CHAPTER XXII
THE HEART OF GALVA
"I think we understood each other in Paris, didn't we, Armand?"
"Yes, dearest, but a definite answer to a definite question issatisfactory; now that you have given me the sweet 'yes,' I will speakto your guardian."
"To-night--speak to him to-night, dear. I know he will be pleased,and," shyly, "if he isn't, I am really afraid that it will make nodifference to the 'yes'--or to me."
Galva drew herself away from her lover's embrace.
"He will have something to tell you--about me," she went on rathersolemnly; "there he is. Good-night, dearest; I am tired and I want tobe alone with my happiness--for I _am_ happy to-night, Armand--veryhappy."
The lips of the lovers met in the shadow of the portico, and whenEdward came through the hall he found the duke alone. The two menlinked arms and fell to pacing up and down the gravelled space in frontof the house. It was not yet eleven and quietude had once more settleddown over the Casa Luzo. As they walked, Edward was relating to theduke how he had seen the two prisoners safely disposed of in one of theroomy cellars that ran out under the back courtyard, and had learntfrom old Teresa, much to his satisfaction, that it was not likely thatDasso would put in an appearance for some days.
He and Mozara had paid two visits to Casa Luzo since the coming ofGalva, but on the last of these the old woman had overheard that,thinking their prisoner perfectly hidden, and the news of her deathaccepted, Dasso would remain near the Palace waiting for the death ofthe king. As Edward mentioned the dying monarch he glanced slyly up atthe duke's face, paused a moment, then:
"They are saying that your poor uncle can't last long."
At this his companion wheeled round on him.
"So you know my secret?"
"I am not blind, your Highness; you are Armand Enrico Marie, Prince ofAlcador, heir-apparent to the throne of San Pietro."
"----which is the only one of the eleven titles I possess of which I amnot proud. It is no honour to claim kinship with King Enrico. But Iam glad you know, it saves explanations--I have asked Galva to be mywife."
Edward looked up quickly, then let his gaze rest on the tree tops ofthe forest.
"Ye gods," he murmured, then felt that the duke was regarding himcuriously.
"You are pleased, Mr. Sydney? Galva does not know that it is a throneI am offering her. I will make her a queen, she--what are you lookingat, Mr. Sydney?"
Edward drew his eyes back from their contemplation of the tree tops.
"I was thinking," he said slowly.
The duke waited.
"----Yes, I was thinking," went on Edward, "whether what you have toldme--oh, damn it all, you've got to know. Come inside, I think Iremember seeing a bottle of wine in there, and I have a story totell--no, not a word until we have found the bottle and you have heardthe story." And the duke, mystified into silence, followed him intothe house.
The dining-room still showed some signs of the late struggle, but the_debris_ had been in part cleared away, and old Teresa was rubbingvigorously at the blood stain on the oaken floor. She rose from herknees as the men entered, and taking her bucket, slipped from the room.As the door closed behind her the duke broke the silence.
"I really cannot understand the way you have taken my news, Mr.Sydney," he began, a little haughtily, and Edward held up his hand.
"Of course you can't, I can't get the hang of it myself all at once.Sit there, will you? This Chianti is excellent"; then, when the menwere seated facing each other across the wood fire--
"You will remember hearing about the tragedy at the Palace at Corbofifteen years back. I expect you have heard the details over and overagain. When the dynasty of the Estratos was all but wiped out----"
"_All but_, Mr. Sydney?"
"That is what I said, prince. The popular belief was that the entiretree of that illustrious house was cut off root and branch, and thatall its members perished on that evil night, but it was not so. ThePrincess Miranda escaped the fate of her parents."
"But the child--a baby--was killed with the queen."
"A child was, but it was not hers. You were speaking to the mother ofthe dead child only a few hours ago. It is Anna Paluda's little onethat lies buried in Corbo Cathedral."
Edward paused impressively, but the duke did not speak. He sat withhis dark eyes fixed on the face of the man who was telling the tale.
