XII
JOYFUL OF HEART
The storm had passed; day broke calm and radiant over the Castle ofPraslok; sunshine played caressingly on the lake and on the hills.
Markart had breakfasted and paid a visit to his horse; he wanted to beoff by nine o'clock, and waited only for the Prince's letter. He wasreturning from the stables, sniffing the morning air with a vividenjoyment of the change of weather, when he saw Sophy coming along theroad. She had been for a walk. Her eyes and cheeks glowed withexhilaration. She wore her sheepskin tunic, her sheepskin cap with itsred cockade, and her short, blue skirt over high boots. She walked asthough on the clouds of heaven, a wonderful lightness in her tread; theRed Star signalled the exaltation of her spirit; the glad sound of thetrumpet rang in her heart.
Her cordial greeting to Markart was spiced with raillery, to which heresponded as well as his ignorance allowed; he was uncertain how muchshe knew of the real situation. But if his tongue was embarrassed, hiseyes spoke freely. He could not keep them from her face; to him sheseemed a queen of life and joy that glorious morning.
"You've recovered from your fright?" she asked. "Poor MonsieurZerkovitch is still sleeping his off, I suppose! Oh, the story's allover the Castle!"
"It'll be all over the country soon," said Markart with a rueful smile.
"Well, after all, Monsieur Zerkovitch is a journalist, and journalistsdon't spare even themselves, you know. And you're not a reticent person,are you? Don't you remember all the information you gave me once?"
"Ah, on the terrace of the Hotel de Paris! Much has happened since then,Baroness."
"Much always happens, if you keep your eyes open," said Sophy.
"If you keep yours open, nothing happens for me but looking at them."
She laughed merrily; a compliment never displeased Sophy, and she couldbear it very downright.
"But if I were to shut my eyes, what would you do then?"
He looked doubtfully at her mocking face; she meant a little more thanthe idle words naturally carried.
"I don't think you'll give me the chance of considering, Baroness." Heindicated her costume with a gesture of his hand. "You've entered theservice, I see?"
"Yes, Captain Markart, the King's service. We are brethren--you servehim, too?"
"I have that honor." Markart flushed under her laughing scrutiny.
"We fight shoulder to shoulder then. Well, not quite. I'm a gunner, yousee."
"Minus your guns, at present!"
"Not for long!" She turned round and swept her arms out towards the lakeand the hills. "It's a day to think of nothing--just to go riding,riding, riding!" Her laugh rang out in merry longing.
"What prevents you?"
"My military duties, perhaps, Captain," she answered. "You're lucky--youhave a long ride; don't spoil it by thinking!"
"I think? Oh no, Baroness! I only obey my orders."
"And they never make you think?" Her glance was quick at him for aninstant.
"There's danger in thinking too much, even for ladies," he told her.
She looked at him more gravely, for his eyes were on her now with akindly, perhaps a remorseful, look.
"You mean that for me?" she asked. "But if I, too, only obey my orders?"
"With all my heart I hope they may lead you into no danger," he said.
"There's only one danger in all the world--losing what you love."
"Not, sometimes, gaining it?" he asked quickly.
"Still, the only danger would be of losing it again."
"There's life, too," he remarked with a shrug.
"Sir, we're soldiers!" she cried in merry reproof.
"That doesn't prevent me from prizing your life, Baroness, in theinterests of a world not too rich in what you contribute to it."
Sophy looked at him, a subtle merriment in her eyes. "I think, CaptainMarkart, that, if you were my doctor, you'd advise me to try--a changeof air! Praslok is too exciting, is that it? But I found Slavna--well,far from relaxing, you know!"
"The Kravonian climate as a whole, Baroness--"
"Oh no, no, that's too much!" she interrupted. Then she said: "It's verykind of you--yes, I mean that--and it's probably--I don't know--butprobably against your orders. So I thank you. But I can face even therigors of Kravonia."
She held out her hand; he bent and kissed it. "In fact, I hadn't theleast right to say it," he confessed. "Not the least from any point ofview. It's your fault, though, Baroness."
"Since I'm party to the crime, I'll keep the secret," she promised witha decidedly kindly glance. To Sophy, admiration of herself always arguedsomething good in a man; she had none of that ungracious scorn whichoften disfigures the smile of beauty. She gave a little sigh, followedquickly by a smile.
