Mrs. Fitz Part 43

A little wind moved softly among the gaunt branches of a pine.

"I must make quite sure that the Voice has spoken to me," said Fitz.

The unhappy man walked to the pine-tree, knelt down and seemed involuntarily to shroud his face with his hands.

I shrank back and turned away.

Quite suddenly my heart leapt with surprise and dismay. An unexpected and sinister presence was by my side.

"I pity that poor fellow," said a voice softly. "I pity them both."

It was the voice of the King.

Habited in a voluminous mantle, the Victor of Rodova linked his arm through mine in his paternal manner.

"Come, my friend," he said in a voice of urgent kindliness, "let us walk in the garden."

Together we walked over the lawns, the King and I, with slow and measured steps.

"It is a beautiful night." Ferdinand the Twelfth took off his hat.

"G.o.d is in His heaven, sir," I said, softly.

"You are a G.o.d-fearing people," said the King; "that is a good thing.

What can we do in the world without the fear of G.o.d? This night reminds me of the night before Rodova. It was just like this, a calm, soft air, a little moist. You could hear the wind creeping softly among the pine-trees. At the bottom of your garden there was the gentle noise of a little river. All night the little fishes were leaping and playing in its clear waters, and living their lives joyously as it seemed good to them. And beyond the river were the Austrians, sixty thousand men with horses and cannons.

"The G.o.d of Armies had given the soul of my country into my care. Was she to remain a free and independent people as she had been since the time of Alvan the First, or was she to be trampled under the heel of the oppressor? All night I walked in the garden, and I remember I knelt down under the pine-tree yonder, as our friend is doing there.

It is a wonderful thing how history keeps happening over again."

The King's voice had grown hushed and solemn.

"To-night is another crisis in the history of our country. I am older than I seem; there is a voice within which tells me that my course is almost run. That is why I have come to speak with my daughter. It is the business of us Sveltkes to hold the balance in the scales of destiny. Since the time of Alvan the First there has been an unbroken line of monarchy; perhaps it is decreed that it shall end to-night.

But yet I cannot think so. The unseen power which enabled us to withstand the might of Austria will invest my daughter with wisdom and grace."

There was a footfall on the soft turf, and we turned to find that Fitz had joined us.

"Ha! Nevil," said the King in a voice of parental tenderness. "I was explaining to our good friend how this night reminds me of the eve of Rodova. Our lady the moon was in her present quarter; yonder was Mars, blood-red on the eastern horizon. There behind us was Jupiter, exactly as we see him to-night; but on the night of Rodova Ura.n.u.s was not visible. It was a grave crisis in the history of our country; to-night is a grave crisis also, for I feel that a term has been placed to my days. But I walked all night in the garden, and I knelt down beneath a single pine-tree, and the G.o.d of Armies spoke to me. 'Fear nothing,'

said the G.o.d of Armies. 'At the break of day, cross the river that flows at the bottom of the garden, and all will be well.'"

The light of the moon fell upon the King's face, That smiling and subtle visage looked strangely luminous.

"An hour before daybreak," the King went on, "Parlowitz came to me.

'Weissmann has come up in the night,' he said, 'with twenty thousand men. If we cross the river, all is lost.' 'Fear nothing, Parlowitz,'

I said. 'At daybreak we cross the river. The G.o.d of Armies would have it so.' 'Then, sire,' said Parlowitz, 'give this to my wife when next you see her'--Parlowitz unfastened the collar of his tunic and took off a locket which he wore round his neck--'and tell her that it is my wish that our second son John should succeed to my estate.' I then bade adieu to Parlowitz, for he would have it so; and as the dawn was breaking he was shot through the breast at the head of his division.

But that was a glorious day in the annals of the Illyrian people; and you, my dear Nevil, will have seen the n.o.ble statue that has been raised to the memory of Parlowitz on the terrace at Blaenau."

"I have seen the statue," said Fitz, calmly. "A monument of piety, but abominable as a work of art."

"It is the work of the best sculptor in Illyria," said the King.

"There are no sculptors in Illyria," said Fitz, bluntly.

The King fell into a muse. I was sensible of Fitz's grip upon my arm.

"It is wonderful," said the King, softly, "how history continues to happen over again. I seem to hear the voice again in the upper air: 'At daybreak, cross the river at the bottom of the garden, and all will be well.'"

The grip upon my arm grew tighter.

"Do not leave me," said Fitz in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

All night long the three of us walked up and down the lawns before the house. In one of the upper windows was a light. It was Sonia's room.

Few words pa.s.sed between us, and in the main it was the King who spoke.

Never once did Fitz relax his grip upon my arm. Indeed, as the hours pa.s.sed, it seemed to grow more tense. It had the convulsive tenacity of one who in the last extremity fights to keep the body united to the soul.

Even I, who make no claim to be highly sensitised, was susceptible of the ominous challenge of the force that was enfolding us. Silence was even more terrible than speech. The resources of the ages were in the scale against us.

"For G.o.d's sake do not leave me!" said my unhappy friend in a whisper of terror.

At last the first faint pencilings of the dawn began to declare themselves in the upper air. My slippered feet were soaked and my teeth were chattering with the chill of the morning. A curious sensation, which I had never felt before, began to steal over me. With a thrill of suffocating, incommunicable horror I began slowly to realise that I was no longer the master of myself.

Fitz's convulsed grip was still upon my arm, but the sense of him had grown remote. He was slipping farther and farther away.

"Hold me!" he whispered; and again, "Hold me!" The stifled voice was like that of one in whose company I was drowning.

The voice of the King sounded quite near, although it was with dull stupefaction that I heard his words.

"The day is breaking. The river flows at the bottom of the garden."

The fingers of my friend no longer clasped my arm. In the half-light I saw the King produce a revolver from the folds of his mantle. He handed it to Fitz with a paternal, almost deprecating gesture, and we were both powerless to deny him. It seemed to me that I was standing outside all that was happening. The sense of distance appeared ever to increase.

I witnessed the King kiss the forehead of his son-in-law, and heard him give him his blessing. Then I seemed to hear the voice of Fitz crying piteously,

"Sonia, Sonia, help me!"

"Look over there," said the King; "the day is breaking. It is another glorious sunrise for the people of Illyria."

"Yes, indeed, sir," said a voice that broke the spell.

The prayer of Fitz had been heard. Sonia had come unperceived into our midst.

"I have come to taste the morning, it is so good," she said. "And you, how early you have risen!"

The King laughed. He seemed to enfold his daughter with that visage of smiling subtlety.

"We have been walking in the garden, my friends and I," he said. "We have had a pleasant talk together. The position of the stars reminded me of the eve of Rodova, except that Ura.n.u.s was not with us. It is always well to know the position of Ura.n.u.s."

I felt Fitz slip the revolver into my hand.