CHAPTER IV
‘Your wondrous, rare description, noble Earl,
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me.
Her virtues graced with external gifts,
Do breed love’s settled passions in my heart;
And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts
Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,
So am I driven, by breath of her renown
Either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive
Where I may have fruition of her love.’
King Henry VI., sc. v.
We left Mercia somewhat settled in her mind regarding the course she ought to take with the Emperor.
If Felicitas should chance not to make mention of the subject of love, which was a forbidden one to her, owing to her position, she made up her mind to forbear making inquiries concerning his motive for introducing it.
She waited and watched each day for his coming with a vague hope in her heart that he would look favourably upon Geometrus’ love, in the event of his having knowledge of it. In any case, it could only be a suspicion, seeing it was as yet undeclared on his part.
Although she said nothing to Geometrus, nevertheless, he felt there was something in the air. Often he would look at her wistfully and try to probe her thoughts; for he saw most distinctly the preoccupation of her mind as she strove to make her usual mathematical calculations. Still he forbore questioning her, for the one subject he was desirous of discussing with her, was entirely forbidden. Only his eyes told of the love that filled his heart.
Reason reminded him that it was indeed a hopeless affection, for he felt assured that Mercia’s mind was so bound up in her vocation that she could never be induced to abandon it in order to wed one who had so little to offer her in return. Moreover, he too, would be sent adrift as soon as the matter oozed out, for the same prohibition from marriage was placed upon him.
Numerous, indeed, were the plans he formed daily in his mind of what he would do for a competent livelihood in the event of his acceptance by Mercia. He knew it was useless to make her an offer unless he could see his way clear to maintain her, when to accept him she must abandon a highly lucrative and honourable position.
‘But would she indeed make such a sacrifice for him?’ he asked himself, ‘Would it not be selfish on his part to prefer such a request? True—true; he would not—dare not make it. It was selfish, utterly selfish to dream of it for one moment. No, he would lock up his feelings; he would carefully keep his heart-secret; he would not ruin her life by asking her to share his comparatively humble position, supposing she was willing to listen to him.’
Thus did Geometrus torment himself with many doubts and fears. At one moment making bright plans for the future, wherein he saw himself distinguished before the world for his wonderful instruments, the like of which he knew had never been produced before, and probably would be at no time beaten. These had been planned and invented in the first instance for Mercia alone, yet for Mercia’s sake they should be given to the world, so that he might become more worthy of her; a more honourable mate for the peerless Mercia.
Ah, Love, Love, how much thou hast to answer for! How many human hearts hast thou set wildly beating for fame that would otherwise have remained in quiet seclusion? How many mighty minds hast thou set daily and nightly throbbing with pain by reason of thine unreasonable attraction? Thou seekest thine affinity where it is forbidden thee to enter, ever regardless of the restrictions and barriers invented by mankind for their protection.
Thou only dost behold the object of thy search; invisible to thine eyes the barricades of worldly conventions.
Quite alone, and unattended by any member of his suite, Felicitas set off to pay Mercia his promised visit; who on her side gladly gave him a pleasant welcome. In her heart she fondly hoped that the interpretation of his words would prove favourable to herself and Geometrus; and in some way yet to be discovered, the monarch might benefit them.
For could he not influence his ministers to do away with this absurd marriage objection? Yes, Felicitas had power to help them, if he could be induced to put it into operation. This was the one thing needful; the monarch’s goodwill, and all would then be plain sailing.
Their marriage need not hinder their work; they two could labour together, she thought, and side by side discharge conscientiously their allotted duties, to their country’s satisfaction and their own perfect content.
It so happened that Geometrus on that day had business in the city, which detained him several hours, and as the Emperor was being driven in a carriage drawn by horses—for this was the custom of royalty, that it should be distinguished from the commonalty, who used electric force for cheapness as for swiftness—he saw Geometrus enter a machine warehouse, or shop, where electrical household machines were vended.
‘Ah,’ thought the Emperor, ‘thou art there, my friend: pray make no hurry on my account; thou wast truly de trop on the last occasion I called on mine astronomer; I could well have spared thy presence.’
Thus the Emperor felicitated himself upon his good fortune, in being secured against a like interruption on this occasion. When arrived at his destination, which was not very soon, owing to the slowness of the journey—for the speed of the horse was not comparable with that of electric energy—the Emperor entered the Observatory with a firm resolution to make good use of the opportunity with which fortune had favoured him. Now, Mercia, with the same motive in her mind, received him very cordially, for she desired to make a favourable impression, with a view of obtaining his royal clemency in the matter of matrimony, albeit, it appeared on further reflection, but a bare possibility that she would at any time change her present condition.
