own son, by Heaven, I'd blow your brains out to-night! Give me those despatches.'
There was a rapid movement and the gleam of a pistol barrel in his hand.
'Thank God!' It was not more than the faintest whisper from Rallywood as he sprang at his companion.
But there was no report, only an ominous click as Counsellor flung the unloaded revolver in Rallywood's face with a bitter word.
'It was not loaded.'
Hardly had they closed when the door was opened and a couple of men supported Unziar into the room. The water ran in streams from his clothes to the floor, while he stood and stared at the two combatants who had fallen apart.
'I suppose they sent you to meet me, Rallywood,' he said in English; 'it is lucky, for I'm done! You must carry those despatches on without delay, for they must reach the Chancellor at the earliest possible moment. Go; there is no time to lose!'
Rallywood pointed to Counsellor.
'This gentleman is my prisoner. You will keep him here until further orders. Meantime I will ride on with these to Révonde.'
Counsellor and Unziar remained together, but no word passed between them till out in the windy night they heard the beat of hoofs as Rallywood rode away on his mission.
LOVE'S HANDICAP.
As Rallywood galloped steadily through the night under the shrinking moon, with thetsabehind him and the pearl-grey road withering away into the level distance ahead, it happened that the two women of whom he must have had some thoughts during that lonely ride met and spoke together.
'Valerie, I called for you to go with me to the Abenfeldt's reception, because I have a question to ask you,' began Isolde at once when the door of the carriage was closed.
The passing lamps shone varyingly upon their faces as they passed through the lighted streets, and Madame de Sagan looked at her companion.
'Where is Captain Rallywood?' she added abruptly.
His name had not passed between them since the interview at the block-house.
'I cannot tell you. I don't know,' said Valerie coldly.
'Oh, my dear child, all is fair in love and war! Why be so dreadfully cross with me still?'
'Is it necessary to recur to the subject at all?'
'Will you never forgive me, I wonder?'
Valerie looked steadily back into the lovely face, where the underlying spirit of mockery was transmuted into an innocent playfulness like a child's.
'On the contrary, I thank you.'
'Why—for humbling him? Valerie, you are——'
'Happy!' Valerie could not forego the very womanly triumph, 'very happy! And you made me so.'
'But,' said Isolde with some perplexity, 'you would have it that he did not mean what he said.'
In her heart she thought Valerie a great goose for making any such disclaimer. Vanity has knowledge of no tongue whereby to interpret pride.
'No, but it showed me what he was.'
'I wonder how Baron von Elmur would like to hear that his future wife was not ashamed to declare her love for another man!' retorted Isolde.
'I mean to tell him.'
'No, no, Valerie, don't!' exclaimed Madame de Sagan, whose weakness exuded very often in a sort of kind-heartedness, 'I should not tell him. Such a confidence is apt to turn sour in a husband's memory. You may trust me—I will keep your secret.' Valerie smiled scornfully.
'But I can keep a secret! For instance, I want to hear where Captain Rallywood is, because I know the Count hates him, and also,' she nodded her head slowly, 'and also our dear friend Baron von Elmur.'
Valerie was startled.
'Baron von Elmur?' she repeated.
'Oh, you quite mistake the matter. The ill-feeling has nothing to do whatever with you or with me. The Count and von Elmur hate him on very different grounds. Everything appears to interest men now-a-days but ourselves!' she ended sadly.
'Because he is English, perhaps?'
'Well, yes, it has something to do with it. You remember that last night at the Castle? I conclude it was Jack who spoiled their plans when Simon and the Baron went to the Duke's apartments.'
'The Count and Baron von Elmur together? What did they go for?'
The question dried up the little stream of babble.
'How should I know? But there was a fight—I'd back Jack against most people! That is one reason I—liked him. We heard the shots, and though I was horribly frightened I told you none of the particulars, yet I knew all. Speak to me, Valerie! What are you thinking of?'
Valerie had been rapidly going over in her mind the incidents Isolde had alluded to. For the first time she understood. There had been a German plot which she had helped to defeat, a plot to place Count Sagan at the head of the State, and the price he was to pay was the freedom of Maäsau. She must see her father before she slept and warn him of the conspiracy, which although it had failed temporarily at the Castle of Sagan was still in existence. She felt certain that her father knew nothing of the German plot, nor of Sagan's bitter enmity against himself, as proved by the attempt on her own life. Fears for her father, for Rallywood, and for Maäsau crowded upon her, though she kept up an appearance of composure that Isolde might not guess the importance of the information she had given.
'I was thinking of Captain Rallywood,' answered the girl at last, offering the excuse Isolde would be most likely to accept as true. 'I did not know he had so many enemies. But is he not in Révonde?'
'No, he has not been at the barracks since yesterday afternoon. I sent him an invitation. You never give me credit for sincerity, but I am steady in my friendships. I do not mean to drop him because he talked all that nonsense at Kofn Ford. You boasted about M. Selpdorf's power—make him use it now to save Rallywood. I begin to believe that you are really as cold as you pretend to be, Valerie, you care so little! Whereas I, in spite of all that has happened, would serve him if I could.'
'I shall see my father when I return to-night, I promise you.'
Isolde buttoned her glove thoughtfully.
'You must be careful not to let him suspect that you have any especial interest in Jack,' she said, 'for that would be merely an additional reason for letting Rallywood—go.'
Valerie could not misunderstand the euphemism.
'Isolde, my father is not a savage!' she exclaimed.
'Perhaps not,' said Madame de Sagan simply. 'He is, I know, a very charming man in society, but my experience goes to show that every man is a savage—au fond.'
