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PRINCE HUGO. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/princehugobright02gran 
 
A. H, (SOD L D R*EY, 
 
 DRAPER, STATION! ! NMONGER 
 
 \ be A: nr c . 
 
 ISLE (\f v\iC H\. 
 
 PRINCE HUGO 
 
 
 % Ericjbt <%mirA 
 
 By MISS GRANT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF “ARTISTE,” “ MY HEART’S IN THE HIGHLANDS, ’* 
 “THE SUN-MAID,” “VICTOR LESCAR,” &C. 
 
 “ And I will be an Evening Thought , 
 A Morning Dream to thee , 
 
 A Silence, in thy Life 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 CHAPMAN & HALL Limited, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 1880. 
 
 [All Rights Reserved.'] 
 
LONDON : 
 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAR3. 
 
8Z?) 
 v, 2 
 
 CONTENTS OF YOL. II. 
 
 DOLCE FAR NIENTE 
 
 1 
 
 • 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1 
 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES 38 
 
 ALPENGLUHN . 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 58 
 
 ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE VILLA DE LA JOIE 92 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 HIS PRIMA DONNA 103 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAQH. 
 
 THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS 123 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DOES HE NOT KNOW ? 151 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 THE GENEVA STEAMBOAT 160 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SUNSET ON THE TERRACE 180 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OP MIRIAM 219 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ZARE 238 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE BOSTON 250 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TURQUOISE 26& 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A GALE . 
 
 . 278 
 
PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 Harcourt, with quiet but characteristic fore- 
 thought, had planned this day for his own 
 especial self ; with a view to his friends’ pleasure 
 certainly, but this to a secondary degree ! 
 They had all of them seemed to him, in 
 the prospect when he planned it, as merely 
 harmonious accompaniments to the quiet en- 
 joyment which he expected to be his own. 
 
 He wanted opportunity for pursuing that 
 analysis of Miriam’s new phase of development 
 of character and spirit, in which his curious, 
 indolent but reflective nature found so odd an 
 
 YOL. II. 
 
 B 
 
PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 2 
 
 attraction. And these opportunities never came 
 to Mm satisfactorily in town. Miriam was too 
 ^conscious — or rather too free from self-con- 
 sciousness — to afford them, or to assist him 
 ia their pursuit. She was occupied with so 
 Maty things and ideas ; so surrounded with 
 (people and interests, and absorbing, diversified 
 ©•secerns, that he had never got more, in all 
 these weeks of their renewed acquaintance, than 
 % partial tete-a-tete in a frequently disturbed 
 “aside ” over her boudoir tea-table, with the 
 accompaniment of all the rest of their habitual 
 party, and many others sometimes as well. 
 
 In such scenes and surroundings how could 
 he draw out Miriam to revival of confidence on 
 those old long-ago subjects which used to in- 
 terest and occupy them at Lynton Grange : 
 ia that long ago when she was a dreaming 
 school-girl, and he still almost a boy, and 
 rsne, too, who had not yet acquired such a 
 would-be comfortable cynicism, and who still in 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 3 
 
 his heart of hearts believed in her and in her 
 dreams. 
 
 Then Mrs. Leominster’s party, which had 
 been so eventful for Roderick, had disappointed 
 him. Miriam had driven down with her 
 mother, and had never hinted at his going or 
 even returning with her ; and in the garden she 
 had managed to let herself be surrounded by all 
 and sundry sorts of people. Indeed, people at 
 London parties w r ere apt to appear all one and 
 the same to her, and it was one of her mother’s 
 bitterest complaints against her, that she never 
 did manage to talk, or even to appear to be 
 talking, to what Mrs. Debugines called “ the 
 right people.” 
 
 People were all much the same at Mrs. Leo- 
 minster’s to Harcourt also, so long as she would 
 have talked to him. But she did not, although, 
 no doubt, she would have liked to do so. It 
 never seemed to occur to her to shake off the 
 sort of people who surrounded and who bored 
 
4 
 
 PIUNCE HUGO. 
 
 her, or to fall upon any little astute device to- 
 attach Harcourt to her side. And he was cross 
 and disappointed, for he was accustomed to be 
 of those — when he went to such assemblies as 
 Mrs. Leominster’s garden-party — to be of those 
 whom young ladies love to lure dexterously to 
 tete-a-tete, and one, indeed, on whom much 
 gentle feminine manoeuvring had been spent 
 vainly from time to time. 
 
 So Miriam’s ways were a novelty to him, and 
 when she left him to saunter through the 
 grounds at Mrs. Leominster’s without seeming 
 to notice him at all, he was piqued and dis- 
 consolate and cross. 
 
 But now, was his hour surely, and the sort of 
 time and scene and surrounding for which he 
 had wished. 
 
 As the afternoon crept on, and the luncheon 
 was cleared away, and they sipped their cups of 
 black coffee, and the three men lit their cigars ; 
 as they skimmed along, and the river murmured 
 
DOLCE FAB NIENTE. 
 
 5 
 
 'past them between its softly wooded banks, the 
 scene seemed suggestive of reflection, and 
 memory seemed to wander irresistibly back- 
 wards. It was inevitable for two people placed 
 .as were Harcourt and Miriam ; and as their 
 voices mingled in subdued murmurs, they could 
 not suppress the realization that they had 
 between them a past ! 
 
 “ I so often think of the old days,” said 
 Harcourt. 
 
 “Do you? I thought you had forgotten,” 
 said Miriam — “ forgotten, as you have deserted, 
 everything that belongs to that past.” 
 
 “ I tried to forget, after my mother died, for 
 I intended myself for a disciple of Epicurus, and 
 I set to work to cultivate annihilation of all 
 memory and hope.” 
 
 “And you succeeded?” she asked. 
 
 “ Indifferently.” 
 
 It was so they began — and then once more 
 there was a pause. Harcourt had taken the 
 
6 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 place near her again after luncheon, satisfied 
 that Lady Dyncourt was being well amused 
 by John Frere’s unceasingly and unobtrusively 
 pleasant flow, and that Roderick and Zare 
 wanted no auxiliary in their mutual entertain- 
 ment. And now Harcourt leant indolently 
 back upon the low seat of the barge, holding his 
 cigar between his fingers and putting it lan- 
 guidly from time to time between his lips ; and 
 he turned his face often upwards towards 
 Miriam, and watched the changeful expression 
 of her earnest, thoughtful eyes. 
 
 She looked along the line of the green bank 
 and over the sweep of the broad rippling river 
 while he talked to her, and seemed to resign 
 herself, with a completeness unusual in her, to 
 the perfect enjoyment and to the soft and sooth- 
 ing influence of the hour and scene. 
 
 Her countenance pleased him by its curious 
 quietness, by its evidence of a self-contained 
 reserve of power, by its force of self-control, by 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 its composure, and above all by that air of lofty 
 indifference to common things which so curiously 
 characterized her at all times. It expressed! 
 dominion within her own heart, over feeling?, 
 and susceptibilities of the common type, and it 
 invested her with a stillness and an aspect of 
 peace, that was wonderfully in contrast to all the 
 turbulent and passionate, or frivolous and im- 
 pressionable examples of womanhood, which it 
 had been his lot of late years to encounter and 
 know well, either at home or abroad. 
 
 “At home or abroad, indeed” — as he had 
 thought suddenly to himself — “at home or 
 abroad,” (Lady Dyncourt always excepted), he 
 had not as yet, since his very early days, been 
 fortunate in his women friends. 
 
 And yet women interested him, much as he 
 pretended on this subject a cynical and unbe- 
 lieving view. They interested him in all their 
 many varieties ; and this woman of his boyhoods 
 so unassailable, so cool, so indifferently, if always. 
 
8 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 genially, kind to him, interested him for the 
 time being, indeed, most intensely of all. So 
 he watched her, and tried to read the life’s 
 riddle of the earnest countenance, now in this 
 moment of repose. 
 
 Indeed, if Miriam had been what her mother 
 wished to see her, an acute and subtle schemei’, 
 actuated by worldly motives in her intercourse 
 with Harcourt, she could not possibly have de- 
 vised, or dictated to herself, a more successful 
 manner of dealing with him, than in this quiet 
 ©omposed way of hers, which he imputed to 
 cool indifference, and which piqued him to the 
 effort, of reviving an interest in himself and his 
 peculiar views and opinions within her heart. 
 There was little need, as it happened, to revive 
 by effort such impressions in Miriam’s case ; for 
 they were (although he did not suspect it,) all 
 again already there ! 
 
 It was not indifference towards him, that gave 
 her thoughtful countenance its absent and pre- 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 9 
 
 occupied look. The expression had grown there 
 and become habitual to her from the circum- 
 stance of her long solitude of spirit, and at the 
 same time from the constant ceaseless and deeply 
 absorbed activity of her inner life. She was far 
 from indifferent to Harcourt, but even his 
 presence could not arrest the flow of her 
 searching thoughts. She was far from indifferent 
 to the pleasant feeling that he was once more 
 as of old lingering by her, and inviting an ex- 
 change of converse now. But still, her thoughts 
 floated away from him as the boat skimmed over 
 the glancing river, and they wandered often 
 into mystical dreamlands of their own. 
 
 “ Oh, what an idle, idle delicious way of 
 spending the afternoon,” she began suddenly 
 again at last. 
 
 “ Just what you would have expected of me, 
 is it not ? ” Harcourt replied. 
 
 “ Ah ! I forgot for a moment that it was of 
 your devising. Well, perhaps it is the sort of 
 
10 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 acme of comfort and complete idleness that I 
 •should have expected of you. So this is the 
 way you have passed your life since you became 
 Epicurean, is it ? In being pulled along a sunny 
 river without exertion of any kind, in a cushioned 
 and shaded boat. Oh ! Mr. Lynton, I do 
 believe it is the truest picture of yourself you 
 could have invented for us. It is perfectly de- 
 lightful, however, all the same.” 
 
 “ The dolce far niente does imply a passive 
 state of enjoyment,” said Harcourt. “ It is 
 perhaps after all about the best and highest at 
 which we can arrive in this present estate.” 
 
 “ Not the highest. Oh no ! ” replied Miriam 
 quickly. 
 
 “ Then why fly high ? Let us be grateful if 
 we find a little taste of the lost sweetness of 
 existence by remaining in the humbler valleys, 
 leaving the higher flights to nobler souls.” 
 
 “But why not be among the noblest, and fly 
 
DOLCE FAB NIENTE. 
 
 U 
 
 “ How if we are minus wings ? ” 
 
 “ It is not always a case of flying, I suspect, 
 in this life,” Miriam murmured. “ But a slow, 
 weary climbing, gaining with stern difficulty 
 step by step.” 
 
 “ And arriving at — what ? ” he said. But 
 Miriam was silent : her cool cheek was suffused 
 with sudden colour. He had drawn her so 
 rapidly into the depths ; he had disturbed, as 
 ■with an electric and vivifying touch, that dreamy 
 dolce far niente into which the river’s rippling 
 flow w r as indeed carrying her, and he had 
 brought her back into the deeper and more 
 shadowed waters, of her most real self. 
 
 “ I do not think,” she said presently, “ that 
 we are bound, or entitled to feel ourselves able,. 
 to give form always in cold speech, to our ideal 
 of the goal to which we fain would come. But, 
 are you in earnest ? Shall I really try to express 
 it to you? I am afraid of you, Mr. Lynton, 
 thinking of our fierce word-battles of old. How 
 
E2 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 you used to rout me in argument with scathing 
 mockery in those days, and used to drive me 
 ■back to draw water for my thirsting young soul 
 from the deep turbulent wells within myself.” 
 
 Harcourt was silent for a moment, and then 
 he repeated again : “ To what ? Yes — tell me 
 •all you think about it now.” 
 
 He laid his cigar on the edge of the boat 
 beside him as he spoke, and raised his eyes to 
 fix them eagerly upon hers. She remained 
 silent a moment, meeting his full keen gaze ; 
 then before she said anything in answer to him, 
 he continued as;ain. 
 
 “Did I really silence your eager questionings 
 of my profounder knowledge in those old days 
 by my interesting and most youthful cynicism, 
 which I believe was a most unreal piece of 
 affectation the whole time ; a conceited assump- 
 tion of superiority, which for myself I did not 
 even then believe in P What an odious bear— 
 I must have been ! Did I actually laugh at you. 
 
DOLCE FAB NIENTE. 
 
 IS 
 
 and reduce you really to silence? Well, the loss 
 was mine ; but surely it was best for you. What 
 had I to say except that dolce far niente was 
 the safest ‘ ultimate ’ at which we could in this 
 mortal coil arrive ? It has been my ‘ ultimate/ 
 you see, after all my philosophic musings, and I 
 warrant you have come to abetter end than I” 
 
 “ I had so much time, you see,” said Miriam. 
 “ Men are allowed, it seems to me, so much more 
 than women, to try life actively and experi- 
 mentally, and so more absolutely to wear out its 
 illusions : men like you who are free to live 
 their lives in all directions, as they please. We 
 women are more shut in to mere contemplation 
 of life, and so I fancy our view is sometimes 
 more serene. We remain cooler as we think 
 of life, because there is not the same cloud 
 from the immediate and present effects of things 
 blurring our perceptive powers as perhaps in 
 your case, so we arrive oftener at theories of 
 
 our own; 
 
14 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ Such as that there is a better end than the 
 dolce far niente ? ” he said. 
 
 “ I do not think we can expect an end — ex- 
 pect, I mean, to make up one’s mind clearly, and 
 with conclusions that will not be changeful, upon 
 anything ; any more than we can at any time 
 anticipate that we shall find a fixed unalterable 
 groove in which we may go. But things do 
 clear and brighten, and a way, a winding, 
 entangled, but still a certain wav is revealed.” 
 
 “ A way to what ? There again we find 
 my question all unanswered still.” 
 
 “ To a higher platform, a higher, freer air to 
 breathe, a higher point from which to see. That 
 is what we want first, I think,” said Miriam. 
 “And that is a flight for which we are given 
 spirit-wings. And oh ! Mr. Lynton, it is so in- 
 vigorating. There is such a strength and fresh- 
 ness in that upper morning air.” 
 
 “ It is rather keen and chilling, however, for 
 a sensitive nature, is it not ? ” 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 15 
 
 “ Not keen, not cliilling, only invigorating and 
 fresh ; it is like this air now, blowing cool from 
 the water in comparison with the stifling artificial 
 atmosphere of that party where I saw you last 
 night. How laden that air was — how pure and 
 how cool and free, in comparison, is this ! ” 
 
 “ Do you think all that sort of thing wrong ? ” 
 said Harcourt. “Parties, I mean, and balls 
 and such festivities, to which one is led, in chains, 
 it seems to me, if one returns even for a passing 
 period to conventional existence, as I have done 
 just now. Do you mean, you think it is 
 wrong ? ” 
 
 “ Oh no ! ” answered Miriam warmly. “ No ; 
 that is the old stereotyped view. I do not think 
 we see quite straight, about right and wrong, 
 when we try to lay down laws, that run counter 
 to everything that seems necessary to an or- 
 ganized society. It is not wrong, as I imagine ; 
 only, it is not, it has no existence in the higher 
 sphere.” 
 
16 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ People never assemble themselves together 
 then in your upper realms ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, they do, and it is delightful ; only 
 they leave all their conventional smallness behind 
 them, — the scrambling, and jealousies, and care 
 for the meaner and more material things. It 
 is all shed as they pass into that atmosphere, 
 and nothing stays with them but the apprecia- 
 tion of better things.” 
 
 “ Better, from your point of view.” 
 
 “ Oh, better from the only point that can be. 
 The really true standard of things does not 
 change. Surely thought, and art, and beauty, 
 and above all unselfishness and ardour of self- 
 devotion, must be good things, look at them as 
 you please.” 
 
 “ Art is not always elevating — not necessarily, 
 I take it.” 
 
 “ No, not in this lower atmosphere, but in 
 the higher realm it is. And then there are 
 greater things even than the highest art. Action, 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 i it 
 Ik 
 
 self-sacrifice, heroism, such must be great and 
 good ; and so much we can even understand as 
 we see with our fog-blinded eyes down here.” 
 
 “ We catch a glimpse, but it is very fatiguing,” 
 he answered, “ and it is perplexing too. Better 
 to let it drift.” 
 
 “Oh! no — no. Not drift, that is the worst of 
 all,” exclaimed Miriam eagerly. 
 
 “But look at the confusion everything has 
 got into : if one thinks about one’s life at all 
 in these days, it seems to me one gets into 
 immediate trouble.” 
 
 “Nevertheless one cannot leave the thinking 
 undone,” said Miriam. “ One cannot cease to 
 strive and soar ; and after all, one is repaid — 
 because you know it is so very perfect, if only 
 for a passing moment we can reach that higher 
 air, — when if only for one swift passing gleam, 
 life catches for us that brighter light of the pro- 
 mised and coming clay. So little seems really 
 to matter then, of all those things for which 
 
 VOL. IT. 
 
 C 
 
18 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 people are fighting so hard down here, all seems 
 of so little moment. And ah ! Mr. Lynton, 
 surely we feel this most when we catch a glimpse 
 of that one most beautiful Life lived once among 
 us — that Life to which the rarefied higher atmo- 
 sphere seemed the only sustaining breath.” 
 
 “ Ah ! ” said Harcourt in a low tone, “ I 
 think I understand you.” 
 
 ‘•'Yes. Yes, I know you do. Well, it is as 
 we contemplate His life, I think, and as we trace 
 its likeness reflected on what we might make our 
 lives even now, that it strikes us, that nothing 
 is really worth retaining, of all the many prizes 
 for which we have struggled, and which we 
 have vainly hoped to win. None of them worth 
 retaining, save these precious stones of earth, 
 these few crown-gems of humanity on which the 
 new foundations will be laid. They were all 
 His — they are all that are worth striving for in 
 ourselves.” 
 
 “The foundation stones of Heaven, the precious 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 19 
 
 gems of earth. It is a poetic thought. If we 
 could exactly determine what they are,”, said 
 Harcourt. 
 
 “ Ah ! It’s more than a thought, it is a 
 reality,” said Miriam. “ And there is no doubt 
 what they are; and up in that purer atmosphere, 
 when our spirits breathe it, if but for a moment, 
 they immediately seem to be the only treasures 
 we need care to gain. The precious things of 
 •character, of inner attributes, prompting outward 
 and living deeds. The gems, the crown gems 
 of humanity, without which life deteriorates and 
 becomes really, even for us here, a worthless 
 thing — these are what seem, away in the upper 
 air of the spirit, to be our only need.” 
 
 “What do you think,” she added presently, 
 “is the most precious inner thing in life on 
 which you would base your foundation for the 
 higher sphere ? ’’ 
 
 “I used to think — complacency,” said Har- 
 court ; “ tranquillity of mind springing from a 
 
20 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 general passive contentment witli the state of 
 things.” 
 
 “ Yes, we want that first, but in a particular 
 way,” continued Miriam, warming with her 
 theme. “We want acquiescence, assent, as if 
 it did not really much matter what happened 
 to oneself. And then, activity springing from 
 intense feeling for everything beyond oneself ; 
 sympathy, enthusiasm of concern, for what is 
 endured around one ; an understanding of other 
 lives, and an indifference to one’s own. I think 
 that is the beginning of what we call heroism 
 
 in my higher sphere.” 
 
 “ It is difficult to be indifferent when one- 
 happens to feel,” said Harcourt. 
 
 “ Yes, it is true there may be suffering, but 
 that develops endurance,” said Miriam, “and that 
 too is a glorious thing ; I think the courageous 
 endurance that can look straight at life, and take 
 and face and live it, is also one of the things 
 to aim at, and an attribute that will prove a 
 
 7 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 21 
 
 foundation stone ; and then also sympathy, the 
 best of all qualities — coming as the result of 
 all. Hardness to oneself and tenderness to 
 others, that seems to describe it. That was His 
 life, you know, the one Star of that night in 
 which all humanity seems shrouded. I do not 
 like to sermonize you, as you would say, Mr. 
 Lynton, but you know if you will penetrate 
 beyond conventionalities, you arrive at once at 
 this point with me — for it seems to me to imply 
 everything. 1 used to dream of a higher life, 
 you know, at all times ; a loftier sphere of 
 being, a grander field of action, and more 
 especially for us women. That was my old 
 idea, and I used to think so much of all this ; 
 having what I thought grand aspirations about 
 it, and despising humble efforts and small 
 results, until gradually — away up in that night, 
 where I saw men and women in darkness 
 struggling to find a new and better way — I 
 seemed to realize Him, who lived that lowly 
 
22 
 
 PBINCjE HUGO. 
 
 and wonderful Life, and since then, He seems' 
 to shine above the world for me, like a vivid 
 and illuminating Morning- Star, and I see the 
 life of the higher sphere simply in following 
 in His steps ; for He seems to stand, showing 
 forth in His own self that higher nature built 
 upon these new foundations, with His foot set 
 firm upon all this lower life of ours. And He 
 stands too, pointing ever upwards beyond and 
 above us all ; above our common views and false 
 measurements of people, of circumstances, and of 
 familiar things; and the higher air with its purer 
 and loftier breezes seems sweeping around us as 
 we stedfastly regard simply — Him. Forgive me, 
 Mr. Lynton, if you do not like my subject,” she 
 added. 
 
 * 
 
 “ I like any subject as long as you will talk 
 upon it,” he answered; “and I like your particular 
 subject of the moment, as you put it now. Ah ! 
 I fear you will say in conclusion, that this is an 
 enervating and sedative atmosphere in which I 
 
DOLCE FAR N1ENTE. 
 
 23 
 
 have been dreaming away my time ; for mine is 
 certainly, looking from your ethereal point of 
 view, a useless and resultless life.” 
 
 “ I should not like to say that of any one,” 
 said Miriam. “ Prom my ideal point of view 
 the prospect is so wide, all lives have somehow 
 
 their place and purpose, and I am sure 
 
 Well, Mr. Lynton,” she added after a moment’s 
 hesitation, “ your life is still in progress, you 
 do not know to what heights it may yet 
 aspire.” 
 
 “I want wings,” he said, “I want wings, I 
 am heavily crippled with a tendency to make 
 the best of diurnal things.” 
 
 “ But it need not always be so.” 
 
 “ I fear, I feel no premonitory symptoms that 
 I am destined for higher flights. Look, it is 
 all very well; but is not life pleasant, simply in a 
 quiescent state of idleness to-day ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, we are all holidaying to-day,” said 
 Miriam lightly, and she smiled round upon 
 
24 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 him with an effort to throw off the serious mood 
 into which he had inveigled her. “It is certainly 
 very lovely, and we are indebted to you for a 
 piece of delightful experience we shall not soon 
 forget.” 
 
 “ And I to you,” he answered, “ for a glimpse 
 in through the mystic portals of the spirit 
 spheres. I felt somehow, by intuitive percep- 
 tion when I saw you again, that you had taken 
 wings and soared further than ever beyond my 
 understanding or my vision.” 
 
 “ Oh no, I have done nothing — I am not 
 speaking of any thing I have achieved, only of 
 my ideal of things. I have not yet found the 
 groove, you know, in which I can go on and 
 work out, all I think and feel.” 
 
 “ Well, who knows ? ” said Harcourt. “ Per- 
 haps, if we talked as we did in the old days, 
 just now and again, we might help each other 
 mutually to find — what ! Goodness knows what ! 
 But something, which might prove a rudder over 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 25 
 
 the stormy sea of life, perhaps for both your 
 ship and mine.” 
 
 “ I think talking to me, would bore you,” 
 said Miriam. 
 
 “No, that certainly not; only I am disap- 
 pointed because you are by no means so assertive 
 and pugnacious as you were long ago, in argu- 
 ment ; and I have not had my nerves braced 
 from combat to the degree I anticipated. Look, 
 here we are, approaching Dorney Court, I 
 declare.” 
 
 And so they actually were — the soft evening 
 shadows were already threatening to fall. Softly 
 the barge had glided on, passing lock after lock, 
 by sloping fields, and clustering woods, past 
 Marlow, Cookham, Cliefden, and Formoso, and 
 now it was nearly six o’clock of the lovely July 
 evening, and they were approaching Taplow, 
 where Harcourt had arranged that they were to 
 land. The tete-a-tetes broke up, and they 
 gathered in the centre of the barge now ; and 
 
PIUNCE HUGO. 
 
 26 
 
 they chattered and laughed, — in general con- 
 versation together — until the appearance one by 
 one of little flat-bottomed boats, with minnow 
 fishers seated on chairs in the middle of each, 
 with steady line resting on the water and long, 
 white “ puggerees ” covering their hats, attracted 
 their attention, excited exclamations of immense 
 amusement from Zare, and intimated that they 
 were nearing the goal of their pleasant voyage ; 
 the point at which they were to part with their 
 barge, and where, at the renowned little house of 
 entertainment, they were to have an evening's, 
 repast before returning by train to town. There, 
 as before, everything was ready and in waiting 
 for them, and in the little quaint inn parlour, 
 with its low French window opening out upon 
 the green lawn of the garden that sloped towards 
 the flowing river, they had a wonderful repast; a 
 repast indeed, on which Luloni and Mr. Minton’s 
 genius and device, in supplying food for the 
 demands of varied national and habitual tastes. 
 
DOLCE FAB NIENTE. 
 
 27 
 
 seemed once more to have been most cleverly 
 exercised. 
 
 This despatched, they wandered down to the 
 river. It wanted still half an hour to their 
 return train, and this half-hour seemed sug- 
 gestive. 
 
 It was their last, and it was quite evening 
 now. A wonderful stillness seemed to fill the 
 air, and the shadows on the water were stretch- 
 ing far, and sinking dark and deep. The 
 green bank sloped invitingly towards the river 
 brink — they all sat down upon it. 
 
 The rushing stream whispered murmuringly 
 through the long rushes and sedge grass, and 
 curled round the keels of the little light boats, 
 lashed to the pier’s side, tossing them airily to 
 and fro with the force of the current, and 
 making constant soft rushing sounds. 
 
 They had the place almost to themselves, 
 for the season was so nearly over, that few 
 habitues of Taplow were left in town, and the 
 
PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 28 
 
 pretty garden, with its cluster of late roses and 
 gay-coloured creepers growing richly over the 
 house-walls, seemed a really rustic and country 
 retreat to-night, with few cockney suggestions in 
 its surroundings at all. 
 
 “ Now,” said Lady Dyncourt, “ just half-an- 
 hour more of our sylvan and arcadian existence, 
 and then back to civilization and to town. Miss 
 Lagonidet, will you not consecrate this last half- 
 hour, by bestowing one more enjoyment upon 
 all of us ? Will you not add to our charming 
 recollection of this lovely July day, the memory 
 of one of your lovely songs — I think the moment 
 suggests music.” 
 
 “Oh, do,” “Please,” “It would be perfect,” 
 came from one and all ; and Zare coloured in 
 her shy girlish way. 
 
 She always coloured and said little, when 
 they all turned upon her, but she assented at 
 once. 
 
 In one moment, her rich full notes rose in a 
 
DOLCE FAB NIENTE. 
 
 29 
 
 sweet Italian barcarole — a pretty, quaint thing, 
 that sounded all the more fresh and natural, as 
 she sang it, sitting there on the grass without 
 any accompaniment, and sending forth her eager 
 young voice, in a glad carol, across the rippling* 
 water, into the still night air. The effect was 
 charming ; they all sat enthralled with intense 
 enjoyment, as the shadows fell deeper and 
 deeper upon them, and her voice went melo- 
 diously on. “Brava! brava!” exclaimed Roderick, 
 clapping his hands with pleasure as she ended, 
 and they all uttered, in murmured accents, their 
 admiration and their thanks. 
 
 “ Well, that is really something charming, 
 with which to crown the pleasantest day I have 
 had this season,” said Lady Dyncourt. “ Mr. 
 Lynton, thanks a thousand times to you.” 
 
 “ It was so good of you to come,” Harcourt 
 answered. 
 
 “ Very good to ourselves, I think. Mr. 
 Frere and I have said a dozen times to each 
 
30 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 other, how pleasant we found it; and I must 
 tell you the device we fell upon for imagining 
 its pleasure prolonged.” 
 
 “ What ?— it is, in fact, horribly nearly over 
 now,” said Roderick, turning round, where he 
 lay stretched on the sloping grass by Zare, to 
 look up into Lady Dyncourt’s bright face. 
 
 “ Ah ! I fear our projects may not include 
 you,” sighed Lady Dyncourt ; and she looked 
 round, in answer to him, with a kind regretful 
 expression in her eyes. “ Not you — I fear 
 nothing will rescue you, Mr. Ray. from the stern 
 Admiralty commands.” 
 
 “ No, hang it all ! ” exclaimed Roderick ; “ I 
 declare I never wished I was not a sailor till 
 now. But I wish it now — I wish it all day 
 long,” he continued wistfully, looking, with eager 
 sorrowful eyes, round towards Zare. 
 
 “ I like a sailor,” she said softly to him. 
 
 “ So you say, God bless you, and that is the 
 only thing that consoles me. And I am not 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 31 
 
 going far, after all ; it will be only a six-months’ 
 cruise, and you will not have forgotten me by 
 then, Zare, my darling — will you, my own 
 love ? ” he whispered, lowering his voice, so that 
 the words only stole to her ear. 
 