‘Ah, Mistress Mercia,’ he exclaimed playfully, ‘what cheerful looks thou dost carry to-day, methinks thy face betokens much content—hast thou taken my words to heart, fair lady, ’twas truly excellent advice?’
‘Sire, thou saidst something concerning the sun—thou didst talk of coming to learn more of his condition, I believe,’ answered Mercia evasively.
‘True,’ he replied with a laugh, ‘I fain would know more of the sun’s late vagaries: but it would please me infinitely better to learn something of thyself, dost thou never feel lonely?’
‘Often enough, Sire; the hours speed away at times very quickly when I am hard at work, but when it is time to rest then the feeling of solitude overwhelms me: I get appalled at the silence that surrounds me, and a melancholy seizes me so severely that I rise unable to cope with my duties.’
‘Art thou then tired of this occupation? It is indeed, too much for thee. Rest a while, sweet Mercia, and let the stars take care of themselves for a season.’
‘Oh, that would spoil all my calculations; the work of years would be as naught were I to stay my hand now. No, I will wait until my treatise on the stars is complete; then I will take some little change for my health’s sake.’
‘Health, and Love, sweet Mercia, go hand in hand together. Let thine heart melt to its influence, and all will go well with thee. Thy melancholies will disappear; thy solitude lightened; for thou wilt have a new theory to analyse—a new and a better one.’
‘Yes, thou canst love, dear Mercia, I know it; for thine eyes were made for the conquest of man’s heart, rather than star-gazing. Cease to disregard the designs of Nature when she formed thee, and yield thyself to the pleasure of love.’
Mercia essayed to answer him, but her tongue refused her utterance, so great was her confusion. She blushed violently, and at last stammered out—
‘Sire, I know not what answer to give in this matter—I am yet unprepared,—perplexed with this reasoning of thine.’
‘Hast thou not felt the want of companionship, dear Mercia? Here penned in this solitude only fit for a greybeard thou dost pine, yet knoweth not what it is ails thee. It is good to be loved, fair one, to realise how much thy womanhood means: hast thou never felt its joys—its pains?’
‘But my bond, Sire, I cannot break my bond, signed by my own hand, to forswear love and marriage: no one but thyself can relieve me of this obligation,’ exclaimed Mercia excitedly.
‘I heartily relieve thee, then, my good Mercia. I care not for the bond one iota, if that be all that’s in thy way. Keep thy post as thou likest thy work so well, and enjoy the delights of love at the same time,’ replied the delighted monarch, who found it most difficult to conceal his fancied triumph.
Mercia uttered a low cry of joy, and in her gratitude threw herself at his feet, then taking his willing hand in hers, she pressed it to her lips in silence, for her heart was too full for speech.
When the matter had arrived thus far, the Emperor forgetting the caution and self-restraint he had been hitherto exercising, was no longer able to contain himself; stooping down towards the kneeling girl he caught her in his arms, and in a perfect frenzy of rapture commenced to shower hot kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her lips.
Mercia was so completely taken aback by this unexpected raid, that her brain fairly reeled for a moment; then recovering her senses she quickly wrenched herself out of his arms, and gazing on him with blanched face, she cried in a voice gasping with pain and indignation—
‘What means the Emperor by this unheard-of liberty? What have I done that I should be treated as a courtesan by my Sovereign?’
‘A courtesan!’ he repeated. ‘Why Mercia, I would give thee a crown if I could! Thy queenly brow was truly made for one; and by the stars, thou shalt have it yet! Yes, Mercia thou shalt share my throne and rule me, my sweet, together with mine Empire.’
‘Share thy throne and rule thine Empire! Surely, Sire, thou hast gone mad!’
‘Yes, truly, I am mad—mad with love for thee, and thou knowest it, Mercia, else wouldst thou have kissed my hand in acknowledgment of it?’
‘In acknowledgment of thy love!’ she answered in strong indignant tones, ‘it was not so—thy love never entered my thought.’
‘Whose then?’ questioned Felicitas shortly.
‘Geometrus,’ she acknowledged bravely. But the next moment she felt she had given away both herself and him.