Words which embody the opinion of more women than one cares to number.
It was three o'clock when an officer of the Guard, leaving the wind-swept darkness of the country behind him, rode through the north gate of Révonde into the vivid black and white perspectives of the city, where close outside the brilliant line of electric lights night herself seemed to stand incarnate, a jealous intensity of blackness.
Rallywood had picked up Unziar's relays of horses at certain points, and on the whole had made good time of the ride. Now he crossed the bridge that lies opposite to the gate of the Palace, and mounted the curving streets towards the Chancellerie.
He swung from his horse at the foot of the broad flight of granite steps under its overhanging portico as a carriage dashed up on the other side. The high doors above were flung open and a roll of red cloth dropped from step to step down to the pavement, a couple of footmen placing it with the quick deftness of use until it reached the carriage.
As she alighted Mademoiselle Selpdorf recognised the tall figure in the travel-stained riding cloak.
'Captain Rallywood, where have you come from?' she asked almost involuntarily.
'From the frontier, Mademoiselle.'
'Will you give me your arm? What has happened? Has Major Counsellor come back?' she whispered as they went up the steps.
'He is at the Ford. He has met with an accident.'
Valerie said no more, but as she entered the hall she read Rallywood's face.
'Has his Excellency returned?' she asked of an attendant. 'Then place refreshments in the small library. Captain Rallywood, I will join you in a few moments. M. Selpdorf will be home very soon. He is anxious to see you.'
It was a little necessary make believe before the numerous servants. How far it deceived them may be faintly guessed when one considers anyone's secrets in relation to anyone's servants.
'Man designs his own game,' thought Rallywood as he followed the servant into whose charge he was given, 'or he is forced to stand out and circumstances play it for him. In the years all is one.'
Whichever way the issue of this night's work turned, Maäsau and Valerie must both pass from his life forever. The one supreme obstacle which lurks always beside the mercenary's path had arisen to bar his advance at last.
Valerie opened the door softly. She was trembling and afraid, but she would not be outdone in generosity by Rallywood. She had determined to thank him for the words spoken at Kofn Ford, and to show him how entirely she comprehended their chivalrous intention. But when her eyes fell upon him all thought of self faded. He was standing midway between the gleaming wine and glass of the side-table and the flickering glow of the open stove, upright and stately as he ever appeared to her, but in his new attitude her sharpened senses perceived a suggestion of disheartenment and solitude.
Swept away by the feeling of the moment, she crossed the room to his side and laid her hand upon his arm.
'What is it? Something has happened,' she said.
Rallywood looked down at her. The beautiful eyes like starlit darkness, her clear-hued loveliness, the soft dusky curls about her brow, her girlish reserves and petulances, all her sweet unapproachable personality enhanced to pain the knowledge that he was looking his last upon them.
'Nothing to distress you, Mademoiselle, because M. Selpdorf knows all about it.'
'Then tell me; I know so much already.'
'I wish I could. But I think his Excellency might prefer to tell you himself.'
'Is it good news, then? Major Counsellor has succeeded? Then why are you so sad?'
'Sad, Mademoiselle?' he answered with a smile. 'Men often look sad when they are only hungry and dog-tired.'
'Then eat,' she said. 'Let me give you some wine.'
She drew him to the table and poured out a glass of wine.
'To the success of Maäsau and of England,' she said. Then touching it with her lips in the graceful fashion of Maäsau, she handed it to him.
'Hark! I think I hear my father arriving, and there is something I must say to you before he comes.'
She clasped her hands nervously, the bare shapely hands with their gleaming rings, and Rallywood watched her and felt as if he were dreaming.
'Captain Rallywood, I want to thank you. I can never thank you enough for that night at Kofn Ford. I understood—pray believe I understood it—and I think you are the noblest gentleman alive!'
Rallywood did not hesitate. There was one thing Valerie should know and be certain of in the uncertain future.
'Give me a moment, Mademoiselle,' he exclaimed, detaining her. 'I see you do not quite understand. I could not expect you to understand. But now—now that I am leaving Maäsau, I must tell you the truth. Perhaps you will believe it some day. I am proud——'
'I know it, and yet you—oh, say no more! For my sake you stooped to say it. It was not true! But I knew that.'
He took her hands between his own in a firm strong clasp.
'Listen, Mademoiselle. It was true! Since first I saw you it has always been true!'
'I remember!' she said breathlessly. She could not help saying it.
'Do you?' he answered; the temptation to wander a little was too sweet. 'You wore this cloak,' he touched it softly with his fingers, then laid his hand over hers deliberately, in the quiet confident way in which he did everything and which she had grown to love, 'and ever since I have carried the glove you despised. And though this is my good-bye, I will carry it—always.'
'But—but——'
'Oh, I don't ask you to believe me now,' he said bitterly. 'I am not noble, Mademoiselle. I was only too proud to say I loved you that night, as,' with another smile, 'I was only too proud not to say it before.'
Valerie raised her face and her eyes were full of light.
'Then it was true—thank God!'
But Rallywood, though he saw the purpose of her speech, would not understand its significance. He led her towards the door by which she had entered.
'You must go, Mademoiselle. I—dare not keep you with me longer. Good-bye, and may God go with you, Valerie!'
She stopped suddenly and kissed the hand that held hers.
'I too am proud,' she whispered, and the door closed upon her.
THE MAN OF THE HOUR.
'Selpdorf is the man of the hour,' Counsellor once said to Rallywood, and the Major's sayings had a trick of lingering in the memory. With the Chancellor then still remained the key to the situation. He was implicated in the conspiracy, but he had less to gain and far more to lose than the others. A dangerous condition and one possible of development.
