He paused;—then—without another word—turned, and went out.
“Poor Zouche!” said the King gently; “I accept his reproach and understand it! He is right! The recognition of his genius is one of the thousand chances I have missed! But, as God lives, I will miss no more!”
A great quietude fell on the house as the Revolutionary Committee dispersed. The last to leave was the King, his two friends, and Lotys. Lotys declined all escort somewhat imperatively, refusing to allow Sergius Thord to see her to her own home.
“I must be alone!” she said; “Do you not understand! I want to think—I want to realise our change of position. I cannot talk to you, Sergius,—no—not till to-morrow—you must let me be!”
He drew back, chilled and hurt by her tone, but forbore to press his company on her. With another farewell to the King, he stood at the top of the long dark winding stair watching the group descend,—first Von Glauben, next De Launay,—thirdly, the King,—and lastly, Lotys.
“Good-night!” he called, as her white robes vanished in the gloom.
“Good-night!” she answered tremulously, as she disappeared.
And he, returning to the empty room, stared vacantly at the table draped with black, and the funeral urn set upon it,—stared at the empty chairs and bare walls, and listened as it were, to the midnight silence,—realising that he as Chief of the Revolutionary Committee, was no longer a chief but a servant!—and that the power he sought—that power which he had endeavoured to attain in order that he might make of Lotys, as he had said, ‘a queen among women!’ was only to be won through,—the King! The King knew all his secret plans and his aims,—he held the clue to the whole network of his Revolutionary organisation,—and the only chance he now had of ever arriving at the highest goal of his ambition was in the King’s hands! Thus was he,—Socialist and Revolutionist,—made subject to the Throne; the very rules he had drawn up for himself and his Committee making it impossible that he could be otherwise than loyal, to a monarch who was at the same time his comrade!
Meanwhile, in the thick darkness of the hall below, while Von Glauben and De Launay were groping their way to the door which was cautiously held open by Sholto, Lotys, moving with hesitating steps down the stairs, felt rather than saw a head turned back upon her,—a flash of eyes in the darkness, and heard her name breathed softly:
“Lotys!”