The king had the drum beat
To call out his ladies—
And the first one he sees
Steals away his soul.
It seemed to come with the sea-breeze from beyond the murmurs of the land. It was the music of the yacht playing the air chosen by Ethel, that air which Helia hummed when she was alone. Ethel had foreseen the hour when Helia would be entering the throne-room. The music from the yacht was to greet her triumph. Now it seemed to be soothing her agony.
“Listen, Phil, listen!” said Helia; “do you remember?”
Phil remembered all and saw all once more—his first love, the little Saint John, the Louvre paradise, all his promises! His youth blossomed in his heart.
In his breast rose a flame which burned away every selfish thought. Yes, he had promised! Helia had lived in that only hope; he had let her fall from the height of her dream! He had shut off the future from her. He had dug a pit with his selfishness, and pushed Helia into it when she ceased to please! He had turned his back on her despair!
It seemed to him that a giant hand was bending him low before Helia and a voice was saying: “Down on your knees!”