All this passed in a flash through Rallywood's mind as the opposite door opened to admit M. Selpdorf, who replied stiffly to Rallywood's bow.
'I was not prepared to see you this evening,' began Selpdorf.
'I have brought the despatches, your Excellency,' replied Rallywood, taking the packet from his pocket but continuing to hold it in his hand.
Selpdorf eyed him.
'From whom?'
'Lieutenant Unziar.'
The affair was falling out in an unexpected manner. Selpdorf was a student of human nature as all of his craft must be, and Rallywood offered for his observation a character out of the common and hard for a Maäsaun to read. How had he escaped from the dilemma in which he had been so carefully placed? The Chancellor was curious to hear. The man was an artist in the human passions.
'From Lieutenant Unziar?' Selpdorf repeated tentatively. 'And your prisoner? The man whom I ordered you to keep at the block-house?'
The Chancellor half expected to hear that Counsellor was also in Révonde, and that Rallywood with an unassuming but unspeakable effrontery had called to explain his own view of the matter.
'Unziar is with him—with Major Counsellor at Kofn Ford. Unziar was unable to ride on at once after crossing the river, which is in flood. Therefore I have come.'
Was it possible Rallywood had merely shirked facing the difficulty in this way? thought Selpdorf.
'Ah, Major Counsellor? And these are the despatches?'
'These are Major Counsellor's private despatches, which were stolen from him within the frontier of Maäsau!' said Rallywood.
Selpdorf's round eyes showed their lids in an odd flicker. The attack was sudden. He brushed his moustache upwards with a thoughtful movement of the finger and thumb, regarding Rallywood as he did so.
'Then why have you brought them to me?' he said at last.
'Because a soldier should see no further than the point of his sword, your Excellency,' replied Rallywood slowly.
'Good! And how do you come to know what the packet contains?'
'The persons who robbed Major Counsellor did not even take the precaution of placing it under another cover. He recognised it at the block-house.'
'It seems to me then that you had a decision to make at the block-house?'
'Yes,' said Rallywood simply.
But it was not a subject to bear discussion.
'As a soldier of Maäsau you decided rightly.' Selpdorf misjudged Rallywood for the moment; it crossed his mind that this was a mercenary after all and to be bought.
'But as a man I now wish to resign my commission.'
Selpdorf raised his brows.
'But why? At the very moment when you have proved your faithfulness and your zeal? When we owe you recognition of these high qualities?'
'I want nothing, your Excellency, but to go out from this house a free man,' returned Rallywood coldly.
'Reconsider your words, Captain Rallywood.'
'Even if other difficulties had not arisen,' went on Rallywood, 'I may remind your Excellency that a soldier's oath does not cover robbery and assassination.'
Selpdorf was, and looked, astonished.
'I don't understand you,' he said gravely. 'Pray tell me what you mean.'
'I found Major Counsellor alone and unconscious in a single carriage that had been sent rolling down the incline on the line where the outgoing mail train could not fail to collide with it. The inference is clear. Some one wished to make an end of him—in a railway accident. But the plan was a curiously stupid one, for nothing could satisfactorily explain Major Counsellor's presence there, since it was well known to the British Legation in Révonde that he was entering, not leaving Maäsau.'
Selpdorf stood silent. Here was another ill-devised amendment born of Count Sagan's blundering brain.
'It is a very strange story,' he said at length. 'Had the train come in collision with the carriage which you assert was on the down line——'
'The troops from Kofn and the railway people at Alfau can prove that.'
'The mail might have been derailed, with no one can tell what loss of life.'
'Count Simon holds life cheap,' said Rallywood. 'No life that stands in his way can be safe. Not even the life of Mademoiselle Selpdorf!'
The Chancellor was moved for once.
'You are out of your senses!' he said sternly.
'It is true!'
Both men looked around. Valerie had entered.
'Father, you must hear me before you—before you——'
She glanced at Rallywood and stopped.
'Go, Valerie; you have nothing to do with these things.'
Selpdorf met her as she came towards him.
'You must hear me to-night, father. You are mistaken; I have had a great deal to do with them. I know all that Captain Rallywood has said to you—yes, I had a right to know. For it was I who brought Major Counsellor to the Duke's apartments at the Castle, because I knew there was a plot against his Highness. But I did not know it was a German plot in which Baron von Elmur was using Count Sagan. Oh, you must be on your guard against them!'
'Who has been frightening you with all this nonsense?' asked Selpdorf with cold suspicion.
'You don't understand me! Father, I know how Captain Colendorp died. I saw it—the struggle and his fall over the cliff. Then I guessed his Highness was in danger, and I went to warn him. Captain Rallywood, tell my father of Count Sagan's visit to the Duke's rooms in the middle of the night with Baron von Elmur. I—we, Isolde and I—heard the shots. You do not know it, but there is a plot. Your life is not safe! Captain Rallywood is right; no life that stands in Count Sagan's way is safe! And you on whom the State depends—you who alone can uphold her liberty—you are the first they will try to destroy! He hates you, else why should he try to kill me?'
She was clinging to his arm.
'To kill you? If I thought that was true—if I could believe he meant to injure you——'
It added very much to Selpdorf's difficulties that he had a conscience and a heart. Perhaps Valerie had kept both awake. He, who acted a part to all the world, had been sedulous to maintain a highrôlebefore his daughter. Perhaps he valued her absolute faith in him even more than her love, which is a commoner attitude of mind than we realise.
