Read Ebook: The Prize by Grier Sydney C Pearse Alfred Illustrator

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bject was to remain as near her husband as possible. At last I resolved on the strong measures from which I had shrunk at first, and bade her be ready, for I was coming to fetch her. What evil fate caused the arrival of that letter of mine to coincide with a visit of Prince Romanos to the Dardanian court? When I received an answer, it was to tell me that Olimpia had accompanied her husband on his return to Emathia, though the time was not yet propitious for him to acknowledge her. Then, when it was too late, I hesitated no longer, and went in search of my daughter. I found her in the island of Thamnos, just outside Emathian waters. Her husband had been obliged to visit Czarigrad, and durst not leave her behind at Therma. There was no prospect of his acknowledging her at present, so that she could not go with him. Highnesses, our interview was a sad one--it tears the heart to recall it. I besought my daughter on my knees to return with me--to force the hand of the man who was risking her reputation for his convenience. She refused, she had cast in her lot with him. Then I begged her to permit me to remain and confront him, to urge upon him the absolute necessity of postponing no longer the step which he constantly assured her it was his firm intention to take in the near future. If he would call in the servants and the crew of his vessel, and declare before them that she was his wife--I would be content for the present with that. The state entry into Therma, the public recognition, might come later. But she refused to let me stay. Evidently she feared what might happen if we met. She assured me solemnly that if I declared my conditions she would take sides with her husband, and agree with him that the time was not yet ripe. She and he and her personal attendants knew that she was his lawful wife, and with that she was content. Highnesses, she was not content. I saw it in her convulsed face, heard it in her agitated accents, but the husband now took the first place, and the father must yield. Sorrowfully I left my child, and since that day I never seen her."

"You heard from her, surely?" cried Zoe.

"Did she remain in Thamnos, or accompany the Prince to Therma?" asked Wylie.

"I did receive letters from her, madame. The letters were posted in Therma, Colonel, and she gave me to understand that she was occupying a villa on the Prince's property, not far from the city. To its actual position she gave me no clue--doubtless fearing that I might again attempt to see her. The first letter I received after our unhappy parting begged me very earnestly to make no further allusion to the question of her recognition, but to think of her as an ordinary wife, married to a private person whose business obliged him to be a good deal away from her. She had perfect confidence in her husband, feeling sure that he would acknowledge her at the earliest possible moment, and in the meantime she lived a rather lonely but by no means unhappy life. She amused herself with gardening and the study of the Emathian languages and her husband spent with her every moment that he could snatch from the cares of state. At length she referred of her own accord to the subject she had begged me not to mention. If her child should be a boy, she was sure the Prince would take that opportunity of acknowledging her. The child was born. It was a boy, and it was baptised John, after the last of the Emperors, by the Greek rite. Olimpia assured me continually of her husband's delight in his heir, but there was no word of recognition. At last I lost patience, Highnesses, for what could happen that could provide a more favourable moment for the announcement? I wrote to my child then that the Prince's perpetual postponement of his promise absolved me from my engagement of silence, and that I was intending to take steps to announce the marriage on my own account."

"That was a dangerous thing to do, monsieur," said Wylie.

"It was, Colonel. I recognise it now, but it was at the time that rumours of an alliance between Romanos and a Scythian Princess were freshly mooted. I desired to cut the ground from under his feet, in case he should actually be meditating any baseness of the kind. But, Highnesses, I endeavoured to mitigate any harshness which my proposal might seem to imply. I was about to visit Therma, I told Olimpia, and then I would lay before her husband a fact which would go far to remove any objections his subjects might be expected to entertain to the marriage."

"And pray, monsieur, what was that?" demanded Eirene, her pale face flushed, and her eyes glowing.

"Simply, madame, that in the poverty-stricken veteran before you, you behold the great-great-grandson of Maxim Psicha."

"Maxim Ghazi?" cried Wylie. "But why not have used that weapon before, Cavaliere?" For the name of the great Illyrian hero of the eighteenth century, who had built up a short-lived Christian state in his native highlands, and but for his early death by treachery, would probably have succeeded in driving the Roumis from Illyria, was one to conjure with among both Greeks and Slavs in Emathia.

"I was not aware of its value, Colonel. It is only the changes of these later years that have taught the world there is any Illyrian question at all. The formation of one Balkan state after another, and finally the emergence of Emathia from Roumi tyranny, have revived in the Illyrians the national feeling that has slumbered for generations, and which the Roumis did their best to stamp out by promoting local and tribal feuds. I have of course always been aware of my descent from the son of Maxim Psicha, whose mother fled with him to Magnagrecia on her husband's murder, and who married an heiress of the Pazzi and took her name, but it was not until last year, when a deputation of Illyrian notables visited me in my humble lodging, and invited me formally to place myself at the head of their struggle for freedom, that I recognised it had any bearings on present-day politics."

