Chapter XII The Renunciation
Oh, ever thus from childhood’s hour,
I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay;
I never loved a tree or flower,
But ’twas the first to fade away!
—Moore: Lalla Rookh.
When I returned to Castle Framkor that evening and joined Nicholas and the General my difficulties began. No longer was I the care-free youth who had come to Bharbazonia in search of recreation. I shared another’s secret now and it weighed heavily upon me. How it was to bear me down, and make my life unhappy while I remained in this cursed country, I was soon to learn.
The General was delivering a lecture to Nick on the heedless folly of youth, referring to his “unseemly conduct” in the gardens of the palace of the King. Nick refused to take him seriously and the old man, who felt that the subject was full of grave possibilities, was very angry.
“What is Teskla to you,” he said, “that you should kiss her before all the world? I could forgive you, my son, if you expressed any affection for the girl who truly loves you. But you are simply playing with her.”
“What makes you think the Princess cares for me?” asked Nick.
“Good heavens, man! can’t you see it? Does a woman lie for a man unless she loves him? Yes, sir, lie is the word. Don’t you contradict me, sir; I will not stand it.”
“Well, what if she did tell a little fib?” returned Nick. “She saved herself from her father’s wrath. There is no occasion for so much heat, Godfather. Can’t a fellow kiss a pretty girl in Bharbazonia without all this fuss?”
“But, the consequences! Have you figured them out?” said the General. “The King believes that he saw Prince Raoul embrace the Princess in public, before witnesses. And he was pleased. Hark you, pleased!”
“He certainly was. A blind man could have noticed it.”
“A cloud no bigger than a man’s hand; but the storm will break. You know the King’s dearest wish is to see his daughter married to Prince Raoul. He is up to something. That scene in the garden meant more to him than appears on the surface. He has figured out some way to effect his purpose and, when the dénouement comes, and the Prince denies he was in the garden, where will you be, facing the royal wrath?”
“I hope it will not come to that,” said Nick, gravely. He knew the General well enough to feel that the old man did not jump at conclusions, and that he was almost always right in his judgment. My entrance at that moment was grateful to Nick for it broke up the lecture.
“I am glad to see you back, Dale,” said Nick, putting his arm around my neck in the old affectionate manner. Then came the shock of the feeling that something had happened to me. I resented Nick’s friendliness!
“How about the boar hunt?” he continued, not appearing to notice how I avoided his arm and drew away from him. “When do we start?”
His question brought back the memory of my original purpose in visiting the castle. Was it only two hours ago that I had left them in the automobile to walk to the summer-house? So much to change my life had happened in such a short time that I could scarcely believe it possible. It seemed as if a month had elapsed. I had forgotten all about the boar hunt.
“I do not know,” I replied, truthfully enough. “I saw the Princess but did not see the Prince.”
The boar hunt did not materialize for many days and in the interim all three of us found plenty to occupy our attention. The General and Nick frequently left me alone now, when they went to meetings at the Turk’s Head Inn and to Nischon. Although they often invited me to accompany them I always refused. Most of my time was spent in the summer-house with Solonika.
How I worried when she did not appear for the next two days! I haunted the vicinity of the little den and even went as far as the clearing in the hope that she would again see me and send me word by her maid. I dared not go to the castle until I knew how it stood with the Red Fox. If she had reconsidered her action and told him, he might not view my escape in the same light as she did, and in that case I was safer out of his hands. But, on the third day, I found her sitting in her easy chair looking pale and ill. She seemed more than pleased to see me.
“I shall have to ask you to prescribe for me, Dr. Wharton,” she smiled. “I never went to pieces like this before. I have been in bed for two days and I cry a great deal. What is wrong with me?”
“I cannot prescribe for Your Highness,” I replied, “because you will not take my medicine.”
“You haven’t given me any yet.”
“Then here is my prescription. It will make you whole again; of that I am positive. Go this very hour to your father and tell him that you cannot continue this deception. Tell him that it is killing you and ask him, for the sake of the love he bears you, to permit you to go away out of this country at least for a year.”