He felt himself at fault. Although he had heard no details to enable him to judge for himself, yet he knew he could rely upon Valerie's statement that an attempt had been made upon her life. Count Simon's unscrupulousness was an old tale, but this crime was not only cold-blooded but also extraordinarily stupid, since the faintest suspicion of foul play would finally estrange the one person in all Maäsau whose help was necessary to the success of his plans and hopes. It is to be doubted whether the Count's ineptitude did not disgust the Chancellor more thoroughly than his treachery towards Valerie.
Selpdorf was at no time a man who made up his mind irrevocably. Astuteness sometimes keeps step with uncertainty. To a clever man so many sides of a question are visible. On all counts he was now prepared to yield to Valerie's wishes; perhaps looking ahead even in that moment, he saw a fresh combination before him, which, while quite equally safe and useful to himself, omitted Count Sagan.
The Chancellor raised his eyes. At this moment—diplomatically—he was superb. He had an air of sagacious decision, an air of holding a master-stroke in reserve, whereas he was in reality merely retiring to a negative position to wait upon events.
'Tell me the story,' he said.
'There is nothing further to tell,' replied Rallywood. 'Mademoiselle has given you the main facts. But for her Maäsau would to-day be a province of Germany, in fact if not in name.
'I have been misinformed and deceived in an incomprehensible manner,' the Chancellor said emphatically. There was still the matter of Counsellor's despatches. Nothing was now to be gained by keeping them, whereas by giving them back to the old diplomatist, Maäsau was sure to profit for the time at least. The difficulty was to get rid of the packet without loss of prestige to himself. 'Now as to Major Counsellor's despatches,' he added doubtfully.
'You will send them back to him,' said Valerie eagerly.
'You cannot see the difficulty of my position.' The Chancellor laid his hand upon her shoulder. 'To be frank with you, and in confidence, Captain Rallywood, I have not been ignorant that an understanding existed between Count Sagan and the Baron von Elmur. I have even been obliged to countenance it to a certain extent. As you know, they are aware that these despatches have been sent to me. If I use them as my daughter suggests, I need scarcely point out that trouble must ensue, since I, more or less, represent Maäsau. Now we cannot afford to offend Germany. She only awaits a pretext to hurl down her army of occupation upon us. Had I never had those despatches the way might have been easier.'
His glance at Rallywood held a large reproach.
'But, father, in honesty and justice'—
'It is a case of private justice as opposed to national necessity. If Captain Rallywood had sacrificed his public to his private honour, if he had chosen to prefer his country's cause to his oath of fealty——'
Rallywood understood.
'No one knows I am here,' he said.
'Ah, true!'
'No one need ever know where the despatches have been. In four hours they shall be with Major Counsellor at the British Legation.'
'If you, Captain Rallywood, will bear the whole responsibility that would simplify the matter. Otherwise it is war.' Selpdorf looked meaningly at Rallywood as he spoke.
But Valerie was not deceived.
'Not that! not that!' she cried.
'It must be that or nothing.' Selpdorf did not look at her and he spoke almost brusquely.
'I know what it means. They will say he was false to his oath! Oh, father, is there no other way? I cannot let him go!'
Rallywood's face changed. Fate was crushing her two strange gifts into his hands, love and death at the same moment! He crossed to Valerie's side, and drawing her to him his gray eyes looked their courage and their happiness into hers.
'My darling, this makes it easy, whatever comes!'
'It may be death! It will be death!' He winced at the low agonised whisper.
She turned to her father.
'Father, you have the power to do anything you please in Maäsau. You will save him for me! You can save him! Promise me that or I cannot let him go!'
Selpdorf was touched. He liked Rallywood. There was much in the single-hearted soldier that appealed to his sympathies. But——
'I will not deceive you, Valerie, at such a time as this,' he answered gently; 'I cannot foresee what may happen. I may not be able to prevent the worst. Captain Rallywood holds the despatches. He offers to sacrifice himself for the State, and the decision rests with you.'
Valerie buried her face in her hands. The clock moved noiselessly on and on, and the very air seemed to throb in the silence. Then the girl raised her head and looked steadily at Rallywood.
'It would not be love if I said otherwise. You would not love me if I said otherwise. You must go, John!'
THE ARREST.
By the following evening tongues were busy in Révonde. Rumour and mystery and an absence of any definite information added zest to the town talk. The broken reports were curious.
Major Counsellor had fallen down the staircase at the British Legation and injured his head, his brow being much contused. His return to Révonde was explained on the ground that Germany and England had joined forces in compelling Selpdorf to lessen the heavy taxation with which Maäsau was burdened. Count Sagan had been seen in the city with a lowering face—ah, yes! it was well known he had a most patriotic distrust of German interference. Madame de Sagan had quarreled with her husband because she had insisted on helping Mademoiselle Selpdorf, who was about to be married to Baron von Elmur, in the choice of her trousseau. Some excitement was being caused in the Guards' barracks by the case of Captain Rallywood, whom Count Sagan accused of using his influence unduly with his brother-officers to forward the projects of Germany. Some even went so far as to say that he was in arrest, and others were found who shook their heads and laughed, professing to be aware of a yet deeper reason for the colonel-in-chief's animosity against the English captain.
Out of all this chaff the one grain of truth was that Counsellor, released by Unziar on the authority of a telegram from Rallywood, had arrived by the first train in the morning and had at once proceeded to the British Legation. There he found Rallywood waiting for him. 'You have seen the Chancellor?' asked Counsellor, looking hard at Rallywood, whose brown face wore a look he had never seen upon it before. 'Why was I released? Am I already too late?'