 She put up her finger, as if to touch his sun-, 
 burnt cheek, as he raised it so close to hers, 
 from where he lay by her side on the grass ; but 
 she let her hand fall again, only smiling and 
 shaking her head in answer to his pleading 
 words. 
 
 “ I will never say again that one cannot have 
 a pleasant holiday in London,” said John Frere, 
 presently, in his quiet low tones. 
 
 “ No, or by agreeably getting out of London,” 
 said Lady Dyncourt. “ And, by the way, that 
 was — as I was just beginning to tell you — the 
 subject of Mr. Frere’s and my constant dis- 
 cussion this afternoon — ‘ Getting out of London.’ 
 We have all got to do so immediately — and 
 where do we all mean to go % ” 
 
32 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 They turned towards her, with awakened 
 interest, as she spoke. 
 
 Where were they all going ? To where 
 would they scatter — that happy party, sitting 
 there together, in the twilight of that July day,, 
 in the sloping gardens of the little Taplow inn ? 
 When might they meet again, in such undis- 
 turbed tranquillity ; with the picture of life so 
 vague in outline, and yet so soft and alluring, 
 as at that moment it lay for several of them 
 before their hopeful young visions ? When and 
 where might they meet ? Where and when — 
 if, indeed, ever — with hearts so light and 
 so unembittered, with aspirations so pure and 
 so high ; with hopes so vague, so shadowy, 
 but so intensely sweet, with life lying all 
 veiled before them — life an enigma still 
 unread ! 
 
 They were nearly all still, more or less, in 
 their respective dreamlands. Would they ever — 
 all united and together — spend such a mystically 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 33 
 
 tender evening within these enchanted portals 
 again ? 
 
 “ What is to become of us all,” repeated Lady 
 Dyncourt, “ when the season is quite over, and 
 everybody has left town ? We must go, too, 
 you know.” 
 
 “ For one,” said Harcourt, “ will you tell us 
 where you are going to, Lady Dyncourt ? ” 
 
 “ I ? — I am going, of course, to Scotland for 
 August, as we do, with all proper regularity, 
 every year. I am going to bore myself, more or 
 less, on the breezy heights above Locli Innary, 
 while my liege lord shoots grouse. We have 
 got such a little bit of a lodge there, alas ! or I 
 would invite every one of you to come up to 
 me ; only that, besides my poverty of house 
 room, I do not for a moment think that any one 
 of you would come.” 
 
 “ I should like nothing better, for one,” said 
 Miriam ; “ but my fate is sealed. We go to 
 Spaalbad, for Mr. Debugines’ gout, in August, 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 and then to an hotel in Switzerland, for the rest 
 of the autumn. I believe Mr. Debugines likes 
 foreign better than Scotch air, and my mother 
 thinks nothing so dull, nowadays, as a highland 
 house ; so my northern journeys are ‘no more’ in 
 this present phase of life.” 
 
 “ I believe I will go to Switzerland, also, some 
 time or other, in the autumn,” said Harcourt. 
 “ I mean to go to Italy this winter, by that 
 newly-opened pass. I will drop round by 
 Geneva, in search of you in September.” 
 
 “It will be very pleasant if you do,” said 
 Miriam. 
 
 And at the same moment, Zare raised her soft 
 voice, and said : — 
 
 “ It is also quite settled, that I am to go to 
 Switzerland till the autumn. My friend, Mrs. 
 Redmond, is going to be all August and Sep- 
 tember at Vevey, and I think,” she added hesi- 
 tatingly, “ that I shall stay there with her.” 
 
 “ You shall stop there with her till we arrive,” 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 35 
 
 said Miriam, smiling affectionately at her. “And 
 then yon shall remove yourself to my care, if you 
 please, Zare.” 
 
 “ It will be some comfort for me to think of 
 you two together,” said Roderick, sadly. “ Look 
 here. Do join in with Mirrell, will you, Zare, 
 and then you can write me everything- — both 
 of you. — that you do. Oh, how horrid that 
 I shall not be with you all the time.” 
 
 “Well,” said Lady Dyncourt, “ it is horrible 
 for all of us, Mr. Ray — for we shall scarcely 
 meet all together again (not for a good long day 
 together, at least) till about six months hence, 
 when I hope you will have returned, and I shall 
 be back in London. Here, have Mr. Frere and 
 I been imagining, I tell you, how pleasant it 
 would be if we could all go off with him as our 
 cicerone — he knows every corner of the Alps 
 — and if we could wander about for the whole 
 lovely autumn — and I have to go and bore 
 myself in a highland shooting-box for August 
 
36 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 and September, and then go down into Corn- 
 wall for two months of pheasants, and then run 
 about to the haunts of the fox-hunter for the 
 rest of the winter — much against my choice ; 
 and here is Miriam going to wear her heart out 
 with despair over the frivolous dissipations of 
 Spaalbad ; and poor Mr. Erere, worst of all of us, 
 to be shut up in his studio, all August, in town. 
 Why, Mr. Ray, you have, by no means, the 
 worst of it among us all.” 
 
 “ Well, I think it is the worst — under the 
 circumstances,” grumbled Roderick. “ But, 
 hulloa, John, what is going to keep you in 
 town ? ” 
 
 “ The head of the great pundit,” said John. 
 
 “ You know I am doing W ’s portrait for 
 
 the new publication of * Illustrated Biographies,’ 
 and it will not be finished for, at least, a month 
 to come. Then I shall be off, too. I will come 
 in search of you and Zare to Geneva, Miriam.” 
 
 <£ Yes, do ; that will be charming,” said 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 37 
 
 Miriam. “ It will be something to look for- 
 ward to, John — for, I believe in you. I am scep- 
 tical as to the prospects of seeing Mr. Lynton 
 appear.” 
 
 “Very wrong of you to be sceptical,” he 
 asserted — “ for I fully intend to come.” 
 
 “ Dear, dear ! how I envy all you light- 
 weighted people,” said Lady Dyncourt. “ It 
 seems to me, all of you go exactly where you 
 like, and I have my conventional groove cut out 
 for me ; and I see no prospect of release from 
 grouse moors, or fox-hunting, while these two 
 
 sports endure Hah ! is that the bell ? We 
 
 shall miss the train. No, I forgot your ‘ special ’ 
 again, Mr. Lynton ; but is not that the hour 
 chiming, at which we are timed to start ? ” 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 
 
 John Prere was released, somewhat sooner 
 than he expected from his uncongenial but 
 remunerative task, of depicting for a grateful 
 posterity, the emphatic countenance of the first 
 of living Analysts, and towards the end of August 
 he was enabled to escape from the stuffy little 
 London studio, which he had rented for the 
 performance of this great work, and to betake 
 himself to the pursuit of his scattered friends, 
 and to the enjoyment of a complete holiday. 
 Twenty-four hours after the end of his appointed 
 task, and he was far from the grimy scene of his 
 labours. Eleven hours carried him, all impa- 
 tience, to Paris, which appeared nearly as burnt- 
 up and dust-covered as London when he drove 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 39 
 
 through it on a hot morning from one station to 
 another. And fourteen hours more, spent in a 
 long grilling railway transit, found him at its 
 end, descending with jaded energies, but spirits 
 rising rapidly with the scale of the lightening 
 atmosphere at the station at Geneva. 
 
 It was late on a beautiful August night, the 
 moon in radiant loveliness was glancing silvery 
 and luminous on the distant outline of the 
 mountains ; on the white buildings, along the 
 gardens and the Quais, on the limpid surface 
 of the waters — where the blue Rhone rippling 
 round the Isle de Rousseau, and flowing under 
 the Pont de Mont Blanc, — poured its restless 
 and far wandering currents from out the Lake 
 Leman. 
 
 He betook himself to the * Couronne,’ an old 
 favourite resort. Not one of the most renowned 
 hostelries, but a quaint, rather old-fashioned 
 place, from the window of which, as he sat and 
 wrote, or painted, or lounged at ease smoking a 
 
40 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 peaceful cigar, be bad many a time before now 
 gazed and dreamt — delighting himself as he 
 imbibed fresh and constant inspirations, from the 
 cool delicious breezes, blowing straight towards 
 him across limpid waters, and from glacial 
 heights. Where the view had often gladdened 
 and given new life to his eager, sensitive being, as 
 he had gazed and enjoyed, and the blue flash of 
 the lake glistening beyond the Monument de la 
 Reunion had smiled back to him again, while 
 his eyes wandered away, over the distant peaks 
 and shoulders of the mountains, to where Mont 
 Blanc’s imperial crest, rose with its attendant 
 aiguilles , against the tinted curtains of the sky. 
 
 Brom the upper chamber of the Hotel de la 
 Couronne, to which as a humble itinerant artist 
 he had been often hoisted, he had enjoyed this 
 celestial prospect on many an old student holi- 
 day, and he was right glad to see it again once 
 more. 
 
 He was horribly tired ; over work, and over 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 41 
 
 rapid travel, and hot London days, and an 
 uncongenial task, had quite worn him out, and 
 on that first night of his arrival he had only 
 strength enough in him to realise, with a rush of 
 intense gladness, that he was there, in the land 
 of lake, and waterfall, and mountains once more, 
 and that he lay down to rest — after a single 
 glance towards the distant and mystic outline of 
 the towering monarch — in a clean tidy attic, and 
 in a real Swiss bed. 
 
 But morning changed all this as if by magic. 
 A sound night’s sleep, and the languor of months 
 of city labour seemed gone ! As the fresh breath 
 of the dawn came wafted towards him through 
 his open lattice, and as morning, in gorgeous 
 hues of crimson, and violet, and gold, rose 
 majestically over mountains and lake, and 
 gleamed on the white walls, and the green 
 balconies, and the many bridges of Geneva, 
 John sprang eagerly from his rest, and felt that 
 not one moment more of this delicious day must 
 
42 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 be wasted in somniferous repose. He dressed 
 as rapidly as that view from the little lattice 
 would allow him. He paused only some dozen 
 times to lean over the projecting leads, and put 
 his head out into the sweetness of this mountain 
 air ; to revel in the tints, and shadows, and 
 tender lights of the sunrise, and to watch the 
 delicate morning clouds creep along the summits 
 of the hills. He longed to open his paint-box 
 already ; and a descriptive article on “ The First 
 Sunrise in Geneva after an August in Town,” 
 seemed to rise spontaneously to his ready brain, 
 and to press for immediate utterance at the pen 
 point. But he had other thoughts as well. 
 
 “ Where are they all, I wonder ? ” was about 
 his first clearly realized idea, coming suddenly 
 to him as he peered from his little window, and 
 thus evidently suggested by the far reaching 
 view. “Shall I find them all up the lake there? 
 I wonder at what particular point they have 
 come to anchor, and whether we shall manage 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 
 
 43 
 
 a tryst ! Or is Miriam still at Spaalbad, and has 
 Lynton lost himself somewhere, perhaps on the 
 Dolomite heights? At least, I am sure of Zare. 
 Pretty one, how have you been using your idle 
 wings for wayward flights since we parted in 
 July?” 
 
 “ Poor Roderick ! Ah ! he is baking under a 
 hotter sun than is rising over Mont Blanc there, 
 and in a sunshine flashing upon a more shadeless 
 sea than Lake Leman. Poor Roderick! I wonder 
 if they have lately heard of him ? Dear me ! 
 „we have been pretty well scattered all of us, 
 of Lynton’s barge-party of the 24th ! And Lady 
 Dyncourt, our charming chaperone ? I am afraid 
 I shall find on these sunlit shores no trace of 
 her ! I wonder what bag her lord made upon the 
 twelfth, and how she liked it. She is a delicious 
 bohemienne, is Lady Dyncourt — sadly wasted 
 upon civilization. But no Philistine, not a bit 
 of her ! Philistiniana has no part in her ! She 
 is ‘ grande dame ’ by destiny ; she might have 
 
44 
 
 FB1NCE HUGO. 
 
 been Bohemian by choice, but Philistine by no 
 possibility. Never ! Well, I wonder where I 
 shall find them all, such of the old set as I can 
 hope to discover in their foreign haunts, and I 
 wonder whether any of them have written to me. 
 Ah ! happy thought. Is the post-office open ? 
 Let me see. It will be in less than half an hour. 
 Capital ! that is it, we are arriving there. I shall 
 finish dressing, saunter down, and claim my paste- < 
 restante. I begged them to write direct to me 
 here. And then, I will just turn into the old 
 place on the Quai de Rive, and read up all that 
 fate may reveal to me about everybody, while I 
 have a cup of coffee and smoke my morning 
 cigarette.” 
 
 An hour later and John had worked out his 
 programme. His morning lounge was accom- 
 plished along the Grand Quai and the Jardin 
 Anglais. He had been also to the Bureau de la 
 Poste. He had been delighted by the receipt there 
 of a budget of friendly looking letters, and now, 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 45 
 
 with these, and a replenished cigar case, and a 
 big, blue-lined umbrella, he had finally come to 
 anchor beneath a painted verandah beside a 
 myrtle tree in a huge green pot at a round table, 
 where, at the Cafe Noisette, a pleasant little 
 breakfast cil fresco was speedily supplied for him 
 by an assiduous and very antiquated (/argon, in 
 a snowy white apron and coat. 
 
 How delicious it was, after all the dust, and 
 heat, and weariness of the last few weeks, to sit 
 t idly and reposefully there ! To hear the cheerful 
 and busy clatter of the restaurant at his back. 
 To smell the rich, pungent fragrance of the coffee 
 which was being prepared in quantities,— to 
 be carried out on little round trays, with piles of 
 crisp, fresh rolls, and delicious Narbonne honey, 
 and placed, on the countless small tables, where, 
 beneath the shade of the verandah, within view 
 of the Rhone’s pellucid streams, and the lake’s 
 sweet glistening smile, and the mountain’s 
 distant majesty, the frugal Genevese bourgeois, 
 
46 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 (clad in light, cool blouse, and wearing broad 
 straw hats, and unfolding gigantic bandanas,) 
 collected, all replete with happy and philosophic 
 contentment, for their morning repast. John 
 sipped his coffee, ate his crisp brown roll, and 
 felt happy and contented also, as the sun shone 
 out gaily over the bright town and on the 
 shimmering waters, and as his heart, (with hopes 
 of pleasure and repose, stretching joyfully before 
 him,) seemed to bathe in the gladdening sunshine 
 with all the rest. He spread out his budget of 
 letters on the table before him beyond his coffee 
 cup and pile of rolls, and he conned the directions 
 with amusement, and with anticipations that 
 were most agreeable. 
 
 That was certainly Miriam’s fine and rather 
 masculine caligraphy. It bore the post-mark 
 “ Spaalbacl,” so she was still in durance vile 
 over there. And that was Lady Dyncourt. 
 “ How good-natured of her,” he thought, “ to 
 write to him so soon in answer to his grumbling 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 
 
 47 
 
 rigmarole from London ! ” And that third was 
 his Paris dealer, from whom he anticipated per- 
 haps a tidy order for some Swiss views. 
 
 And that was surely Zare’s little, foreign, 
 pointed handwriting. Ah ! so much the better. 
 Then he could gather some idea where to direct 
 his steps in search of her at least, and now he 
 would be able after breakfast to make his plans. 
 
 Pie pushed his empty coffee-cup aside pre- 
 sently, and lit his little paper cigarette, and then 
 he took up Miriam’s letter first. He broke the 
 seal. Miriam sealed her letters, which always 
 amused John : it was characteristic of the finish 
 and satisfying completeness there was in all she 
 did. 
 
 He laughed outright as he read the first 
 words ; then he paused, took his hat off and 
 laid it on the table beside him, pulled towards 
 him a second chair, and put his feet upon the rail 
 behind, and pushing his hair back from his 
 forehead, all wrinkled up as it was in his queer 
 
48 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 way when amused, he settled himself fairly 
 down to peruse Miriam’s epistle, which was 
 lengthy, and required attention and time. 
 
 “ Hotel du Roi> Spaalbad. 
 
 “Mr dear John, — 
 
 “ Still in kettles and steam, which, 
 considering the thermometer, is not refreshing ! 
 Still in this glare, and racket, and row ; still with 
 braying bands under the windows, and prancing 
 spinsters, and rouged dowagers, and enterprising 
 campaigners trooping in crowds, — as our last 
 friend in Americans says, — ‘ all around.’ Still 
 watching the emergence of Mr. Debugines’ gout 
 from out his most retentive system, and suffer- 
 ing these results of reflected irritation, which, in 
 his delicate organism, are inseparable from the 
 mysterious process. Still we feed in herds, and 
 sleep in rows of cells, and feel like prisoners on 
 parole. Still we are tied here, in fact, to endure 
 a life of dressed-up idleness, of solitary publicity. 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 
 
 49 
 
 Of promenades, of baths and water-drinkings, of 
 table dholes and public salons, that to me at 
 least is most uncongenial. Or is it, John, that 
 the company in which I do it all, is so uncon- 
 genial, more than the life itself? Sometimes 
 this strikes me, for under happy circumstances 
 I seem so easily amused ; and now, I think, if 
 I had you to saunter up and down, even in this 
 gaudy and garish place with me ; to sketch the 
 funny groups and couples under the walnut trees ; 
 to point out to me the comic view of it, and all 
 the quaint combinations that I never see for 
 myself, I fancy I should enjoy it all, and think 
 la vie aux eatix as delightful as my little neigh- 
 bour at the table d'hote, Mademoiselle Levons, 
 thinks it. She has come from Tours with a 
 very gouty and very explosive papa, but she 
 does not seem one bit to mind about him, and 
 lets him grumble and scold, and, I am afraid, 
 even conjure all the known and unknown gods 
 of mythology unheeded, while she dodges round 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 the corner of the boulevard, just out of hearing, 
 but within decorous reach, with M. Merle, a big 
 Chasseur cousin, who has just come home on 
 leave in time to escort the little demoiselle and 
 the revered uncle aux eaux. 
 
 “Well, John, if you were here to escort me 
 now and again out of hearing of good Mr. De- 
 bugines, I might not bore myself so reprehen- 
 sibly as I have been doing, for the last fortnight ; 
 and might not be pining for the Swiss mountains 
 and the shores of the lovely lake as much as at 
 this moment I do. 
 
 “So much — and quite enough, of myself! 
 And now — what news can I send you of 
 everybody? Well, first, in a roundabout way, 
 from Lady Dyncourt, I hear that Harcourt is 
 really coming to Switzerland, over some out-of- 
 the-way pass of which the name has escaped 
 me; and from Zare I hear that she has been 
 for some weeks completely settled at the Hotel 
 Trois Couronnes at Vevey with Mrs. Redmond, 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 
 
 51 
 
 her Paris-American friend : I suppose that was 
 the only arrangement to make for her, John, as 
 my mother would help in nothing, nor counten- 
 ance any sisterly proposal of mine that she 
 should have stayed with us. But it does seem 
 hard and unnatural that my own boy’s ‘ beloved ’ 
 should be tossed about under strange protection, 
 and left in his absence to make the best, uncared 
 for, of her own young life, while his every 
 thought is ever lovingly with her, and every 
 throb of his heart is for her. Oh, he writes me 
 such etters ! I have had several now — the first 
 some time ago from Malta ; and since we have 
 heard from several different points in the East. 
 In one he says, ‘ Mirrell, you will watch over 
 mv Zare for me. You seem so near her there 
 at Spaalbad, so near to Switzerland, to Yevey, 
 where she is, and I am so horribly far away — 
 surely you could go to her, and love her for my 
 sake, Mirrell, and have a care of her: you are 
 so strong and so able for everything, and she is 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY of 
 
 , . ILLINOIS UBRMW 
 
52 
 
 P HINGE HUGO. 
 
 so delicate and fragile and young. Go and 
 take care of her for me, for, oh, Mirrell, I think 
 she is my life. I seem to see her, and to think 
 of her, and to long for her night and day. And ! 
 morning by morning, as I see the light come up 
 over the sea, I have no care for anything, no 
 wish for anything, no hope, no life at all, but 
 her — nothing but the hope to be back with her 
 again, but the wish that she may be, for ever 
 and ever my own.’ And pages and pages of 
 this, Roddy writes to me ; and how can I do 
 what he desires P How can I go and watch as 
 a loving sister over Zare, John, when I am tied 
 down here to braying bands, and table ddhates? 
 and flaunting widows, campaigning spinsters, 
 and hot gout waters — how can I, I say, and all 
 the while she writes to me, — and it strikes 
 strangely upon me, — all she has got to say ! 
 
 “ Zare is a curious foreign flower, not of our 
 garden or climate, John, and we cannot pretend 
 to measure her by any standards of our own. 
 
NEW SCENES AND SONNY CLIMES. 
 
 53 
 
 Here, while Roddy writes me letters full of dis- 
 consolate anguish, breathing out these furnace 
 sighs with untiring fidelity, pining for his black- 
 eyed singing-bird, all unconsoled ; the bird 
 ■sings to me in a sweet undertone of joyous coo- 
 ing rhvthm that amazes me as I read : sings a 
 new, strange song of her own, of intense bliss, 
 — bliss of the mountains, joy of the beautiful 
 all around her, happiness in some bright un- 
 known and all new-found life. 
 
 “ ‘ Send me her letters if she writes to you/ 
 pleads Roderick. Her letters ! — they would be 
 a wonder and dismay to him. John, what is 
 the meaning of it ? He is breaking his heart 
 and wearing his life out, away over the seas 
 there for love of her, and she appears remark- 
 ably — nay, perfectly — happy without him ! 
 
 “Well, let me hear what you think of it, and 
 let me hear by return of post where you come 
 to anchor on the sunny shore, and I will watch 
 my step-parent’s gout with renewed solicitude. 
 
54 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 hoping that the hour may not delay to come,, 
 when the doctor shall decree authoritatively that 
 we proceed onwards to invigorate Mr. Debu- 
 gines’ energies, (enfeebled by hot steam and sul- 
 phuric waters,) by the buoyant breezes and 
 delicious air of the dear Alps. How I wish I 
 was there now with you when you read this 
 letter at Geneva ! We should take ship together 
 instanter, and go off in search of Roderick’s 
 Zare. But let me hear of her, and write all you 
 think of her present feelings and her life. 
 
 “ I try to read between the lines in her 
 letters, but the sort of thing is so unfamiliar to 
 me. She likes her American friend, and they 
 seem to be sympathetic in taste. She has been 
 singing. Alas ! while we on our side are so 
 inexorable, about freeing her from such an 
 obligation, she must sing ; and she seems to 
 have found appreciation, even beyond usual, 
 among her audiences, and to have found her 
 way into some pleasant society, too. But it is 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 
 
 55 
 
 all such a strange sort of life to me, I cannot 
 form an opinion — only I should like to have a 
 view from you. And now, enough, good-bye, 
 cugino mio, a rivederla, and very soon, I hope. 
 
 XJ 
 
 “ Yours affectionately, 
 
 “ M. R.” 
 
 “ Poor Miriam ! ” murmured John, smiling to 
 himself as he turned the leaves of her long letter 
 over and over again, and re-conned bits here 
 and there. “ The square peg in the round hole 
 still. The haunts of braying bands and the 
 charms of table (Tholes are not in her line. Poor 
 Miriam ! and — well, now, Zare ! How about her, 
 I wonder ? The little bohemienne making her- 
 self jolly as a grasshopper, is she ? expanding 
 like a tropical flower, poor child, I daresay, in 
 all this radiance of sunshine and keen physical 
 delight : little epicurean, making the best of 
 things, improving — like the spangled butterflies 
 — the passing shining hour. Well, who can blame 
 
50 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 her? No use knocking her pretty head against 
 the walls of the inevitable, like that foolish, faith- 
 ful boy is doing on the seas out there. A foolish 
 fidelity, an obstinacy of constancy, a positive 
 fever of loyalty — surely that is a British attri- 
 bute of suffering from which there is no escape. 
 Dear me, I hope it is not a bad business, this, 
 all calculated. Let me see what Zare says in 
 her own letter.” 
 
 Zare’s little epistle was in French, and ad- 
 dressed to her “ dear friend, Monsieur Jean.’ 
 It was short, not a confidential rliodomontade 
 like Miriam’s, only a few rapidly written, vivid, 
 graphic lines. They said “ Come ” to her dear 
 
 horrid London, without waiting one /Single day 
 on the way. Come right on to Vevey, where 
 she was so happy, oh, so happy ! — in this lovely 
 wave-washed land, where the air was full of 
 music, and the mountains of majesty ; where the 
 sun shone all day with radiant gladness and the 
 
 friend — “ Come quick, straight fi smoky, 
 
NEW SCENES AND SUNNY CLIMES. 
 
 57 
 
 moon slept sweet and silvery on the still waters 
 at night ; where the fields were gay with flowers, 
 and the slopes clad with vineyards ; where life 
 was in itself sufficient wealth ; where everybody 
 was charming, because in such scenes it was 
 easy for everyone to charm ; and where, above 
 all, one was charming — a certain old friend of 
 his, who loved him, and who wished to see him, 
 and who spoke of him often and long, and that 
 was, — Hugo ! Did Monsieur Jean remember 
 Hugo ? — his Serene Highness — the wise, the ac- 
 complished, the gifted Hugo — Little Rodavia’s 
 Prince ? ” 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 AI/PEN GLUHN. 
 
 When John Frere had read through Zare’s 
 little enthusiastic letter, he forgot to light his 
 third cigarette. He laid it down on the table 
 beside him, and his tinder-box with it, and he 
 spread out the little scented sheet of thin note- 
 paper on the table as well ; and then he leant 
 back, and let his eyes wander dreamily over the 
 water and the distant mountain view, while for 
 once it spoke nothing to him. Neither the 
 glimmering river’s light, nor the mountains in 
 the morgengliihn , so filled was his imagination 
 and memory with old pictures, and also possible 
 new ones, that flitted swiftly and successively 
 between him and the panorama that lay beneath 
 his eyes. 
 
ALPENGL UHN. 
 
 59 
 
 Memory came, painting a rough student lad, 
 with satchel and colour-box, with Heine’s Beise- 
 bilder and Buck der lieder in his pocket, and 
 with alpenstock in hand, arriving sick and 
 worn, on a hot noonday, at the little forest nest 
 where the Rodavian Court was, — the gay little 
 Court, — holding summer revel in a curious com- 
 bination of rustic and royal life. 
 
 He saw once more the kind, princely face of 
 Hugo of Rodavia ; the noble presence came 
 once more before him ; the melodious, musical 
 voice seemed falling on his ear. For it had glad- 
 dened and cheered him through many an hour 
 of weariness, as he lay recovering the prostration 
 of fever, in that hospitable and princely shelter 
 through long summer days. 
 
 Hugo, of Rodavia! In John’s category of dis- 
 tinguished foreigners, whom his vagrant artist- 
 life had led him to know, he had mentioned 
 Prince Hugo of Rodavia as the best and noblest 
 among them all. 
 
"GO 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 And here he was at Clarens, and John would 
 see him again. At Clarens, and becoming Zare’s 
 hero, as he had been John’s, for so many years ; 
 and Zare’s friend, as he had been his. That 
 little Court of Rodavia had been as the realiza- 
 tion of many a student dream to John. It had 
 been, as the Court of Saxe-Weimar, brought 
 back from the last century again. Hugo had 
 been to him as Goethe’s Frederick, modernized 
 and brought back to life ; and in the chestnut 
 avenues, and soft garden shades, and acacia 
 Berceaux, and quaint, old streets of Rudetz- 
 burg, Goethe had seemed to live and write 
 again. Frau von Stern had served his coffee as 
 of old in the octagon arbour ; and Die Studante, 
 in crisp manuscript, with ink still undried, came 
 once more, fresh from beneath the glowing pen ! 
 And music, — such real music, — seemed to float 
 all day and night around them, — as the very 
 essence of the air ; and art, and thought, and all 
 the ethereal beauty of ‘ the higher life,’ had 
 
ALFENGLUHN. 
 
 61 
 
 flowered and bloomed joyously, and flourished 
 well in the genial sunshine of Prince Hugo’s 
 kindly cherishing smiles. 
 
 “ Silver was counted as nothing in that king- 
 dom,” murmured John to himself, presently, in 
 recollection of an old application of his own 
 of that ancient simile. “ Silver was counted 
 nothing, and not gold even over much ; but 
 beauty, and joy of spirit, and the life of art, and 
 of mind and soul, — blending with a tender 
 Nature-life, that seemed to embrace and sur- 
 round all in that quaint old forest town, — -these 
 were the things that were counted glorious in 
 the kingdom of my Hugo the Good. And how 
 is it now with him ? and where, I wonder, is 
 ‘ Madame ma femme! Ah ! that one grim sha- 
 dow on the broad sun ray of that Arcadian 
 clime ! Is she in peace at home, as of old, in her 
 moated capital, in exclusive state, beyond the 
 ramparts of Rodenstadt ? With her huge gaunt 
 lacqueys standing grimly around, and the glory of 
 
-62 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 the Von Donnerblitz safely guarded in her grim 
 keeping ; while Hugo, the light-hearted and 
 serene, leads his Arcadian life, full of simple, 
 rustic, and often fanciful pleasures in the small 
 secluded forest town of Rudetzburg.” 
 
 How it all came back to John ! The gay little 
 theatre, where Prince and courtier changed cos- 
 tumes often, and reversed positions ; where 
 Hugo acted chasseur or cavalier, and his aide- 
 de-camp played the king ; where sometimes 
 Saxe-Weimar, and sometimes Le Petit Trianon, 
 came back to memory, as he watched their re- 
 vival in the quaint and fascinating life of that 
 Rudetzburg retreat. Well ! And now Hugo 
 was playing troubadour by this mountain 
 lake ! 
 