Wylie looked across at his brother-in-law with raised eyebrows, and Maurice spoke.

"You may not be aware, monsieur, that I myself was offered the crown of Illyria at the beginning of last year, and invited to negociate a British protectorate over the country when I refused it?"

"I was informed so, Highness, but you will permit me to say that it was your British birth, to which the Greeks in Emathia object, and not your Greek descent, which has no interest for the Illyrians, that led to the offer. When you referred the deputation to Prince Romanos and the Assembly at Therma, they turned their thoughts from you to the descendant of Maxim Psicha."

"Another opportunity lost!" cried Eirene.

"But you would have objected strongly to their adopting me on any other ground than as the heir of John Theophanis," said Maurice. "At any rate, it is satisfactory to know why the offer collapsed so suddenly. But I cannot imagine, Cavaliere, why Prince Romanos did not jump at your news. His subjects would not have objected to his marrying anyone who brought with her as a dowry the future adhesion of Illyria."

"Alas, Highness! the news was never told. I received an urgent letter from Olimpia, entreating me to write what I had to say, but on no account to come to Therma. The moment was most unpropitious, and my visit might do irreparable harm by setting people talking. I could well understand that the moment was unfortunate for my son-in-law, for the rumours of his impending marriage were becoming more definite. As you have no doubt seen, his photograph and that of the Grand Duchess Feodora were published together in the papers, and it was positively, though not officially, announced that they were engaged. I did not wish to embarrass Olimpia by insisting on visiting her against her wishes, but I wrote very strongly pressing my point, and refusing to commit my news to paper. I have had no reply to that letter, Highnesses--no further letter of any kind from my daughter."

His auditors were silent, and looked at one another. The inference was obvious, but no one liked to put it into words. At last Maurice spoke.

"Pardon me, Cavaliere; do I understand that you have had no news of Donna Olimpia from that day to this?"

"If they can be called news, I have had one or two brief notes from her husband--assurances that Olimpia could not write, but sent her love and implored me not to be anxious, and above all not to come to Therma. Nothing in her own writing--not even a pencilled signature. I wrote again urgently, demanding definite tidings of the nature of her illness, the opinion of her doctors--above all, some word from herself, failing which, I should start for Therma at once. What did I receive, Highnesses? A long letter purporting to be written by Prince Romanos at his wife's dictation. Why do I say 'purporting'? Because it was never dictated by Olimpia. It was not the letter which a loving, ailing woman would send to the fond father who was breaking his heart for her at a distance. It was the letter of a poet trying to put himself in such a woman's place, full of images that would not occur to her, of words that she would not dream of using. Highnesses, when I received that letter, my mind was made up. I also have a soul capable of stratagem. I left behind me letters to be posted at my usual weekly intervals, and started for Therma by sea."

He paused, to deepen the impression, then hurried on, his words seeming to overflow one another. "I said, Highnesses, that I possessed a mind capable of stratagem. To that let my proceedings on approaching Therma be witness. I sent my old soldier-servant on shore with my passport, and wearing clothes of mine, while I remained on board the steamer. No sooner was the name on the passport perceived than he was detained, and refused permission to proceed into the city. At the police-office he was photographed, his physical measurements taken, as though he were a criminal, and he was reconducted on board, informed that he would not be allowed to land. My worst suspicions were confirmed, but I have one consolation. Neither the photograph nor the measurements thus obtained will help the Therma police when they have to deal, not with old Filippi, but with me."

"I think you are very wise, monsieur," said Wylie. "I understand also that Prince Romanos has never seen you? You decided, then, to make your next attempt to enter Therma by land?"

"No, that was my idea," said Armitage proudly. "We met at Trieste, and the Cavaliere heard I was bound for Therma, and asked me to take him in the yacht, but I thought it would be much safer to get in by the back door. So I got him a brand-new passport, and they let him pass the frontier without the slightest suspicion as Lacroix and my secretary. I thought he might go on to Therma to see about rooms for me, and make inquiries on his own account, and then when he has found Donna Olimpia, we can bring the yacht up and get her off in it."

"But what do you think has happened to her?" asked Maurice.

"Why, that she's imprisoned somewhere, of course."

"Do you think he can have carried her off to Strio?" said Zoe. "Don't you remember that stagey old ruffian of a father of his? He said to me so evilly that Strio had dungeons as well as palaces, when he thought I aspired to the honour of being his daughter-in-law."

"But they are on the worst possible terms," said Armitage.

"Do you know, I should say that Professor Panagiotis would be the best person to enlist on your side, Cavaliere," said Maurice suddenly. "He is very keen on the Scythian match, but he can have no idea of the harm he has been doing."

