"what sudden chance is this? quoth he,

that i to love must subject be,

* * * *

but still did it defie."

in the afternoon following the morning of kophetua's adventure the queen-mother was sitting in her little garden pavilion, and at her feet was curled mlle de tricotrin reading to her in the prettiest of soft white gowns, and the prettiest of natural attitudes. it was a strange little building, which the queen had christened the temple of sensibility. it was perhaps more like a greek temple than most things, but more strictly speaking it belonged to that style of architecture which reached its culmination in the valentines and burial cards of fifty years ago. the queen was very fond of it. it stood in a quiet corner of that part of the palace gardens which was set apart for her private use, and she had lavished considerable thought and taste in the interior decoration. the walls were covered with vast [pg 95]architectural perspectives produced almost to infinity, so that the little place seemed to be the focus on which all the draughts of a vast and airy hall were concentrated, and at various points fat little cupids were apparently trying to anchor themselves to the columns by wreaths of roses, as though in fear of being blown out of the composition. the effect was cool, but not cosy; yet the queen was very fond of it, and had brought mlle de tricotrin thither with the air of one who has a great favour to bestow.

they were already fast friends. the queen-mother was of an affectionate nature, and was starving for an object on which her affection could feed. as has been said, she was thoroughly german, and shared the characteristics of the educated and refined german lady of her time. it was a mixture we seldom see nowadays. on one side she was homely and practical, on the other highly imaginative and dreamy. she cannot perhaps be better expressed than in terms of her tastes. the queen-mother had a passion for needlework and transcendental philosophy. oddly enough, mlle de tricotrin had quite a pretty taste in them too.

at her new friend's first entry into the ballroom the queen had certainly been a little shocked. it was impossible not to regard her costume as a little immodest; but when she began to dance, and margaret saw how pretty and childish and unaffected she[pg 96] was, and how, above all, she seemed to charm the stony heart of the king, she began to recognise in mlle de tricotrin the simple, well-brought-up, and beautiful girl of whom she had heard so hopefully from the governor of the canaries. a very few words which passed between the two women the night of the ball and on the following morning had been enough to bring the heart-sick woman under the spell as much as anybody else. the result was an invitation and the present visit to the temple of sensibility. mlle de tricotrin admired the embroidery, and asked if she could help. beside the queen-mother's chair stood a large grinning monster from china, blue and hideous. he was a great pet of margaret's, and she showed her affection by using him as a book-rest. mlle de tricotrin saw a volume of german philosophy resting on his paws, and began to express her admiration of the author in terms that would be for our ears a little high-flown and sentimental. thus in a very few minutes the impression she had already created was more than confirmed. with new-born happiness the queen accepted her offer to read, and now as she worked and listened to the musical voice, she was entranced as much by the sound as the sense that filled her ears.

"ah," said the queen, as the reader paused after a passage of great beauty, "why must material bodies so clog our spirit that it[pg 97] cannot rise to the places which these great men point out to us?"

"but indeed it can, madam," said the beauty. "i do not remember my soul's prison when i read such words as these. i forget all that is tainted with matter, and seem to float up and down in the highest empyrean, with the bright spirits that are wafted by on the breath of the song the angels sing."

"then indeed you are blessed," the queen answered; "but such freedom can never be mine. i am chained by a sin to the body of death, and may not melt into the eternal till my fetters are broken. but you have never lost the freedom which purity alone can give. and yet," she continued, smiling sadly, and laying her hand on the girl's soft heap of hair, "i wonder your soul likes to leave the dwelling-place which god has made so fair for it. you are very, very pretty, my child!"

mlle de tricotrin looked up in the queen's face. the sad eyes were moist with tears, and were looking down at her so lovingly that she could not help taking in hers the thin hand that had been caressing her, and kissing it reverently.

"ah! madam," she said, so earnestly and sadly that the queen was quite surprised at the change of her tones, "what might i have been if i had had a mother like you to guide me! but my mother died before i can remember."

[pg 98]

"that is a hard thing for a girl," answered the queen, "and you have fought your way alone bravely. yes, it is hard, but is not my lot harder still? what might my lonely life have been with a daughter like you to warm and brighten it? but i have no child—i have no child."

"but you have the king!"

"no, he is not mine. he is hard and cold, and thinks of nothing but himself."

"indeed your majesty does him wrong," cried mlle de tricotrin eagerly. "he is not what you say. he spoke so differently to me when—when we were alone in the garden."

the last words she said with some hesitation and in a low sweet voice, and, looking down, pretended to arrange the folds of her soft gown with the prettiest embarrassment as she went on, "he told me of his lofty aspirations, how he longed to do some great thing for his people, how miserable he was at the hollow life he led—o madam! believe me, he has a noble heart."