 “ I will go off straightway and see them ! ” 
 exclaimed John. “ I will pack my knapsack, 
 and pay my bill, and catch the forenoon boat ; 
 and I will be away there, under the brow of 
 Mont Blanc before the evening falls. Ah ! I 
 
ALPENGLTJHN. 
 
 have not a moment to lose. I must make off at 
 once.” 
 
 It was no defined idea, or any sort of tore- 
 shadowing anxiety, that prompted John to this 
 rapid decision, — only enthusiasm for his old 
 princely friend, an eagerness to see him once 
 more, and a curiosity as to the new phases of 
 existence about to be developed, by this un- 
 looked-for combination, in their coming rendez- 
 vous by Lake Leman. 
 
 All other feelings or prognostications of results 
 were sunk for the moment in his quickly re-born 
 enthusiasm for Prince Hugo; and his heart beat 
 warmly and fast as he hurried along the Quai, 
 towards his hotel, with his letters, including that 
 almost forgotten one from Lady Dyncourt, 
 crammed away into his pocket. 
 
 It was not, indeed, till he was fairly afloat, 
 and skimming along in the little steamboat, by 
 many a fair and familiar scene, that he could sit 
 down in a quiet corner behind the deck cabin. 
 
64 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 gather up his scattered wits again, and look 
 once more at his letters. 
 
 The boat was steaming on between Coppet 
 and Nyon. They had just left behind them the 
 Coppet pier ; and the thoughts of Corinne and 
 Madame de Stael, and of old Necker, which had 
 obtruded themselves spontaneously among pre- 
 sent and more engrossing themes, had just floated 
 away from him again, as the tall towers flanking 
 the chateau of Coppet faded into distance, while 
 the little puffing steamboat bustled hastily on. 
 
 He took out his letters, and his eyes fell upon 
 Lady Dyncourt’s. He was overwhelmed with 
 immediate self-reproach. Fancy, having for- 
 gotten it ! Instantly he must peruse it now. 
 She was far away, in distant scenes, and her life 
 and her occupations could have no semblance to 
 his sunny surroundings, nor be in any ways har- 
 monious to his Rodavian recollections, for she 
 knew nothing of Rodavia, or of Hugo, Rodavia’s 
 dear Prince. 
 
ALPENGLUHN. 
 
 65 
 
 But she was none the less a friend highly 
 esteemed in his regard also ; and it was shame- 
 ful that up to this moment her letter had been 
 forgotten. He opened it, and with due interest 
 perused it now. 
 
 “ My dear Mr. Frere,” it said ; “ how much I 
 wish that I were a Bohemian, you already know, 
 — what unparalleled cause I have once more for 
 reiterating that wish, you can at this moment 
 
 scarcely conceive ! 
 
 */ 
 
 “ Where are you, as you read my letter ? 
 What delicious sunny prospect is alluring from 
 the pages of my epistle your wandering gaze ? 
 I can easily imagine it, as I am to address to 
 Geneva. The snow-crowned Alps — the sweet, 
 bright waters — the chestnut groves in rich foli- 
 age, and the Jodel echoes of the Alpen song 
 reaching you on the soft mountain breezes as 
 you read. 
 
 “I am so fond of Geneva. What pleasant 
 days I once passed there, to be sure, with the 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 Peels. And what a charming pic-nic Baron 
 P. de Rothschild gave us once from his villa at 
 Pregny. It eclipsed, in its sumptuous luxury, 
 even Mr. Lynton’s water -party of last July. 
 
 “ Dear, lovely Geneva, how perfect, to be 
 sure, is the view from there ! Shall you go to 
 Les Delices; or to Perney, and peep through the 
 holes in the hornbeam berceau, and see the 
 weird old ghost, with his hands behind him, 
 walking up and down. And oh! please do go to 
 Camp ague Diodati, and read a bit of ‘ Manfred,’ 
 and the third canto of ‘ Childe Harold,’ as I did 
 when I first went there, in the very room where 
 it was written, and with Byron’s ‘ Clear , 'placid , 
 Leman , contrasting with the wild world 1 dwell 
 in’, just before my eyes. It was delicious. 
 Dear Geneva ! 
 
 “ And now, here I am, writing to you on a wet 
 afternoon, in the course of a deluge that has en- 
 dured since we came here, and means to endure 
 even until we go. 
 
ALPENGLUHN. 
 
 67 
 
 “ And I am wondering why I ever came to 
 marry Lord Dyncourt (much even as I like him), 
 seeing that he is a hunting, a grouse-shooting, a 
 salmon-fishing man. These three leave no gaps 
 in life for Bohemia, or for the culture of a 
 certain vagrant and aesthetical state of existence, 
 which, I think, would have suited me well. 
 Frankly, it is very dull here, and especially so 
 this year. It is very well in sunshine, and some 
 seasons we are not without it ; but this year — 
 Ah me ! 
 
 “ Our lodge is set high upon the hills, you 
 must know. The moors rise in undulating 
 slopes all round us; the mists are rolling heavily 
 and low upon them at this moment, and that 
 steady drizzle must surely blind the shooters’ eyes. 
 
 “ But they don’t mind that sort of thing. It 
 only matters to us, — we women of the party, 
 who put our toes on the fender just after break- 
 fast, and leave them there perforce till dinner- 
 time ; and who gossip and do crewel work, and 
 
68 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 write letters, much as we do in London in No- 
 vember, only that the occasions for mutual bore- 
 dom are more vast. 
 
 “ Dear Mr. Frere, I think I shall be sure to 
 like your wife, when you marry, for the simple 
 reason that you are such a very bad shot, — not 
 that I like a man, as a rule, who shoots badly ; 
 for if a man is in that line, let him, as in every 
 other, do all things well. I like good sports- 
 men, but I never do happen to like their wives. 
 It is perhaps an odd coincidence, for I am so 
 often condemned to their society ; but so it is, 
 and thence the special trial of my position now. 
 I have three ladies with me, all diversely occu- 
 pied in our one little sitting-room, as I write. 
 Not one of them,’ is a friend of mine, — not one 
 of them would I have chosen for my companion 
 through a six weeks’ seclusion here on the top 
 of Craigerich ; but here they simply are, be- 
 cause they belong each to a husband, and that 
 husband can bag his twenty brace per day. 
 
ALPENGLTJHN. 
 
 G9 
 
 “Again I wish you were here now. There 
 is a warm purple tint below the creeping mist 
 upon the heather slopes just beyond my little 
 rugged garden that I think you would like to 
 see. I pause to contemplate it, and from my 
 bit of square window in the queer, thick-marled 
 wall of this old house, I can just catch a bit of 
 blue-grey smoke curling up from the broken 
 chimney of a brown moss-covered ‘ botliie.’ I 
 think you would make a charming sketch of it, 
 as the smoke goes floating away over the 
 heather into the mist cloud, and as now one 
 faint, soft ray of sunshine struggles for a moment 
 from the dense obscurity, and tips the brown 
 cottage eaves with light. 
 
 “ I wish you were here, I repeat, for your own 
 pleasant society’s sake, and because you might 
 sketch all this from the window for me, and 
 take portraits of my noble old collies, and my 
 beloved staghound on these long wet days, as 
 well. 
 
70 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “But, 'where are you? As soon as possible, 
 write and let me know, and keep me au fait, 
 please, with all the details, from your point of 
 view, of the Ray-La-Gonidet romance, telling me 
 also of all your aunt’s gay doings at Yevey or 
 at Ouchy, and of Miriam’s way of taking things 
 in general. I hope Harcourt Lynton will find 
 you all out, and then I shall have news of you 
 also from him. 
 
 “ I am pining for my habitual friends, and all 
 that pleasant companionship of last season. So 
 write, all of you; and do not, in your sunny 
 Bohemia, forget me, pray, in my mist-wrapt 
 retreat of drizzle and dulness here. 
 
 “ Sincerely yours, 
 
 “ AitLh Dykcourt.” 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 As John Erere finished Lady Dyncourt’s letter, 
 he raised his eyes. That was a pretty bit of 
 rustic highland scenery she had touched in for 
 him, and effective enough in its way, but what 
 a contrast the grey drizzle of that mist-ruled 
 height of hers to the smiling gladness of the 
 Nature-life around him here. 
 
 No wonder bright Lady Dyncourt, as she 
 trod the conventional pathway of modern amuse- 
 ments, wished sometimes she were a Bohemian, 
 and could live perhaps for variety in a gipsy 
 van ; or no wonder the monotonous round of a 
 conventional sporting life, became wearisome to 
 her just occasionally, in contrast to that insouciant 
 and careless freedom, which permitted men and 
 
72 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 women of his type, to wander through the sunny 
 climes of Europe at their own sweet untram- 
 melled wills. 
 
 He raised his eyes, as he thought shiveringly 
 of northern fog clouds, and he found that they 
 had steamed, as he had read, nearly to Rolle, 
 without his even observing it. They had stopped 
 at Nyon, and once more steamed on, and now 
 the vine-covered slopes of La Cote were in view, 
 where grew, and where he had often drunk, the 
 finest wine of the whole Vaudois on the hills 
 towards Aubonne. It was a charming spot. On 
 the opposite side the lake was the gulf of 
 Thonon, at the mouth of the valley of the 
 Dranse; and straight above him, rose the crests 
 of Mont Blanc, visible by the favour of fortune 
 in the warm glow of this lovely August day, 
 peering over the mountains of Chablais, and 
 glistening silvery in the tender abendglulm. 
 Such a glow of colour, such a warmth of light, 
 gladdened the whole fair summer scene, such a 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 73 
 
 radiant smile flashed on the bine lake, such 
 delicate lights glistened on the vine-clad slopes. 
 Life was beauteous in this bright mountain land, 
 and in its sweetness it seemed sufficient to exist, 
 and to feel, and to see. 
 
 Scotland — Lady Dyncourt — nearly everybody, 
 faded now for a few minutes from John’s mind, 
 as he got up from his seat with a flush of warm 
 colour upon his cheek ; as he shoved his budget 
 of letters deep down again into his pocket, and 
 walked quickly to the side of the little steam- 
 boat, to gaze and to enjoy the loveliness of the 
 swift-passing scenes. He had many old associa- 
 tions to renew with these ripening vineyards, 
 these towering snow-clad heights, and all these 
 nestling villages on the sunny shore. 
 
 It was a dearly beloved land of enthusiastic 
 youth dreams and of passionate inspiration to 
 him. He knew every bay and promontory, he 
 had drunk deep many and many a time with 
 intense interest into all the poetic and historical 
 
74 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 associations and strongly suggestive reminis- 
 cences of each spot, and once more he must for 
 a moment forget the present and renew the 
 old ardour of his student days. As they swept 
 past Rolle and Morges, and he thought of 
 Tavernier and of a sunny day spent years ago in 
 exploring the relics of the Swiss Erivan, on these 
 heights above Rolle ; as they paused at the pier 
 at Morges, and the picturesque donjon and 
 turrets of Wufflens rose above the little harbour 
 of the town, and as he murmured to himself 
 some favourite quotation from the fervent 
 Spanish lines of Eernan Caballero, and thought 
 of the birthday of Don Juan Bohl de Baber’ s 
 distinguished daughter in that small obscure 
 village bv the mountain lake. 
 
 As they paused at Ouchy, and deposited 
 troops of tourists bound for the Beau-Rivage on 
 the pier, and as once more there came back to 
 him the enthralling association and deathless 
 memory of those two wet June days, so fortu- 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 nate for all posterity, on which Byron fenced 
 himself in, from the boredom of a continuous 
 summer rain, by inditing the “Prisoner of 
 Chillon” in the little old Hotel d’Ancre up there 
 in the town. 
 
 And then Lausanne ! picturesque, old rugged 
 Lausanne ! rising curiously on the broken ground 
 of the deep ravines that sink down to the blue 
 water on Mont Jorat’s lower slopes. Fair 
 Lausanne, with its high peaked roofs and queer 
 old streets straggling up and down, and with its 
 proud castle and grim cathedral, and bright 
 terrace ; with its vast panorama of enchanting 
 view. Fair Lausanne! how pleased he was to see 
 it again ; he had spent many a leisurely happy 
 time in the Mus6e Arlaud, among the pictures 
 of Diday and Calame. And in those enthusiastic 
 young days of his, he had loved to sit for hours 
 under those few remaining limes and acacias at 
 the Hotel Gibbon, to dream of “that still 
 night ” of which the great historian has himself 
 
76 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 chronicled a description. When “in the summer 
 house, in that lovely garden, the last line of the 
 Home was written near the midnight hour,” 
 when Gibbon “ laid down his pen and paced the 
 acacia berceau , knowing that his life’s work was 
 done ! ” 
 
 And at last Yevey, where, as the steamboat 
 sweeps up to the pier, the vale of the Rhone at 
 the far end of the lake breaks in upon the 
 prospect, and the Dent du Midi shoots its 
 snowy peaks high up into the glowing sky. 
 John Frere hated these great caravansary hotels 
 like the Ouchy “ Beau Rivage ” and the “ Trois 
 Couronnes ” here, and although he knew that it 
 was in one of these that his Debugines relatives 
 would ultimately come to anchor, he decided, 
 for his own part, to return to a favourite old 
 haunt at Rousseau’s beloved Clarens, where just 
 above the little village near the very spot where 
 once the sweet Bosquet cle Julie had been, he 
 knew of a little quaint primitive auberge, where, 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 77 
 
 if the old gerant was still living, he would be 
 welcomed indeed. 
 
 But first, he thought, he would walk up from 
 the pier at Vevey, and find out at the huge 
 Trois Couronnes hotel if Zare and her American 
 friend were still there. For that letter had been 
 lying for some days at the posle restante Geneva, 
 and, for all he knew to the contrary, they might 
 have drifted on, according to their erratic wont, 
 further along the Lake to Montreux or to Ville- 
 neuve, or rambled up the precipitous heights to 
 the Rigi Yaudois at Glion, a couple of miles 
 above. 
 
 There was no counting on Zare, or on her 
 restless transatlantic associate, for two days 
 together. He would go and enquire about her, 
 and then make his Avay along by the vineyard 
 slopes above the shore to Clarens, perhaps after 
 dining with them at their huge table d'hote. 
 So he left his few heavy possessions in charge of 
 the pier-men there at Vevey, and slung his little 
 
78 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 artist’s knapsack across his shoulder, and stepped 
 on land. 
 
 There was a variegated and busy crowd here 
 scrambling noisily for luggage, and for patronage 
 for all the rival hotels. There were tourists, 
 and ladies’ maids, and bonnes, and couriers from 
 every corner of the globe. There was the in- 
 evitable English spinster, with blue veil and sun 
 spectacles, vociferating loudly in pursuit of her 
 possessions. There was the unfailing and ubiqui- 
 tous curate on his holiday. There was the 
 business-like Alpine climber with stoclc and 
 valise, stepping nimbly ashore from the boat, 
 and setting forth to walk vigorously, as if that 
 instant bound straight for the peak of Mont 
 llosa. There were a few native voyagers, with 
 lmmble-looking possessions, and calmer and more 
 philosophic mien ; and among them all the little 
 Swiss porters, and the familiar Yevey beggars, 
 goitre - afflicted or cretin, swarming about, 
 seining everybody’s baggage, quarrelling noisily, 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 79 
 
 or whining irrepressibly for groschen and sous. 
 It was a bright-coloured, turbulent, merry 
 crowd, and as the Alpeuglubn fell richly upon 
 them and the picturesque background of the 
 town, and the vineyard slopes, it was a gay and 
 exhilarating scene, for Yevey was evidently full 
 of people, and the season was at its height. 
 
 At the end of the pier were donkeys, luggage 
 carts, charabancs , fourgons , and little rough-shod 
 horses held ready by their eager owners to serve 
 for conveyance of any possible person or things ; 
 and a little apart from these, standing just out 
 of the rough noisy crowd, and watching seem- 
 ingly with amusement the arrival of the little 
 Geneva steamboat with its varied and picturesque 
 freight, stood a group which immediately at- 
 tracted John Erere’s notice as he strolled up 
 the pier. 
 
 There were four men, — three standing together, 
 and one standing alone, a single step in front. 
 They were not Englishmen, that was evident, 
 
PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 SO 
 
 although in dress and general mien one or two 
 of them emulated an English style and air. 
 But it was unsuccessful; they were respectively — 
 and there was no mistaking it — German, Italian, 
 and Swiss. The three standing together were 
 in curious contrast, for they were of all the 
 nationalities named. A German, blond and 
 rubicund, with that semi-military, semi-pedantic 
 aspect imparted invariably to an official of that 
 country, by the combination of a soldier’s 
 uniform, a German student’s abundance of fair 
 tangled locks, and a pair of spectacles, such as 
 an old Sanscrit professor, or a rustic pedagogue, 
 might have worn in England. A curious combi- 
 nation, and he bent his shoulders, and slouched 
 his strong form, with an ease, that suggested a 
 military discipline and drill reaching (as far as 
 superficial externals went) merely to the extent of 
 a braided coat. This young man stood gazing 
 silently at the noisy crowd on the little pier, 
 with an expression of such intense solemnity on 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 •%1 
 
 his fair countenance, that it was apparent he 
 took life an grand serieux at all times, and could 
 discern humour in few things, not even in the 
 excitement of that grim English fmidein in the 
 blue veil. He leant on his cane and watched 
 everybody earnestly, as if the scene was one of 
 deepest interest and absorption, not at all a 
 recreation or amusement in any way. 
 
 Oddly in contrast was the keen eager enthu- 
 siasm of his Italian companion, a man of small 
 stature, of bright twinkling eyes, of merry smile, 
 of rapid gesture, and of ceaseless, though rather 
 sotto voce , flow of talk. He was pouring his 
 vehement stream of comment and criticism upon 
 everybody who passed them, into the listening 
 ear of the third man who stood close by him, 
 and who listened evidently much amused. 
 
 This one was a nice-looking fresh young 
 fellow of erect form and energetic aspect, with 
 blue kindly eyes, and brown pointed moustache, 
 evidently a Swiss, with all the simplicity of 
 
 YOL. II. 
 
 Gr 
 
82 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 mien, and composure of manners, common to his 
 nation. He was a native of the Vaudois, and of 
 old distinguished race and name. He listened 
 but said little, and what he did say in reply to 
 the ceaseless chatter of his Italian friend, was 
 said in Italian, in low suppressed tones, and in 
 few short sentences, for he supplemented re- 
 mark and filled up the gaps in vocal utterance, 
 by quick decided nods of his round dimpled 
 chin. 
 
 The man in front of these three watched the 
 crowd in silence. He leant lightly on a strong 
 oaken stick, full of gnarls and excrescences, all 
 rough and unpolished as when cut from the 
 forest tree. He wore a well-fitting suit of light 
 thin tweed that looked English in its make, with 
 a round cap of the same material, of which he 
 touched lightly and often, the projecting rim, as 
 people trooped and jostled past him, and as 
 many of them paused in their bustle and hurry 
 to raise their hats or to make salutations ini- 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 83 
 
 mediately they observed him, and met his cool 
 grave glance. 
 
 He was a handsome man, perhaps about five- 
 and-forty, handsome with that particular style 
 of quiet distinction, on which the personality and 
 character seems to stamp itself, imparting force 
 to the mere physical beauty of feature or face. 
 It was a grand type of face, and intensely 
 expressive even now in repose. A clear drawn 
 profile, rather bold than delicate in its lines and 
 curves. A short dark pointed beard and mous- 
 tache ; crisp dark hair (clustering short and 
 close beneath the rim of his cap,) which, like 
 moustache and beard, was streaked already with 
 silver, and thinned away from the temples, — 
 revealing their marked and massive outlines and 
 the width and phrenological force of the thought- 
 ful brows. The face was a grave one in silence, 
 for the dark beard and moustache meeting 
 above the closed lips, concealed any quiver of 
 sensibility — which many changeful thoughts. 
 
84 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 gleaming always in the blue-grey eyes, — might 
 impart the while to the mobile mouth below. 
 It was all hidden, and revealed only in these 
 sweet eager lights that played and glanced with 
 keen power and versatility beneath dark eye- 
 lashes and finely drawn brows, which carried — 
 these last, in themselves — a distinctive attribute 
 and characteristic of the fine thoughtful face. 
 They expressed “ Music ” in their curved promi- 
 nence, and they unveiled truly — the enshrined 
 Goddess of Hugo of Rodavia’s soul ! 
 
 John saw him directly, and in one moment 
 more his quiet glance had rested with scrutiny 
 upon John. The Englishman removed his straw 
 hat, and looked eagerly up the pier with a 
 questioning, hesitating smile. Would he be 
 recognised? No doubt of it. 
 
 Ten years had added laurels to his art crown, 
 and strength to his alert minute form, but it had 
 changed little in the delicate small face, or in the 
 dreamy gentle eyes, and Prince Hugo knew 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 85 
 
 immediately tlie wandering student he had wel- 
 comed so warmly to Rudetzburg — that long ago 
 summer-day. The boy student who had come 
 among them with the forest fever in his tired 
 body, an alpenstock in his hand, and little 
 more than Heine’s Buck T)er Lieder and Jteise- 
 lilder in his light pockets. 
 
 The steel blue eyes lighted up instantly with 
 curious force and beauty. They shed a lustre of 
 kindly greeting upon John’s face, bright and 
 sweet as the Alpengluhn. Hugo sprang forward, 
 and warmly extended his hand. 
 
 “Hah — well met indeed,” he exclaimed in 
 ready English. “ My good, old, little friend, I 
 am delighted to see you.” 
 
 With an answering glance of intense pleasure 
 and with a rush of colour to his cheek, John 
 clasped the firm hand in glad greeting and stood 
 an instant silent, with strong emotion and with head 
 uncovered before his friend. “I am so pleased, 
 I am so glad,” repeated the Prince ; “ they told 
 
86 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 me, it might be that perhaps I should see you. 
 But what a happy chance, my strolling down 
 this evening to the boat. Ah, my good little 
 friend, how are you ? I am as glad as I can be.” 
 “ I am very delighted also, dear Prince,” said 
 John heartily. “Who would have thought it, 
 after all this time? Here, on Vevey pier in this 
 rabble, you really knew me again ? ” 
 
 “ Ah, I heard, I knew it might be likely ; 
 so when I saw you I had no doubt. I am so 
 pleased. Here, Searlati,” he continued in Italian, 
 “ do you not remember our good little friend ? ” 
 “ Como di Bacco, Signor Frere — not possible ! 
 Ah, how enchanted am I. What, come back to 
 us ? Do I remember him, Serenissimo ? Who 
 could forget that sunny summer of ’69 ! ” 
 
 “ Ah, yes, that was a nice year. Yes, but 
 here we have him again, and, Rochsdorf, let me 
 present you, my friend Frere,” continued the 
 Prince, adopting now, as he loved to do in 
 English, what he knew to be the English style 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 87 
 
 of address. “ My dear Frere, let me present 
 you to my chamberlain, Baron von Rochsdorf, 
 my new chamberlain since you were with us. 
 Ah, you remember the Count von Carnitz ; he 
 left me, and has married the Countess Marie 
 von Lind. But, you must hear of all of us, you 
 have not forgotten, you will be glad to make 
 acquaintance with the little Music Court of 
 Rodavia again ? ” 
 
 “ Glad ! ” exclaimed John; “ I can imagine no 
 greater pleasure, that could have befallen me 
 than to find your Highness here.” 
 
 “Yes, I am here, I am here always now in 
 the autumn. I have taken a great love, my 
 dear Erere, for this Leman, your Byron has 
 made us admire and know so well. I have a 
 villa up there, near Le Chatelard above Clarens ; 
 and my dear young friend here, is my near 
 neighbour,” he continued, turning to the young 
 Swiss who stood silent and observant as he 
 spoke. “ Let me present you to the Vicomte 
 
88 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 Merle de Yigne. Ah, you will see much of each 
 other and be well acquainted, Frere, before you 
 go home to your fogs again.” 
 
 The vicomte greeted John genially, while the 
 Italian shoot him once more with energy by the 
 hand ; and the German, with much keen scrutiny 
 from behind his spectacles, made him many 
 grave and rather awkward bows. 
 
 “Now where are your things, your baggage ?” 
 said Prince Hugo presently, “ I have a four g on 
 and a char here. We will put the things in the 
 fourgon , Frere, and you can come with me in 
 the char and we will talk the whole way along ; 
 it is no distance to Clarens.” 
 
 But why should I trouble your Highness ? 
 I can easily walk. Yes, I am going to Clarens. 
 I like the little old Auberge de Maron very 
 much better than the Trois Couronnes with all 
 its splendours.” 
 
 “ The auberge, what nonsense ! why, my dear 
 fellow,” as the Prince loved, ‘ quite according to 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 89 
 
 the English ’ to call his English artist-friend. 
 “ My dear fellow, you are coming straight to La 
 Joie with me.” 
 
 “ As your Highness wills it,” said John, 
 slightly bowing in answer. “ There need be no 
 hurry in my finding my way to the Hotel.” 
 
 “ The Hotel — but you will go to no Hotel, 
 you will come with me to the Villa, and you 
 will stay there, my good little friend, as long 
 as you stay on the Lake Geneva, or as long 
 at least as I can remain. Come — where would 
 you go ? You know of_ old that my house, 
 when it is near them, is the hotel of my 
 friends.” 
 
 “ You are very good,” said John hesitating. 
 
 “No more — you come along with me. You 
 are tired, I know, and you must be extremely 
 hungry, for they have nothing that can be eaten 
 on these little paqvebots now. You come and 
 refresh yourself immediately — let me have no 
 delay,” and he turned and put his arm within 
 
no 
 
 P HINGE HUGO. 
 
 John’s and walked slowly beside hitn up the 
 pier towards his carriage. 
 
 It was as pleasant a proposition for his 
 holiday rest as could well be : of this John felt 
 satisfied, and assured. In no better hands 
 
 could he be for a month’s congenial sojourn 
 than in Prince Hugo’s, and under no more 
 hospitable or friendly roof was it possible to 
 remain. But he had a lingering hesitation. 
 He had other friends, other points even, at that 
 moment, of pursuit. How, if he went straight 
 with Prince Hugo to the villa above Clarens, 
 was he to reach the Hotel Trois Couronnes to 
 enquire for Zare ? Or did Hugo perhaps know 
 something of her? John did not feel suffi- 
 ciently at home with him again as yet to ask 
 questions of any kind. He walked on in un- 
 certainty and silence for a minute, the Prince 
 leaning familiarly upon his arm. There was not 
 much time, however, for indecision. The quaint 
 little one- seated, one-sided Swiss char in which 
 
ON VEVEY PIER. 
 
 91 
 
 it pleased Prince Hugo to scour the vine- 
 covered slopes by Geneva, was standing ready, 
 and the sign made courteously to him to jump 
 into it, was one, which John did not find it in 
 him somehow to disobey. The eager little 
 horse with his jingling bells and gay trappings 
 darted restlessly forward, even as the Prince 
 gathered up his reins and sprang lightly in 
 front of John to the narrow seat ; and away they 
 went, followed by the other gentlemen in the 
 big fonrgon, tooling up from the pier, and 
 through the fringes of the town. And then 
 eastward, along the white road by the lake side 
 towards Clarer.s; with the glorious Alpine sunset 
 falling richly around them and with the grand 
 view over the glistening water, the far moun- 
 tains of the Phone Valley, and the bays and 
 slopes and promontories of the opposite shore, 
 lying in all the enchantment of the abendglilhn 
 before and around them, as they sped along. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE VILLA DE LA JOIE. 
 
 Now, no one need seek, during their next 
 Swiss tour, between the vine-covered hills where 
 Le Chatelard and Bellevue stand like watch- 
 towers above Clarens, for a trace of the Villa de 
 la Joie. Eor though it stood somewhere there- 
 abouts, they would fail to find it. It has 
 vanished with that sweet Bosquet de Julie, for 
 whose demolishment and transformation into 
 potato-gardens, Byron so energetically blamed 
 the worthy monks of St. Bernard, never pausing 
 to enquire as he vented his vituperations on 
 their most venerated heads, whether the beau- 
 teous Bosquet of tender memory ever in reality 
 existed out of the Nouvelle Ileloise. La Joie 
 did exist, however, that August evening when 
 
THE VTLLA BE LA JOIE 
 
 93 
 
 John Frere, with Prince Hugo’s deep musical 
 voice sounding pleasantly in his ears and Byron’s 
 passionate lines on : — 
 
 “ Clarens, sweet Clarens, 
 
 Birthplace of deep love/’ 
 
 rising spontaneously to his heart and memory, 
 was driven up to its hospitable door. 
 
 It was a spacious, beautiful villa, built some- 
 what in Italian style, with wide, cool, marble- 
 floored rooms, and matted hall, and low open 
 windows; with bright flower garden and verandah 
 shades ; with a view from its noble terraces that, 
 once seen, dwells in memory for ever ; with 
 beauty for the eye, and repose for the tired 
 frame, and refreshment and cool seclusion within 
 and without ; and filled too in every corner with 
 all that heart could wish in the way of resource, 
 occupation, and interest for the cultured and 
 enthusiastic. It was lovely, and it was prac- 
 tically and delightfully comfortable as well. 
 