'No, you are not too late. You must see the Duke at once. Here are your despatches. Good-bye, Major, I'll meet you presently.'
'I shall not in all probability see Duke Gustave again. My part is over and done with. The world, my dear John, never sees a national policy until it begins to fly. There is no credit for hatching the egg. One would almost think it hatched of itself. Occasionally the egg is found to be addled, and then the old birds make away with it in private. But don't go yet. How have you managed to keep these? What does it mean?'
'It means principally that you must forget you have been robbed, that Elmur's game is up, and that you were mistaken in your opinion of the Chancellor.'
Counsellor looked hurriedly through the papers contained in the packet, 'John,' he said suddenly, as he folded up a small sheet of cypher notes, 'you are an infernal liar.'
Rallywood laughed and his spurs jingled as he left the room, glad to have escaped so cheaply from Counsellor's keen observation. The old Major went to the window and watched him ride away in the sunshine, a gallant figure in his glittering uniform, sitting squarely on his big bay charger. No suspicion crossed his thoughts that Rallywood was probably taking his last ride through the sunny streets, that at every stride of his high-stepping horse he drew nearer to the final scene of all. He had gathered from Rallywood's bearing that the difficulties in his path had somehow been surmounted. Rallywood was capable. He had won the day by energy or pluck or both, but the old diplomatist had no time at the moment to trouble his head as to the exact means.
Before the forenoon was over Counsellor, acting through the proper channels, secured Maäsau's acceptance of the British proposals, and a satisfactory undertaking which excluded all rivals from the field, at any rate during the Duke's lifetime. Counsellor did not appear in the negotiations. He remained shut up at the Legation, but when at length they came to public knowledge the German party were not under any delusion; they recognised to whose direct offices they owed defeat.
Baron von Elmur said nothing, as a matter of fact he did nothing, but he used his influence with an effect that was yet to bear fruit. He was inclined to suspect Selpdorf, but the Chancellor proved that he had only carried out the German's own suggestion in sending Rallywood to the Frontier. Ill-luck, he argued, combined with Sagan's blundering, had done the rest. He deplored it. It was clear that Rallywood, taking advantage of his position, and under pretence of carrying the despatches to the Chancellor had simply gone to Révonde and wired to Unziar a false order of release for Major Counsellor. The sole delinquent was Rallywood, and the Count in a torrent of curses promised himself a time of reckoning.
The day, which had begun in a brief burst of sunshine, closed in clouds. Evening climbed sullenly up out of the bleak river.
Traffic died in the streets, and the cloaked troopers passing hither and thither against the rising tsa became the chief objects to be seen as night gathered.
Rallywood stood at the side window of his quarters looking out over the twinkling city. He seemed to have had as yet no time for regret or gloomy anticipation. He had dwelt absorbed on the single fact that Valerie loved him. He was ready to sacrifice himself and his hopes with a smile. Later on, in sorrow and heaviness of heart, he accused himself bitterly of spoiling Valerie's young life. But he had not reached that stage yet; he was lingering in the first transient period when men and women see visions and dream dreams, when the present is lost in the recent past, while love's first spell is laid upon them, and the light that never was on land or sea blinds them to the chances and changes of common life. As long as the glory of it lasts a man is caught up into the seventh heaven, and the things of earth have no power over him.
But the breaking of the vision came to Rallywood sufficiently quickly. His view of the lamp-lit city grew suddenly blurred and he saw instead his own reflection in the polished glass, as the lights were turned on in the room behind him. In that same instant too the vague sweet outlook faded from his mind.
Then a hand was laid upon his shoulder and he saw another figure mirrored beside his own against the dark background of the night. There was a suggestion of reluctance in Unziar's movements.
'I regret, Captain Rallywood, that I have been ordered to place you in arrest.'
THE COURT-MARTIAL.
It has been the privilege of one or two famous Gardes du Corps to be a law unto themselves. The Guard of Maäsau shares that privilege. The inquiry or rather trial was to be held within closed doors, and by the express order of the colonel-in-chief all the officers, including those junior to the prisoner, were to be present. And every officer present on such occasions had the right to vote. The procedure was simple. When the witnesses had been examined the accused was invited to speak in his own defence, then the senior officer summed up and lastly the officers recorded their votes.
Rallywood's offence had outraged the fundamental principle of the Guard, the blind self-sacrificing obedience which in trivial as in vital matters demanded the merging of the private individual with hopes and conscience of his own into the body corporate of the Guard. With the single exception of Unziar, no man present was acquainted with the details of Rallywood's crime. They knew only that he had grossly disobeyed orders, and not only that, but had disobeyed them for the furtherance of private ambition. So the charge against him intimated. It was understood that the accusation had been lodged by Count Sagan in consequence of information received by him, and the court-martial at once assembled to deal with the matter.
The original prejudice against Rallywood as a foreigner and an interloper was revived, with all the more bitterness because the men had in the interval come to respect if not to like him. They resented the deception they believed to have been practised upon them with the rancour of those who find they have not only been played upon but made tools of. Rallywood had gained his position among them by false pretences to serve his own ends—gained it to betray them.
But more than this, he had dishonoured the Guard, brought the first blot of treachery upon its long and unblemished traditions. Hereditary instincts inbred and powerful were arrayed against him in the hearts of six of his judges; in the seventh, Count Sagan, he had to encounter the ill-blood of a profoundly vindictive nature whose purposes he had crossed and baffled, and who harboured towards him a savage personal hatred.