‘Geometrus!’ he scoffingly repeated. ‘And dost thou place that poltroon before me? Am I to be flouted for him?’
‘His love is honourable, and thine is not; therein lies the difference, my Sire,’ she answered soothingly, with a view of bringing him to reason.
‘But my love shall be made honourable, Mercia. I will get a divorce, and thou shalt fill the Empress’s place—aye, and fill it far away better than she has ever done! I hate her—curse her!’ And he ground his teeth in rage at the thought of his wretched inability to accomplish what he was so loudly boasting of.
‘But I cannot rob another woman of her husband: I would not defraud the meanest in thy realm, much less thine Empire’s highest lady.’
‘It is not robbery, Mercia, she doth not own my heart, and never did! I was cozened into that marriage by my cousin Osbert—curse him—curse him for a meddling fool!’
‘He, doubtless, did it for the best. The whole of thy Cabinet approved, so did the nation. It is a new thing for me to learn that our Emperor lives unhappily with his spouse—I cannot understand it.’
‘I never felt the chains gall till now, Mercia. A quiet indifference kept me content until thy beauty set my heart a-beating with a new joy. I knew not love till mine eyes dwelt upon thy loveliness, and mine ears listened to the words that flowed from thy lips like a sweet, rippling fountain, whose waters gave forth a pure, clear, life-giving stream. Yes, I have drunk therein, and am filled with new emotions—new joys—new hopes—new life!’ He clasped his hands in an ecstasy of happiness, as at that supreme moment he gave rein to the powerful impulses that swayed him.
‘Now is my beauty an evil thing, and a curse to me!’ cried Mercia, at the moment bowing her head in deep dejection, and hiding her face in her hands.
‘Would I had never been born, or that nature had shaped me uncomely, for then this misfortune could not have overtaken me! Two men desire me, and I may not have either. I must live in a world filled, like a garden with flowers—flowers and blossoms of love; yet I may not touch them; their fragrance is not for me; not one may I wear on my breast! Yet, they nod and beckon me to pluck them: they offer me the incense of their being, and would fain spend their full fragrance upon me; for their desire is to nestle on my bosom, and give me the joy of their beauty and love.’
She spoke as one entranced, who ignoring all listeners felt naught of the presence of another. For the moment her anguish was her only companion, which the presence of Felicitas could not restrain. It was the bursting wail of a heart kept long in subjection and unnatural restriction, which now claimed its rights. Thus did the longing for love bring sorrow to Mercia, such sorrow as she had never before tasted.
As Felicitas gazed upon the beautiful woman standing before him in an attitude of grief and despair, her head bowed down, her arms outstretched, showing the contour of her perfect form, he felt as one in a dream—a ravishing dream that inspired every sense with a deliciousness he had never before experienced.
On his enraptured ears her words fell like the music of a poem, for the full, rich, melodious timbre of her voice lent to them a peculiar charm: their pathos melted him; their sweetness enchained him.
Seized anew with the intoxication of his passion he sank on his knees before her; his whole frame quivered with emotion, while the varying tones of his voice testified how greatly the torrent of his passion swept through his soul.
‘Mercia, Mercia, give me thy love!’ he cried impetuously; ‘take me, my beloved, spurn me no longer, for without thee I am as one dead! As a world without sun, having no life, nor warmth, I shall go on my way darkened for ever. Take me into the sunshine of thy love; give me new life, dearest. Resuscitate and refresh me with the joy of thy beauty; and let us drink of the wine of love’s pleasures for ever. Then shall we two learn how good it is to love; how sweet it is to be together; how delightful the blending of two souls made satisfied with their own companionship.’
As one in a dream Mercia listened to his passionate outpourings; she drank in his words as gratefully as the parched earth a summer’s shower; but her mind was with Geometrus. In imagination she was with him, listening to the pent-up eloquence that his soft dark eyes daily expressed.
‘It is Geometrus who speaks!’ she murmured absently; ‘Geometrus has opened his heart to me at last!’
‘Geometrus!’ shouted the Emperor, almost out of his head with rage and jealousy; ‘it is not Geometrus—it is I, Felicitas—Felicitas thine Emperor who abjectly offers thee his love, and his crown, and sues thee, Mercia—his subject—his servant!’