"and he told all this to you?" said the queen, between surprise and delight.

"yes, and much more," answered her companion, looking up with a frank, innocent look which seemed ignorant of how much her words meant. so frank and innocent indeed were her eyes, that for a moment margaret doubted. she put her hands on the soft hair once more, and gazed steadfastly upon[pg 99] the lovely face that was upturned to her; it was a look which searched deep, it was a look hard to be borne, till the sad eyes of the widow grew dim with tears. then the queen-mother bent down and kissed mlle de tricotrin very, very tenderly.

their further conversation was interrupted by an attendant announcing that the king was without, and desired to know whether the queen could receive him. it was a very long time since the poor mother had had such a request made to her by her son. so great a coldness had gradually grown up between them that they hardly ever met except on public occasions. they had come so entirely to misunderstand each other that private interviews between them at last became so constrained as to be quite painful to both. it was then with a flush of surprise and pleasure that she ordered him to be admitted at once, and some impulse or other which she did not stop to analyse prompted her to press mlle de tricotrin's hand affectionately as they rose to receive the visitor.

"good day, madam," said kophetua, with a shade of annoyance passing over his handsome face at the sight of mlle de tricotrin. "i had thought to find you alone!"

"shall mlle de tricotrin retire?" asked the queen. it was impossible to hesitate. he would have liked to say "yes," but that would seem to give a mystery to his errand, which was exactly what he wanted to avoid.[pg 100] besides, it would seem rude, and then she really looked very sweet in her soft white gown and tangled brown hair. so he bowed profoundly, and begged that mlle de tricotrin would do him the honour of remaining.

"are you not well, kophetua?" asked the queen anxiously. "you look pale and tired; have you not slept?"

"i thank you, madam, i am in perfect health," answered the king shortly. it was always the poor queen's fate to say the very thing that of all others was calculated to irritate him, and, anxious as he was to hide all traces of his last night's exploit, he on this occasion had great difficulty in not showing his annoyance. in order to succeed, he found himself making a more elaborate compliment to mlle de tricotrin than was necessary, and the bright look of pleasure she gave him in return only increased his vexation.

"mlle de tricotrin has been reading some beautiful things to me," said the queen, with a well-meant attempt to turn the conversation into a channel which she believed was agreeable to both. "i find her quite a profound philosopher."

"indeed," answered the king in no better humour, as the conviction forced itself upon him that mlle de tricotrin was besieging his mother as an outwork of the throne. "ladies so arm themselves with wisdom[pg 101] nowadays that men are driven to the end of their wits to know how to resist them, and you make me fear, madam, that i come in a very high-flown hour to prefer a humble request i have."

"nay, kophetua," replied the queen, "you know i consider no hour ill-timed for a mother to help her son. what is it i shall do for you?"

"it is a very little matter, madam," the king began, with some nervousness. "it is only that i wish you to take into your household an unfortunate girl who has been highly commended to my care. it matters not how low the office."

he could not help glancing at mlle de tricotrin to see how she took the words. he found her looking at him with a look of entranced admiration, which at that moment was peculiarly annoying. for an instant he thought she had taken in the whole situation at once.

"that is very easily done," said the queen. "what can she do? where did she come from?"

"that i cannot tell you," answered the king.

"but do you not know?"

"yes, madam; but there are reasons why i cannot tell you," said the king, for he was now more determined than ever that mlle de tricotrin should not know how he had been influenced by her conversation.

[pg 102]

"it is a strange request to make," said the queen, a little coldly. "may i know nothing before i grant it?"

"she is a beggar-maid, madam, whom i have undertaken to protect; i beg you to ask no more."

"it is well, sir, perhaps, that i should not," returned the queen, drawing herself up with all the pride of her ancient family. "it is a long time since a daughter of our house was served by beggars."

"but why not, madam, why not?" said the king warmly. "where will you find truer nature, and, therefore, truer nobility, than there? it is they whom the noonday burns and who shiver in the night; it is they who hunger and thirst and want; it is they who know the only true joys, the joys that have risen out of misery; it is they who alone are pure, who have touched pitch and are not defiled. what are we beside them, with our empty, easy, untried lives? how can nobility grow out of such pettinesses as are our highest employments? no! there, out of doors, where men and women that groan and suffer, and shout for joy when it is done, that hate and love like the strong beasts of the desert, that curse when they are angered and smile only when they are pleased, there where these are ground together in the roaring mill of good and evil, there you shall seek and find the little nobleness that is left in our effete humanity."