It must be understood that so far no hint of the arrangement with England had been allowed to transpire. The engagement to be given by Maäsau in return for the promised British loan and moral support was in train for completion, but the final signature was not to take place till that afternoon. Meantime the Chancellor kept a still tongue in his head and waited upon events, knowing that when all transpired the responsibility could be shifted on to the shoulders of the Duke. It was a risky game, but M. Selpdorf had played many another—and won them all. At the same time he had no intention of putting out his hand to save Rallywood, whose disappearance from the scheme of earthly affairs would remove an awkward cause of disagreement from the range of his own family circle. Yet it must be admitted that M. Selpdorf really regretted that the necessities of the case required the sacrifice of the Englishman, for whom his former abstract liking remained entirely unaltered.
The doors of the great mess-room were closed, for within them the court-martial was in progress. At the central table seven men with the marks of power upon them were gathered. Above them the torn banners of the regiment hung in the red gloom of the dome, but about the men themselves the gray-white light of a winter day fell from the riverward windows. It seemed to dull even the red glow of the hangings, that cold light, which lent to the faces of those assembled a strange effect of pallor.
It is a common experience that silence in a place associated in the mind with voices and the movement and sounds of life has a weird and impressive effect. Enter an empty church and you are chilled; hear a will read in the room which you connect with laughter and the genial routine of everyday events, and the uncanny quiet, falling away from the single voice, benumbs you. Thus in the mess-room, where music and laughter and the hubbub of men's talking usually resounded, the unwonted stillness, broken only by the piercing wail of thetsa, struck coldly and heavily upon the senses.
Count Sagan, his big chest covered with gold-lace and orders, loomed at the head of the table, Wallenloup and Ulm to his right and left, Adiron, Unziar, Adolf and Varanheim seated according to their rank. At the foot of the table in the uniform of the Guard but without a sword stood the prisoner.
One man present was a complete stranger to Rallywood—Major Ulm, who had just returned from leave, and whose keen eyes set in a thin shaven face scrutinised him coldly. Behind Ulm's bald forehead dwelt most of the sagacity and discretion of the Guard. Strongly as his prejudices were excited he could not avoid being struck by the bearing of the prisoner.
There was a cold fierceness about the men of the Guard, but Rallywood stood unmoved under the many hostile eyes.
A court-martial, where the prisoner is condemned, is perhaps the most awful scene of justice upon earth. This is so because it contains within itself elements that edge its painfulness. The judges wield not only the power of death, but the power of putting a man to utter shame. The prisoners who stand at such a tribunal may be credited with the capability, given to them by training if not by nature, of feeling shame. And the capability of suffering shame is as distinct a quality as the sense of honour.
Count Sagan glared round the table, and the aspect of his colleagues pleased him; they felt under his rough imagination like a sword whose temper the fighter is sure of. There was a horrible energy, a furious relentlessness about his very attitude and ringing in his voice that drove every word of his accusation into and through his hearers. As president he put questions to the prisoner, who answered them unmoved.
Rallywood fronted them calm and soldierlike, the picture of a gallant despair. He felt as though he stood clear of his life. It was lived and the end in sight. His position was hard, but he seemed to be ready to say Amen to whatever the fates might send. He had no thought of struggling for life and love. He was far otherwise. He was one whose love is hopeless, whose loved one is lost as though in death, and who lives through the present dream according to an ideal, the ideal of being worthy of the vanished past.
Unziar alone looked stonily blank, but the other grim faces round the table regarded Rallywood with a sort of satisfaction. He had sinned against them, but they were about to make him pay the highest human penalty for his sin. Yet to Ulm his demeanour was suggestive. There was something eloquent of singleness of heart and nobleness that seemed to buoy up this man with his broken honour. There was no parade of outraged innocence, nothing but a fearless reserve.
Rallywood hardly heard the grave voices that discussed his fate, stirring as they did so the clogging quiet which hung with such solemn effect over the historic room.
Those lofty walls had never before echoed to a similar charge or a like disgrace. The accusation was set forth in general terms. It spoke only of a certain prisoner and certain despatches. Rallywood acting under valid orders, had taken over the despatches from Unziar, and next by a false telegram to Unziar had ordered the release of a certain prisoner. Also he had used the despatches to forward aims of his own, to the loss and detriment of the Free State of Maäsau. Anthony Unziar gave his evidence briefly and with caution, but it was conclusive.
After the charge had been completed and proved, a few minutes silence ensued. Then Count Sagan addressed the prisoner.
'Captain Rallywood, have you anything to say in your own defence?'
A sudden jarring sense of amusement struck upon Rallywood. They were playing a farce; Count Simon, with his mortal enmity, was but acting his part. The whole procedure was hollow yet he Rallywood would have to give his life to prove that all this seeming was deadly earnest—that the blustering traitor opposite was not a defeated schemer but a loyal son of Maäsau!
Rallywood could not repress a quick smile.
Count Simon flung his fist upon the table.
'Do you hear me?' he shouted; 'what have you to say in your defence?'
Rallywood looked him in the eyes.
'Nothing,' he said.
There was a hush. Sagan picked up the glances of the officers round him. Rallywood's words had come as a shock. Most of the men expected some attempt if not at a defence at least at a justification of his conduct.
Sagan's harsh voice was raised again.
'His sword.'
Unziar sprang up hurriedly.
'It is in the ante-room,' he said; 'I will bring it.'
Sagan rose from his place as Unziar returned with a naked sword in his hand. The Count took it and laid it on the table before him.
Then standing he addressed the court.