"That poor woman was foster-mother to the little princess, and the twochildren were in the night nursery at the time of the tragedy. QueenElene took up the wrong baby, that's all. It's one of those simplemistakes which mean so much. Anna has sunk her revenge for all theseyears for the sake of the little girl who was almost as much to her asher own, but her revenge is not dead; some one will pay the price whenthe princess's affairs are settled."
"And the Princess Miranda, what--what became of her?"
Edward threw a keen look at his listener.
"Anna escaped during the excitement, taking the child with her. A fewdays later, an American gentleman came across them, living in thedeserted hut of some charcoal-burner in the woods. This kind-heartedYankee, touched by the child's helplessness and the romance of thecase, adopted her, smuggled her out of the country, and brought her upto the life of an English lady. Circumstances prevented his taking herback to the States with him, and she and Anna have spent a peacefullife on the Cornish moors until the girl's eighteenth birthday, a fewmonths----"
There came the sound of light singing from the room above them, andwith a meaning smile, Edward pointed to the ceiling.
"Her Highness the Princess Miranda seems happy to-night, eh, duke?"
As he spoke Edward leant over with a look of concern, and touched theother on the knee, for the Duc de Choleaux Lasuer was sitting silent,and had buried his head in his hands. "What's all this?" he asked, andnoted the anguish that lived in the duke's eyes as he raised his headto answer him.
"It means the loss of everything to me--everything, Mr. Sydney.Throne, position--and a love that is more than my life to me."
"Now, look here, duke: of course the throne is Galva's, there's nogetting away from that, but if she loves you and you love her--well--itseems to me that things are fitting in rather neatly."
"Oh, you don't understand. What will the people here say? How willthey speak of a man who, having lost a throne, climbs back to it on theshoulders of a woman? The honour of our family is not to be judged bythe standard of the devil who is dying back there in Corbo."
The duke had risen as he spoke, but Edward pressed him gently back intohis chair.
"I am a plain man, duke, and have lived a plain life--how plain it hasbeen you would never guess. One of these days I will tell you allabout the hand I have played in this affair, but not now.
"But in my plain life I have learnt two or three plain facts, and oneis that we must take what the good gods give us; they don't, as a rule,hold out their gifts twice. As for this fetish you call honour, whathonour is there in spoiling your own life and Galva's too? You say thepeople will think badly of you. Let them. They will be in theminority, a few kill-joys--remember that all the world loves a lover.
"Yours is a love story that will ring through Europe. Your engagementbefore either of you knew the high destiny of the other has the truespice of romance, the heart-throb which always fetches the publicfavour. The Press will fight your battle."
Edward sat down feeling rather surprised at his own eloquence, anddrank off a goblet of Chianti. Then he lit a cigar and was silent.
A moment, and the duke turned to him with a sad little smile.
"You put it very nicely, Mr. Sydney. I'll talk to Galva about it inthe morning. After all, there are other things to worry about justnow. I think a little action is what I want. You say that Dasso willnot be here for a few days?"
Edward nodded.
"He lays great stress on being first in the field when Enrico dies. Idon't expect he is ever far from his house
for two minutes together.By the way, you know the Palace well, I suppose?"
"Only fairly. I have not been on speaking terms with my uncle foryears, except on state occasions when it is policy for me to show up;it's only then that I come to Corbo at all. As a youth I lived in thePalace; my father died when I was eleven. I knew every inch of thebuilding then. It's a rambling old place. Why do you ask?"
"Because I have a plan to suggest. We cannot risk more than one nighthere, and Galva will be glad to change her surroundings. Among thepalace attendants there must be one who can be bribed to smuggle usinto the building. It can only be a matter of hours before Enricodies. Then"--and Edward rubbed his hands together with a craftysmile--"Dasso will find us there to greet him. Won't he be pleased?
"I suggest that we give the wounded ruffian in the cellar money andfood. He'll be about again in a day or two. Then Pieto and Teresa,who hate Dasso like poison, will go to their master and tell of thefight and the rescue. They will also say that they overheard usplanning to leave the country, that we were heartily sick of San Pietroand all its works. They will, of course, not mention your identity.Anna will join us at the Palace, and my villa will be shut up. This isif you can manage to bribe some attendant whom you know."