 Prince Hugo was no Sybarite. Indeed, his 
 
94 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 own tastes and habits of life were simple, hardy, 
 and devoid of self-indulgence to a degree. AVhat 
 was not musician, and thinker, and student in 
 him, was sportsman. He loved sport of that 
 description that is loved by men to whom the 
 wilds and solitudes of the mountain glaciers and 
 the dark pine-forests are a poem, and an ever- 
 recurring joy. When he was not in society that 
 was aesthetically soothing and congenial to him, 
 he found ease, recreation, and pleasure in being 
 alone with single hound and jager at sunrise or 
 sunset, upon the fringes of the deep pine-shades 
 of his native forests ; or on the crest of a rugged 
 mountain here — in search of a brown bear, or 
 a bouquetin or capra ibex , — perhaps straying 
 over the forest and mountains from Victor- 
 Emmanuel’s careful preserves on the Italian 
 heights. He loved such wild scenes of nature’s 
 majestic solitudes, and he was fond of her softer 
 aspects as well. 
 
 Hence his love of Switzerland, where all was 
 
THE VILLA BE LA JOIE. 
 
 95 
 
 riclilv to be found. He delighted in a wild 
 expedition over glacier, snow and ice-bound 
 rocky summits, to where the edelweiss clustered 
 on the corner of the perilous cliff. He loved 
 sport, and all the varied beauties of nature’s 
 deepest solitude, as well as he loved the music, 
 the smiles and the witchery of sympathetic social 
 life. Hence his delight in this summer resi- 
 dence which had become habitual to him by 
 Geneva’s limpid waters at his Villa de la Joie. 
 Here all could be enjoyed in harmonious variety 
 — sympathetic society always — and nature, in 
 her majesty, or in all her infinite changes of 
 softer light and shade ; and music, and art, and 
 retirement, when he wished for it, as well. Here 
 too he had one delight which in his German 
 forest-home was denied him : he had his boat, 
 and the broad waters of the changeful lake on 
 which to float, it. Many evening, and indeed mid- 
 night, hours were spent by him here in his 
 Swiss holiday home, dreaming through a soft 
 
96 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 summer moonlight, or breasting the angry wave 
 of the swift summer storms ; and of all the 
 pleasures of his versatile and eager existence 
 perhaps this was the one which, next to music, 
 Prince Hugo most intensely enjoyed. 
 
 John Prere had changed his dusty raiment, 
 and refreshed mind and body in the large cool 
 room to which he had been conducted imme- 
 diately on his arrival ; and where he had spent, 
 during his toilet, according to his wont, many 
 lingering moments in gazing from the widely 
 opened French windows, that led under a broad 
 green verandah on to a balcony over-hanging 
 the lake, and commanding a far view towards 
 Chillon, the Alps of Valais, and the Gorge of the 
 Rhone. In spite of these distractions he was 
 ready when the Prince’s valet knocked at 
 his door and told him that “ Son Altesse ” had 
 descended, and John hurried down ; anxious to 
 be in time for the important moment, when, the 
 stately maitre d’hotel would announce dinner 
 
THE VILLA DE LA JOIE. 
 
 97 
 
 and the ceremonious procession, (which etiquette 
 enforced even at the Forest Chalet of Rudetz- 
 burg,) took place into the dining-room. He was 
 more than in time, evidently ; for when the 
 Prince’s private attendant, who had waited to 
 escort him downstairs, had handed him over to 
 the group of gorgeous lacqueys who lined now 
 the entrance-hall ; and when one of these had 
 conducted him to the ante-chamber, — John, 
 passing through it, arrived to find the drawing- 
 room still empty, the low windows standing open 
 and the glow of the mountain sunset flooding 
 deliciously over the lake-view beyond. He 
 paused a moment, glancing round the fine pro- 
 portions of the room. It looked so beautifully 
 cool, and was so unpretentious, almost simple, 
 in the aspect of its arrangements, and yet so 
 exquisite and costly in the actual details that 
 produced the pleasing harmony of the whole : — 
 the delicate colouring of the walls which had 
 just tone enough to throw up into soft outlines 
 
 YOL. II. 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 a few lovely pieces of statuary that on pedestal 
 or bracket stood in corner or alcove; the sub- 
 dued cool tints of the tesselated marble floor 
 — covered with curiously woven matting, just 
 where the footsteps might naturally fall, ,and 
 with pieces of warm-hued Indian carpet placed 
 in front of each low, luxurious chair ; with huge 
 vases of flowers and tufts of graceful verdure 
 and bits of drooping foliage clustering in every 
 appropriate spot ; and with a large conservatory 
 opening from one side, where the eyes rested 
 gratefully upon banks of delicate fernery, from 
 which sweet rich odours came of many a soft- 
 lmed tropical flower ; and where stood the grace- 
 ful form of a naiad, who, shrinking away from 
 view among the foliage and the blooms, held 
 aloft a classical shaped concilia, from which she 
 poured, with a cool, rippling, musical flow, a 
 silvery spray of water into a marble pool at her 
 feet. 
 
 Beyond the drawing-room, opening from it 
 
THE VILLA BE LA JOIE. 
 
 99 
 
 and visible between two festooned violet curtains, 
 was the music hall ; and John, observing this, 
 was roused from the poetic meditations, into 
 which that startled naiad nestling among the 
 flowers had inveigled his ready fancy, and, step- 
 ping to the opening between the curtains, looked 
 down the length of the music salle. It was 
 a charmingly improvised little concert-room, 
 fitted with its rows of red-covered seats. With 
 raised da'is at one end for the musicians, with 
 grand piano, and music stands, and big violon- 
 cello leaning up in one corner, and with piles 
 of music and medley of instrument cases and 
 director’s desk. Evidently Hugo of Rodavia 
 was as fond of all his old occupations as ever. 
 There was his place — there, in the centre of the 
 first row ; and there were the arm-chairs stretch- 
 ing from side to side of his for invited guests, 
 just as it used to be at Rudetzburg ; and here, at 
 that very moment, at his very elbow, was Prince 
 Hugo himself! He had come in through the 
 
100 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 open window, and though treading firmly over 
 the soft matting, John had been so absorbed 
 in his thoughts of things past, present, and to 
 come, that he had not heard him. He turned 
 now, and bowed courteously and apologetically 
 as he found he had been standing with his back 
 turned, and without hearing the Prince ; and the 
 latter smiled. 
 
 “ You are refreshed ? ” he said. 
 
 “ Thank you, yes, certainly. Who could help 
 being instantly refreshed, soul and body, i non 
 prince, by a sudden translation such as I have ex- 
 perienced into your enchanted kingdom again ? ” 
 
 The Prince’s glance brightened with pleasure 
 in reply. He was indeed a handsome and a 
 stately-looking man, as he stood now in his 
 careful evening attire ; grave of countenance, save 
 for the frequency of a twinkle of merriment 
 which crept often into his deep eyes, flashed and 
 glistened there a moment, then disappeared ; 
 stern of countenance, moreover, were it not for 
 
THE VILLA HE LA JOIE. 
 
 101 
 
 that gleam of latent humour, and for the softness 
 and sweet kindliness of the smile with which his 
 lips curled so readily as he met the glance of a 
 congenial friend. He was straight and stalwart 
 of form, and he little needed the star that 
 gleamed upon his breast, or the ribbon of Von 
 Donnerblitz that encircled his neck, to impart 
 dignity or suggest distinction to his courtly 
 presence. 
 
 “ Do you like my little concert-room ? ” 
 
 “ I think it is charming, it is one more re- 
 miniscence of dear Rudetzburg.” 
 
 “ Ah, my dear Rudetzburg. Yes, but I do 
 not know that this little concert-room is not 
 now almost as dear. I have detached myself 
 from the forests, Frere, and anchored my in- 
 terests for my days of holiday now in this place. 
 It is fair enough, is it not? you Englishmen 
 can understand my fancy. Your Byron has 
 done more than any one to teach even us of other 
 lands to love the Lake Leman.” 
 
102 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “I think it is all simply perfect,” said John. 
 “ How kind of yon, my dear Prince, to let me 
 be your guest once more.” 
 
 “ I am delighted, I have heard of you, I say. 
 I hoped you were coming. Let us go on the 
 terrace ; it wants still some minutes to dinner- 
 time. Come out, and look at the sunset with 
 me.” And they passed out together through 
 the matted drawing-room by the low open 
 window on to the terrace beyond. And then 
 for the first time the Prince mentioned the name 
 that John, from some intuitive feeling of re- 
 luctance, could not bring himself to utter to him. 
 
 “ You know Mademoiselle Zare La-Gonidet, 
 Prere ? ” the Prince suddenly said. 
 
 “I have known her,” answered John, with a 
 curious earnestness and gravity, unaccountable 
 to himself, “ since she was a little student, just 
 beginning her career in Paris.” 
 
 “ Ah, so she tells me,” and then the Prince 
 was silent. He had turned a quick sudden 
 
THE VILLA DE LA JOIE. 
 
 103 
 
 glance of enquiry upon John as he spoke. He 
 met his eyes just for one instant, then turned 
 his own rather haughtily away. He put his hand 
 up and passed his fingers under the glittering 
 star of Rodavia upon his breast, and then he 
 drew up his head and carried it high for a 
 moment as he paced the terrace in the evening 
 sun-glow in silence by John Frere’s side. Then 
 he suddenly looked down upon the gravel, 
 still averting his glance from John. “ She is a 
 gifted artiste ,” he gravely said. “ I was very 
 delighted to find her here.” 
 
 “ Your Highness knows her then ? ” said John. 
 
 “ She has not told you?” he answered enquir- 
 ingly, and rather surprised ; then, before John 
 could make rejoinder, “ Yes, I know her, she 
 comes here to me nearly every evening. 1 1 
 is charming ; we have a concert almost every 
 night.” 
 
 “ I see your Highness is as fond of music as 
 
 ever ” 
 
104 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ Fonder,” lie said, with a curious passionate 
 and wistful echo in his voice. “ It is, as always, 
 the one lovely thing, with which I delight to 
 enrich my life.” 
 
 Then, after a pause which John did not feel 
 it incumbent on him to break, the Prince con- 
 tinued in an altered tone again : 
 
 “ There are several other distinguished 
 members of the London and Parisian corps 
 iV opera at the Trois Couronnes at Yevey, and 
 they come often also, but none pleases me so 
 much as Madlle. Zare. She has not gone on 
 your stage ? ” 
 
 “ No,” said John in a rather more eager de- 
 cided tone than he was aware of. “ Indeed no, 
 Zare is not to go on the stage.” 
 
 “ So, no ?— it is a pity, she has a great talent.” 
 Then, after another moment’s silence : 
 
 “ You will see her to-night.” 
 
 John started — he could not tell himself why — 
 but the denotement was so unexpected to him. 
 
TEE VILLA 1)E LA JOIE. 
 
 105 
 
 Zare, their little artiste , — Zare ! With her young 
 dawning talent, whom he was setting out to seek 
 on the lake-side here, expecting somewhere to 
 find her taking her grateful holiday, — unknown 
 and insignificant under the protecting wing of 
 a kind friend. He was to meet her here to- 
 night, — in this enchanted art-palace of Prince 
 Hugo, in this revival scene of his own mystical 
 Rodavian art-dream ! to meet her as the favoured 
 guest, the chosen artiste , the Prima Donna of 
 Hugo’s aesthetic court; to find her enshrined, 
 enthroned, and laurel-crowned ; her, the little 
 friend he had come to seek for, — Roderick’s be- 
 loved Zare ! There was something unusual in 
 Hugo’s manner all this time, as, in curt and 
 broken phrases, he made his communication, 
 walking with slow and rather stately footsteps 
 on the terrace bv John; scrutinising his friend 
 the while, from time to time as he spoke, with 
 quick, grave, penetrating glances, as if he would 
 read and solve an enigma — if it might be that 
 
106 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 there was one, in John’s old and eager feeling for 
 Zare La-Gonidet, and in his coming in search of 
 her now. 
 
 “You will see her to-night,” the Prince re- 
 peated; and then, before they could say more, 
 the maitre d' hotel approached them to announce 
 dinner. Rochsdorf, the German chamberlain, 
 came out upon the terrace at one window, and 
 Scarlati and M. de Vigne appeared waiting at 
 the other. The Prince turned and placed his 
 hand within John’s arm again. 
 
 “ Allons, mou cher ,” he said abruptly, and 
 then walked quickly with him along the terrace. 
 He entered by the drawing-room window, passing 
 with a slight bow between the other two. Then 
 suddenly he withdrew his arm from John, and 
 advancing a step, walked before them all, with a 
 grave and rather absent expression of counten- 
 ance as if he had almost forgotten them, into the 
 dining-room. During dinner also, the Prince 
 was rather silent, only courteously joining in the 
 
THE VILLA DE LA JOIE. 
 
 107 
 
 conversation just sufficiently to sustain it, and 
 addressing each of his four friends respectively 
 in turn, and in such a tone as to call forth 
 remarks and an even contribution to the general 
 converse from each ; being continuously and in- 
 variably cordial to John, on whom he pressed his 
 favourite Yvorne wine, and whose attention he 
 drew to the lovely Lily of the Alps, of which 
 the rich lilac cups adorned the table, noting 
 its difference to the hardier wild-lily of the 
 German forest, which has grown round them at 
 Rudetzburg. Coffee and a bundle of tiny 
 cigarettes, which were laid carefully before 
 each guest as dinner was concluded, were 
 but just discussed, when the ringing of bells 
 and the hurrying footsteps of the servants in 
 the vestibule, and the roll of carriage wheels, 
 announced the evening guests as about to 
 arrive, and the Prince rose. He bowed slightly 
 as he stood at the head of the table for an instant, 
 and as his four guests sprang to their feet at 
 
108 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 each side, “ Conduct Frere to the salon, Rochs- 
 dorf,” he said curtly ; and without another word 
 he turned and left the room : not, however, by 
 the door leading to the music hall or the tesse- 
 lated drawing-room, but through a curtained 
 archway that on one side the diuing-room con- 
 ducted, through a smoking divan and by a short 
 carpeted passage, into his private rooms. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HIS PRIMA DONNA. 
 
 A little later, and John Prere — wondering 
 much what it was all coming to and feeling as 
 he used to do at Rudetzburg, as if he had gone 
 to sleep suddenly and was wandering in the 
 dream-land of a fairy tale — was conducted by 
 Rochsclorf and Scarlati into the drawing-room ; 
 where the evening shadows were falling duskily 
 now, and from which apartment you could see 
 at one side, glowing softly, the globes of light, 
 which had been hung among the fernery and the 
 tropical flowers around the naiad’s graceful 
 startled form ; and at one end, through the still 
 open window, might gaze over the dark mys- 
 terious prospect of the gathering night across 
 the water’s blue silent lustre, and towards the 
 
110 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 mountains rising majestically to the deepening 
 sky ; while at the further end might be seen, 
 through the vista between the violet curtains, the 
 concert-room, filling and lit up, where musicians 
 were already tuning their instruments, and some 
 one was touching with soft chords the grand 
 * piano. 
 
 Forgetting the nachtgliihn upon that glorious 
 lake-view, neglecting naiad and silvery fountains 
 and cool fern-shades alike, John, following his 
 two companions, passed hastily into the music 
 satte. What a curious audience were gathered 
 there. The Prince was ready in hospitality. It 
 needed little more than a card left, with some 
 pretence at introduction, with the big Suisse 
 porter at the entrance hall, to ensure an invita- 
 tion to those musical reunions at the Villa de la 
 Joie for American or English tourists, or for any 
 wanderer or sojourner at the hotels of Vevey, 
 Ouchy, or Montreux — no matter from what 
 corner of the four continents they might origin- 
 
1IIS PIIIM A DONNA. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ally hail. It implied little, certainly, as far as 
 the Prince was personally concerned, little be- 
 yond the necessity on his part of acknowledging 
 the many grateful salutes that reached him, as 
 he loitered on the pier or lake shore, or drove 
 along by the public way. Por he neither 
 received nor conversed with anyone on these 
 occasions, merely inviting them by card from 
 Scarlati or Rochsdorf, to join that feast of music 
 to the delights of which he entirely resigned 
 himself; and permitting them, — provided he 
 happened to retire instantly into his own 
 apartments or on to his particular and exclusive 
 piece of terrace, — to pass through the drawing- 
 room and ante-chamber — to admire his few 
 beautiful pieces of painting and sculpture ; and 
 to walk out upon the broad gravel-square in 
 front of the centre windows — to contemplate 
 from this famous point of view Mont Blanc (if 
 it were visible), but at least the dark Rocks of 
 Meillerie, the Peaks of the Dent d’Oche, and of 
 
112 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 the Valais Alps, in all the glory of the light of 
 the August moon which- had generally risen 
 luminously upon them by the time of the 
 concert’s close. 
 
 A curious assembly ; and John, as he passed 
 up from behind them, entering below the violet 
 curtains, following Scarlati and Rochsdorf for- 
 ward, between the rows of benches towards the 
 stage and into the circle of the Prince’s private 
 set, scanned with amusement the diversified 
 faces and the oddly assorted toilets, some gor- 
 geous and the result of much forethought, some 
 evidently scratch affairs, got up hurriedly as 
 well as might be, while en voyage, and quite 
 by the way. 
 
 Into the circle of the Prince’s friends there 
 passed, by another entrance near the stage, 
 many notable persons, however, each heralded 
 by Hugo’s courteous attendants, resplendent in 
 the liveries of Von Donnerblitz, and conducted 
 respectively to their seats by Baron von Rcchs- 
 
Ills PEIMA DONNA. 
 
 113 
 
 dorf, in his capacity of chamberlain, as they each 
 came in. There was a group of Russian elite, 
 and among these a dusky-cheeked princess, who, 
 during the evening, smoked several cigarettes. 
 There was a German Herzog and his duchess, 
 and an Italian patriot strayed across the moun- 
 tains — a friend of Prince Hugo’s in former days. 
 There were two English peers : one with a nice 
 bevy of English school-girls, whom the Prince 
 admired enthusiastically, and made always 
 -eagerly welcome to his musical fetes ; and the 
 other with only one rather antique, aristocratic, 
 severe-looking daughter, the Lady Selina Sud- 
 leigh, who stared about her after Rochsdorf had 
 ceremoniously found her a seat, as if she were 
 not quite sure of the position and had some 
 misgivings at allowing herself to be found there. 
 Consolation came to her in the shape of a young 
 Londoner presently, a man quite un exceptionally 
 “ smart ” in the London acceptation of the 
 term, — who assured her as he sat down that 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 these reunions of Prince Hugo’s were everything 
 that was most repandu, and that he himself — 
 determined to have the special entre to the arm- 
 chaired circles in front here — had obtained, as a 
 great favour, a personal note of presentation to 
 the Prince from the Bavarian Ambassador before 
 leaving town. “ You will see all sorts of people,” 
 he added. “ It is tremendously worth doing. 
 Lady Selina, no doubt of it.” 
 
 Then one after another, known and really 
 distinguished personages dropped in, to Lady 
 Selina’s further encouragement. A great painter, 
 with whose appearance she was well acquainted 
 in the very best houses at home, and who was 
 taking his autumn holiday this year in view of 
 Mont Blanc ; a musician, equally well known 
 to fame and fashion, who played constantly to 
 Prince Hugo at his small artistic dinners, or at 
 the hour of the abendgliihn, but never at such 
 assemblies as were here to-night, — a musician, 
 who had a beautiful little clidlet of his own 
 
HIS PRIM A DONNA. 
 
 115 
 
 (rivalling even La Joie in its charm) situated 
 near the murmuring waterfall that rushes over 
 the mountain slopes above Montreux. His 
 
 appearance, with Madame B , his charming 
 
 and ever popular wife, much consoled Lady 
 Selina Sudleigh, and filled her with the pleasing 
 assurance that when she described this scene of 
 music, and light, and gaiety and beauty and 
 pleasure, she might boast of having enjoyed it 
 in the best possible company. 
 
 Hugo came in quietly, while people were still 
 bustling to find their seats. He bowed with 
 grave courtesy to the assemblage generally, and 
 shook hands with one or two friends. 
 
 Then he glanced at the raised dais, drew his 
 watch out, glanced at it, and looked impatient ; 
 then stood silent a moment in front of his 
 own seat, looking across the rows of faces 
 behind. 
 
 He whispered a word to Baron von Rochsdorf, 
 who with John, Scarlati, and Comte de Vigue, 
 
116 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 now stood close to him, and they both looked 
 up towards the stage. 
 
 Viardet, a famous French pianist, was standing 
 close to the instrument, and around and behind 
 him several other musicians were arranging 
 stands and music, and awaiting a sign from 
 Prince or director to begin ; all standing, how- 
 ever, for the Prince did not take his seat, and 
 waiting because he appeared inclined to wait. 
 
 There were three centre fauteuils close to 
 where Hugo and his group of friends were now 
 standing, central among Russian dignitaries, 
 German Herzoginn , English peers, and other 
 potentates of the earth ; and these remained 
 empty, while the Prince still waited and stood 
 in silence. 
 
 He had not long to wait. The curtains, 
 festooned over the entrance at the right-hand 
 corner of the concert-room (by which there had 
 passed into the front ranks the Prince’s special 
 and most distinguished friends) were raised once 
 
HIS PRIMA DONNA. 
 
 117 
 
 more at each side simultaneously, and — before 
 anyone could pass before her, to announce or 
 escort her — there entered Zare ! 
 
 She walked calmly, rather shyly, but perfectly 
 composed and alone, just only a little in front, 
 however, of her friend Mrs. Redmond, the 
 American lady in whose charge she had come to 
 Switzerland, and who, in a beautiful, Worth-like 
 toilet, followed her with several other Americans 
 close behind. 
 
 The Prince turned and went quietly forward. 
 In a moment Zare’s hand was in his, and he 
 retained it, while he murmured a low word of 
 reproach that she had come so late. Then his 
 lips parted in a soft, grave smile, and his eyes 
 passed slowly over her countenance as he spoke, 
 with a lingering, wistful look in them, that it was 
 difficult to read. She answered with a playful 
 smile full of ease and confidence, and she 
 looked straight up into his grave face with a 
 sunny light in her own great, dark, eager eyes. 
 
118 
 
 PRINCE I1VG0. 
 
 He shook his head, but smiled back again, 
 and then he drew himself up suddenly with a 
 curious haughty gesture habitual to him, 
 and he turned and drew her hand within his 
 arm. 
 
 “ Good evening,” he said genially to Mrs. 
 Redmond ; and then he bowed with courteous 
 welcome, and with a movement of his hand to 
 her group of American friends, glancing at the 
 same time towards Rochsdorf, who promptly 
 took them under his wing. 
 
 Then Prince Hugo, with Zare still leaning 
 upon his arm, indicated the chair at his right 
 hand to the spouse of that eminent trans- 
 atlantic republican, Mr. Percy B. Redmond, and 
 moved forward to place Zare on his other side. 
 But he remained with her, standing yet a 
 moment as he signed to M. Viardet and to 
 the director of the musicians, and then bent 
 again to say something further in a low tone 
 to her. 
 
HIS PBIMA DONNA. 
 
 119 
 
 She apparently assented, and stood looking 
 up at him again, speaking rapidly and low. 
 
 She had turned a little, and now nearly faced 
 the whole assembled audience as she stood, and 
 with them John Frere, whom she never observed 
 up to this moment. John, who stood in re- 
 spectful aside as the Prince moved forward, and 
 who remained transfixed with mingled tumultu- 
 ous thoughts and sensations, as he contemplated 
 his quondam companion-student Zare. 
 
 How little he had realised, all these student 
 years, what a lovely woman and charming artiste 
 she was to become ! 
 
 The realisation had broken upon him for the 
 first time in London ; now it came afresh upon 
 him with renewed wonder indeed. Zare was in 
 full evening dress to-night — in her favourite 
 shade of soft, creamy silk ; with jewels glittering 
 in her dark hair, and with pearls which Mrs. 
 Redmond had lent to her glistening at her ears 
 and twined round her neck ; with the bright 
 
120 
 
 PRINCE HUGO, 
 
 light of the concert-room reflected in her eyes - r 
 and with a soft glow of colour on her downy 
 cheeks. 
 
 Thus Zare burst anew upon his vision, dazzling 
 him, like southern sunshine, as she came slowly 
 across to her seat, leaning on the Prince’s arm. 
 She moved with a quiet, unruffled dignity too, 
 that most truly amazed him ! How she had 
 gained in lustrous beauty in these few short 
 weeks ; and much more than this, how wonder- 
 fully she had gained, not alone in beauty, but in 
 dignity and in presence as well ; in that inde- 
 scribable, undefinable evidence of power, in fact, 
 which comes to an artiste as the last final crown 
 of her investiture; comes with the full recog- 
 nition of her genius, comes from the force of 
 appreciation and from a new deep conscious- 
 ness of life, born beneath the ringing voice of 
 applause. 
 
 It was this that gave her movements new 
 grace and dignity, and her bearing that queen- 
 
HIS PRIMA DONNA. 
 
 121 
 
 liness of conscious power. This was evident and 
 comprehensible — but, even beyond this, John 
 could detect a change ! What brought that soft 
 rich glow to her cheek, and that happy sunny 
 light to her eyes ? That winning playful smile 
 with which she had quelled Prince Hugo’s im- 
 patience and remonstrances; that perfect ease, 
 that aspect of unperturbed and unsuspicious 
 confidence with which she leant upon his arm, 
 answered back his words, and returned that keen, 
 grave gaze of his which seemed to sink down 
 searchingly into the dark, shadowy depths of her 
 large eyes ? 
 
 Whence came all this intercourse — happy and 
 familiar as if it were a thing of old ? This new 
 glow, this joy and vitality of something yet more 
 than genius ? It seemed to enfold Zare as John 
 gazed wonderingly upon her, and tried to realise. 
 “What,” he wondered silently, “had come to 
 Zare ? ” John suddenly sighed — a short, quick, 
 involuntary sigh — as he watched her still, as he 
 
122 
 
 PEIS CE IIUGO. 
 
 saw her take her place beside Prince Hugo so 
 coolly, and so much as a matter of course ; as a 
 revelation violently forced itself upon his mind ; 
 and as he thought of Roderick, of c Madame 
 ma femme ’ far away at Rodenstadt, and — of 
 Miriam’s letter ! 
 
 A. H. COULDH'Y. 
 
 DRAPER, STATION, R, 1 i< ..iONGER, 
 
 BEN/1 RIDGE. 
 
 ISLE " F W C H T. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 After that, the concert was as a dream to 
 John, — more than this, a nightmare. 
 
 He never could recollect the name of anything 
 to which he listened then — and it was only 
 •during his after life that he occasionally became 
 aware of one thing, and another, that he had heard 
 that night, by certain painful and haunting sensa- 
 tions which certain pieces of music spontaneously 
 recalled. And with certain lovely songs, the 
 effect upon him of Zare’s voice (as she sang with 
 a force and intensity of beauty such as he had 
 never heard in its thrilling echoes before) would 
 return and haunt him for long after, and bring 
 back to him always, the recollection of his strong 
 feelings of bewilderment and unaccountable pain. 
 
124 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 And constantly in after years he would recall 
 to himself, Zare, as she stood several times that 
 night upon the crimson dais before them, with 
 Viardet’s soft accompaniment following the 
 modulations of her glorious voice, with the other 
 musicians grouped in silence behind, with her 
 figure drawn up and her creamy drapery falling 
 gracefully around her, with her eyes looking 
 darkly out from beneath her long silky lashes 
 and kindling and gleaming in harmony with her 
 passionate notes as she sang ; and as Prince 
 Hugo listened, with intense, unfathomable ex- 
 pression on his fine, earnest face, and with gaze 
 sometimes fixed upon the ground at his feet, 
 sometimes raised as if with spontaneous and 
 irresistible eagerness to meet and mingle in 
 rapt appreciation and sympathy with hers. 
 
 John had slipped back to the left side of the 
 dais, and was standing close beneath it beyond 
 the shadow of a curtain that fell behind a piece 
 of statuary just there, and so she did not see 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 125 
 
 hitn all this time, and he could observe at will. 
 Evidently the Prince had forgotten or had pur- 
 posely failed to mention his presence to Zare, so 
 she was quite unaware that, — as she sang to 
 that new and mostly unknown audience, as she 
 enjoyed with Alexander-like insatiability for 
 new subjugation, the conquest of this assemblage 
 now, — she was quite unaware that a pilgrim from 
 out her own more familiar world, from former 
 scenes and suggesting former ties and interests, 
 had already wandered to this bright little new 
 kingdom of hers. 
 
 So John could watch, and wonder, and rumi- 
 nate at his ease unseen. 
 
 The music at length over, the curtains at the 
 far end of the music salle were thrown back, and 
 the drawing-room, softly illuminated now with 
 stars of glistening wax-lights, was open to view. 
 The audience had permission that night to pass 
 out this wav, — to walk on to the terrace, where 
 Mont Blanc stood revealed luminous and radiant 
 
123 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 in the glorious moonlight, and where they might 
 saunter and watch the clouds roll majestically 
 over the mountains, and the silver-tipped waves 
 of the blue lake break upon the shore below. 
 