"No, wait," said Wylie. "Imagine the Professor's feelings when he finds out that he has been tricked all along--that the Scythian match can't take place, and never could have done. I don't think it would be for Donna Olimpia's safety for him to make that discovery, and I am sure it will lose Prince Romanos his throne."

"That last consideration would have no weight with me, Colonel," said the Cavaliere. "Whether my son-in-law retains his position or not is a matter of indifference. My sole object now is to rescue my daughter from his clutches, and to carry off her and her child into safety--if it is not too late. After that forged letter I could believe him capable of sinking to any depths of baseness. And if it is so, if he has repaid Olimpia's confidence with treachery, then I will unveil his iniquity and hound him from his throne, if I have to tramp barefoot through Europe."

Eirene crossed quickly to where he stood. "Be it so!" she said, holding out her hand. "We are united. We will make it clear what he really is, and drive him from the throne he has usurped."

The Cavaliere Pazzi had gone on to Therma, as what Armitage called his "advance agent," to find out the best hotel and take rooms for him there, and discover which of the public buildings of the new city were worthy of being immortalised by Milordo's brush. Happily the people of Therma were not likely to guess that their lofty stucco palaces were anathema to the artistic mind, which would have infinitely preferred the tumble-down Roumi relics they replaced, so that the Cavaliere would be able to pursue his private inquiries under cover of his architectural researches. Maurice and Wylie were much occupied with a vexatious matter which was disturbing the extreme north of their territory, at the point where it touched the Debatable Land. A Pannonian scientific expedition, duly authorised by the Therma Government, which was conducting a geological survey of the district, had contrived in some way to excite the dislike of the inhabitants, who declared that the members were looking for hidden treasure. Natural cupidity combined with race-hatred to make the search as difficult as possible, and the Emathians put so many obstacles in the explorers' way, and dogged their steps with such persistent malignity, as would have stirred even the mildest of scientists to revolt. These particular scientists were young and fiery, and demanded effectual protection for themselves and their pursuits, under the threat of holding up the North Emathian administration to the execration of Europe, sending a deputation to Klaustra to argue the case against the representatives of the peasants. Wylie would fain have hurried at once to the disputed area, and settled the difficulty on the spot, but this suggestion did not meet the learned men's wishes. They wanted, not police protection, but a definite edict to secure them from molestation, and deprecated the untoward importance which would be attached to their mission if Wylie carried out his intention. The peasants were equally determined that the strangers' proceedings ought to be stopped at all costs, and brought up relays of witnesses to prove that they were impiously and callously interfering with all manner of time-honoured landmarks.

The game of accusation and contradiction went on merrily, wasting time day after day, and Armitage was left to his own devices and to the society of the ladies for entertainment. Thus forsaken, he conceived the idea of occupying his leisure by painting Dana?'s portrait, and to Wylie's intense delight asked Zoe's leave to do so. True to her first resolution, Zoe consented, hoping to discover, during the hours occupied in the task, some clue to the enigma of the girl's personality.

As for Dana? herself, she was highly flattered by the request, having long admired in secret the large painting of Zoe which the artist had presented to her and her husband as his wedding-gift. Her ideas on the subject were not exactly in accord with Armitage's, however, as was made evident when she presented herself for the first sitting robed in Linton's best black gown and a stiffly starched white apron, with her hair strained back from her face and piled into a kind of helmet on her head, in distant imitation of Zoe's coils. Zoe and Armitage gazed at her in speechless horror as she displayed herself with much pride, and were devoutly thankful for the sudden irruption of Linton, who had discovered the unauthorised use made of her Sunday gown, and lost no time in proceeding to recover it. Zoe herself presided over the transformation of the European into the everyday Kalliop?, a change which had to be effected almost by force, for the girl was sulking furiously. She resented particularly the restoration of her hair to its usual massive plaits, for the uncouth pile secured with stolen hairpins had been a special triumph. The Lady Zoe was obliged to do her hair loosely and fluff it out to make it look at all well, whereas she, Dana?, had so much that she could hardly get it all up even when it was twisted as tightly as possible! Her face was like a thundercloud when Zoe led her back at last, and Armitage, welcoming the gay dress and long plaits in place of the grotesque array which had affronted his horrified vision, had no chance of doing more that first day than obtain an excellent attitude for an embodiment of disgust.