[pg 103]

"and is it the white flour you bring me from your dusty mill?" said the queen haughtily. "how am i to tell it is not the husk that is only fit for swine?"

"madam," cried the king loftily, "i swear to you—is that not enough?—i swear to you she is pure as snow; i swear that of all women——"

"stay, sir," said the queen, with suppressed anger. "'tis only as i thought; but i beg you to remember where you are and to whom you speak. a mighty fine thing, sir, a vastly fine thing for a son to ask of the mother he hardly deigns to own. you have reasons, have you, why you may not say who this lady is? there is no need. i know them well enough. it is vastly fine, sir. kophetua the king, kophetua, the thirteenth of his name, shall go and rake in any filthy hole for his toys, and bring them to his father's wife to hide in her bosom. it is vastly fine, sir, but you know not my father's daughter, and have forgotten yourself."

"madam, you do me wrong!" cried kophetua passionately. "before heaven, you do me wrong!"

"peace! peace!" cried the queen, "lest heaven blast you. i know you well. it is useless to speak so fine. i know you for the son you are. see what it is you do, and pray forgiveness of heaven. that were the best. you, my son, my one son, who have been my only thought, while i grew grey[pg 104] with thinking; you who have cast me off to be the puppet of a man your father raised from the very ground; it is you who sat and took your pleasure while i grew grey and grieved for the love you had denied me! but i waited through the long years alone, saying, 'surely when my punishment is ended, god will send him back, and in his arms the sweet fruits of love and repentance!' and now, to-day, you came at last, and i thought the days of my mourning were over. i held out my hands for the rich gift of your love that should sweeten the last bitter drops in my cup—weary and sick with longing i hold them out, and you would put into them your—your——" she sank in her chair, unable to say the word, and, burying her head in her arms upon the grinning monster, sobbed out hysterically, "'tis vastly fine, 'tis vastly fine!"

but kophetua neither heard nor saw. at the climax of her speech he had turned on his heel and left the room, lest he should be tempted to return her anger with anger. his pride was as high as his mother's, and it came to his aid, just as it had come to hers in her interview with turbo. so he drew himself up and slowly left the pavilion, proud that with all his temptations his life was yet without the reproach his mother had flung at him, and proud that, deep as the insult was, he was too chivalrous even to resent it, seeing that it came from a[pg 105] woman. but he was cut to the heart nevertheless. with a great effort he had resolved to come to his mother for sympathy and help in his trouble. it was she, he felt, who alone would understand, or if she would not, then it was hopeless, and he knew not which way to turn. it had cost him much to make up his mind to try and fill the gulf that was between them, but he had humbled himself at last. he had come to her feet, and she had cast him off with insults. she had utterly misunderstood him. the breach, instead of being mended, was widened tenfold, and for ever he must be alone.

with such thoughts he strode from the pavilion, and took his way out of the garden, with the noble and resolute look which came over him in his better moments, and which became him so well. as he turned from the main alley into a sidewalk thickly edged with grotesque cactus, the soft sound of a voice stopped his measured stride. he looked to see mlle de tricotrin before him in the way, kneeling in her soft white dress.

"pardon!" she said very softly, "i crave your majesty's pardon." at that moment, of all others, he would have avoided her if it had been possible, but she was straight in his path, and then as she rested on one knee and looked imploringly upon his face, her beauty was such that in any case he could hardly have passed her by.

[pg 106]

"it was not my fault," she continued, "that i heard what i did. you desired me to remain, and i left as soon as i saw the mistake her majesty made."

"it is a little fault," answered he, "to crave pardon for on your knees."

"but it is not all i ask," she cried; "i am here to beg a greater favour. o sire! i cannot but say it, my heart bleeds for you. i understand it all. it is a terrible thing to be judged so falsely by those we have striven hardest to please. it is a poor reward for what you have done. i understand it all, and beg you will let me take care of her."

"but, mademoiselle, how can i claim such a service at your hands? it is impossible."

"it is not a service i do you," she answered. "i have no chamber-woman. she feared to follow me here. so let me have this girl whom you have saved, and i will treat her as a sister."

it was perhaps the last escape that he would have wished from his difficulty. it was really too vexatious that he should be forced to let this woman add an obligation to the other snares she was weaving round him. yet it was the only way he could see, and he could not deny he was touched by her kindness. so he gave her his hand and raised her from where she kneeled.

"you have a kind heart, mademoiselle," he said. "she shall come to you to-night."

it was impossible not to put to his lips[pg 107] the little hand he held. mere courtesy demanded it. he was conscious of a strange thrill as he did so, and passed on to his apartments in the perilous state of an injured man who recognises that a certain beautiful woman is the only person in the world who understands him.