 The Prince was exclusive and fastidious in 
 that circle of friends who closely surrounded 
 himself. They were few and chosen, but beyond 
 these — so long as he was undisturbed by them 
 — he liked to feel the moving and living crowd, 
 to catch the echoes of murmuring voices, the 
 ring of laughter, the frou-frou of dresses, and 
 tread of many feet ; and so the audience might 
 pass out and admire his drawing-room, and pro- 
 menade his terrace, while he walked slowly 
 among the front circle of his guests for a 
 moment, saying a courteous word to one or two, 
 and then — with Mrs. Redmond on his arm now, 
 and M. Yiardet at his invitation following with 
 Zare just close behind — he turned with a nod and’ 
 sign to Scarlati and Rochsdorf, and passed by 
 his private doorway from the concert-room. 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 127 
 
 Baron von Rochsdorf and Signor Scarlati liad 
 evidently already their orders, in obedience to 
 which there was imparted by them to several 
 chosen guests a courteous invitation to join the 
 Prince, when it might please them, on the 
 western terrace and in his private supper-room. 
 
 M. and Madame B , from the Glion Chalet, 
 
 were among these, and M. R , the great 
 
 painter of the Matterhorn. But neither Lady 
 Selina Sudleigh nor her prim-looking parent 
 was included, nor yet the ‘ smart ’ young man 
 from town. But John was summoned from his 
 retired corner, and DeVigne was touched lightly 
 on the shoulder, and also Signor Scavelli, who had 
 distilled such divine sounds half an hour before 
 from his violin and who was now incasing it 
 tenderly before departure — an unassuming little 
 man of transcendent genius, — such a one as 
 •Prince Hugo delighted to honour! One after 
 another these disappeared through the side door 
 at the Baron’s indication, leaving many other 
 
123 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 persons of larger self-esteem and more certain 
 expectations, to find tlieir own way home to 
 supper at their respective hotels, when it suited 
 them, or when hunger prompted the step. John, 
 roused from his abstraction, followed the Prince’s 
 party, and found himself once more in a new 
 Eldoradian scene. Passing from out the villa at 
 the western side, and accompanying Scarlati, 
 who cordially took him by the arm, he stepped 
 on to a piece of elevated terrace from which the 
 moonlit view was resplendent ; from where the 
 enchanted gaze could wander over the mystic 
 dreamlands of the far mountains, and revel in 
 the silvery sheen of the everlasting snows; where 
 the deep stillness of the lake and the hush of 
 the falling night seemed to soothe, while the soft 
 fragrance of the air seemed to freshen the spirit ; 
 and where no disturbing sound could come, only 
 all the soft music of the summer’s night, the 
 chirp of the grasshopper, the distant murmur of 
 many waters, and “ the floating whisper of the 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 128 
 
 hills,” which Byron heard and has echoed, over 
 and over again, in many sweet mystic words, 
 when, 
 
 “ The starlight dews, 
 
 All silently their tears of love instil, 
 
 Weeping themselves away.” 
 
 An acacia-grove grew along one side this terrace, 
 and a border of flowers along the other. Car- 
 nations, and late clustering roses, flowering 
 jessamine, and heliotrope, sent forth their rich, 
 sweet essence into the still night air, and this 
 was soon mingling with fragrant odours of 
 cigarette smoke curling from the thin lips of the 
 Russian Princess, and from a bright star in the 
 hand or between the lips of nearly every man of 
 whatsoever nation in the party. At the further 
 end of this bit of terrace appeared a flood 
 of soft light — streaming out into the darkness 
 from the open door of a little summer house. 
 Towards this point Scarlati led John, talking all 
 the while continuously to him, and explaining 
 the identity of each distinguished personage to 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 IC 
 
130 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 whom he bowed respectfully as he passed them, 
 or to whom he simply accorded a familiar nod. 
 The party were sauntering up and down slowly 
 in the lovely moonlight, inhaling the soft summer 
 air of the mountains, talking in a pleasant sotto 
 voce murmur suitable to the dreamy scene, and 
 awaiting his Highness’s invitation to pass into 
 the illuminated little octagon-shaped arbour 
 for supper. But he had turned again as he 
 approached the house to pace the terrace 
 once more, Mrs. Redmond, the bright little 
 American lady, (clad in that most resplendent of 
 Worth’s costumes,) still leaning easily upon his 
 arm, proud of her position, and conscious of 
 its conspicuous dignity, but taking it with that 
 happy coolness and complacency of mien that 
 characterises the brilliant Worth-clad ladies of 
 her nation, at all times and under every variety 
 of circumstances, to which their nomadic lives in 
 Europe may consign them. 
 
 Apparently, Mrs. Redmond could make her- 
 
TILE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 131 
 
 self very pleasant to the Prince, and he listened 
 to her, amused and interested evidently, by her 
 ceaseless ripple, as he led her up and down 
 the terrace promenade, closely followed by her 
 protegee, Zare La-Gonidet, leaning still upon the 
 arm of M. Viardet the great pianist. 
 
 Twice they had passed slowly along the 
 terrace, while John had stood back behind the 
 shelter of a huge vase that held a towering 
 geranium in full bloom. Twice he had stepped 
 back unobserved, and then had watched them, as 
 the Prince stepped slowly past him, and as Zare’s 
 long skirt swept the ground near his feet. 
 
 It was not till they were returning the second 
 time, and coming towards the summer house, 
 that John roused himself. All this time he had 
 heard little of Scarlati’s rattling remarks, so 
 absorbed had he been in watching that expres- 
 sive countenance, and those flashing eyes of 
 Zare’s, as she passed him in the moonlight, and 
 so lost in meditation on her general aspect when 
 
132 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 she was gone. He roused himself, as once more 
 they were approaching. The Prince was answer- 
 ing, in his deep tones, some sally of Mrs. Red- 
 mond’s, and was laughing as he came along 
 and as he glanced down upon her bright face, — 
 laughing in the quiet, low, quaint way he had 
 sometimes, as if amused within his own mind, 
 and yet as if only half awake to the sense of 
 amusement ; as” if his heart was not altogether 
 in the laugh — as if some other, some deeper, 
 some graver thought occupied him beyond. 
 
 He was talking in this rather absent way to 
 Mrs. Redmond now, as if pleased with her, and 
 yet as though thinking, all the while, of some- 
 thing different from her lively subject, and of 
 someone other than herself. She knew that way 
 of his — it came over him frequently. “ I always 
 feel it of him,” Mrs. Redmond was wont to say. 
 “ I make myself as charming as I can to him, 
 and I always think him the most charming man 
 I know, as he answers me in return ; but all the 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 133 
 
 while I feel he does not care a brass farthing 
 about me — and it is odd if he is hearing a word 
 I say ; only he has such a clever polite way with 
 him, you know, he never lets you, for certain, 
 find that out/’ 
 
 There was that curiously absent and rather 
 weary expression on his face now, at the 
 moment when John came forward from his 
 retreat behind the geranium vase, and met his 
 glance full and fair in the lustrous moonlight. 
 
 The Prince slightly started, and he dropped 
 his eyes for an instant, as he encountered 
 John’s, as if he would veil a thought he felt 
 might be read there ; apparently, he had almost 
 forgotten John. His sudden presence before 
 him aroused some curious and, perhaps, not 
 altogether agreeable thoughts. He paused, and 
 John stood aside to let him pass on, if he 
 wished it, without further notice than a sign 
 in response to his bow; but the Prince still 
 paused. 
 
134 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ All ! ” lie said, and then hesitated again. 
 “ My dear Frere, where have you hidden your- 
 self? Here you are. Have you greeted yet ? ” 
 he continued, turning round to look for the two 
 moving slowly behind him. “ Have you greeted 
 your charming friend Mademoiselle Zare ? ” 
 
 “Monsieur Jean !” she was there now, close 
 beside the Prince, her hand withdrawing itself 
 rapidly from M. Viardet’s arm. “ Monsieur Jean, 
 to think of you here, out on the terrace in the 
 moonlight, and never coming to say bon jour to 
 me?” 
 
 Her hand was laid in his as she spoke, and he 
 held it a moment as his kind eyes rested upon 
 her face. 
 
 “ I saw you, Zare, and I have been enjoying 
 all your triumphs. I have been watching for 
 the moment when you might have leisure to see 
 me.” 
 
 She laughed — that soft rippling laugh of hers 
 — and she shook the hand that held hers indig- 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 135 
 
 nantly for an instant, and then pressed it again, 
 nestling her own still further into its clasp. 
 
 “ How could you be so silly, Monsieur Jean? 
 Did I not tell you, your Highness, that he would 
 come ? ” she continued, turning her great dark 
 glistening eyes in the lustrous moonlight, up to- 
 wards the Prince’s face. “ Did I not tell you ? 
 but I did not expect he would steal upon us in 
 this sort of unexpected way. What a shame, 
 Monsieur Jean, to be listening there to my sing- 
 ing, when I did not know.” 
 
 “ I captured him,” said the Prince, after an 
 instant’s silence, in which he had been answer- 
 ing back from his deep eyes, that frank bright 
 gaze of hers, into his face. “ I captured him in 
 the act of running away from Yevey pier to-day, 
 and brought him here, an unwilling prisoner, to 
 La Joie.” 
 
 “ Not unwilling, your Highness, only diffi- 
 dent,” said John. “ La Joie, beautiful La Joie, 
 who could enter its flowery portals unwillingly?” 
 
130 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “Well, I hope you will then willingly re- 
 main,” said the Prince, kindly. “ Come, Madame 
 Redmond, you must be longing for some little 
 refreshment, and I keep you ruthlessly out in 
 the cold and hungry moonlight here. Frere, 
 will you accompany us ? ” 
 
 When Zare had dropped M. Viardet’s arm, that 
 gentleman, seeing that an encounter of friends 
 had taken place, and realizing his turn as escort 
 of the lovely Diva to be over for the moment, 
 had dropped back a little, and had taken John’s 
 place in Scarlati’s cheerful society ; so, at these 
 words from the Prince, John and Zare turned 
 together now, and she put her hand, with a 
 pleased and eager gesture, within his arm. 
 
 “ I am so glad,” she whispered, — “ so glad to 
 see you, Monsieur Jean.” 
 
 “Are you? I am enchanted to hear it,” he 
 replied. “ And, Zare, I am glad,” he continued, 
 “ to see you. Looking so well, too, developed 
 into such distinction, my dear little friend of 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 137 
 
 the Boulevard Madeleine, developed beyond 
 the fondest dreams of your most enthusiastic 
 friends.” 
 
 “ I am very happy,” said Zare, in a low tone. 
 ■“ I do so enjoy it, Monsieur Jean, — coming to 
 sing, you know, at these lovely concerts, on 
 this mountain paradise here, and now it will be 
 doubly delightful that you have come. His 
 Highness is very fond of you, Monsieur 
 Jean.” 
 
 “ His Highness has always been very good to 
 me,” said John, gravely. “ Where did you 
 meet him, Zare ? ” 
 
 She laughed — an intensely sweet laugh — as 
 if the memory, roused by his question, was a 
 pleasant one. 
 
 “ Oh, it was so funny — it was down there, 
 you know, by the lake side. I was on a pony, 
 and I could not make it go — one of these little 
 rough ponies we get at the hotel at Vevey, to 
 take us up the hills ; and mine was so wild and 
 
138 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 obstinate, and Mrs. Redmond’s was such a good 
 one, and had gone ever so far on before, and I 
 was quite alone. Monsieur Jean, and — then I 
 met him. I was so frightened, and he w r as so 
 kind. Is he not always kind? — Is he not 
 always, indeed % You know how kind. And he 
 led my pony, and would not let anyone touch 
 the bridle, but himself, all the way he led it to' 
 Chillon, which we were going to see, and I did 
 not know it was he. I did not know anything,, 
 only I wondered why the other gentlemen hung 
 back always, and said so little, and only looked 
 so oddly at me, and at him, as he led my little 
 pony so gravely along. I knew nothing until 
 that night when I sang in the great hotel salon, 
 at a concert for the poor of Yevey. He came to 
 hear me, and then I knew. For I saw my bridle 
 knight, who had conducted me so courteously in 
 the afternoon, seated there in the very centre of 
 the front row, with that big bright star upon his 
 coat, and they told me he was Prince Hugo of 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 13& 
 
 Rodavia. And I wondered when lie sat so grave, 
 and with that kindling deep look, as I sang to 
 him — I wondered if I should ever speak to him 
 again ; and then — ah ! I cannot tell you more 
 now, for we are to go into supper. But, Mon- 
 sieur Jean, how I have rattled on to you, just 
 as I used to, always, you know, aud I have so 
 much more to tell you. But, look, he is signing 
 to me to come on. Ah, is it not lovely, Monsieur 
 Jean ? ” 
 
 They had paused as she had been describing 
 to him so vehemently that first quaint encounter 
 of hers with the Prince, paused by John’s huge 
 geranium vase, and he was looking round at her, 
 listening, and yet scarcely listening — so rapid 
 and absorbing was the rush of his own suggestive,, 
 speculative thoughts. As he scanned her face 
 while she spoke to him, as he strove to read its 
 vivid and quickly varying expressions, as he 
 gazed full into the dark luminous eyes, and as 
 his heart told him that they were, as ever, limpid 
 
140 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 and transparent as they were beautiful. Still 
 without shadow or cloud, and with no veiled 
 depths or dark hidden thoughts at all in them, 
 save that depth of earnest genius, indeed, and 
 those veiled fountain-springs of wistful medita- 
 tion, of tender dreams, of undefined and un- 
 utterable longings, which described the passionate 
 inner life, of her pure artist soul. Zare was his 
 proud hearted maid of the Sierras still, and the 
 old, warm coloured lines of the beloved sun- 
 poet of the student days came back to him, 
 and he murmured with a quiet smile, and more 
 to himself than to her : — 
 
 “ She boasted Montezuma’s blood, 
 
 Was pure of heart as Tahoe’s flood, 
 
 And strangely fair and princely souled.” 
 
 “ Oh, Monsieur Jean, fancy thinking of that 
 here, in the moonlight, on this terrace of La 
 Joie, and you used to say the lines to me in 
 Paris. How little we ever thought of being 
 together here, is it not lovely ? ” she continued 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 141 
 
 as he turned to lead her down the promenade 
 towards the summer-house. “ Look how that 
 glorious mountain is sleeping far away there in 
 the moonlight like a great monarch at rest, is it 
 not beautiful? Look, Monsieur Jean, what a 
 silver smile that is, dimpling the blue waters, 
 what a sweet, pure air ; is not life delicious, is 
 this villa not really La Joie ? ” 
 
 “It is very charming,” John answered. 
 
 “ Yes ; and he is so good. Oh, how you 
 must have always loved him. You know you 
 once did tell me of him. I remember it now 
 quite well ; it was one summer time in Paris, 
 nearly the very last summer, too ; you had been 
 to Germany, and you talked so much of Prince 
 Hugo when you came back. Ah, I did not 
 think then I should one day come to know him, 
 did I now, Monsieur Jean ? ” 
 
 They had reached the end of the terrace, 
 where stood the octagon arbour. 
 
 Such a pretty little dainty supper-room it was ! 
 
142 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 fitted with a round table and with seats for just 
 exactly their number. Lit by a coloured globe 
 lamp which, hanging midway from the ceiling, 
 shed a soft lustre upon glittering plate, on por- 
 celain of delicate rose du B cirri, on gleaming 
 Venetian glass, on piles of rich-hued fruit, and 
 on vases of clustering flowers. A line of servants 
 stood waiting at the further side from which 
 opened the back entrance to the domestic de- 
 partment, and from whence they brought and 
 carried round to the guests successions of small, 
 etherial plats suited to the scene, the hour, 
 and to the delicate appetites of midnight, all 
 pleasantly sharpened as they were by several 
 hours of music since an early table d'hote, and 
 freshened by the pure, keen air of the Alpine 
 terrace. There were not many pi cits, and none 
 were luxurious enough to recall the round table 
 suppers of the Regency, but just sufficient, 
 appropriate, and, as far as they soared in the 
 aesthetics of gastronomy, thoroughly well done. 
 
THE PRINCE AND IIIS FRIENDS. 
 
 143 
 
 The Prince kept Mrs. Redmond as before at 
 his right side, and by a deft arrangement and a 
 slight wave of his hand, he somehow settled the 
 others of the party in such a way before he sat 
 down, that John found himself drawing back a 
 chair to enable Zare to enter just at the left hand 
 of Prince Hugo, and bringing himself as her 
 escort to the place next to her, and within 
 hearing of all that she and the Prince might say. 
 
 Zare arranged herself with a majestic sweep of 
 her skirt into her destined seat with much com- 
 posure, and a happy and unconscious ease, and 
 John laughed to himself once again, as he noted 
 this enviable Bohemian attribute by which she 
 was ready to be composed and at her ease with 
 prince or peasant, English or German alike, so 
 long as they were kind to her and sympatJiique, 
 as she would have expressed it, pleasing her, and 
 ready to be pleased. 
 
 She had slipped even beyond the fixed rules of 
 etiquette , and had sat down unthinking, and was 
 
144 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 unfolding lier snowy serviette, and unbuttoning 
 her gloves, and glancing brightly around; while 
 the Prince still stood upright beside her and 
 paused, glancing down, ere he seated himself, 
 upon her dark, shapely head. He bent low at 
 length, almost touching her soft white shoulder 
 with his own as he took his place, and John 
 looking across at him above the glistening jewels 
 in Zare’s dark coils of hair, caught a curious 
 fleeting and instantly controlled expression in his 
 deep proud eyes. A wave of colour, too, swept 
 over his broad forehead, and as quickly faded 
 away. He bit his lip, and then an intensely 
 grave look came into his face. It was turned 
 towards Zare, and his eyes were meeting the 
 brilliant light of hers straight, an'd close, and full, 
 and John could see that the strongly controlled 
 countenance quivered in every feature and every 
 nerve, as her glance danced and played over his 
 face for a moment, and then sank beneath the 
 searching and dominating power of his. 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 145 
 
 As she withdrew her hand from her long 
 glove, her eyes thus sank, but it was only for a 
 moment ; then they were raised at once and 
 fearlessly again, and they answered back the 
 Prince with a glance full of gladness and of 
 sweet playful light, as if it were pleasant to her 
 to meet and return thus, — and to brighten too, as 
 with the sunny irresistible reflection of her own 
 glance, — the grave, keen gaze of these steel-blue 
 eyes. 
 
 He, too, unfolded his serviette, and in a 
 moment the little supper began. 
 
 There was a perfect regiment of Venetian 
 glass between Zare and the Prince, and as she 
 put down her gloves and fan and little lace 
 handkerchief ambng them, Hugo suggested, 
 smilingly, that there was more than a sufficient 
 supply. He took up one by one, several tall 
 spiral stemmed glasses intended for varieties of 
 Chablis, or Yvorne, or other mountain-made 
 beverages such as he loved, and he pushed them 
 
 VOL. IT. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 aside a little, and made more room for her pos- 
 sessions. As he did so, and as he spoke in a 
 low voice to her, his lip curled with a curious 
 and rather sad smile, and then that kindling 
 look came into his eyes again ; and his hand, as 
 it moved among the tall glasses on the table 
 between them, seemed accidentally for a moment 
 to touch hers. He was about to take up her 
 fan and gloves, and to put them further upon 
 the table into safetv, and instead, — as if uncon- 
 sciously, — his hand paused near hers. It rested 
 close and in contact for one instant, while again 
 that wave of warm colour rushed over his brow ; 
 then he drew himself together quickly and 
 turned away. 
 
 She had coloured also now, a deep flush 
 mantling for a moment the soft . down of her 
 dusky southern cheek, and her eyes sank again, 
 the long dark lashes drooping and deeply veiling 
 them ; while beneath was a curious kindling 
 gleam that was new to her, and a soft suffusion 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 147 
 
 •of some unfathomable feeling which seemed to 
 ebb unbidden to their quivering lids. She, too, 
 gathered herself together, however, immediately ; 
 and, while Prince Hugo turned away, to break 
 the charm of that moment’s silence by address- 
 ing some light courteous remark to Mrs. Red- 
 mond, Zare looked up and shook her head back 
 with a curious graceful movement, as if impatient 
 and perhaps annoyed with herself ; and she put 
 up her fingers and passed them across her eyes 
 for a second, as if the light dazzled her, and 
 then she turned and whispered suddenly to 
 John — 
 
 “Have you heard from anyone the last day 
 or two? Is your news later than mine, I 
 wonder? Have you heard from Miriam since 
 they left Spaalbad ? ” 
 
 “No; and I was not even aware that they 
 had left,” said John. 
 
 “ A.h ! then I am much before you in news, 
 and I have pleasant tidings to give. You do 
 
148 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 not know that they are coming to the Trois 
 Couronnes to-morrow? — the Trois Couronnes 
 here at Vevey, I mean.” 
 
 “ No — really — to-morrow ? ” 
 
 “ To-morrow ; and here to the Trois Cou- 
 ronnes, where I am with Mrs. Redmond, you 
 know.” 
 
 “ Ah ! that is delightful. By my last news 
 they had made no decided plan. I found a 
 letter with yours at the poste restante, Geneva, 
 but it had lain there some days, no doubt, and 
 the news was old.” 
 
 “They are coming,” she said, and then she 
 paused, and her lips parted as if she would have 
 said more. And there was one for whom John 
 longed to ask her, and a name he was eager to 
 hear her speak : a name that it made him angry 
 within himself to feel it was perhaps difficult to 
 utter — even inappropriate, indeed — as they sat 
 here at Prince Hugo’s supper-table ; and as Zare, 
 with these great eyes of hers, glistening with 
 
THE PRINCE AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 149 
 
 such a wealth of happiness, bright with such 
 undefinable new gleams of life and delight, was 
 sitting between him and Prince Hugo, — her 
 hand and beautiful soft arm still resting on the 
 white damask amidst the gleaming Venetian 
 glass. 
 
 And the name was still unspoken when at 
 length, the supper over and the summer’s night 
 well on its way, the party reluctantly broke up. 
 When the moment came for the Prince to say 
 “ An revoir ” in his genial courtly voice to each 
 one as they bowed or returned his cordial hand’s 
 clasp at the terrace gate; and as Mrs. Redmond, 
 with Zare carefully gathered under her wing, 
 said her frank “ Good * night,” and echoed 
 warmly the Prince’s hope that they might meet 
 on the morrow. 
 
 They were gone ; and it seemed to John like 
 a strange, beautiful, bewildering dream — the 
 supper-table, and Zare’s bright presence there, 
 with her dark gleaming eyes, so wondrous and 
 
150 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 so full of life, so constantly turned to meet Lis 
 own; and that hour they had sat side by side 
 there and talked of many things, while always 
 that one subject remained unnoticed still. 
 
 She was gone ; the supper was past and over, 
 and not once during its course or conversation 
 had he had courage to mention to her, or she, 
 chosen to whisper to him, the name which must 
 all the while have been quivering on her lips as 
 it hung on his : the name her every glance, her 
 every word, her every smile, recalled to him — of 
 his distant sailor-cousin, Roderick Ray. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DOES HE NOT KNOW ? 
 
 Miriam was coming to-morrow, — so Zare had 
 said, — and it was one of the first thoughts that 
 occurred to John, who, (while the dew was still 
 glistening in a silvery frost on the flowers and 
 soft verdure of Prince Hugo’s lawn,) came down- 
 stairs, and passed out through the drawing- 
 room, and stood once more on the terrace in- 
 haling the fresh invigorating morning air. 
 
 Miriam was coming ! The little puffing 
 steamboat that would come sweeping up the 
 lake to the Vevey pier, at three o’clock, would 
 probably bring the whole Debugines’ party from 
 Lausanne, where they had slept last night, — so 
 Zare had surmised, — at the end of their long 
 railway journey from Berne by Neuchatel. 
 
152 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ At all events, I will go down and meet 
 the afternoon boat,” thought John, “and take 
 the chance of finding them, and I will call in 
 for Zare and Mrs. Redmond on the way too, 
 and persuade them to come down with me to 
 the pier ; that is to say, if the Prince has no 
 other plan for me for the day.” 
 
 The Prince had none. He appeared on the 
 terrace an hour or two later, just in time for the 
 second d'ejeuner , having had his coffee in his 
 own apartments, previous to a matutinal walk 
 at a very early hour. He appeared about eleven 
 o’clock, and at the same time, De Vigne, 
 Scarlati, and the Baron von Roclisdorf assembled 
 from different directions. They had their plea- 
 sant sociable repast, combining luncheon and 
 breakfast, in a pretty morning room, with a 
 broad verandah leading to a small bright flower 
 garden at the east side of the house ; whence, 
 not the wide open view of the whole lake and 
 mountain ranges was visible, as from the 
 
DOES HE NOT KNOW? 
 
 153 
 
 drawing-room and terrace, but a pretty little 
 •vista, a bewitching bit of scenery stretching away 
 between the opening of the drooping acacia and 
 chestnut trees — a view towards Chillon and 
 Montreux, along the northern banks of the blue 
 lake, where the slopes, which up to this point 
 were smiling and verdant, broke into rough 
 precipices, with steep dark woods clustering in 
 the rocky crevices, and overhanging the road, 
 which here curved and wound along the bays 
 and broken lines of the shore. 
 
 After breakfast. Prince Hugo idled away a 
 sunny hour. He had already spent a busy 
 morning with Rochsdorf over his correspondence, 
 and in consideration of those inevitable despatches 
 that reached him daily from Rodenstadt. And 
 after breakfast, at this hottest hour of the day, 
 he liked to sit under the cool shadow of the 
 western verandah, to smoke his cigar, to con- 
 verse with De Vigne, and to listen to Scarlati 
 either chattering incessantly, or singing his little 
 
154 
 
 FRINGE HUGO. 
 
 soft Italian pifferari, patriotic, or fisher songs 
 in the room behind. ' Scarlati was the hammer- 
 virtuoso, as well as the pleasant and often-chosen 
 companion of Prince Hugo’s days of rustic 
 retreat. 
 
 This morning the Prince talked much to John,, 
 telling him the incidental histories of many 
 different members of his Rudetzburg circles,, 
 whom John recollected from his sojourn there ; 
 and asking him, with frank and kindly interest, 
 questions about himself and his professional 
 successes, and his future plans ; not saying one 
 word, however, of last night — of Zare or her 
 singing, or of any present or immediate phase 
 of affairs. 
 
 It was pleasant sitting there in quiet and 
 coolness and shadow, through this hot mid-day ; 
 and John felt that the surrounding brightness 
 of scene and air, and of summer scents, and 
 sweet summer sounds, and of pleasant com- 
 panionship and sympathetic exchange of thought. 
 
DOES HE NOT KNOW? 
 
 155 
 
 was altogether delicious and invigorating, making 
 La Joie seem a holiday retreat unparalleled in its 
 completeness and perfection of refreshment and 
 repose. 
 
 The sound of the church bell in the village 
 chiming two o’clock, roused him at length, 
 however, to the recollection of his scheme for the 
 afternoon. 
 
 “ Has your Highness any plan for to-day, that 
 would be disturbed by my leaving you for an. 
 hour or two ? ” he asked. 
 
 “ Most certainly none,” said Prince Hugo. 
 “ This is a hall of liberty, I hope, for my guests 
 and friends. Where would you go, Frere ? ” 
 
 “ I was proposing to myself an expedition to 
 the Trois Couronnes.” 
 
 “ Ah ! ” The Prince said nothing further for 
 a minute then. “ You will find it still a hot 
 walk,” he added. “ Shall I order the fourgon 
 and send you down ? ” 
 
 “ No, many thanks. I need not trouble you 
 
15C 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 to that extent, I think I can scramble down 
 the bank under the chestnuts, pretty much in 
 shade nearly the whole way, and then I can 
 make a short cut between the vineyards, can I 
 not? ” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” said De Yigne, “ keep to the 
 right between Bulo’s and Cavan’s vines, and go 
 straight down. If anybody calls to you, say you 
 come from the Villa, and they will let you 
 pass.” 
 
 “They are very particular about trespassers 
 through their vineyards, as a rule,” said the 
 Prince. “ But all the good fellows about here 
 know me now, and give right of way to myself 
 and to my friends. Are you going to call upon 
 Mrs. Redmond, die schone Amerikanerin ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, I think I ought to pay my respects 
 if your Highness has no other plan forme,” said 
 John. 
 
 “ None whatever ; I shall drive down, when 
 it is a little cooler, somewhere in that way also. 
 
 A 
 
DOES HE NOT KNOW? 
 
 157 
 
 I daresay ; and if I find you I may bring you 
 home. So, will that do ? ” 
 
 “Perfectly. You are very good. I shall be 
 charmed to drive up with you, and will look out 
 for you in the town.” 
 
 “Very well, then. Give the schone Ameri- 
 hanerin salutations from me. She is adorable, is 
 she not ? I wish Spielhagen had known her ; 
 she would be a delicious study for him. Tell 
 her how much I hope she is not fatigued, and 
 did not take cold last night. Ah ! we are to 
 have no music this evening ; I dine with the 
 Due d’Albert at the chateau. You and Scarlati 
 will have to amuse yourselves, Frere.” 
 
 “ Ah ! that we will do well, Serenissimo,” 
 exclaimed Scarlati, coming out through the 
 window from the room, where he had been 
 playing to them, as the Prince spoke, and catching 
 the last words ; “ I will take care of Frere.” 
 