Things improved afterwards, though it was several days before Dana? could be induced to appear save with an expression of restrained protest, and Armitage made one sketch after another, trying to find the best attitude for bringing out the points of the beautiful face and form. Dana? was in no wise shy. To her mind the Christodoridi were the equals of any of the royal houses of Europe, and the conviction lent a stately assurance to her manner that puzzled Zoe and roused Armitage to fresh admiration. Pursuing her plan of training her handmaid for a loftier future, Zoe gave herself some trouble in the matter of choosing subjects for conversation during these mornings. She had thrown herself of late so completely into the actual life that surrounded her that Armitage was rather surprised to find how keen her interest in literary and artistic matters still remained. But he was fresh from London and the circles in which she had shone before her marriage, and he found it quite easy to believe that a brilliant woman of her achievements might find the society of Emathian country ladies, and the duty of leading them in the way that they should go, pall at times. Therefore he talked of books and pictures and historical events, following her lead, and Zoe watched Dana?'s face to see how it affected her, and tried to draw her into the discussion by asking her the right word in Greek for such and such a thing. But the result was disappointing. The girl had no foundation of general knowledge on which to build. Names which would have brought a glow of enthusiasm to the cheek of most of her countrywomen had no meaning for her, and history was represented to her mind by the rude chronicles of the sordid and bloodthirsty squabbles of her Christodoridi ancestors with the other island chiefs. When she could be induced to recite one of these metrical romances, then, indeed, her eye kindled and her voice became almost inspired, but to her hearers the matter was hopelessly inadequate to the emotions it evoked. They could not tell that she felt she had justified her descent from these rather unheroic heroes, and that the barbaric crimes and virtues which they supposed her to admire in her rulers were honoured family characteristics to her.

After the sittings had lasted for a week, Zoe came upon Armitage turning over his portfolio with a perplexed face. It was full of sketches of Dana? of all sorts and sizes--whole-length, half-length, three-quarters, full face, profile, face turned away, some worked up almost into pictures, others the merest record of a moment's pose.

"Not satisfied yet?" she asked him, smiling.

"How can I be?" he demanded, viewing with frowning brow a pencil drawing of Dana? recounting with immense gusto the tale of a particularly black piece of treachery practised against an enemy by Prince Christodoridi's father. "There's no soul in anyone of them, and it seems a kind of desecration to paint that face without it."

"How can there be?" demanded Zoe in return. "She hasn't got one--at least, that's what I am beginning to think."

"She has, she has!" cried Armitage stoutly. "I have caught glimpses of it--the merest glimpses--and it was gone again."

"They must have been the very merest glimpses, for I have been watching most eagerly, and have never seen a sign," said Zoe. "Why, even in this--" she took up a sketch of Dana? looking down on Janni and Harold playing at her feet--"in which she looks really sweet, there is not a hint of anything more than a kind of wild affection. She would go through right and wrong without a qualm to get Janni anything he cried for."

"Or Harold either. She has a very real liking for you and Harold both, I believe, though in your case it is mixed with a good deal of--of lack of comprehension."

"Why don't you say contempt at once? That is what she feels, I know perfectly well. And no doubt we are all of us miserable failures according to her savage code--and Maurice, as the best of us, the worst failure."

"No, I am the worst failure, I think. Prince Theophanis does at any rate rule, and with a strong hand when necessary. I potter about the world in a yacht, ready enough to help my friends, but without sufficient grit to annex a principality for myself. Oh, I have seen it in her eyes, I assure you, and it sets me wondering what exactly she would expect me to do on the lines of the villainous Despots she admires so much."

"Oh, murder us all, and Romanos too, and seize Emathia, I suppose--regardless of the effect on the Powers," said Zoe. "And yet you still think the soul is there?"

"I tell you I have seen it. But I can't say the look is characteristic. Still, I know exactly how it would change the whole face. I could paint it now."

"Then do it," said Zoe, with a sudden inspiration. "Paint two pictures of her, one as she is and one as she ought to be--as you and I would like to see her. That one I will put away, and when we are old and gray-headed we will look at it and see whether she has developed in accordance with it or not."

"But you would not let her see it?"

"Certainly not. One doesn't want to add hypocrisy to the poor child's obvious faults, and that would be a kind of temptation to it. No, she knows she must not look at the picture until it is finished, and you can keep the second one out of sight. When she sees herself in all her glory, she will be quite satisfied, and in no danger of finding fault with the expression."

Armitage took the advice thus tendered him, and to Zoe there was something very pathetic about the smaller picture which grew under his hand in the neighbourhood of the large one. The splendidly handsome face, with its firm lips and scornful eyes, seemed to look down with contempt on its neighbour, into which, Zoe thought pitifully, the artist had painted the reflection of his own kindly soul rather than that of his sitter. If Kalliop? had a soul, it seemed to be buried deep beyond all means of reaching it; there was no way of getting at the girl herself. These thoughts were in Zoe's mind when she came to the sitting one morning, to be met on the way by Armitage, who was carrying his large picture with some difficulty owing to a letter in one hand.

"Wait one moment, Princess," he said. "Kalliop? is not there yet, and I have just had a letter from the Cavaliere. You will like to hear what he says?"

"Oh yes!" cried Zoe. "Has he discovered anything?"

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