The prince thought a moment.
"I fancy it can be managed. I know a way into the grounds. I used itoften when I wanted to break bounds. There was Pia, one of theunder-gardeners, who was well disposed to me. He ought to be useful ifhe is still there, as I remember Dasso thrashing him once for sprayinghim accidentally with a hose. Your Corbian does not forget a thrashingin a hurry. Yes, Pia is our man, I think."
"Very well, then; we will leave here to-morrow afternoon and reach thewalls of the grounds by the time it is dark. Then I will slip acrossSebastin Park and fetch Anna. After that we will enter by your secretway, and, please Heaven, find your gardener.--We are on the laps of thegods. Now we'll take a watch, two hours each, and don't forget to prayfor your uncle--that he may be spared another day."
"Amen to that," said the duke.
"The Princess Miranda begs to inform Enrico Armand, Prince of Alcador,Duc de Choleaux Lasuer, Baron Diaz, Count of the Holy Roman Empire,etc., etc., that she cannot accept the return of anything which she hasgraciously bestowed upon him--even her freedom."
And saying this, Galva jumped lightly up from the moss-covered boulderupon which she had been sitting, and, smiling mockingly, bowed lowbefore the young man who stood leaning moodily against the straightbole of a pine-tree.
"But, Galva, my honour----"
"Honour, indeed! And does my happiness count for nothing? Does _my_honour not weigh with you? Is it honourable to ask a young girl toshow you the treasure-house of her heart and then turn away? Perhapsthe wares don't suit. Perhaps----"
"Galva!"
"No, you must hear me out. Oh, I wish that we were just poor ordinarypeople, so that we could live only for each other, perhaps away in mylovely Cornwall. But, dear, we aren't just poor ordinary people, andwe must go where we are called."
The girl turned and pointed to where the dull crimson of the settingsun shone in the windows of the royal residence.
"There, Armand, is my future home, perched up there above the peoplewhom God has given me to rule. It is for you to make it, for me, aPurgatory or a Paradise--a prison or a home."
She held out her little white hands pathetically and stood there amongthe trees, her queenly head thrown slightly back, her lips just parted,and with the love-light smiling from under the blue of her lids. Andthe duke looked at her for a moment--then, with a glad little cry, tookher into his arms and kissed her on the lips.
"And now," said the princess as they walked up to a fallen tree trunkwhich lay half embedded in the undergrowth, "we will sit here and waitfor Mr. Sydney--and we won't talk any more nonsense, will we?"
The little party had left Casa Luzo after lunch. Teresa had beeninstructed to delay the telling of the rescue to Dasso for as long aspossible. The wounded man had gratefully accepted the handsomemonetary present offered him (especially as Dasso had already paid forhis services in advance), and was now making preparations to get backto his native town and the delights of bull-ring society.
The walk through the woods had been a pleasant one to Galva in hernew-found happiness and freedom, and her lover had not been able tofind the heart to speak the words which he knew would give her pain; infact, Edward had been gone an hour, leaving them to await his return atthe forest edge, before he had summoned up courage to the task. Andthen had come the battle, and it had lasted exactly ten minutes, andthe spoils had been all to Galva. His mind once made up, the duke gavehimself with a little sigh to his happiness.
The night came down upon the forest, and still they sat, their fingersentwined, on the fallen tree. The flush had faded from the palacewindows, leaving them grey and forbidding, and with sun-down a chillwind had come in from the sea. Behind the lovers the pine trunksshowed dimly like vast columns in some ghostly cathedral, and there wasno sound save the gentle song of the wind in the branches.
Armand drew the rug they had brought with them closer over both theirshoulders, shielding the little head that nestled so confidingly on hisbreast. When Edward returned with Anna Paluda, the Princess Galvaawoke.
The duke rose and stretched his cramped limbs. Edward reached for hishand and shook it.
"Congratulations!" he murmured.