 “ Ah ! so well. But I do not go till late. 
 The Due has adopted modern English hours. 
 
158 
 
 riUNCE HUGO. 
 
 I will have time enough to drive you home, 
 Frere, and to take a turn with you on the ter- 
 race afterwards before dressing. And now do 
 not let me keep you longer. You wish to go.” 
 And he took his cigar from between his lips, and 
 smiled, while a curious scrutinising expression 
 came into his eyes for a moment as he surveyed 
 John. “ Au revoir” he said, kindly, in answer 
 to the latter’s bow. “Take care of yourself, 
 mon cher. There are dangerous places in the 
 precipitous banks down there. Do not you slip 
 over, I say — a good many have done so already.” 
 
 There was a double entendre, something more 
 than the mere words implied, in the Prince’s 
 manner and voice. 
 
 John paused and answered the glance and 
 smile, raising his hat the while, and hesitating 
 before he replied in speech. •“ Silence is gold,” 
 he thought. Was there anything that it exactly 
 behoved him to say ? 
 
 “ I know the path along the precipice pretty 
 
DOES HE NOT KNOW? 
 
 159 
 
 •well, mon prince” he remarked at last. “ I 
 have walked along it in safety for many a day. 
 It would be odd if I fell over now, and, d Vheure 
 quit est, it would be unfortunate. I do not 
 think I will do it.” 
 
 “ Tant mieux, tant mieux” said the Prince, 
 and then he laughed a short, conscious laugh ; 
 and a flush came up upon his cheek. He said 
 nothing more, however, only as John turned to 
 leave the verandah he called after him, one more 
 cheerful, kindly “ au revoir.” 
 
 “Does he know of her engagement?” wondered 
 John, as he sped down the pathway. “ Has no 
 one told him anything of Roderick Ray.” 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 The little gay-looking steamboat was paddling 
 up the lake within a station of Vevey, when 
 Zare and Mrs. Redmond, escorted by John, 
 arrived at the pier an hour later — they both 
 having joyfully assented to his suggestion, that 
 they should stroll down together to see the boat 
 come in. 
 
 He had found Mrs. Redmond in the best of 
 spirits, only a little bored for the moment, and 
 just longing for some one to find something 
 pleasant for her to do, and — “ going down to 
 the pier,” was always pleasant, especially to 
 meet that afternoon boat by which some inter- 
 esting people were sure to appear. 
 
 So Mrs. Redmond made a smart toilette 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 161 
 
 with alacrity, and was soon ready, and en- 
 chanted to chaperone, in Mr. John Frere’s 
 company, her young charge for an afternoon 
 stroll. 
 
 Zare was not in such bright humour as her 
 friend. She had looked ten times more remark- 
 able and interesting, John thought, than he had 
 ever in old days realised her to be, as he came 
 into the little salon where the two ladies were 
 idling away the sunny hours, together at the 
 big Hotel. 
 
 She had looked lovely in her fresh country 
 toilette, with her broad straw sun hat, and huge 
 bunches of wild flowers ; but, she had looked 
 absent, and full of wayward and wandering 
 thoughts. 
 
 As he talked to her, her dark eyes had 
 avoided his often to-day, and had strayed rest- 
 lessly away, with a meditative and dreamy gaze 
 in them as he spoke, evidently scarcely hearing 
 his voice ; her glance often went wandering over 
 
 M 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
162 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 the view from the salon window, over the blue 
 lake stretching towards Ouchy and Geneva, and 
 the broken outline of the opposite shore. 
 
 Once out, however, and she brightened up 
 again. 
 
 “ Yes, Miriam must surely be coming to-day,” 
 she said, and certainly by this afternoon’s boat. 
 “ It was a capital idea to go down and meet her, 
 and,” she added eagerly to John, “ they had 
 succeeded in engaging such charming rooms for 
 the whole party at the Hotel. So Miriam for 
 the whole fortnight of their proposed stay would 
 be with her here.” 
 
 The little pier was gay and crowded as when 
 John had arrived. All the usual confusion of 
 strange objects of conveyance for travellers and 
 luggage, to the large hotels by the shore, or up 
 the mountain slopes, were collected again. All 
 noisy and excited as usual, the emissaries of the 
 different pensions and hotels, ready to quarrel 
 vociferously at the least provocation, and to 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 163 
 
 snatch any innocent or easily inveigled traveller 
 out of one another’s clutches — a daily battle for 
 patronage and employment, that went on regu- 
 larly on the piers all along the Lake as each 
 boat steamed in. 
 
 It was fresh and delicious by the water here, 
 as John and the two ladies strolled down to 
 the pier. A light breeze blew over the lake, 
 rippling up the surface with tiny playful waves, 
 breaking the long shadow lines, and distorting 
 the deep reflections of the mountain slopes ; 
 dashing up the blue water in a frothing and 
 dancing spray, against the pier side and over 
 the shingly pebbles of the sunny shore. 
 
 There was a pile of boxes lying ready to be 
 shipped near the end of the pier, and on one of 
 these, Zare seated herself, holding her rose-lined 
 parasol close over her face, and gazing out 
 through the meshes of the tussore lace that 
 fringed it — across the lake away from John’s 
 face again, and from all the noisy surroundings 
 
164 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 of the crowded little wharf. She watched the 
 distant waves rippling on the blue water, or 
 fixed her gaze in an absent dreamy way upon 
 the brown lateen sails of a fishing boat that was 
 drifting before the soft breeze, along the lake 
 coast, near the further side, and sweeping in 
 towards St. Gingolph Bay. The blue lake was 
 flecked, indeed, in every direction with the snow- 
 white sails of the little pleasure boats, and these 
 brown slanted lateens of the fisherman, that re- 
 called constantly the Mediterranean sail ; and 
 Zare watched these one after another in silence 
 while John made conversation for Mrs. Redmond 
 at her side. 
 
 “ Why are you so dumb, Zare ? ” said that 
 exhilarating lady presently. “ You are staring 
 as if you never saw a Geneva fisherman’s boat 
 before.” 
 
 “ Am I ? ” said Zare, smiling a little, still 
 following the movements of the little boat, “ am 
 I ? I was not thinking about it,” she added, 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 165 
 
 suddenly turning round on Mrs. Redmond, and 
 looking from beneath her parasol’s low falling 
 fringe.” 
 
 “ I did not suppose you were,” said Mrs. Red- 
 mond, laughing, and yet returning at the same 
 moment Zare’s bright glance, by a shrewd keen 
 gaze straight into her eyes. “I did not suppose 
 you were, but your thoughts seemed to be 
 pretty pleasant anyway, to judge from your 
 cheerful air. Hah ! are they too good for com- 
 munication to Mr. Frere and me % ” 
 
 “I was wondering,” said Zare, suddenly 
 turning her eyes upon the approaching steamer, 
 “I was wondering whether Miriam Ray will 
 really come in that little puffing boat there. 
 How curious, Monsieur Jean, that after all we 
 should have all met here ! ” 
 
 “ Very odd,” he answered. “ It was more 
 than I expected that we should hit it off so well. 
 Hah ! I declare, I do believe they are there.” 
 The little steamer was approaching now very 
 
166 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 close, letting off the puffing steam, slackening 
 its pace, and sweeping slowly up towards the 
 pier; and the porters, and coachmen, and valets 
 de place, and beggars, cretins, goitres and able- 
 bodied as well, were crowding and hustling each 
 other to get near. 
 
 “They are there,” exclaimed Zare. 
 
 “ Yes, surely that is my Aunt Debugines 
 secluded behind that blue veil,” exclaimed John. 
 “ There, sitting on the upper deck. Yes, that is 
 certainly she. By Jove, what a swarm of 
 tourists, where are they all to be put up 1 — but 
 where is Miriam P ” 
 
 “ There she is,” cried Zare, as the boat swept 
 round towards them, seemed to dip for a 
 moment forward like a great floating bird, and 
 then turned broadside towards the pier end, and 
 crept slowly up to it at their very feet. 
 
 “ There is Miriam,” and she pointed towards 
 the end of the vessel furthest away. “Yes, 
 there is Miriam.” 
 
T1IE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 1G7 
 
 And there she was, standing up near the 
 wheel, gazing back over the white foaming 
 tracts of the paddles, and from side to side of 
 the lovely lake and mountain view, and now, 
 upwards towards the pier, indeed, as she de- 
 tected them all upon it, among the noisy 
 crowd. 
 
 She looked up and smiled and nodded and 
 gladly waved her hand ; and then she turned to 
 point them out to a companion who stood near 
 her, and who had not been looking at the pier 
 or town as they approached, but was standing 
 with both arms upon the side of the vessel 
 gazing evidently across the water, watching the 
 sweep of the birds that followed them, or count- 
 ing the white winged pleasure boats and brown 
 fisher’s sails. 
 
 “Halloa! ” exclaimed John. “ Why, here is 
 another one. Another of the old London party, 
 Zare. Where on earth did they find him? Why, 
 look by Miriam there, he is turning this way, it 
 
168 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 is lie, and lie observes us now — capital, delighted 
 to see you, my dear fellow — look, there is Har- 
 court Lynton, standing by Miriam, just taking 
 off his hat — ” 
 
 “ I see, so it is,” said Zare, smiling and blush- 
 ing significantly with a quick glance into John’s 
 face. “ I am so glad — no doubt of it, it is Mr. 
 Lynton, our charming host of the river party, 
 Mons. Jean — Do you recollect ? ” 
 
 “ I think I do,” John answered. “ This is 
 splendid, and now we only want, to make us 
 quite complete and happy, Zare, of our old set 
 
 again Lady Dyncourt and ” 
 
 He had no time to utter the name. She had 
 turned from him and went forward a little to 
 kiss her hand and smile in welcome to Miriam, 
 and in kindly recognition to Mr. Lynton as he 
 stood up and removed his hat again and bowed 
 from where he stood by Miriam’s side. 
 
 “ How well she looks,” murmured Zare in a 
 low, loving tone, as she gazed across at them upon 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 169 
 
 the deck, and continuing to John, who came 
 and stood close by her side, “ Is she not looking 
 well? Dear Miriam, — and so merry and happy. 
 What a pretty travelling dress.” 
 
 “ Lynton looks a bit sunburnt,” said John ; “ I 
 
 fancy he has come over the V pass. How 
 
 clever of them to find each other out. What 
 fun, our all being here, to be sure ! Take care, 
 stand back just a very little, Zare.” 
 
 The crowd was pouring out now, and in as 
 well ; backwards and forwards along the narrow 
 gangways, as the little steamer leant up against 
 the pier ; porters hurrying on board to secure 
 luggage, and hotel commissioners squeezing 
 through opposing streams of tourists to claim 
 the particular voyageurs whom they had come 
 to meet, and for whom apartments with due 
 state and ceremony were prepared. 
 
 Among these was, very much, the Debugines 
 party, for whom a huge omnibus waited specially 
 from the hotel Trois Couronnes, and on whose 
 
170 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 behalf, a big, important -looking commissioner 
 with gold-laced hat and collar, pressed instantly 
 on board, recognising them as if by instinct at 
 once, and introducing himself with many bows 
 and flourishes, to the tall English footman who 
 clung to Mrs Debugine’s particular wraps and 
 dressing cases, and to the smart lady’s maid, who 
 stood bewildered and despairing, amid a pile of 
 bags, parasols, luncheon baskets, and general 
 paraphernalia of fashionable travel. 
 
 A German courier who spoke everybody’s 
 tongue, interfered presently, however, — took 
 possession of the fat commissioner, and saved all 
 further efforts at explanation between him and 
 the London footman or the bewildered “ Mees.” 
 He arranged everything, and indicated immedi- 
 ately the pile of luggage, gigantic and diversified, 
 which was to proceed under care of commissioner 
 and porters to the hotel. 
 
 Then Monsieur and Madame were escorted 
 ashore — Monsieur requiring great care in the 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 171 
 
 gangway transit, being still much enfeebled in 
 his fat short legs by gout in the stage subsequent 
 to its expulsion, and being, good man, much 
 imperilled in this landward journey, which he 
 took slowly and carefully, between the courier 
 and his English valet. 
 
 “ My goodness gracious ! John Erere, is this 
 you?” exclaimed Mrs. Debugines. “I am very 
 glad to see you. Dear me, will they ever get 
 Mr. Debugines safely into the omnibus ? Where 
 is Miriam, is she coming — Oh ! there she is. 
 My goodness, is Mr. Debugines on shore ? ” 
 
 “ Allow me,” said John, taking her little bag 
 from her hand. “ My dear aunt, I am most 
 delighted to see you, let me have your dust cloak 
 too ; will you not take my arm just as far as 
 the carriage ? Mr. Debugines is all right, he is 
 nearly at the ’bus already. But I am sorry to 
 see him looking so feeble.” 
 
 “ Oh, he is much better, thank you. Do not 
 mind me, but will you pray run on and look 
 
172 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 after him. Oh Miriam, here you are, and good 
 gracious, is that the singing girl again ? ” 
 
 Miriam and Lynton had reached the shore 
 now, and Zare, with bright smile and sunny 
 welcome, was right and left holding each by the 
 hand. 
 
 “ I am so glad, I am so glad,” she said softly, 
 as if she really more than meant it ; as if there 
 was a feeling deeper even than expressed in the 
 simple welcoming words, stirring at her heart, 
 and bringing that warm colour to her cheek as 
 she looked into Miriam’s face, as she clasped her 
 hand tight and eagerly, and then suddenly 
 dropped her softly suffusing eyes under their 
 long dark lashes in silence. 
 
 “ Dearest Zare,” Miriam was answering. 
 
 “ Mademoiselle La-Gonidet, what a crown to a 
 succession of felicitous encounters is this meeting 
 with you again,” Harcourt Lynton said. “ And 
 Frere, capital ! that is surely him promenading 
 off with Mrs. Debugines? ” 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 173 
 
 “ Yes, we are all here,” said Zare, “ and Mrs. 
 Redmond too; you remember her, Miriam, my 
 friend.” 
 
 “ Of course I do,” and Miriam turned towards 
 the American lady who had stood aside a 
 moment during the greeting of the group. 
 “ How do you do, Mrs. Redmond P I am so glad 
 we have succeeded in catching up you and 
 Zare.” 
 
 “ And I am regular glad,” said that bright 
 lady. “We have just been wanting you, you 
 know, to make us complete. She is looking 
 well, is she not, now ? ” Mrs. Redmond continued 
 with a smile and a nod towards Zare. 
 
 “ She is indeed,” said Miriam, and then she 
 paused, and her gaze rested a moment on Zare, 
 realizing instantly, as John had done, how much 
 she had gained since they had parted in London ; 
 in beauty, in figure, and in fulness and grace of 
 form — and in brightness too, for there was a 
 wonderful play of life and sunshine that was 
 
174 
 
 PBINCE HUGO. 
 
 quite new to her, in Zare’s eyes, on her changeful 
 face, and rapid spirited gestures as she stood near 
 the pier’s point there, watching the little steam- 
 boat move away again and answering Harcourt 
 Lynton’s remarks. 
 
 “ She is looking wonderfully well.” 
 
 “ Lovely, is she not ? ” said Mrs. Redmond 
 enthusiastically, “ and I will tell you what she 
 is here, — and that is, regularly downright the 
 rage.” 
 
 “ Indeed,” said Miriam, not exactly taking in 
 what she might mean. 
 
 “ She is though, and she deserves it, there is 
 nobody can come near her among them all. 
 The Paris people at the hotel up there, I mean 
 from the Opera Fantasiicpue ; there is not one of 
 them half as popular at the Prince’s concerts as 
 she.” 
 
 “ She has been singing, then? ” said Miriam. 
 
 “Singing? Of course she has. You knew 
 she meant to,” said Mrs. Redmond with a quick 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 175 
 
 glance, for of course the projected connection 
 — between Miriam and her little American 
 singing friend of old Paris days — had been con- 
 fided to Mrs. Redmond, and she was„ for a 
 moment anxious and annoyed. “ Did his family, 
 you know? ” as she usually called the Debugines 
 and Rays collectively. “ Did his family not 
 know that Zare, if she got a chance during her 
 Swiss tour, had meant to sing ? ” 
 
 “ Oh yes,” said Miriam with a quick sigh. 
 “ I knew it. At least, I feared she would feel 
 obliged to do it, and think it her duty if an 
 opening offered anywhere.” 
 
 “ And a splerfdid opening has offered here, as 
 of course you know also. It is not every young 
 singer of Zare’s experience and years, that gets 
 a chance of establishing her reputation in the 
 profession all over Europe, as she has done, by 
 becoming the favourite private concert singer of 
 the fastidious Prince Hugo. Miss Ray, he is so 
 well and so widely known for culture, criticism, 
 
176 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 and correct taste, that it will be enough for her 
 almost anywhere in her future career, to say, 
 that she has sung at the Villa de la Joie through- 
 out a season for him — he is so fond of her too, 
 and he is such a charming man. But of course 
 you will know him, La Joie is the place best 
 worth seeing, and the thing best worth doing 
 here.” 
 
 “ Indeed,” said Miriam again, and once more 
 she sighed, and then before more could be 
 added at that moment, Zare approached as the 
 boat finally swept away, and with Harcourt 
 Lynton still walking between her and Miriam, 
 they all turned together up the pier. 
 
 “ It is not far to our Hotel, will you walk, 
 dear ? ” said Zare in her soft tones to Miriam, 
 “ or will you go in the omnibus with Monsieur 
 and Madame Debugines? ” 
 
 “Oh! I will walk,” exclaimed Miriam. “But 
 what has become of my cousin John ? ” 
 
 “ Here he is, he has been very good,” said 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 177 
 
 Zare, “much better than any of us; he has been 
 helping to put M. Debugines into the carriage. 
 I forgot everything,” she added, smiling across 
 Harcourt to Miriam, “ everything in my 
 pleasure at seeing you again.” 
 
 Miriam answered the smile with a bright 
 loving glance, and at that moment they met John. 
 
 “ Well, here you all are ; this is very nice — 
 Miriam, steam and tea kettles do not suit you 
 badly, although you do not seem to enjoy them, 
 you are looking remarkably blooming.” 
 
 “ Thank you, I am very flourishing,” Miriam 
 laughingly replied. “ But oh ! John, I was so 
 tired of Spaalbad, of all these dreadful people ; I 
 cannot tell you how tired.” 
 
 “ Well, there are plenty of dreadful people as 
 you call them, here,” he answered, as he turned 
 with them, and sauntered up the pier by her 
 side. “ Lots of people, and bigger table d’hdtes 
 than at Spaalbad, I suspect, so you will not be 
 better off in that particular respect.” 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ Oh yes, but one can get out of their way 
 here, there are the mountains to look at, and 
 the hill scrambles, and the lake. Oh ! lots of 
 things, John. I shall like this much better, and 
 then, there are all of you.” 
 
 “ Yes, we have all turned up, odd to say, old 
 and new friends together, and now, here is 
 Lynton as an unexpected addition. When did 
 you drop upon him P ” 
 
 “ It was he who dropped,” said Miriam 
 brightly. “ He got into the boat at Lutry.” 
 
 “ Quite by chance ? By Jove, how very odd.” 
 “ Quite by chance. I was so amused to see 
 him sauntering languidly on to the deck, without 
 seeing one of us, of course ; with that solemn 
 Luloni of his, carrying a mountain of books and 
 rugs, and leather cases at his back. He was so 
 suprised to find us on board.” 
 
 “ By Jove!” repeated John. “ How comical. 
 This is a country for rencontres however, I have 
 been hard at them myself.” 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 179 
 
 “ You P Indeed, — whom have you met ? ” 
 
 “ Several people. One, about the last person 
 I expected to meet, one whom I scarcely ever 
 expected to see again in this world, and whom 
 however,” added John suddenly with a curious 
 laugh, “ I perceive I am about to meet even 
 now immediately once more.” 
 
 He was looking up as he spoke, beyond the 
 crowd of people still bustling along, — and 
 up beyond the omnibuses and char-a-bancs to 
 the road immediately above the pier; where, 
 standing just a little drawn back by itself, he 
 caught sight suddenly of Prince Hugo’s one 
 seated char ; De Vigne standing near, and the 
 Prince seated in the little carriage, holding the 
 reins of the impatient horse, — and watching, as 
 he had done when John himself appeared, the 
 new batch of arriving tourists, as they trooped 
 up the pier. 
 
 “ There is the old friend of my student days 
 whom I have met so unexpectedly,” said John. 
 
180 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “There, in that little one sided carriage up 
 there.” 
 
 “ Who is he ? ” said Miriam. 
 
 “ He is Prince Hugo of Rodavia,” said John 
 shortly. “ And I am staying with him, Miriam, 
 at the Villa de la Joie.” 
 
 The two were walking through the crowd of 
 porters and luggage, and clamouring tourists, a 
 few steps in front of Mrs. Redmond and Har- 
 court Lynton and Zare ; so Miriam could answer 
 John, who spoke in an odd curt manner, as he 
 pointed out Prince Hugo, and who walked on 
 now by her side with his hands deep buried in 
 his pockets, and with his eyes fixed on the ground. 
 Miriam could answer him, turning round with 
 questioning and surprised gaze upon his face. 
 
 “ John, what do you know of Prince Hugo ? 
 Is he the same of whom Zare wrote once, but 
 onlv once, to me, and of whom Mrs. Redmond 
 speaks so enthusiastically, as if they knew him 
 so well ? ” 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 181 
 
 “ The same,” said John ; and as no more came 
 in explanation from him, Miriam asked again — 
 “ And what do you know of him ? ” 
 
 “ What I know of him,” said John, “ is all 
 good, Miriam, all good, — all I have ever known, 
 to this very hour, I mean, and that was a good 
 deal, too, in one way and another. How I 
 have known him, do you not remember perhaps ? 
 I wrote to you of my summer at the Court in 
 the Rodavian forests years and years ago.” 
 
 “ Ah, yes, I do remember ; and that is really 
 him, John, whom you used to write about so 
 warmly ? ” 
 
 “ That is he himself, and he is kind and 
 charming as ever, Miriam. I tell you he has 
 made me go and stay with him at his house.” 
 
 “ How delightful for you, John ! ” 
 
 “ In many ways, yes,” he answered. 
 
 Then, as they neared the head of the pier, 
 they both stopped, looked round for the others, 
 and John was silent again. 
 
 O 
 
182 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ And it is at this villa that Zare has been 
 singing so successfully P ” said Miriam, quickly, 
 again, and in a low voice, as the other three 
 approached. 
 
 John had no time for more than a sign in the 
 affirmative. The others had joined them now, 
 Zare laughing and answering Harcourt’s languid 
 sallies, with shy bright smiles and swift saucy 
 glances from under her long dark lashes, and 
 colouring now vividly and suddenly as they 
 paused by John and Miriam, and as she looked 
 above the pier and the carriages and bustling 
 crowds, unconsciously, and all at once saw who 
 was waiting there. 
 
 At that moment Prince Hugo observed them 
 all, and he also started and stepped down from 
 the char at once. He made a sign to the 
 Yicomte de Vigne then, and gave him the reins. 
 
 “ The Prince ! ” Mrs. Redmond had scarcely 
 time to say. 
 
 “ Hugo of Rodavia ! ” Harcourt had but just 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 183 
 
 time to exclaim. “As I live, it is lie! By 
 George, how extraordinary ! I have not seen 
 him since I was attache at Vienna/’ 
 
 The Prince was among them all. 
 
 “ Good morning, your Highness,” from Mrs. 
 Redmond ; a silent removal of his hat and a 
 slight bow from John. A deeper colour still 
 for a few seconds on Z are’s cheek as Prince 
 Hugo, with uncovered head, and hat held low 
 in his left hand, extended the right one cordially 
 to Mrs. Redmond, and then also — with a grave 
 smile and a quick passing glimmer of intense 
 feeling in his eyes — towards her. A backward 
 step from Miriam, who stood silently and won- 
 deringly for the moment by Harcourt’s side, 
 while the Prince saluted these, his two favourite 
 and familiar friends. 
 
 Then a low courteous bow came in Miriam’s 
 direction, as Mrs. Redmond murmured some- 
 thing about “ the honour of presenting;” and as 
 John said, frankly and at once, “ May I make 
 
184 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 you acquainted, my dear Prince, with my cousin, 
 Miss Miriam Ray.” Zare, still with that deep 
 colour coming and going upon her cheek, turned 
 and watched curiously for a moment the greet- 
 ing between the two. 
 
 Miriam was taken rather by surprise, and 
 rather puzzled over the whole thing; and not 
 much accustomed to foreign and out of the 
 way acquaintances at any time. But the ready 
 courtesy and the composed dignity of her true 
 good breeding came to her assistance imme- 
 diately, as she bowed and then, too, smiled. Por 
 it was impossible to meet, without pleasure, and 
 without an answering smile, the sweet cordial 
 gleam, flitting swiftly over his grave face, with 
 which the Prince received always, an introduc- 
 tion, that instinctively pleased him, recognising 
 as he did by quick intuition an acquaintance 
 whom he would probably like, and welcoming 
 her, as it were, to his complete confidence and 
 to familiar intercourse unhesitatingly. 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM- BO AT. 
 
 185 
 
 He stood with head uncovered before Miriam 
 for a moment, with this bright cordial gleam 
 upon his face, admiring her in silence, with 
 rapid and comprehensive glance and with keen 
 critical judgment ; admiring the pose of her head, 
 the full noble lines of her tall figure, the sim- 
 plicity and yet unmistakable distinction in her 
 whole mien. 
 
 There was composure and much dignity of 
 manner, too, as she bowed, and then, a little 
 hesitatingly, but with an instinct of cordiality 
 to her cousin’s old tried friend, and in frank 
 English fashion, held out her hand. It pleased 
 him particularly, and he smiled again with a 
 peculiar courtly sweetness of manner and glance, 
 as he took her hand, bent low, and then touched 
 it lightly with his lips, — thus suddenly confusing 
 her, however, to a degree that little else would 
 have done ! 
 
 John could not help a covert smile of amuse- 
 ment ; but before any words were actually ex- 
 
186 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 changed between them, Harcourt Lynton caught 
 the Prince’s eye. 
 
 “ Ah, moil cher ,” he said, “you here? Well, 
 this Geneva steamboat is the most delightful 
 thing in the world. Why, how are you ? You 
 are not still at Vienna, are you ? — no ? ” 
 
 “ How kind of your Highness to recognise 
 me ! ” said Lynton. “ I was just thinking of 
 recalling myself to your memory on the chance 
 merely that you had not forgotten me.” 
 
 Prince Hugo’s hand was clasping his now. 
 
 “ I never forget,” he said ; “ that is the one 
 thing concerning me I would have all my friends 
 to know. I cannot forget — I never do. Ah, 
 Lynton, those were pleasant old times at 
 Vienna. I am glad to meet you again, and 
 that you know all our friends. This is charm- 
 ing ! Let us walk up the pier together. You 
 all knew each other, then, before now ? ” 
 
 “ We are all denizens of the smoky capital, 
 Sir,” said Harcourt Lynton — “ denizens of a 
 
THE GENEVA STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 18 ? 
 
 world where we go round and round together 
 in a circle in which we can hardly help meeting 
 from time to time.” 
 
 “ Ah ! the same London set ,” said the Prince, 
 with an amused smile, as if proud of his correct 
 estimate of the social condition of that metropolis. 
 
 “ Yes, and even more than that, of the same 
 set by choice and liking, — in fact,” he added, 
 glancing at John and Miriam, “ I hope I may 
 say we are great friends.” 
 
 “ Ah, that is delightful. And now you will 
 all be great friends with me! Mademoiselle 
 Zare,” he continued, turning suddenly to her, 
 and speaking in that peculiar voice, low, gravely 
 modulated, rather controlled, and with an under- 
 current of indescribable feeling in which he 
 always spoke to her — “ Mademoiselle Zare, you 
 know we can have no music at the villa this 
 evening, — as I have to go to that stupid 
 dinner at the Due’s ; but why should you not 
 bring your friends, all of them, up to me before 
 
188 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 dinner-time now? There is yet three hours: 
 come and introduce them to the mountain view 
 from the terrace while they drink a cup of 
 chocolate or of English tea. We might even 
 have a little music then, you know. What, 
 Mrs. Redmond? Miss Ray, will you not do 
 me the honour to come ? ” 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 They all went, and so Miriam and Harcourt 
 Lynton made acquaintance with the Villa de la 
 Joie, and with the glorious view from the broad 
 terrace— as the Prince had hoped— -under favour- 
 able circumstances. 
 
 The Alpewglithen was at its best. The sun just 
 beginning to set, a rosy flush deepening over 
 the distant aiguilles that encircled Mont Blanc, 
 on the peaks of the Dent d’Oche right opposite ; 
 and on the Dent du Midi rising away at the 
 upper end of the blue expanse of water where 
 the gorge of the Rhone wound towards Martigny, 
 and to the Alps of the Valais. The thick pine 
 fringes that topped the rocks along the lake 
 
190 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 side and filled their shady crevices, were casting 
 darker shadows across the water below — and the 
 feathery acacias and beech round the Prince’s 
 Villa, were rustling with the soft whisper of the 
 evening winds that were creeping up the valley, 
 rippling the surface of the blue lake, and 
 freshening and cooling the sultry air. 
 