Then Mercia, awakening from her love-dream began to realise her true position. For an instant she paused, and passed her hand across her brow, as if to recover her senses; then she said in a deliberate and dignified voice—
‘Felicitas, the Emperor hath no crown to offer his subject, Mercia, for it sits already on the brow of his royal spouse; neither has he love to offer his servant, Mercia, for it is sworn to his Empress for ever. It is an insult to me, Mercia, thine offer of illicit love, and I refuse to longer remain in thy service.’
Upon hearing these words the heat of his temper suddenly cooled; he saw he had not only ruined his cause with the lady, but he was bringing upon himself public dishonour; for the reason of the resignation of their gifted and enthusiastic astronomer would be demanded by both ministers and nation alike. As she turned to leave the apartment, for she disdained having further converse with him, he forcibly caught her by the dress, with a view of detaining her.
‘Stay, Mercia, stay, and listen to me! Listen to one word more, I beseech thee. Thou shalt, for indeed I will not let thee go!’ He shouted fiercely, for she was wrenching herself out of his grasp.
‘Touch me not!’ she exclaimed excitedly, ‘or I will kill thee as thou standest!’ and from her girdle she took a small ebony stick, electrically charged, which she wore as a kind of life-preserver, in accordance with the custom of ladies, who worked, or walked out a good deal alone.
She had reached the door, and opened it, when who should rush upon the scene but Geometrus accompanied by the Emperor’s cousin, Prince Osbert, who had been seeking him for some time past.
‘Mercia insulted, and by the Emperor! What is the meaning of this?’ inquired Geometrus, at the same time facing Felicitas with eyes of fire.
‘I am not insulting her,’ coolly rejoined the Emperor, ‘she has disobeyed my commands respecting some important astronomical information I required, and is endeavouring to shield her own shortcomings by getting into a rage: ’tis woman’s way, but I’ll have none of it.’
Then Mercia drawing herself up to her full height, exclaimed in indignant voice—‘Liar, and traitor, I despise thee! Bid thine Empress come hither, I have somewhat to tell her. As for me, I shall never receive thee here again, thou woman-betrayer! Get some other to fill my place, for I shall quit it forthwith.’
Then she turned away with haughty mien and left the apartment.
‘What’s all the row?’ inquired the Emperor’s cousin, who affected vulgarity of speech when with his intimates.
‘Explain this, Sire,’ demanded Geometrus, who was bursting with surprise equally as indignation.
‘Bah, it is naught—it is much ado about nothing,’ replied the Emperor shrugging his shoulders.
‘I do not believe it,’ promptly answered Geometrus; ‘my mistress is too gentle, too self-restrained, and too honourable to make an unjust accusation against anyone; least of all, her royal master. This matter shall be looked into, Sire. Though thou art an Emperor thy conduct shall be examined, and the light of the noonday sun thrown upon it; for it is meet that those filling high places be honourable men.’
‘If Mistress Mercia sees fit to give up her post, thou Geometrus canst worthily fill it,’ observed Felicitas in an insinuating manner, hoping to mollify him by offering to place him in a more exalted position.
‘By all that’s good, I take not my mistress’s place because thou hast made it intolerable for her! No, Sire, that shall not be. But certainly thou shalt answer for this day’s work, I warn thee.’
‘Thou hast no proof at all, fellow, that I have done aught amiss, save her lying tale: it is all a woman’s hysterical nonsense, and I am sick of the pother made of it,’ observed the Emperor, affecting great scorn.
‘Let’s be off!’ cried Prince Osbert lightly; ‘we have had enough of this now. Let the woman wiseacres in Parliament settle this little matter among themselves: it will afford them much satisfaction, I’ll warrant.’
‘Parliament!’ echoed the Emperor, while his face turned very white. ‘Surely not: this trifle is unworthy serious consideration. It would ill become our wise Senate if it occupied itself with the consideration of a woman’s silly nonsense. I will, myself, settle this matter with Mistress Mercia. I promise that, gentlemen, so do not trouble yourselves further about it.’
‘It shall not end in this way;’ returned Geometrus firmly; ‘I shall see that this matter is not hushed up.’
‘So shall I!’ came from a voice from behind a screen in the room; when therefrom emerged an old man named Sadbag, a leading Radical politician, who was dead against Royalty, and affected reform, advocating strongly a Republican form of Government.