'Gentlemen of the Guard,—I must thank you in the first place for the admirable patience with which you have listened to the details of the abominable crime with which the prisoner, John Rallywood, is charged. His guilt has been proved up to the hilt by Lieutenant Unziar's evidence, but in addition to that the accused was not ashamed to convict himself out of his own mouth. The sentence upon a traitor as upon a mutinous soldier is unalterable. It is death! No doubt, gentlemen, we are unanimously agreed upon that, and the formality of the ballot is all that is left.'
The ballot-box stood upon a side-table at the upper end of the room, and beside it a basket with a number of ivory balls, some black, some white. The officers went up in rotation and each with his back to the company placed a ball of the colour he chose in the ballot-box.
The haggard daylight was fading slowly as the men left their chairs and returned to them in silence.
Rallywood waited, not in suspense indeed, but with the full sense that his fate was being legally recorded by a jury of his fellows. It is at such a moment as this that a man goes back to his belief in God. If there is no God, to what end anything? Those who say there is no God say the world is a sad and very evil place. If their creed were universally accepted, the last state of humanity would be worse than the first, and earth degenerate into a hopeless and helpless hell.
'Six black balls, one white,' announced Major Ulm.
The prisoner's gray frank eyes flashed out at Unziar, but the Maäsaun's rigid face gave no sign.
Then Count Sagan, secure of his enemy, let himself go. He lifted the sword from the table, and casting one more glance at the prisoner, he placed the gleaming point upon the floor, bending the delicate blade, and stamping upon it midway with his booted heel. There was a shallow ring as the steel broke, then a clash of metal as the Count flung the hilt upon the point, as if the touch contaminated him.
'John Rallywood, this court has found you guilty and condemned you to die! And I, Count Simon of Sagan, colonel-in-chief of the Guard of Maäsau, now pronounce upon you the sentence of death. Trusted by the Guard, you chose to betray them! Where is the oath of fealty by which you swore to obey? We are polluted by your treason, we are tainted by your shame! Are you afraid to speak? Is your voice frozen in your throat? The greater part of your punishment should be in its shame. But you cannot feel it! You and shame are strangers—the last infamy of the base! You are loathsome, a mercenary false to his salt, a hound who sold himself for money first and for disgraceful gain afterwards! How can I touch you? Where can I prod you? On what nerve, since the nerve of shame is dead? Like the groom, one could only punish you with a whip. I shall lay the matter before the Duke. I will urge it upon my colleagues,' he swept his arm round the table; 'a hundred with the whip or to run the gauntlet of the Guard. That would touch you more than words, or shame, or death! Ha, that reaches you!' he cried, and then there was a fierce exultation in the raucous volleying words, 'You have disgraced the Guard but we cannot for reasons of state publicly disgrace you. But you shall be shot—shot like a dog! You shall not meet death face to face as many a brave man has met it, but you shall be shot, cringing with your back to the gun-muzzles—like the cur you are!'
Rallywood's pale features had flushed for a second. There was a brutality about Sagan's denunciations which shocked the men around him. Rallywood deserved something, but not this, not that! Unziar's eyes burned, Wallenloup was frowning. But Sagan swept on. He was a man who trampled horribly upon a fallen foe.
At last Wallenloup could bear it no longer. He rose to his feet and saluting the Count led the way from the room, the line closing with Rallywood between Adolf and Unziar as guard.
Left alone in the great dim vaulted chamber, Sagan stood upright and watched the door through which they had filed out, and there came upon him in the dying daylight a terrible moment, such as all uncontrolled natures must at times know. A sense of the futility of all things, a knowledge that life has lost its taste, the hideousness of finally baffled desire.
He hurled out his heavy arms with a wild gesture.
'Where have they gone? Where are they, the strong lusts and hates and triumphs—the satisfactions of the old days? The world has grown puny. It is empty, empty, empty!'
'UPON THE GREAT WORLD'S ALTAR-STAIRS.'
It is a commonplace that selfish natures, balked of gratification, seek relief in making the unhappiness of others, preferably of those who are helpless to resist or to resent. Therefore Count Sagan employed the interval before going to the Palace to procure the signature of the Duke to Rallywood's death-warrant in paying a flying visit to his wife, whom he had not seen since the morning of the boar-hunt at the Castle.
He found several other people calling upon Madame de Sagan, who was not fond of solitude. Numbers gave the pretty Countess courage. She took no notice of her husband's entrance, although the soft colour left her face instantly as a candle-flame is blown out. But Count Simon had only five minutes to spare and something to say in them. Isolde's feeble rebellion escaped him; he strode to her side, and with a single glance dispersed the little coterie of guests about her, the only one who kept his position being Baron von Elmur.
Sagan stood before his wife, an evil smile on his coarse bearded mouth. He nodded at Elmur.
'I have news of interest for both of you.'
'Ah! it is over then?' Elmur asked at once. He discerned the Count's intention and would have averted its fulfilment if possible. The thought that he was about to make a woman unhappy never deterred Elmur from any course of action whatsoever, but he preferred not to see them so. He delighted in pretty women, and Isolde of Sagan was exceptionally pretty; therefore, for the sake of the next half hour of her society he would have spared her the tidings her husband's malice designed to thrust upon her in public. Afterwards the deluge might come, but what matter? Have we not all our deluges in private that submerge our world in tears? 'Madame has kindly promised to assist in thetableaux vivantsnext week,' he added hastily.
The Count grinned his contempt.
'You should reproduce the death of a traitor. Come to see Rallywood shot in the morning by way of an object lesson.'