"We've said all we possibly can to one another, you and I; more than wecould, perhaps! And now--to duty!" She pointed to the door of theCastle.
The Prince was coming down the wooden causeway. He, too, wore theVolseni sheepskins. In his hand he carried a sealed letter. Almost atthe same moment a groom led Markart's horse from the stables. The Princejoined them and, after a bow to Sophy, handed the letter to Markart.
"For his Majesty. And you remember my message to General Stenovics?"
"Accurately, sir."
"Good!" He gave Markart his hand. "Good-bye--a pleasant ride to you,Captain--pleasanter than last night's." His grave face broke into asmile.
"I'm not to have Monsieur Zerkovitch's company this time, sir?"
"Why, no, Captain. You see, Zerkovitch left the Castle soon after sixo'clock. Rather a short night, yes, but he was in a hurry."
Sophy burst into a laugh at the dismay on Markart's face. "We neither ofus knew that, Captain Markart, did we?" she cried. "We thought he wassleeping off the fright you'd given him!"
"Your Royal Highness gives me leave--?" stammered Markart, his eye onhis horse.
"Certainly, Captain. But don't be vexed, there will be no invidiouscomparisons. Zerkovitch doesn't propose to report himself to GeneralStenovics immediately on his arrival."
Good-natured Markart joined in the laugh at his own expense. "I'm hardlyawake yet; he must be made of iron, that Zerkovitch!"
"Quicksilver!" smiled the Prince. As Markart mounted, he added: "Aurevoir!"
Markart left the two standing side by side--the Prince's serious facelit up with a rare smile, Sophy's beauty radiant in merriment. His ownface fell as he rode away. "I half wish I was in the other camp," hegrumbled. But Stenovics's power held him--and the fear of Stafnitz. Hewent back to a work in which his heart no longer was; for his heart hadfelt Sophy's spell.
"You can have had next to no sleep all night, Monseigneur," said Sophyin reproach mingled with commiseration.
"I don't need it; the sight of your face refreshes me. We must talk.Zerkovitch brought news."
In low, grave tones he told her the tidings, and the steps which he andZerkovitch had taken.
"I understand my father's reasons for keeping me in the dark; he meantit well, but he was blinded by this idea about my marriage. But I see,too, how it fitted in with Stenovics's ideas. I think it's war betweenus now--and I'm ready."
Sophy was almost dazed. The King's life was not to be relied on for aweek--for a day--no, not for an hour! But she listened attentively.Zerkovitch had gone back to Slavna on a fresh horse and at top speed; hewould have more than two hours' lead of Markart. His first duty was toopen communications with Lepage and arrange that the valet should sendto him all the information which came to his ears, and any impressionswhich he was able to gather in the Palace. Zerkovitch would forward thereports to Praslok immediately, so long as the Prince remained at theCastle. But the Prince was persuaded that his father would not refuse tosee him, now that he knew the true state of the case. "My father isreally attached to me," he said, "and if I see him, I'm confident that Ican persuade him of the inexpediency of my leaving the kingdom just now.A hint of my suspicions with regard to the Countess and Stenovics woulddo it; but I'm reluct
ant to risk giving him such a shock. I think I canpersuade him without."
"But is it safe for you to trust yourself at Slavna--in the Palace? Andalone?"
"I must risk the Palace alone--and I'm not much afraid. Stenovics mightgo to war with me, but I don't think he'd favor assassination. And toSlavna I sha'n't go alone. Our gunners will go with us, Sophy. We havenews of the guns being on the way; there will be nothing strange in mymarching the gunners down to meet them. They're only half-trained, evenin drill, but they're brave fellows. We'll take up our quarters withthem in Suleiman's Tower. I don't fear all Slavna if I hold Suleiman'sTower with three hundred Volsenians. Stafnitz may do his worst!"
"Yes, I see," she answered, thoughtfully. "I can't come with you toSuleiman's Tower, though."
"Only if there are signs of danger. Then you and Marie must come; if allis quiet, you can stay in her house. We can meet often--as often aspossible. For the rest, we must wait."
She saw that they must wait. It was impossible to approach the King onthe matter of Sophy. It cut dead at the heart of his ambition; it wouldbe a shock as great as the discovery of Countess Ellenburg's ambitions.It could not be risked.
