Long Live the King - Guy Boothby (iphone ebook reader TXT) 📗

longer than we expected, and that, even if it did not, he would never live to be king. Extravagant though it may seem to say so, I feel bound to confess that there were occasions when I wondered whether the troubles of our unhappy House had not exercised an undue influence upon his mind. As may be supposed, my position at this particular time was far from being a happy one. To make it worse, the Princess had, for some reason or other, taken it into her head to be vexed with me. What I had done to offend her I could not see, but that she _was_ angry with me was quite clear. It may possibly have been that she thought I was growing tired of the acquaintanceship, inasmuch as I was not quite so often with her. But I was resolved that, happen what might, Max should have a fair chance. He was the elder, and, if he were going to be king, their marriage would be only fit and proper. Therefore, if she preferred him to myself, he should have her, and I would do my best to appear delighted. If not, well, then it would be my turn to put my fortune to the test. It took some time to arrive at this decision, but that once done, the rest was easy. Oh, that dreadful time! It has often struck me as extraordinary that Max and I should have managed to come through it as satisfactorily as we did. Surely he must have guessed something of what was in my mind. But it is quite certain that, if he did, he never for one moment allowed me to suspect it. We met continually, discussed the various topics of the day with well-simulated interest, occupied ourselves with our round of amusements, as if the wolves were not all the time gnawing at our heartstrings, and to each other and the world in general were as friendly as two brothers could hope to be. Meanwhile, we both knew that every day was bringing us nearer the inevitable end.

To be precise, it was on Monday, the fourteenth day of July, that the climax came. Max had left me soon after lunch to ride in the Park with the Princess Ottilie. I was on duty that afternoon, so was unable, even had I desired to do so, to accompany them. Indeed, it was after six o'clock before I returned to my house, where I expected to find Max awaiting me. To my surprise, however, he was not there.

"Has not the Crown Prince returned?" I inquired of Felix, my imperturbable groom of the chambers.

"His Royal Highness left the house nearly an hour and a half ago," the man replied. "I thought your Highness was aware of his intention to leave London."

"To leave London!" I cried in astonishment. "What do you mean? What reason have you for supposing that he has left London?"

I was certain that he had not the least intention of doing so when we had lunched together.

"His Royal Highness gave me to understand that he intended paying a visit to their Majesties in the country," the man replied apologetically.

This sudden and entirely unexpected action on Max's part was inexplicable to me. Could he have proposed to the Princess, and had she refused him? I was still turning this problem over in my mind, when a letter, balanced against the inkstand on my writing table, attracted my attention. It was addressed to myself, and the handwriting was quite familiar to me. To pick it up and open it was the work of a moment.

MY DEAR PAUL (it ran)--

At last, thank Heaven, I have been able to come to a decision with
myself. After years of doubt and darkness I can see light ahead.
God knows whether I am doing right or wrong, but my belief is that
it is my duty. I want you to be the first to hear it, and then to
act as may seem best to you. Do you think, my brother, that your
secret is unknown to me? Have you flattered yourself that I am not
aware that you love Ottilie of Lilienhoehe as truly as I do myself?
If so, you are wrong. I knew it from the first moment that you
spoke of her to me. It was written on your face as plain as any
words. At that time I had not seen her, and, in consequence, I was
as careless of the future as I was of the present. From the fatal
moment, however, that we crossed the threshold of the Prince's
house in Curzon Street, I realised that I was destined by fate to
be your rival. (Here followed a tribute to my own behaviour in the
affair, which, with your permission, I will pass over.) ... I saw
her and loved her from the moment that I looked into her eyes. At
first I resolved that nothing should induce me to play you false;
but I did not know then the strength of my love, or the violence of
the temptation to which I was to be subjected. I give you my word,
Paul, that for the first fortnight I wrestled with myself and my
love with all the strength of a man, who was despairing, and who
wished to be honourable. But it proved too powerful for me in the
end, and at last I was obliged to succumb. The devil was at my
elbow whispering continually that it was not myself alone that I
had to think of, but of my country. To marry the daughter of the
Prince of Lilienhoehe would be to unite the two strongest factions
in Pannonia, to bring peace and happiness to it as a nation, and to
lift it again, from its place in the mire, to its former proud
position among the great peoples of the earth. I can only wonder
how it was that you did not see my misery. That it _was_ misery for
me I can only ask you to believe. The uncertainty was
heart-breaking. One day I felt sure that she loved me, and, in
consequence, I walked in an earthly paradise; the next I was
certain that she did not, and then I tasted all the bitterness of
hell. Meanwhile, my conscience was calling upon me to be as loyal
to you as you had been to me. But it was of no avail. The
temptation was more than I could withstand; at last I fell. My
punishment, however, was not long in coming. This afternoon, as you
know, I arranged to ride with the Princess in the Row. I met her
near Hyde Park Corner, and I assure you, that I, who have never
since our escape from Pannonia known the meaning of the word
"fear," felt a tremor run through me as she rode towards me. But I
soon discovered that I was not alone in my fear. The moment I saw
her face I knew that she also was dreading our meeting. That was
sufficient to tell me my fate. Failure had dogged me all my life,
and it was scarcely likely that, when I desired something that was
more to me than life itself, she would grant it to me. Having
exchanged greetings with an appearance of pleasure on either side,
we turned our horses' heads and made our way down the Row together.
With a make-believe of composure, we discussed the trivialities of
the day. This, however, did not last long. We began sentences and
did not finish them, and at last lapsed altogether into silence. I
stole a glance at her face, and, as I did so, enlightenment came to
me. Her secret was a secret no longer. I knew, not only that she
did not love me, but that her love was given elsewhere. I would
have had pity on her, and have left my question unasked, but that
the devil was still behind me, whispering in my ear, "Why do you
trouble yourself about her feelings? What does it matter to you
whether she loves anyone else or not? There are reasons of State
why she should be your wife, and you have only to put them before
her, backed up by her father's authority, and she _must_
surrender." However, I had not fallen so low as that yet. I had
still sufficient of the gentleman left to declare to myself that,
if she did not love me, and the union was distasteful to her, I
would not force it upon her. When we turned our horses, I brought
mine a little closer to hers.

"Princess," I said, "will you take pity on me, and give me a plain
answer to a question I want to ask you?"

Her face was bloodless in its pallor. She tried to answer, but no
word escaped her lips. My God! man, you can't conceive what a brute
I felt at that moment. And yet I was well aware that I must go on,
that I should know no peace until I had tortured her to the end.
All this time she was striving to be brave. Fortunately, there were
few people about in that particular part of the Row, otherwise her
agitation could scarcely have failed to attract attention.

"What is the question your Highness desires to ask me?" she
faltered.

"Surely you can guess," I answered. "Ottilie, I love you, and I
want you to tell me whether in return you can love me well enough
to be my wife."

Though she must have known what was coming, a little cry escaped
her.

"What can I say? What can I say?" she repeated in a choking voice.
"Can you not see that I am prepared to do my duty at any cost to
myself?"

"But you shall not do it at the expense of your heart," I answered.
"Ottilie, do you love me?"

"Oh, why do you ask me?" she cried, with a catch of her breath that
was almost hysterical. "How can I answer as you wish?"

"You have given me my answer," I returned. "It seems I have lived
in a fool's paradise. But I have loved you, and, as God is my
witness, I will not force you into a loveless marriage."

What I said to her after that can have no interest for anyone save
our own two selves; let it suffice that, when I left her, I came on
here. Strangely enough, I had no sooner quitted the Park than my
composure returned to me, and by the time I had reached this room,
I could stand off and look