‘Let me take up a position of inactivity,’ she murmured to herself, ‘I will await developments as they unfold, and shape my course accordingly.’
Did the Emperor dream of success in his endeavour to corrupt the faultless Mercia? It was, indeed, a bold step for him to take with one so high-minded, so self-controlled as she. But her very unattainability made her all the more desirable in his eyes: the more he dwelt on the futility of his wish the more violently his passion raged within him.
‘I must have Mercia!’ he exclaimed to himself as nightly he lay awake dwelling on her beauty, her goodness, and her extraordinary abilities.
‘She must be mine, I cannot live without her! I will go to her again—I will risk all, and tell her of my love. If need be, I will break down that barrier that divides us; I will not be baulked of Mercia. If she refuse to become mine secretly, I will wed her openly, and get rid of that flat-faced Russian woman whom my ministers talked me into marrying.’
Now Felicitas spoke wildly when he gave way to these thoughts, for it was impossible to put away the Empress, he having no adequate cause given him to justify such an attempt. Russia would indignantly resent such treatment of their Princess, and none of the foreign Powers would stand by him in his demand.
From nineteenth-century immorality covered by the thick cloak of religion, a change had gradually taken place for the better in matters matrimonial. In fact, a high standard of morality in all things had taken the place of religious superstitions; consequently, the teachings of common sense were adopted in the remodelling of divorce laws, which for ages had contained serious blemishes. This, in part, was owing to the absurd restrictions of the clergy of those times, the upper members of which body holding the position of chief legislators together with the peers of the realm.
These insisted on the indissolubility of the marriage tie, as far as ever it was possible to make it, quoting ancient Mosaical laws in support of their views, as if those old-time regulations which were probably suitable enough in their day for the primitive people for whom they were framed, should continue as a guide for all ages.
But long before Felicitas’ time a great revolution had taken place in laws matrimonial, which benefited society very materially. These were now framed on more equitable principles, for the truest benevolence pervaded their spirit, the punishment of the guilty one being not the only object sought, as in nineteenth-century law, which forbade the divorce, if it was discovered the two were agreed for it, but rather the happiness of both. Marriage was now regarded as a serious civil contract which could not easily be violated, but relief from its yoke was allowed under certain conditions, without either party having been conjugally unfaithful. If a couple living a notoriously unhappy life, and finding they were totally unadapted for each other, finally agreed to separate, it was possible to get the marriage contract annulled, and the two set at liberty again.
The children of the marriage, if any, would be equally divided between them, or some amicable arrangement arrived at.
This severance did not relieve the husband of the responsibility of her maintenance, except in cases where the wife possessed sufficient means of her own to live upon, or in the event of her marrying again, when of course, all responsibility on his part ceased.