"But if, under Stenovics's influence, the King does refuse to see you?"she asked--"Refuses to see you, and repeats his orders?"
The Prince's face grew very grave, but his voice was firm.
"Not even the King--not even my father--can bid me throw away theinheritance which is mine. The hand would be the King's, but the voicethe voice of Stenovics. I shouldn't obey; they'd have to come to Volseniand take me."
Sophy's eyes kindled. "Yes, that's right!" she said. "And for to-day?"
"Nothing will happen to-day--unless, by chance, the thing which we nowknow may happen any day; and of that we shouldn't hear till evening. Andthere's no drill even. I sent the men to their homes on forty-eighthours' furlough yesterday morning." His face relaxed in a smile. "Ithink to-day we can have a holiday, Sophy."
She clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, Monseigneur, a holiday!"
"It may be the last for a long time," he said; "so we must enjoy it."
This day--this holiday which might be the last--passed in a finecarelessness and a rich joy in living. The cloudless sky and theglittering waters of Lake Talti were parties to their pleasure, whetheras they rode far along the shore, or sat and ate a simple meal on therock-strewn margin. Hopes and fears, dangers and stern resolves, wereforgotten; even of the happier issues which the future promised, ordangled before their eyes, there was little thought or speech. The bloodof youth flowed briskly, the heart of youth rose high. The grave Princejoked, jested, and paid his court; Sophy's eyes gleamed with the fun asnot even the most exalted and perilous adventure could make themsparkle.
"Oh, it's good," she cried--"good to live and see the sun! Monseigneur,I believe I'm a pagan--a sun-worshipper! When he's good enough to warmme through, and to make the water glitter for me, and shadows dance insuch a cunning pattern on the hills, then I think I've done somethingthat he likes, and that he's pleased with me!" She sprang to her feetand stretched out her hands towards the sun. "In the grave, I believe, Ishall remember the glorious light; my memory of that could surely neverdie!"
His was the holiday mood, too. He fell in with her extravagance, meetingit with banter.
"It's only a lamp," he said, "just a lamp; and it's hung there for thesole purpose of showing Sophy's eyes. When she's not there, they put itout--for what's the use of it?"
"They put it out when I'm not there?"
"I've noticed it happen a dozen times of late."
"It lights up again when I come, Monseigneur?"
"Ah, then I forget to look!"
"You get very little sun anyhow, then!"
"I've something so much better."
It is pathetic to read--pathetic that she should have set it down asthough every word of it were precious--set it down as minutely as shechronicled the details of the critical hours to which fate was soon tocall her.
Yet, was she wrong? Days of idleness are not always the emptiest; lifemay justify its halts; our spirits may mount to their sublimest pitch inhours of play. At least, the temper of that holiday, and her eagerprizing and recording of it, show well the manner of woman that shewas--her passionate love of beauty, her eager stretching out to all thatmakes life beautiful, her spirit, sensitive to all around, taking colorfrom this and that, reflecting back every ray which the bounty of natureor of man poured upon it, her great faculty of living. She wasted nodays or hours. Ever receiving, ever giving, she spent her sojourn in aworld that for her did much, yet never could do enough, to which shegave a great love, yet never seemed to herself to be able to giveenough. Perhaps she was not wrong when she called herself a pagan. Shewas of the religion of joy; her kindest thought of the grave was thathaply through some chink in its dark walls there might creep one tinysunbeam of memory.
They rode home together as the sun was setting--a sun of ruddy gold,behind it one bright, purple cloud, the sky beyond blue, deepeningalmost into black. When Praslok came in sight, she laid her hand on hiswith a long-drawn sigh.
"We have been together to-day," she said. "That will be there always.Yes, the sun and the world were made for us this day--and we have beenworthy."
He pressed her hand. "You were sent to teach me what joy is--the worthof the world to men who live in it. You're the angel of joy, Sophy.Before you came, I had missed that lesson."
"I'm very glad"--thus she ends her own record of this day ofglory--"that I've brought joy to Monseigneur. He faces his fight joyfulof heart." And then, with one of her absurd, deplorable, irresistiblelapses into the merest ordinary feminine, she adds: "That red badge isjust the touch my sheepskin cap wanted!"
Oh, Sophy, Sophy, what of that for a final reflection on the eve ofMonseigneur's fight?