 They had all driven up from the hotel 
 together, as soon as possible after their arrival ; 
 only waiting to dust off the traces of voyage and 
 signs of travellers’ fatigue, and feeling that the 
 drive towards the upper slopes, and this hour’s 
 repose out on the broad terrace, was very 
 pleasant, and most refreshing after the heat and 
 glare of the lake. 
 
 Courteous and ready as Prince Hugo ever 
 was as a host, he was especially so in his atten- 
 tion to the two new additions his habitual party 
 had received that afternoon. To Harcourt, 
 whom he welcomed cordially to his Alpine re- 
 treat, hoping he would favour it as much, and 
 
SUNSET ON THE TEBBACE. 
 
 191 
 
 visit it as often as he had clone the Ross Schloss, 
 the Prince’s residence at Vienna. 
 
 And Miriam, who particularly interested him, 
 seemed to engage his complete (if only external) 
 attention this afternoon — so exclusively did he 
 devote himself to making her first visit to the 
 villa of a Rodavian Prince, agreeable to this 
 young English lady ! 
 
 Miriam was a type of woman indeed new to 
 the Prince, and therefore certain to be interest- 
 ing to his quick intelligence, disposed as he 
 always was, to critical analysis and rapid forma- 
 tion of theory on diversified character. She 
 was a novelty to him, and as they all grouped 
 
 on the terrace, — beneath the shelter of the broad 
 
 % 
 
 chestnuts, he took his place by her side just 
 between her seat and Zare’s. 
 
 He drew her into conversation — into a pleasant 
 interchange of their views and experiences of 
 the Swiss and Switzerland. And he soon inte- 
 rested Miriam, for she was fond of generalising, 
 
192 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 and on every variety of experience that she had 
 encountered in her somewhat varied life — she 
 had, indeed, formed views and made up opinions 
 which stood more or less, on the whole indiffe- 
 rently, the test of passing years. 
 
 Mrs. Redmond captured Harcourt Lynton and 
 proceeded to investigation of his conversational, 
 or at least, listening powers. She affected 
 diplomacy, she always said she did ; and though 
 he was only an ex-diplomatist, still he had that 
 particular way about him which grows over a 
 Viennese or Parisian attache like his dress coat ; 
 which is apt to cling to him ever after, and 
 which was just that particular cachet which Mrs. 
 Redmond admired. 
 
 De Vigne, John Prere, and Scarlati scattered 
 themselves between the two groups, Baron Von 
 Rochsdorf coming to anchor with a large cigar 
 at a little distance. It was a quiet and pleasant 
 hour, conducive to the rapid growth of ac- 
 quaintance and mutual understanding. The 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 193 
 
 scene was beautiful, and the surroundings all 
 that the most refined art of agreeable living 
 could suggest or supply. 
 
 The Prince had driven straight home to the 
 Villa from the pier with De Vigne in his char-d- 
 banc ; and had arrived at least an hour before 
 the party from the hotel ; and so all orders for 
 their entertainment had been given and carried 
 out even before their appearance. And they had 
 come out through the large drawing-room on to 
 the terrace, to find an attractive little repast 
 arranged on small tables, set out between the 
 lounging chairs. Tea, a V Anglais, but not very 
 English, all the same — Chocolat glace in small 
 Dresden cups, rich and brown, and tempting in 
 colour, and with a frothy corolla of snowy cream 
 upon the top of each. A beautiful porcelain 
 basket, of antique pattern and form, stood on one 
 little table, piled high with various kinds of 
 fruits, the rich bloom of purple grapes, the 
 creamy soft tint of the peach and the apricot, 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 0 
 
194 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 and the luscious ripe green figs, all making a 
 bright medley of artistic colouring, at which 
 John immediately exclaimed. 
 
 “ A study for Snyders,” he said. “ How im- 
 possible it would be for anyone, short of him, to 
 do justice to these shades and hues, or to the 
 wonderful bloom and down.” 
 
 “There is only one way which we can entirely 
 do justice to the rich combination,” said the 
 Prince, smiling, and at the same time handing 
 the heavily-laden basket to Miriam and Zare ; 
 “ Pray refresh yourself, mesclemoiselles, after 
 your hot drive, and show the worthy Bouchet, 
 my maitre d’ hotel, that we appreciate his artistic 
 exertions, and do them justice according to the 
 best of methods.” 
 
 “ l)o such beautiful fruits grow in Switzer- 
 land ? ” said Miriam. 
 
 “ Everything that is beautiful grows in 
 Switzerland, in one part or another,” said the 
 Prince. 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 195 
 
 “ You are very foncl of the country,” con- 
 tinued Miriam, a little shyly, for she was not 
 yet accustomed to Prince Hugo, nor could catch 
 any particular way of addressing him. 
 
 He did not seem to expect anything par- 
 ticular,— and, in fact, always gladly dispensed 
 with conventionalities, in his intercourse with 
 chosen foreign friends like these. He instantly 
 and cordially replied to her remark. 
 
 “ Yes, I am very fond of it ; it grows upon 
 me every year. I come back each summer to 
 La Joie with increased pleasure, and leave it 
 every autumn with greater regret. My first 
 coming was a curious accident, though. I came 
 with a countryman of yours, Miss Ray ; a man I 
 liked and knew well — Lord Vernon ; he shot in 
 the great Federal match of the elite at Bale, and 
 won the first prize in ’49. I came over with 
 him as a young fellow then, and caught such an 
 enthusiasm for Switzerland and Swiss sport, 
 and Swiss rifle-shooting, as has lasted me ever 
 
190 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 since. And now it has developed into enthu- 
 siasm for Swiss mountains, and flowers, and 
 glaciers, and lakes, and shores, and people as 
 well — I love them all.” 
 
 “ Even the people ? ” said Harcourt Lynton, 
 in a doubtful tone. “I always feel rather 
 about them as Childe Harold did of the Portu- 
 guese.” 
 
 “ Not at all, not at all,” said the Prince. “ I 
 know many travellers, especially English, feel 
 about them so, because you know them so little, 
 and they know you, not at all. And so they are 
 mercenary to you; but it was, nevertheless, from 
 an English book, that I fed my enthusiasm for 
 the Swiss in those days of my youth, when I 
 spent my energies in organizing in Rodavia, the 
 nearest imitation I could bring about among my 
 young soldiers and riflemen of the Bundesauszug 
 and Scharfschiitzen. I tried the Schivingfeste 
 too, the wrestling matches, to train my men 
 there to athletic sports, such as I used to go and 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 197 
 
 witness at Berne and Appenzell in my young 
 days. I should have liked to have taken the 
 prize from Lord Vernon with my long rifle, 
 eager boy as I was. I think I might have done 
 it, but my father was alive then, and would not 
 allow me to try. He thought the people might 
 not like it at Rodenstadt that I shot in the 
 Swiss Elite. But I won a prize later in the 
 Tyrol. Ah, I was very enthusiastic even then 
 about the Swiss and Tyrolese, and, as I say, I 
 loved always to read what Grote wrote about 
 them in your English book. He does them more 
 justice than any writer I know, in that brilliant 
 passage where he shows the similarity of their 
 character, particularly their political character, 
 with the ancient Greeks. Ah, Miss Ray, we 
 must keep you in this country until we have 
 made you as great a lover as we all are at La 
 Joie of the Swiss. But you come too late, you 
 English travellers, to see all the mountain 
 beauties. You only come when the autumn 
 
198 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 flowers are covering the pastures, and you miss 
 the spring and summer bloom. You should 
 go up to a height in June some day, before 
 the cattle have come to the high pasture of 
 the Alps. But now, at the close of August, 
 even the lilac lily and the Alpen-rose are 
 nearly over for the year, and there is not 
 much but the gentian on the slopes. But, ah 1 
 how beautiful it is all in the early summer ! 
 You must some day come and see. Come and 
 find me here, all of you, some year on the first 
 of June, and we will go up over a pass toge- 
 ther. Ah, Miss Bay, you have never climbed 
 the Pierre-a-Voir ! ” 
 
 “ I have never seen anything of Switzerland 
 but the largest hotels by the lake side,” said 
 Miriam. “ I have never gone anywhere where a 
 gentleman, very, very bad indeed with gout can- 
 not go. I have never climbed the hillside even, 
 beyond a day’s walk, in all the times I have been 
 brought to rush through this part of Switzerland ; 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 199 
 
 so you see. Prince Hugo, my knowledge is in- 
 deed very limited of its attraction, but I love it 
 all the same.” 
 
 “It is glorious certainly,” said John Frere, 
 joining in this circle of the genial converse. 
 “ It is a glorious thing to go up one of these 
 passes, all by one’s self, (except perhaps a guide,) 
 with nothing to burden one but an Alpenstock 
 and a bit of a knapsack, the lake lying below 
 and behind one, and the ranges of the everlasting 
 snows before. It is a sensation quite by itself in 
 life ; is it not, your Highness ? ” 
 
 “ It is indeed — De Vigne and I walked over 
 a pass into Italy together last year, and I shall 
 never forget the effect upon one’s feelings of the 
 rapid and sudden transition in temperature and in 
 scene. One long day I remember we passed by 
 ascent and defile in a few hours’ walk across from 
 valley to valley, from summer to winter, and 
 back to summer again. I remember the curious 
 effect as we mounted, leaving gradually the ripe 
 
200 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 corn and even stubble fields for crops still green. 
 Then reaching a region of pine and birch wood 
 that seemed interminable, and was such a sombre 
 contrast to the smiling harvest lands below ; and 
 at last coming forth from this, I recollect, as 
 from out dark chilling shades, we came upon a 
 stretch of the higher pastures, upon a knot of 
 Bergers gathering the short hay crop ; and then, 
 at last, we reached those confines of vegetation 
 where nature blooms forth in new and exquisite 
 beauties, in her final farewell to the world of 
 insects and flowers. 
 
 “ It was in the midst of the short summer of 
 the higher region of flowers, and there was a 
 brilliancy of summer life and beauty that it was 
 strange and almost sad to realize would so 
 quickly pass away. Violets, anemones, gentians, 
 and blue bells, I tell you, Miss Ray, gemmed a 
 carpet of richest verdure as with myriads of dew- 
 spangled stars. The Alpen-rose was in full 
 bloom, thick clusters of its deep blush-crimson 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 201 
 
 growing all around, and the hum of insects, of 
 whom there are so many in that swift dream of 
 summer up there on the very glacier’s edge, filled 
 the air with a soft music, and enthralled the 
 senses with a sweet feeling of that glad mountain 
 life. But it was so soon over, a few more 
 upward struggles, and summer was gone. We 
 were in Lapland. For — first vines, then wheat 
 and oak trees, then beech and barley, and 
 lastly pines and fir, all had been passed now, 
 and all were left behind — and only one little 
 flower, the edelweiss, still greeted us from sunny 
 crevices just here and there. Then for a short 
 time we wandered across the glacier’s pinnacle 
 among the lichens, in the keen icy air, up on the 
 silent heights. No murmur of water, no song 
 of the bird, no hum of the insect, only now and 
 then we heard a raven caw, and once the sharp 
 whistle of the little clever marmot. I shot there 
 with my rifle, and carried three ptarmigan, from 
 the snow ridge with me, down into the Italian 
 
202 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 valley. They started up quite close, I remember. 
 It was no shot for a Scharfschiitzen, but they were 
 all we saw, except one lammergeier , the Alpine 
 monarch among the birds, went soaring and 
 sweeping across the sky far away from us, and 
 disappeared over the mountain ridge too distant 
 even to attempt a shot. Oh ! it was a wonderful 
 day, I shall never forget it, nor I am sure will 
 you, De Vigne,” he continued, meeting with a 
 kindly glance the eager gaze which the young 
 Swiss had centred upon his face throughout 
 his whole description of their expedition in 
 company. “ You remember,” he continued, 
 “ the evening, after the sun was quite set, and 
 the nachtgluhn was falling all around, as we 
 came slowly down, down from out the region of 
 snow, from the silence and the majesty, and the 
 solitude of the high ridge into the little Italian vale. 
 The lustre of the sweet after-glow, the evening 
 scent of the flowers, the nut-cracker’s cheerful 
 note, as we passed through the lower pine woods, 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 20S 
 
 and the birds : — the white-breasted swifts, the 
 crimson-winged wall-creepers, we saw speeding 
 to their nests ; and then the little ‘ Wyl ’ the 
 village, I mean, where we slept at last. So tired 
 we were, it was so restful, in its evening quiet ; 
 the jodeln of the JcuhruJien was just echoing from 
 a neighbouring peak as we entered ; and in 
 that little primitive village, the older peasants 
 still noticed it, as in former times, by. removing 
 their hats in salutation ; for you know, in the 
 ancient days, when there was no church, no 
 belfry, nor other service with which to close the 
 Berger’s day, that call of the cow-herd from the 
 high peak as the sun set, was their vesper bell to 
 call all to sing “ Praise to the Lord.” They had 
 these quaint old customs in that village still. 
 l)o you remember, De Vigne?” 
 
 The young Swiss nodded and smiled in 
 answer, and murmured a sotto voce assent as the 
 Prince continued. 
 
 “ Some day you must cross a pass and see a 
 
204 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 glacier, Miss Ray. Let us all one day make an 
 expedition.” 
 
 “ Ah ! if it could be, it would be delightful,’' 
 said Miriam. “ But I fear it will be hardly for 
 this year, our stay is to be very short at the 
 hotel.” 
 
 “ What ! do you return to your foggy London 
 so soon then ? ” 
 
 “ Not direct to London, but to other resorts 
 of travellers, in search, not of the lovely beauties 
 of nature, Prince Hugo, but of amusement under 
 the guise of health. I am not mistress of my 
 own plans, you see, and I really do not know if 
 our stay here will be short or long, and I fear 
 not the latter.” 
 
 “Well, the longer the more pleasant for all of 
 us sojourning here, mademoiselle. I have done my 
 best to depict an expedition over the pass in such 
 terms as to attract your fancy, perhaps you will 
 come back and do it some day. Mademoiselle 
 Zare, you do me the honour to listen to my 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 205 - 
 
 little recitation. Do you think you could be 
 tempted — will you one day come P ” 
 
 “I have been listening to every word,” answered 
 Zare, with a sunny smile. For her attention had 
 indeed soon wandered away from Scarlati’s little 
 murmuring aside, so completely, and so evidently, 
 that he had given up the effort at conversation, 
 and had been listening also. “ I thank you for 
 your charming recitation, Prince, it allures me 
 like a fairy tale to your glittering glacier heights. 
 Tell us some more.” 
 
 “ No, no; no more,” he said, quickly. “I have 
 talked extraordinarily much, but it is a favourite 
 topic, and now, I want my reward, Mademoiselle 
 Zare. Scarlati has a new batch of dainty com- 
 positions which he is eager for you to try ; will 
 you together give us the delight of a musical 
 accompaniment to all the visible harmony of this 
 sunset scene. There is the little piano in my 
 morning room just behind us here, which I think 
 you do not entirely despise. Will you give 
 
.206 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 ns a great pleasure? But after the long hot 
 afternoon,” he added, turning towards her 
 and bending his deep earnest eyes upon her 
 face, “ are you perhaps too tired ? I would not 
 wish to fatigue or annoy you,” he said. 
 
 “ I should enjoy singing with Signor Scarlati, 
 if your Highness likes it,” said Zare, brightly ; 
 “ and I think it is the least we can do in 
 return for your description of your Alpine 
 walk.” 
 
 “ Oh, will you ? Then I have told you a 
 story, so now you will sing us a lovely song — a 
 queenly reward for a humble effort. Scarlati, 
 will you open the piano ? ” 
 
 Zare had risen as she spoke, and the Prince 
 rose also now, and stood leaning with one hand 
 on his chair, which he drew back, to let her pass 
 in through the window. Scarlati sprang for- 
 ward with alacrity to do his part, entering by 
 the wide open window, and rushing to the 
 piano, while Zare still paused, drawing her 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 207 
 
 gloves off, and looking straight and brightly up 
 into the Prince’s face. 
 
 They paused, and stood one moment so. He, 
 as usual when he addressed her, letting his eyes 
 rest lingering upon hers. He was grave and self- 
 controlled, as if full of some deep, strong feeling, 
 and some eager but concealed thought ; of some 
 thought that troubled him too, that rose ever in 
 the background of his mind as he regarded her — 
 some thought, which made even a passing and 
 accidental exchange of words, or a glance be- 
 tween them, a pleasure always dashed with pain. 
 
 She brightened, invariably, — when he spoke 
 to her, — brightened and answered back word 
 and glance and smile, with an ease and 
 pleasure on her side, that was evidently quite 
 spontaneous and irrepressible ; with a curious con- 
 fidence and happy gladness in her voice and 
 smile indeed, that woke up unfailingly at a 
 glance or word from him. Her eyes, as she 
 looked up and met his, were full now of that 
 
208 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 light, and sweet eagerness — eagerness to respond 
 to him, to give him pleasure if her singing pleased 
 him, to lighten his gravity, if it might be, by 
 the playful sunshine of her own glance and 
 smile ; to convey to him her happy confidence in 
 him, her irresistible delight in his presence, 
 and in all the soft beauty with which he 
 surrounded her, as well as all others of his 
 chosen friends. Her eyes were bright with 
 glad, gay, ardent feeling for him, as she flashed 
 them up into his face ; and his, (his so much 
 older, deeper and graver eyes,) kindled and shone 
 with a wistful gleam, as they rested a moment 
 on her young, vivid face — kindling and shining 
 for one second, and then were grave, almost cold 
 again, with the effort of his firm self-control. 
 
 A sweet smile played over his lips however, as 
 he said, “ You are the best and most kind of my 
 charming artistes, you never despise, even a little 
 humble audience of a few friends, you are ever 
 ready in your amiability to give us pleasure.” 
 
UNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 209 
 
 “ I never could despise an audience,” mur- 
 mured Zare, “ that contained a single friend, 
 and to one composed of friends — must it 
 not be always joy to give even the smallest 
 pleasure?” 
 
 She turned to pass into the little room, and 
 he moved forward as if to follow her. Then the 
 gravity deepened upon his face, deepened until 
 it became a sombre shade. 
 
 He paused, and then suddenly with a curious 
 dignity, almost amounting to hauteur, he said, 
 “ Scarlati, will you do the honours of the little 
 blue salon, and of the bijou * Pleyel ’ for 
 Mademoiselle Zare ? ” and he turned and joined 
 the general circle again. 
 
 He was silent however, and with that grave, 
 almost pathetic look upon his face still. Miriam 
 saw it as he turned round from the window, 
 and it affected her strangely. 
 
 There was such a force of self-control and 
 such a depth of unknown and eager feeling held 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 P 
 
210 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 beneath the control in that strong face ; in the 
 grave blue eyes, in the expression with which 
 his lips had closed tightly under his dark mous- 
 tache and in the curiously wistful pathos of the 
 gaze which he turned away from her, over the 
 distant mountain view. 
 
 It was a gaze that spoke deep, if well-con- 
 cealed, suffering beneath the veil of that courtly 
 and genial life ; a single gaze that revealed in a 
 moment, more vividly than might have been ex- 
 pressed in many words, a background of feeling, 
 of circumstances, of capacity for pain, or for 
 deep, passionate joy. 
 
 It seemed to place the Prince before her in a 
 new light, that was unexpected but unmistak- 
 able, in its pathos and pain. A light in which 
 his whole character and personality, seemed to 
 touch her, with a curious force, causing all the 
 fibres and chords of her quick sympathies to 
 vibrate and quiver strangely, as she watched 
 him for a moment unobserved. 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 211 
 
 “Poor Prince Hugo!” was the unexpected 
 comment that trembled upon her lips. 
 
 “ Poor Prince Hugo ! ” And this, then, 
 was the sum — the result of her observa- 
 tions and feelings for him after a sunset-hour 
 spent in his courtly presence on this broad 
 terrace of his lovely villa ! At his shrine of 
 nature’s beauty, and his temple of music and art ! 
 “ Poor Prince Hugo ! ” And yet, why should she 
 pity him? Indeed Miriam knew no cause. Only, 
 those deep eyes had met hers for a moment, and 
 she had read that glance of pathos and pain. 
 She had caught the wistful tenderness rushing 
 over the self-control. She had seen the weary 
 eager gaze, over valley and mountain view, 
 and she had met that swift glance of 
 his, quite bereft of its wonted quaint gleam 
 of humour, as well as of the genial glow 
 with which it ever mingled with the glance of 
 all his fellow-men. There was a curious loneli- 
 ness in the gaze for a moment, as if proudly and 
 
-212 
 
 PRINCE HUGO.' 
 
 unassailably gathered back into itself. Miriam 
 saw, and felt eager sympathy and strong com- 
 passionate regret. But she knew no cause ; she 
 could not read one line of the enigma: she only 
 sighed a sudden unbidden sigh, as he turned 
 away towards the mountain view ; and her eyes 
 followed him. She sighed but uttered no word, 
 and at that moment Zare’s voice broke the 
 silence that had fallen through the abendgluhi. 
 
 Scarlati was the composer of many little 
 quaint semi-comical, semi-pathetic songs ; small 
 Italian utterances, characteristic, and very effec- 
 tive. They exactly suited a peculiar phase of 
 Zare’s style and voice, and it was delicious to 
 him to have her chant and troll them out to his 
 soft accompaniment, with all the eager senti- 
 ment, the sweet pathos, the soft southern passion 
 of her pliable voice. There was a quaint dash 
 of humour too in her dramatic action ; as he 
 rattled off a lively accompaniment at one moment, 
 and followed her with low harmonious sympa- 
 
SUNS El ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 213 
 
 t lie tic chords at another. It was more like 
 “ a game of music,” as, with voice and instru- 
 ment, they tossed the ball of melody to and fro, 
 keeping it afloat and in perfect harmony between 
 them. A game, to show off the ready skill of 
 each, in their changeful duet-power of pathos 
 or humour. “A game of music ” rather than a 
 grave performance of any distinctive or complete 
 description, delicious to listen to out there in 
 the abendgliihi , upon the terrace, and pleasant 
 evidently to perform — for, they danced on with 
 voice and piano, in mingled and changeful strains, 
 untiring and unceasing for nearly half-an-hour ; 
 while applause and acclamation of feeling, 
 varying from pathos to amusement, reached 
 them from out the terrace, at every drop of the 
 voice or accompaniment, or at every threatened 
 pause. 
 
 It was a sort of music in which Prince Hugo 
 delighted at times, and it fetched him up now, 
 in spite of himself, from his dejected mood. 
 
214 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ How charming she is ! ” he exclaimed at 
 last, with a low laugh and gesture of complete 
 satisfaction ; and turning to Miriam once more, 
 “ You think her very charming, do you not ? ” 
 
 “ I think her everything that is most perfect 
 and delightful,” said Miriam, enthusiastically. 
 “ I can appreciate her less, too, as a musician, 
 than in any other phase of herself, from my own 
 limited knowledge of her art ; but still, in that, 
 as in everything else, she is indeed charming 
 to me.” 
 
 He bent his head with a curious, pleased 
 gesture of assent, as if she had spoken to please 
 him by what she said, and as if he accepted and 
 endorsed the opinion, in the satisfaction that 
 came to him from her words. But he became 
 suddenly very grave again. 
 
 “ I thought,” he said, in a low tone, “ that 
 in your country artistes were not so well placed 
 as with us abroad ; as regards society, I mean, 
 and their opportunities for forming ties of friend- 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 215 
 
 ship and intimacy, such as Mademoiselle Zare is 
 happy in possessing, Miss Ray, by knowing you ?” 
 “ Ah, Zare’s is an exceptional case. Perhaps 
 as a rule, your view is a correct one. I think 
 in our country we have, in our social estimate, 
 this fault : we appreciate and appropriate to our- 
 selves, talent in all its aesthetic results and in- 
 fluences upon us, and on our surroundings, and 
 our habits of thought and life. We estimate it 
 highly ; but of artistic character, temperament, 
 and personality, we are certainly ignorant. I 
 realize it more since I have come to know Zare 
 so intimately, and I remember many things my 
 cousin, John Frere, used to say on the subject 
 long ago. I do think we enjoy the works and 
 utterances, musical or literary, of our art and 
 letter-workers in London more, or as much, as 
 anywhere ; but we consider them (so he says, 
 and I think he is right) in their individuality, 
 sensibilities, and temperament, less than in any 
 country in the world.” 
 
2 Hi 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ I am glad I formed a correct view, and that 
 my surmise agrees with yours ; but with 
 Mademoiselle Zare it is different, you say ? ” 
 
 “ Very different, even with society generally,” 
 said Miriam. “ She is so well known now, and 
 such a favourite everywhere ; and to me, of 
 course, you know, she must be different from 
 any artiste who ever sung, or any other woman, 
 indeed, I have ever met. Do you not know, 
 Prince Hugo?” Miriam added, in a lowered tone, 
 and looking straight and enquiringly at him as 
 she spoke, “ Do you not know the relation in 
 which Zare and I stand to each other now, or 
 in how very close a relation I hope we will 
 stand some day ? ” 
 
 Prince Hugo glanced quickly up ; he was 
 bending forward towards her, leaning one elbow 
 on his knee, as in suppressed tones they had 
 exchanged the last few remarks ; and as she 
 spoke, one firm hand was raised to his face, the 
 fingers with their massive seal-rings smoothing 
 
SUNSET ON THE TERRACE. 
 
 217 
 
 his dark moustache, and his eyes fixed, up to 
 this moment, upon the ground. 
 
 He raised them to look keenly at Miriam, 
 Zare’s voice at that moment breaking forth from 
 the room in a gay little Italian carol, dancing and 
 echoing gladness, in its sweet, swift, rhythmic 
 flow. 
 
 Prince Hugo paused. 
 
 “ I know,” he said in a curious deep tone, 
 “ I know that she is fiancee , I was told so when 
 I first met her. But — is it true ? I have 
 heard nothing of it again. I never asked her,” 
 he continued, eagerly, “ and — and — she is not 
 one who would speak of such a topic unbidden 
 to me. Is it true ? ” 
 
 There was a strange eagerness in his manner, 
 and that look of pathos and of suppressed pain 
 
 came into his eves once more. There was an 
 
 «/ 
 
 instant’s silence, and as his eyes met Miriam’s, 
 a deep flush swept over Prince Hugo’s brow, 
 fading away again as swiftly and instantly, to 
 
218 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 leave him pale as marble. His gaze still eagerly 
 -questioned her face. 
 
 “ Prince Hugo,” said Miriam, in a low, grave 
 tone then, “ Zare La-Gonidet is engaged to my 
 brother.’’ 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OP MIRIAM. 
 
 That curious conversation with Prince Hugo 
 made a great impression on Miriam. He did 
 not refer to its subject again — not at any 
 moment throughout the days of the Debugines’ 
 stay at the hotel. 
 
 They stayed just fourteen days, and they 
 were such days of sunlight and brightness as 
 stamp their memory on all time to come. They 
 sped all too quickly, and soon drifted into the 
 history of the past. 
 
 But short as it was, that fortnight was full of 
 new, various, and very agreeable experiences. 
 
 They saw a great deal of the Prince in the 
 short time. He came down and called person- 
 ally for Mrs. Debugines, delighting that lady by 
 
220 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 inviting lier to his villa, and by extending to her 
 one of those special invitations to his charming 
 concerts which admitted her within that inner 
 circle of armchairs reserved for his particular 
 friends. He gave, indeed, an especial supper 
 for her benefit, including all the English on his 
 private list from each of the huge lake hotels. 
 And all this much enchanted Mrs. Debugines, 
 for it “ even’d ” her, as Mrs. Redmond expressed 
 it, with Lady Selina Sudleigh, as well as with 
 the very exclusive mother of the bevy of rosy 
 English girls. 
 
 Prince Hugo made himself extremely agree- 
 able and popular during those days; so agreeable, 
 indeed, that Mrs. Dehugines would have gladly 
 prolonged her stay indefinitely ; but alas ! the 
 vicinity of lake and mountain proved unfavour- 
 able to Mr. Debugines’ gout ; and their stay, 
 like most things in this very contrary world, 
 was cut short just as it had become thoroughly 
 pleasant. 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 221 
 
 Thus the delightful intimacy, and unreserved 
 and easy intercourse of the chosen little party 
 of diverse races at the Villa de La Joie was, 
 after all, of very short duration. 
 
 But they made the best of it, and while it 
 lasted, so dexterously managed, to infuse an 
 especial and separate enjoyment into every 
 fleeting day and hour, that immeasurable depth 
 and significancy of life seemed to condense 
 itself into this charming fortnight. 
 
 It proved, indeed, one of those little cycles of 
 the lunar transit, that do meet us sometimes on 
 this world’s weary way ; one that leaves a sense 
 of joy and beauty, all unspoilt by a certain 
 flavour of sweet sadness, as it floats into the 
 past, away on memory’s roseate wings; and 
 which seems to compress a large extent of 
 existence, and a wonderful force of intense ex- 
 perience and feeling within its short limits, 
 
 Bor life is lived out really in just this way! 
 It has vast tracts of level sand — level, monotonous. 
 
222 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 perhaps sunless, perhaps sun-scorched ; and, 
 besides, it has Marah-streams that must be 
 drank at their appointed places, that flow with 
 deep waters, which leave bitter memories of 
 their taste ; but it has, too, its Elims, sweet 
 sunlit spots, where the light scorches not, be- 
 cause of the shade and stillness, where refreshing 
 fountains and blooming flowers, and all the fair, 
 bright day-dreams and tender harmonies of 
 summer, make life glad and glorious for the 
 time being, and fill the soul with satisfaction, 
 and delight it with ineffable joy. 
 