“You are a good physician,”—she laughed a little and shook her head; “but I cannot take your medicine. If, after all these years, I refused to go on, what would my father do? How the nobles would ridicule him! He would die of grief and shame. No, no, there is no escape; I must go on—forever!”
The light and the bright sunshine soon brought her spirits back, and she became the old happy Solonika. That morning she was like an April day, alternating between showers and sunshine with astonishing rapidity.
“Do not imagine, sir,” she said, “that there is nothing but woe in the situation. Let us talk of something more pleasant. Do you recall the time when you were permitted to see both the Prince and the Princess in the castle?”
“Yes,” I said, “and I have often wondered since how you deceived me so cleverly.”
“We all had a good laugh after you were gone. You see there are compensations. Shall I tell you how we did it?”
“If you will.”
“It began when you hurt me shaking my hand. I knew that you were studying me and that you were suspicious. Your friend Nicholas did all the talking and you listened and watched. I had nothing to fear from him, but I knew I had from you. That evening I talked it over with father. He was positive that Palmora had poisoned your mind against us and that it was time we prepared an antidote. We waited for your expected visit, but you did not come. I was watching you when you appeared at the top of the hill and turned back, and I understood that your pride would not permit you to knock again at our door. I sent Therese and you fell into the trap.”
“‘Will you come into my parlour said the Spider to the Fly,’” I said.
“Exactly. Dajerak brought you to the Prince’s room where father and I were pretending to play cards. Oh, it was hard not to keep from laughing at you. You looked at the Prince so suspiciously, and how gently you hinted that you would like to see the Princess! Father enjoyed it immensely. It had been a long while since we had done anything of the kind. Not since King Gregory called to see the twins.”
Her laughter was not easy to bear.
“Then Dajerak, the slow old Dajerak, took you all around the inner court in order to give me time to dress. I only had to put on this long hair—its my own anyhow—slip a loose dressing gown over my boy’s clothes and I was ready for you. My, what a long time you were in coming. I was afraid you would shake hands with me again. That’s why I did not lay down my sewing. You did not notice that my blue slippers and my black stockings—I had no time to change them—were not altogether in keeping, did you?”
“I did not notice.”
“I was afraid you would.”
“The tunnel to the summer-house was also part of the game?” I asked.
“Yes, that was to enable me to entertain visitors there and appear before them afterward in the guise of the Prince in the castle. You must not think that we allayed the suspicions of Bharbazonia without a struggle. It was by means of the underground passage that we won over the Grand Duke of Marbosa. Palmora poisoned his mind, too, and he paid us a visit. He saw me in the summer-house and asked for the Prince, then he rode off to the castle. I had to run with all my might to get there in time. You should have seen his face when he met the Prince. You see there is lots of fun and excitement in the life. I should die of ennui without it.”
“I suppose it is full of innocent fun now, Solonika,” I said, “but after you are king it will be serious. Did you ever think of the sacrilege your coronation in the Cathedral will entail?”
“I have thought of it,” she replied, gravely.
“If you are found out now, people will laugh, after the first blush of excitement is over; but if you are found out then—”
“They will put me to death,” she said, simply.
There was something sublime about her courage. Everything that I could suggest as a future possibility she had thought out before me. Nothing was left unconsidered. As I talked with her day after day, always upon the same fascinating subject, my respect for her loyalty to her father increased. So absorbing was her love for him that she was ready, aye, willing to lay down her life to further his ambitions.
She knew full well the meaning of the vengeance of the Church. I could not frighten her with the story of the fate of the Witch of Utrepect. While the fire was still alight around the body of that unfortunate woman, Solonika, as if impelled by a terrible fascination, had ridden over to the village on her black horse and watched the dying embers complete their fiendish work.
She could think; she could feel. And how dreadful must have been her thoughts if she permitted herself to believe that in case of discovery her fate might be similar. If the Church, backed by the peasantry, would punish blasphemy in such mediæval fashion, what would they not do to one who defiled the altar?