‘The Emperor’s conduct is a disgrace to our civilisation,’ he continued, ‘I have seen the beginning and end of the whole affair; for I was seated reading in that corner yonder, awaiting an audience of Mistress Mercia, when the Emperor was ushered in unnoticed by me; I continued reading until I dropped asleep and was aroused by the Emperor’s passionate tones when making his love-appeals to the obdurate Mistress Mercia. She scorned him, and he got furious. I saw it all! I will never forget the scene if I live to the age of Methuselah!’
‘My stars, but Kate will make it hot for thee! She will have good cause for her jealousy this time, old man! I wouldn’t be in thy shoes for a kingdom; fancy, the virtuous Felicitas caught corrupting his astronomer! Oh, my, this is funny!’ cried the light-minded prince, who laughed heartily, at the thought of the scrape his cousin had got into.
‘Funny isn’t the word for it—it is atrocious—abominable! It hath been ever the custom of idle monarchs to fill up their time with seducing good women. The hunting is more keen when the lady is virtuous, and thereby the game made all the more delightful. Let’s do away with such good-for-naughts—they are a disgrace to our country!’ cried the old man excitedly addressing Geometrus.
‘So then, wouldst thou trump up a story to lose me my crown in order to establish thine own political absurdities? Thou, and the woman Mercia are in league against me! You twain have hatched this conspiracy to work my disgrace. But I will scatter it to the winds—I will prove its utter falsity. I will show how futile are your plans to bring about a revolution: Mercia and thou shall die for your crimes; for it is nothing short of high treason.’
‘High bunkum, thy Majesty talkest!’ retorted Sadbag sarcastically; ‘thy blundering only equals thy blustering. Thy cousin, the prince, and Geometrus are witnesses of the truth of my statement, for they saw for themselves the fag end of the affair; they caught thee forcibly detaining the lady, and heard her threaten to kill thee.’
‘That of itself makes high treason! To threaten the life of the Sovereign is enough—the law still holds good in my realms to punish such crime with death. This one charge alone against Mercia is sufficient! She must die the death of a felon, and pay for her temerity,’ returned Felicitas, who thus interpreted the law with much assumption of dignity, to suit his own convenience.
‘The nation will not see Mercia die for such a dastard as thou!’ exclaimed Geometrus, suddenly awakening from the stupor of surprise that had overtaken him, as the matter developed itself. ‘I saw thee last week philandering around her, but at that time I understood not its meaning; neither did she; otherwise she would have taken more precaution in receiving thee. Even then, she requested me to remain in the room when she gave thee an audience. She surely had some instinct that thou wert not to be trusted—ah—now I see it all!’
‘A trusty witness truly! She and thou have spent the time philandering yourselves, and this is why thou measureth me a peck out of thine own bushel. Thou shalt be indicted, Geometrus, for breaking the oath of thine engagement. Thou hast been spending the nation’s time love-making, and hatching high treason,—all three of you shall repent your little games.’
‘Blacking the character of another will not clear thine own. These wholesale indictments of thine will not serve thee. Thy case is a poor one, and thou hadst better own thy fault, rather than invent outrageous charges against thine accusers;’ urged the old man with greater calmness than he had hitherto displayed.
‘Mercia made the admission herself,’ replied Felicitas. ‘She said she loved Geometrus and fain would marry him if she might.’
At this Geometrus started, and went very red in the face; being totally unprepared for this avowal of the Emperor; which gave him a sudden pleasure he was unable to conceal.
‘There is proof abundant, if more be wanting, of the nature of the Emperor’s business with Mercia,’ observed Sadbag reflectively, then turning to the Emperor, he demanded—‘What happened that this matter of Geometrus’s love was discussed between you?’
‘She desired me to use my influence with my Cabinet to get the custom changed which hath been so long observed, so that she might retain her post and take a husband at the same time.’
‘And thou, in thy great benevolence and generosity didst promise, and finish by trying to make her pay for the boon by accommodating thy desire?’ suggested Sadbag, following up the clue the Emperor’s admissions had given him.
‘I will answer no more of thy questions, fellow,’ responded Felicitas, who looking very uncomfortable made for the door.
‘I think this business is getting too hot for thy Majesty; thy capers are costing too dearly. What folly to count on a strong-minded woman like thine astronomer! Why didst thou not make advances to some idle lady of thy court where such favours are dispensed more readily?’
‘I will have thee indicted for a revolutionist and a maker of mischief in my realms, and pay thee well for all these insults,’ retorted the Emperor as he left the Observatory.
‘Bounce and boast help no one for long; not even an Emperor!’ called out Sadbag after him.