Madame de Sagan's hand flew to her throat with a quick gasp of horror; for a second the room seemed to swing round, then slowly settle again.
'Why, what has he done?' she asked; her lips were dry but she spoke deliberately.
'Nothing new, only he happened to be found out this time. Well, au revoir!'
Elmur stood up and followed him.
'The signature of his Highness?' he asked in a low voice.
'I go to get it and other things also. I have arranged the interview with Selpdorf.'
Elmur bowed and returned to his place by the side of the Countess. Isolde's blue eyes, dewy as a child's with unshed tears, appealed to him.
'It is not true?'
Elmur reflected that he had never before seen her look so pretty. Most women with tears in their eyes repelled his fastidiousness, but this one was delicious. He bent towards her and said as much with a fervour that surprised her. She smiled tremulously. She had always considered the wary German worth capturing, but he was an elusive bird. Admiration had never before got the better of his self-possession; now for the first time he appeared to be carried away by it. The keenness of conquest thrilled her. Jack?—ah, yes, poor Jack! But he was practically lost to her for ever. She sighed a little; she had been fond of Jack, but the love that can stand against the inevitable was not hers. She reminded herself that Jack had preferred Valerie—but, why, so had Elmur! A temptation came to her; she glanced again at Elmur. He was personable though advancing to middle age, and handsome as men go, though his eyes were close-set and cunning. He was not like poor Jack—no, she would never find anyone perhaps quite so good to look upon as Jack, with his broad shoulders and corn-coloured hair, and those dear frank eyes! No, but——
'Madame, what are you thinking of? I wish I dared flatter myself that I could ever draw tears to those exquisite eyes,' Elmur said again with warmth. He wanted excitement and Isolde was yielding. There are women who will sacrifice the most sacred things, God's word itself, on the altar of their vanity. Isolde withdrew her slight hand from his touch, but it was the withdrawal that invites advance. She hesitated no longer.
'There are other eyes whose tears will be bitterer than mine; are you not jealous of them? I am sorry for Captain Rallywood, of course, but poor Valerie—what am I saying?'
'Whatever you say interests me,' he urged, his eyes following hers.
She pouted coquettishly.
'Yes, because I speak of Valerie!'
'No, it is because you speak!' he declared amorously. 'Tell me of Mademoiselle Valerie if you will,' this as a concession, 'though you could tell me something more interesting.'
'Not more interesting to you than this,' she exclaimed, nodding her golden head at him with her little air of foolish wisdom. 'It is lucky that Captain Rallywood is—is about to furnish an object-lesson, for——' she raised her slender finger and laid it on her lips, smiling at him.
He looked round. They were alone in a smaller drawing-room; it was not possible for the guests in the other saloon to see them. He drew the finger from her lips and pressed it to his own. He would woo the truth from this beautiful fool. His words meant one thing, his looks another.
'And Valerie?' he questioned, seeming to count her fingers on his palm.
'Valerie loves him—she told me so,' whispered Isolde, since there was no longer need to speak louder.
'And you, my dear lady?' And it may be the speech was the more impassioned because in his heart he was damning the picturesqueness of the captain of the Guard.
And Rallywood? Rallywood sat in his quarters thinking thoughts that, like music, lead sometimes on to exaltation. His earthly life was done, and he looked out into the dim beyond fearlessly. His eyes were set and sad, for he should see her face and hear Valerie's voice no more, but he would be waiting in that somewhere for her. A man in the supremer hours often turns again to the faiths of his childhood; so now Rallywood, at the summit of his life, found himself given back all those lost dreams.
He did not know how she came there. He heard no footstep enter. And when he knew, neither spoke.
There was nothing to say; it was all understood so well. She stood beside him, her hands in his in a strange lull of mutual knowledge.
'How did you come?' he asked her at last.
'Anthony,' she answered, 'he knows—all.'
'How like him! But,' with a man's ready thought for the woman he loves, 'you must not be found here. Say good-bye to me, Valerie.'
'John,' she clung to him, 'how can I let you go? You are dying for Maäsau—for my father—for me—yes, yes, I can guess all!'
'Valerie, do you know what your love is to me? I need nothing more. I have not thought of what there is beyond, but when you want me you will find me waiting.'
In the long silence life itself might have been suspended.
'When?' said Valerie, in a sudden recollection of anguish.
'To-morrow,' he answered, understanding the broken question.
Valerie raised her wet eyes.
'In my life there can be no to-morrow. God may not let me die, but my life will always be one long remembrance of to-day. I shall live in to-day always. To-morrows are for happier women, John. And yet I am wicked to say that. I would not change my lot with any other. For have I not my memories? And I will learn to have my hopes. And whenever that blessed day of release may come to me, I will bring my heart to you as it is to-day, my king!'
Rallywood looked into the beautiful tear-dimmed eyes. He was too wise to say that he had spoilt her life, that had it been possible to set the wrong right by any sacrifice he would have done so. Of this he said nothing. He only kissed her.
'Next to living to be with you, darling, I am in love with dying for you, Valerie!'
The silence grew again between them, the best and saddest silence upon earth—the silence of all's said.
'And yet, John, I have one thing left to live for. I will live to see your name stand where it should. For men like you are only understood and honoured—afterwards,' she said presently.
Another man might have disclaimed all praise. Rallywood, who believed he deserved none, kept silence. He knew that to deny would be to wound. And he was fain to say to her a thing which was hard to say and hard to hear. But he was looking out into the troubled future, and his anxiety for her grew bitter upon him. So he nerved himself to the greatest sacrifice of all. And Valerie's next words gave him the opening he desired.