As frequently as we talked of these things, we always arrived at the same conclusion; but we always returned to the discussion, when we were alone. When Nick came along, which he did as often as he could, we hid our feelings, and Solonika shone at her best. I could see with some dismay that she enjoyed his society. He was bright, cheerful, smiling, while I was inclined to be gloomy.
“Something is the matter with Dale,” said Nick to her one afternoon. “He is preoccupied and moody. Every night he goes to bed early, leaving the General and me to our arguments. What do you suppose is wrong with him?”
“You should know better than I,” she replied, banteringly; “perhaps he is pining for the girl he left behind him.”
“How about it, Dale?” said Nick.
But on these occasions I found no ready answer. I was not as adept in the art of intrigue as the Princess. I could only leave the summer-house abruptly, with Nick watching my strange action in open-mouthed astonishment. Rebel against it as I would, I could see the breach widen between Nick and me day by day. We had never had a misunderstanding in our lives before.
As if the secret I was hiding were not enough for any man to bear in silence, Solonika insisted upon flirting outrageously with Nick, always in my presence. But I felt that she relied upon me for the true companionship which had always been denied her. Once or twice she unconsciously called me by my first name, and she clung to my arm in a tantalizing way at parting. Why she acted with Nicholas as she did I could not understand. But what man ever did fully fathom the heart of a woman? Never once did she reprove me when I called her Solonika. She seemed to like it. So, one day I ventured to bare my inmost feelings to her. It was at the close of one of our most intimate talks, when I was urging again the necessity of throwing up the whole dangerous business.
“Solonika, why will you not go away from here and leave all your worries behind?” I said.
“Where shall I go?” she returned.
“Anywhere. Only go; surely you have friends in England where you went to school.”
“I have no friends anywhere but here.”
“Don’t say that. You have me. I am your friend.”
“Surely you do not urge that I fly with you?”
My feeling got the better of me. I determined to make an attempt to save her, even against herself. There was nothing to bind her to her country except the great love she bore her father. It was worth the try.
“Solonika, we must come to an understanding. You surely have guessed how I feel toward you. I do not want to give offence; neither do I care to appear absurd in your eyes. You are a Princess. You ‘sit upon a joyless height, too high for hope; too great for happiness.’ I am an American lacking title and position. But what I have is yours to command. If a love that shall live forever can do aught to make your life happier, and lead you away to a humble home full of peace and happiness, it stands ready at your bidding.”
She understood as I knew she would. I could feel it in the light hand that rested on my arm; in the sad, gentle look within the depth of her brown eyes. She could not bear to face me and turned away, apparently to watch the setting sun of the dying December day as it sank amid the thousand colours of a glorious finality.
Even as I watched her I knew there was no hope and that she was forever removed from me. Her feet were set in the pathway she was destined to tread before she was born. She must go her way and I mine until the end. She would continue acting the boy before the world. She would be crowned and reign as King in Bharbazonia. In spite of all I could do she would live her unsexed life, guarding her secret carefully until death released her. I was powerless to save her even from herself. The love she had for her father was greater than any affection she might have even for me.
“We will not talk of it any more, my—friend,” she said. And thus did she sacrifice me also upon the altar of her devotion.
It was Nick who brought about the boar hunt which was fraught with such important events, and which had not been spoken of since the day I stumbled upon the skeleton in Dhalmatia’s closet.
“What has become of the Prince, Your Highness?” he asked Solonika when one day we were taking our leave together.
“He does not look with favour upon you two young men,” she replied. “You have not accepted his invitation to hunt with him.”
“That was Dale’s fault,” Nick replied; “he forgot all about it. Tell the Prince we will be glad to hunt with him any time.”
“He will be delighted,” said she. “I do not believe he has left the house for ten days. After the coronation he will be very much occupied. The air in the woods will do him good.”
“Four days more and he will be King. Tell him he had better make the most of his freedom,” Nick said.
“Very well,” said she, “be ready in the morning and he will come over to Framkor for you.”
Thus easily did Solonika plan to appear in the Prince’s clothes and forget her womanhood.