 Such an Indian summer broke upon them all, 
 through the early days of September, while they 
 lingered together by the blue Swiss lake ; while 
 they met and mingled joyously, day after day, all 
 the happy attributes of the party, which were one 
 and all so conducive to the enrichment of social 
 life ; while they drove, and walked, and boated, 
 and sauntered on the terrace at sunset, or in 
 the sweet abcndglillin ; as Zare and Scarlati sang 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 223 
 
 to them, and John Frere, and Harcourt Lynton, 
 and the Prince himself, brought all the varied 
 powers of converse, with which artistic tempera- 
 ment, culture, and wide experience of life and 
 men, had enriched their stores of mind and 
 fancy. 
 
 It was a charming fortnight. And yet, through 
 all its brightness and sunshine, never for one 
 hour did the memory leave Miriam, of those last 
 ten minutes on the terrace at La Joie, the first 
 evening she had gone there. Of the expression 
 on Prince Hugo’s fine countenance as Zare and 
 Scarlati sang ; of the pathos and struggling 
 pain that, for those passing moments, clouded 
 so darkly his eyes and brow ; of the eager, 
 wistful look with which he had met her grave 
 gaze as she spoke of Zare’s engagement ; and as 
 he murmured low, and almost pleadingly, “ It 
 is not true ? ” 
 
 With steady self-control indeed, his eyes had 
 fallen instantly, and every rising feeling had 
 
224 
 
 PRTNCFj HTJGO. 
 
 been subdued and veiled before her, as she 
 uttered her announcement — uttered it, she could 
 not tell herself why — with nervous hesitation, 
 but with intense earnestness and gravity : 
 
 “ It is true — she is engaged to my brother.” 
 The curious sudden change which had passed 
 over the Prince’s countenance had amazed her. 
 There was evidently some strong rebellious feeling 
 struggling up for expression, perhaps hungering 
 for sympathy, in his deep eager eyes, but it was 
 forcibly controlled. A cold hauteur had fallen 
 like an icy sheath over his face for a moment, 
 and then he had drawn himself up, thrown off 
 the effect of their conversation and of his own 
 evident dejection with determined effort ; and 
 then, after one grave silent bow in reply to her 
 communication, he had smiled into her face, 
 murmured, as the music still went on, some 
 irrelevant remark on some indifferent subject, — 
 thus becoming his courtly and reserved self, in- 
 stantly again. 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 225 
 
 If her words had deeply moved him from any 
 cause, she was not then to know it. If Z are’s 
 possible engagement to Roderick, or to any one, 
 had been indeed the thought which had brought 
 that deep strong wave of pathos and bitter pas- 
 sionate feeling breaking over his face, she had 
 no cause to realise or feel certain of it — and 
 being in no ways imaginative, or prone to ex- 
 travagant speculation, even the dim suggestion 
 faded from Miriam’s consciousness gradually 
 quite away. For, though she never forgot the 
 glance, nothing ever recalled it. He never once 
 referred during the days of their intercourse to 
 the subject again. He was bright, cordial, plea- 
 sant, to all of them, — to Zare, as before, gravely 
 sedulous in his unfailingly kind remembrance 
 and attention ; in his soft and eager expressions 
 of admiration for her genius, and of his enjoy- 
 ment of her beautiful art. 
 
 And Zare beamed upon him through all these 
 days, with a radiance of glad delight in her own 
 
 YOL. II. 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 PRINCE ‘ HUGO. 
 
 existence, and of eager gratitude to him, who 
 was the centre of so much that made her 
 momentary life so delightful to her. She 
 glowed and sparkled with spontaneous and un- 
 thinking happiness that was pleasant to see. 
 And yet, to several of the party, who knew and 
 remembered certain disturbing facts, there was 
 something pathetic in all her childlike and un- 
 conscious bliss ; and something saddening as 
 well in the genial external sunshine with which 
 the Prince gladdened that time for them all. 
 
 He was indeed the central brightness of the 
 party, planning and carrying out every pleasant 
 expedition and scheme ; and from the moment 
 of that conversation of the first evening, firmly 
 crushing within himself, any return or at least 
 revelation, of the inward pain and weariness and 
 strange sorrow of heart, which Miriam had seen 
 so unmistakably, unveiled before her then. 
 
 Miriam was herself, in a peculiar frame of 
 mind and feeling, during these sunny days. 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 227 
 
 There was new gladness and sweet mystic en- 
 joyment in the life for her as well as for others. 
 
 She went with them everywhere ; they did 
 everything together; and almost always — while 
 the Prince somehow seemed naturally to saunter 
 along with Zare — Harcourt Lynton found his 
 way to Miriam’s side, and became more and 
 more as the days went on, the recipient of her 
 many views and sentiments, and her theories on 
 all manner of things. 
 
 Languidly, he would light his cigar, and lan- 
 guidly he would appear to listen, but still he 
 none the less suited her, as no one else could 
 do ; and it was marvellously, if quite uncon- 
 sciously, delightful to her, to renew here by this 
 sunlit, blue Swiss lake, the old familiar inter- 
 course of their youthful days. 
 
 Miriam had had so many theories of life, — 
 Harcourt had had very few. 
 
 Miriam had touched the cup’s rim and sipped 
 at all the varied streams at which modern 
 
228 
 
 FRINGE HUGO. 
 
 womanhood is struggling to find self-satisfaction, 
 and through each and all she seemed to be 
 passing up to this epoch in her life. At 
 varied points of changeful experience, one theory 
 after another had been dropping from her, like 
 leaves from the autumn-touched tree, and now 
 it seemed that almost none were surviving, — as 
 she wrote of herself in her private record on 
 that strange night when she had first beheld 
 Harcourt Lynton again, — none surviving the 
 break and wash of the long slow waves of time, 
 save certain feelings, — old deep strong feelings, 
 that had been with her, long ago, as a wistful 
 girl dreaming by the water-side, and that stayed 
 with her through the chequered experience of 
 many phases of intellectual life, — stayed with 
 her as the strength of her spirit, the one real 
 inseparable self, while all powers and energies 
 of achievement seemed yielding within her soul, 
 — stayed with her, and revived, and drew her 
 upwards. 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 229 
 
 Miriam found the stronger sentiments of her 
 heart lived and survived through all things— all 
 theories, all cold and merely intellectual views 
 of life. She found a shrine within her own 
 heart in which Love abided, refusing ever to be 
 displaced ; and as theory after theory fell away 
 from her, her own strong power of genuine 
 feeling reasserted itself again. 
 
 That tenderness of intense sympathy which 
 had ever been a leading element in her character, 
 and which solitude and misapprehension in her 
 home surroundings had gone far to embitter 
 anjl chill, all woke up again in the curious and 
 unforeseen influence" and experience of this 
 eventful summer ; — sympathy and strong affec- 
 tion for Roderick, restored to her as he had 
 been for a short time again, — sympathy and a 
 tenderness a little romantic perhaps, but affect- 
 ing her deeply and with strong force, for Zare, — 
 an interest and genial pleasure in John Frere’s 
 society, once more that summer brought back 
 
230 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 to her, — and, above all, a subtle, unsuspected, 
 unforeseen feeling, in which all the past, present, 
 and future of her life seemed to mingle mystically 
 in one, for Harcourt Lynton, whose constant 
 presence infused ineffable sweetness into these 
 Swiss days for her. Whose languid, ductile, un- 
 resisting temperament seemed to lean towards 
 her with a curious attraction, and to yield itself 
 unresisting to the pleasant and bracing influence 
 of her more vigorous and less subjective mind. 
 
 Miriam softened wonderfully throughout this 
 time : even the unwearied social politics of her 
 mother, and the fractiousness of her worthy 
 step-father with his chronic complaint, seemed 
 in these days less oppressive to her, and with 
 equanimity more possible to be borne. 
 
 Again and again, as she mused over the ex- 
 perience of each happy day, her own past life 
 would come sweeping across her memory with 
 curious revelations of her inner and intellectual 
 self ; and with a curious softening influence, too. 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 231 
 
 that was just then remoulding her entire being. 
 She had been hard and self-centred through all 
 these years. She realized and she knew it now. 
 But her life, — since her father’s death, and since 
 the loss of her boy comrades, Roddy, Harcourt, 
 and John, — had, it seemed to her, been so shorn 
 of all the softening influence of warm sympathy 
 or genial understanding, that she had hardened 
 in it as a natural consequence : had hardened to 
 herself, to her mother, towards everyone, in fact, 
 in a way she could now neither explain nor excuse. 
 
 She had seemed to grow during all these 
 years like a sensitive plant in a northern clime, 
 with only elongated, prickly branches and stem, 
 struggling into a chilled and difficult existence, 
 in circumstances under which fruit could not 
 even come to its fair blossoming stage. So, only 
 fabrics of cold mental theories had found form 
 or reality within her mind during all this time. 
 All else — feeling of every kind, love, passion, 
 even affection — had been chilled and arrested 
 
232 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 within her heart at its earliest and still em- 
 bryonic phase. All had remained among the 
 unknown, unsuspected, mystical possibilities of 
 strange human nature, for many of her young 
 girl years. 
 
 Now, all had suddenly sprung into vigorous 
 life! 
 
 Miriam’s was one of those vague and unde- 
 fined temperaments that abound around us now, 
 full of force and capability, finding for them- 
 selves no actual and healthful outlet for self- 
 expression in any definite way. Had she had 
 some positive gift, of art, intellect, or imagination, 
 she would have uttered and developed her 
 spiritual self thereby, much earlier in her history, 
 and so saved herself many dreary and unbeaute- 
 ous hours. She might have enriched her life, — 
 as Prince Hugo had said in speaking of his 
 beloved music, — enriched it with an inward 
 beauty and spiritual warmth which would have 
 compensated her for many things, and stood by 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 233 
 
 her, an inseparable consolation, through many 
 varied experiences of weal and woe. Had she 
 been an artist, a musician, an intellectual writer, 
 endowed with sufficient force to give her reflec- 
 tive self an outward and appreciable form ; or if 
 she had been even a novelist, she might have 
 watered her soul’s garden from refreshing 
 springs, and with sweet soft recurring rains, 
 beneath which manv a fair flower and tender 
 gracious fruit, might have bloomed up and 
 ripened, to the beautifying and enrichment of 
 that still shadowed pasture, of her pure womanly 
 heart. 
 
 On the whole, she had perhaps the tempera- 
 ment of a novelist more than anything else, — 
 though, in all her changeful years, it never 
 befell her, or suggested itself to her mind, that 
 any publisher’s critical reader might peruse with 
 prompt approval these closely locked utterances 
 of her soul. But she had the temperament of a 
 novelist in certain elements of her character : in 
 
234 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 her inveterate habit of generalizing ; of evolving 
 theories continually from her silent observations 
 on human sentiments and conditions of life ; in 
 her quick intuitions ; in her retentive power for 
 impressions, feelings, and rapid effects ; and, 
 above all, in that eager and quick sympathy of 
 soul, which invested common things with a halo 
 of curious romance for her, and with which she 
 would fling herself into the depths of another’s 
 life and sufferings or desires, and which had 
 woke up within her into full force now, swaying 
 her whole being, with uncontrollable power, amid 
 the novel surroundings and strong stirring in- 
 fluences that had suddenly reached her life. 
 This sympathy, unsuspected and untrained, as 
 it sprung up within Miriam, had perhaps, — as 
 Mrs. Debugines said, with her usual practical 
 shrewdness, — blinded those powers of worldly 
 judgment, which at the best of times w r ere so 
 limited in Miriam’s case — blinded them most 
 effectually, with respect to Roderick and Zare. 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 235 
 
 It Lad been such a sweet, bright, beauteous 
 thing to her, — such a fair, delightful picture of 
 youth and happiness and romance when these 
 two had broken in upon the horizon of her 
 London life. Miriam had given way to its 
 absorbing interest and infectious influence, with- 
 out any sort of consideration or any definite 
 thought of the future at all. And it was this 
 intuitive sympathy, dashed with its sweet strong 
 flavour of romance, which now, during all these 
 bright days at Yevey, seemed to draw, her with 
 curious interest towards Prince Hugo, and 
 caused her, in spite of all his brightness and 
 his appearance of satisfaction and content, to 
 dwell constantly with speculative wonder within 
 herself, on the memory of that first afternoon 
 when Zare La-Gonidet’s voice had come singing 
 forth to them into the abendgliih'fi; when that 
 wave of colour and quiver of painful senti- 
 ment had swept over his face, and in eager 
 passionate accents he had pleaded with Miriam 
 
£30 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 to assure him that Zarc’s engagement to another, 
 — and to some unknown man, — could not be 
 true. 
 
 Her actual and practical experience of men and 
 women being, however, limited, discrimination 
 failed Miriam just at this point, and offered no 
 explanation to her speculative thoughts, but she 
 could not still them : again and again the curious 
 memory came at the Prince’s brightest moments, 
 as during all these days they beguiled the sunny 
 hours in company, and helped each other plea- 
 santly to gild with soft memories the association 
 of each passing scene. 
 
 And it was still with her — this haunting and 
 inexplicable recollection of the Prince’s face and 
 voice — when the very last days came creeping 
 swiftly upon them, and found them in constant 
 intercourse — all occupied still, in ripening 
 hourly this intimacy and close interest in 
 one another. Still drinking eagerly of the 
 passing pleasure, so sweet to all of them, 
 
OF MIRIAM. 
 
 237 
 
 and which deepened, and still deepened, the 
 strong and ineffable influence, that Swiss fort- 
 night was destined indeed to have, upon each 
 life. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ZARE. 
 
 It was the last evening ! 
 
 The table d'hote was just over at the Trois 
 Couronnes, and the crowd of tourists and resi- 
 dents at this huge caravan had just streamed out 
 into the garden, or into the billiard-room, or down 
 towards the lake-shore — to watch the lingering 
 sunset, to smoke, to saunter, to flirt, and to 
 otherwise amuse themselves according to wont 
 and fancy for the rest of the evening. 
 
 A string band had just struck up a flowing 
 suggestive valse in one corner of the garden, and 
 the windows of the large salon, with its glancing 
 parquet floor, had been flung invitingly open at 
 the sound ; while tables and seats were pushed 
 
ZARE. 
 
 239 
 
 back against tlie walls to make room and pre- 
 paration for any m/se-loving couple who might 
 feel inspired. 
 
 It was a lovely sultry evening, and after the 
 long, hot day, passed in a scramble over the 
 vineyard slopes to Monsieur B.’s little chalet at 
 Glion, and a pleasant afternoon of music and 
 converse spent in his pretty garden there, our 
 party were pleasantly tired, a little languid, and 
 much disposed for retreat en tete-cl-tete, into 
 pleasantly secluded corners of the garden, or 
 under the shelter of the verandah outside the 
 salon windows, within hearing of the soft music 
 of the string band. 
 
 They had dined together at the big table 
 d'hote, all, including John Frere, who had come 
 to the hotel after the day’s expedition to spend 
 this last evening with his cousin. The Prince 
 had been with them all the afternoon, and they 
 had only parted with him at the steep, sloping 
 corner above Clarens, where the pathway across 
 
240 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 the vineyards from Glion turned upwards to- 
 wards the Villa de la Joie. 
 
 Several of our particular party had come to 
 anchor in a group together, immediately on their 
 exit with the stream of people from out the hot 
 dining-room into the evening air. Miriam sat 
 dreamily and rather silently watching the still 
 night shadows creep over the lake, and listening 
 to the pleasant incessant ripple of Mrs. Red- 
 mond’s voice, as she conducted her usual rather 
 one-sided conversation with John. Harcourt 
 lounged by Miriam’s side, twirling his after- 
 dinner cigar between his fingers in a meditative 
 manner, as if languidly indifferent whether he 
 Jit it or not. 
 
 Zare, clad in a soft, fleecy, and fluffy-looking 
 raiment, which fell gracefully round her form 
 and threw up her dark colouring in dusky and 
 yet lustrous relief, sat a little apart, having, 
 in an absent sort of way, as if by spontaneous 
 selection, taken a chair that stood a little distant 
 
ZARE. 
 
 241 
 
 from the rest, beneath the dark foliage of a tall 
 branching shrub. She sat in an easy lounging 
 attitude, leaning back in her garden chair, one 
 small foot protruding its shoe with morocco 
 pointed toe and glistening buckle, her head 
 thrown slightly back upon the high bar of her 
 chair, and her dark eyes wandering away over 
 the stretch of the blue, deepening summer 
 evening sky, from which the flush of the sunset 
 was fading rapidly, and where faint, silvery stars 
 were appearing here and there. 
 
 The night was soft, and still, and soothing, for 
 even the buzz of many voices around her was 
 subdued into a twilight murmur, by the softening 
 influence of the scene and hour ; and the sweet 
 rhythmic strains of the band seemed in harmony, 
 and did by no means jar, on the soft whispering 
 music of the falling night. 
 
 Zare sat and gazed, and floated quite away 
 on the wings of soft fancy and mystic ariel 
 dreams, while a sweet, unbidden smile played 
 
 VOL. IX. 
 
 Pw 
 
242 
 
 FRINGE HUGO. 
 
 and quivered upon her lips, and a light of deep, 
 ineffable happiness, kindled and scintillated in 
 her shadowed eyes. The long, dark lashes hung 
 low upon her cheek, but from beneath and 
 amidst them there shone out into the darkening 
 night, that soft eager gleam of irrepressible 
 sweetness, and of unutterable and unfathomable 
 inward joy. For if “ the heart knoweth its own 
 bitterness,” and if the full anguish of its hidden 
 sorrows must be borne all unuttered and alone, 
 so is it also, that “ the stranger intermeddleth 
 not with its joy,” and these are the sweetest of 
 all life’s chequered moments perhaps, when the 
 soul sips all undisturbed — alone — at the rim of 
 a precious and silently-cherished cup, of a happi- 
 ness still unrecognised, still unanalysed, — still 
 only by its delicate flavour and infinite sweetness, 
 even suspected or known. A happiness which 
 has not been realized, or, at least, not in any 
 form, even to oneself, much less to any other, 
 been acknowledged or declared. A happiness 
 
ZARE. 
 
 243 
 
 that has no definite form of existence yet, in 
 words, in description, or in kind. A bliss that 
 is all the heart’s own — possessed quite alone in 
 the deep places of its veiled, inscrutable, and 
 wondrous life. 
 
 Such sweetness Zare was sipping within her 
 spirit now, as she floated away into dreams all 
 fair, formless, and undefined upon the mystical 
 wings of the twilight, into realms of ineffable 
 delight ; and it was this unmeasured sw r eetness, 
 coming rippling over her spirit, all unbidden and 
 unsought, that caused that tender smile to play 
 over her softly-parted lips, and brought that 
 light of dreamy joy into her great, dark shadowy 
 eyes. 
 
 Zare was a lovely picture of dawning, dream- 
 ing, slowly awakening womanhood — full of in- 
 finite and passionate possibilities in the future of 
 her young, ardent life — as she sat there, with 
 the twilight dropping silently upon her, her soft, 
 lacy draperies falling round her reclining form 
 
 R 2 
 
244 
 
 FRINGE HUGO. 
 
 her eyes wandering into the dreamy twilight, 
 and her lips parted with that sweet, tender 
 smile. 
 
 And just so, — Prince Hugo found her ! 
 
 He came slowly through the evening shadows, 
 between the clustering shrubs and the scented 
 flower beds, along the garden to where they all 
 sat. He came first upon Zare, before any of 
 them had observed him. Quite suddenly he 
 came upon her, while she floated unconsciously 
 amid the zephyrs of her twilight dreams. 
 
 He came upon her and paused, drawing back 
 a step into the evening shadow, standing silent 
 and almost breathless close to the corner of her 
 chair ; quite unobserved by her, and yet quite 
 near enough to look full, and for one moment, 
 with sudden freedom of unveiled expression, 
 upon her lovely, dreaming face. 
 
 He looked, and his own quivered in every 
 sensitive nerve and feature, and became deadly 
 pale. He paused, and his deep, grave eyes 
 
ZABE. 
 
 245 
 
 lighted with an eager and passionate joy for one 
 moment, and then they closed, the lids falling 
 heavily and tightly over them as if held shut 
 and fast sealed, to veil the eager expression 
 by the force of his strong will. They closed, 
 and when he opened them once more, and stood 
 yet a moment to rest them longingly upon her 
 unconscious face, the gleam, the eagerness, the 
 joy, was quite gone, all quenched within their 
 earnest depth, and there remained only where 
 that strong, sweet light of tenderness had been, 
 the old look which Miriam had seen, and which 
 had vibrated to her heart, and to the deepest 
 spring of her sympathies with such irresistible 
 power. The look of pain, weary, soul -darkened, 
 bitter pain, of lonely, unutterable anguish, of 
 pathos and suffering, deep and strong and 
 heart-felt, as it was silent and unknown. 
 
 He put his firm hand over his eyes then for 
 an instant, and drew it slowly across his broad, 
 thoughtful brow, and once more he made that 
 
246 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 unrelenting effort for self-control. He threw his 
 head up, and slowly uncovered it. He glanced 
 once towards the deep blue, starlit sky ; his 
 chest heaved and his lips quivered, as if “ unshed 
 tears v were wrung from his inmost soul ; as if, 
 had he been a woman, he would have wept 
 willingly, and poured forth his proudly stemmed 
 and struggling anguish, — and so granted, his 
 impassioned heart relief. 
 
 But there was nothing that could suggest 
 relief, through indulgence in any such feeble 
 impulse in the expression of that manly face. 
 Suffering was there, deep, unutterable suffering, 
 but no weakness, and if tears were wrung from 
 the heart, they were these “ unshed tears,” of 
 which Byron has written his thrilling words. 
 Prince Hugo remembered them as he stood 
 there, gazing a moment unnoticed, with that 
 speechless and pathetic longing in the soft twi- 
 light so near Zare’s side. 
 
 As he gazed and then glanced upwards, and 
 
ZABE. 
 
 247 
 
 stilled once more, with noble force and indomit- 
 able resolution the rush of eager feeling and 
 the flow of his tender, passionate love. As he 
 quelled the storm within himself, and drove back 
 even the rising weakness of self-compassion, of 
 wistful, self-pitying regret, and of those tears as 
 well, that would have fallen easily from his heavy 
 laden heart. Back they were driven into his 
 hidden self again, and remained a part of that 
 unuttered anguish, that lived none the less 
 really, none the less vehemently, because un- 
 seen within — 
 
 “ They are not dried — these tears unshed, 
 
 But flow back to their fountain head. 
 
 And resting in their spring more pure, 
 
 For ever in its depth endure, 
 
 Unseen, unwept, but uncongeal’d, 
 
 And cherish’d most, where least reveal’d. ’’ 
 
 A moment only, and she was aware of him ! 
 A moment — the heaving of a half-stifled sigh, the 
 rustle of the branch which his hand touched as 
 
248 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 he stretched it out, and drew himself together 
 with a gesture of self-control, some one of these 
 slight unconscious sounds had roused her. 
 
 She turned, and dreamland faded away from 
 her eyes; the bright gladness of reality, the 
 sunlight of day shone there instead. 
 
 “ Prince Hugo.” 
 
 She rose to her feet with one soft breathed 
 utterance of his name. 
 
 He said nothing ; for an instant it was more 
 than he could do, to speak with composure and 
 with control. He kept his head uncovered, his 
 grey cap in one hand, — with his right he clasped 
 hers. Quickly and eagerly he clasped it, — her 
 left hand which she had extended slightly with a 
 gesture of glad surprise. He held it, and her 
 eyes in the dim light, looked up, full and fearlessly 
 into his face. 
 
 It was all joy to her, unconscious, unutterable, 
 unsuspecting joy. He was here again, once 
 more among them, once more in her happy 
 
ZABK 
 
 249 
 
 vision, once more with courtly and gentle devo- 
 tion at her side. She felt only joy, and of its 
 cause she was as unsuspicious as a child, who — 
 awakening all suddenly from its downy sleep and 
 untroubled dreams — meets with joy, and without 
 shadow of misgiving, or suspicion, the sweet and 
 watchful countenance of one, well beloved. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE BOSTON. 
 
 Before words had been exchanged, the rest 
 of the party had observed the Prince, and with 
 exclamations of pleasure and of astonishment, too, 
 at his unusual energy in coming down at so 
 late an hour, they all rose and made room for 
 him, and for Zare also, to come within their little 
 circle if they wished to do so. 
 
 But Prince Hugo did not appear to be quite 
 certain that he did wish it. He returned Mrs. 
 Redmond’s smile and bow of greeting, and 
 Miriam’s bright glance of recognition and sur- 
 prise, bending with head still uncovered before 
 the little group of friends, and pausing as Zare 
 withdrew her hand gently from his clasp, before 
 he spoke or accepted their proffered seat. 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 251 
 
 “ It was such a lovely evening,” he said, 
 presently, in a tone almost of apology. “ I 
 could not stay at home. I wondered what you 
 were all doing, and I remembered it was to be 
 the last evening, and the vineyard pathway be- 
 low the terrace tempted me in the twilight to 
 wander down. I told none of them, for I was 
 out in the garden alone, so I am amused when I 
 think of De Yigne and Rochsdorf’s astonishment 
 when they find the terrace deserted. I left 
 word at the gate, however, with the old concierge 
 where I had gone, so after a minute’s search 
 probably they will trace me here. What a 
 lovely evening ! ” 
 
 “ Wonderfully lovely ! ” said Miriam. “ We 
 are enjoying its pleasant idleness out here.” 
 
 “ With the accompaniment of sweet, musical 
 strains, too, I hear. Really those Hungarian 
 Wanderers play marvellously well.” 
 
 “ Ho they not ? ” said Mrs. Redmond. “ That 
 Waldteufel’s Yalse has been making my toes 
 
252 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 dance this half-hour back, and I have been 
 obliged to keep my head carefully turned away 
 from the salon window, or I should have yielded 
 to the temptation of going in to join my light- 
 heeled compatriots who are footing it in there ; 
 and I like to feel above it, you know.” 
 
 “ But why ? ” said the Prince. “ Chere 
 Madame Redmond, how I wish you would come 
 in and let us witness you and one of your ex- 
 pert countrymen performing in the wonderful 
 * Boston ’ together ; that dance of wondrous 
 whirl and shovel which it defies a European to 
 execute with anything like success. Miss Ray, 
 would you not like to see Mrs. Redmond dance 
 the ‘ Boston ’ to the strain of that lovely ‘Reve 
 d’ Amour ’ \ ” 
 
 “ I should like it immensely,” said Miriam. 
 “ Do, Mrs. Redmond, and we will all go and 
 stand at the window and look on. Please 
 do, it would be so amusing. I have never 
 seen the ‘ Boston ’ really well danced in my 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 253 
 
 life, although there were some people who used 
 to aspire to its performance in the salon at 
 Spaalbad.” 
 
 “ Well, I should not mind,” said Mrs. Red- 
 mond; “if Willy Cathcart happens to be in there 
 to-night, he would be my partner fast enough, 
 and if your Highness wishes it we are bound 
 to take a turn around, just to show you a bit, if 
 only for the honour of the States. Mr. Frere, 
 will you take a peep in and see if Willie Cath- 
 cart is there ? ” 
 
 John went off in instant obedience, and then 
 they all turned and strolled together across the 
 garden towards the large, brightly-illuminated, 
 open window of the great salon ; and once there 
 they paused. 
 
 The scene within was best witnessed from 
 without, standing in the soft darkness of the 
 summer night, with the sweet fragrance of the 
 flowers filling the air, and the cool breath of 
 the evening soothing the spirit after the long 
 
254 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 heat of the day. It was amusing to loiter and 
 laugh and exchange comments and criticisms on 
 the pirouetting couples within. 
 
 The centre of the great salon was cleared of 
 furniture — the crimson seats and sofas pushed 
 back against the walls, — and it was lit up with 
 the lustre of a huge crystal chandelier pendant 
 from the ceiling, and by glittering ormolu 
 candelabra, held in sconces on each side of its 
 numberless bright, glancing mirrors. Its smooth 
 and polished parquet floor glistened like a sheet 
 of ice. 
 
 The salon was an inviting-looking little ball- 
 room, affording space and opportunity for dis- 
 play of Terpsichorean skill. But not many 
 couples, however, had been lured in, as yet, 
 from the soft and cool twilight of the garden, 
 even by the floating strains of “ La Rove.” 
 
 Not many, but among them was Willie Cath- 
 cart, — Mrs. Redmond’s light-footed young com- 
 patriot — who, indeed, waited for no invitation 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 255 
 
 or sign from John, but came rushing forward, 
 sliding across the polished floor towards the 
 window, immediately the party from out the 
 garden appeared. 
 
 “ Oh, Mrs. Redmond, one turn. The floor is 
 perfect, and there is such lots of room, a quarter 
 of an hour later, and there will be a horrid 
 crowd. Come, one turn.” 
 
 “ Well, it is very tempting, Willie, and it is 
 just what they are all entreating me to do, His 
 Highness himself especially ; but this gown is 
 not a bit nice to dance in, and my train is miles 
 too long.” 
 
 “ Oh, I will manage the train,” said Willie 
 Cathcart, as if this serious responsibility was 
 certainly his, and one which lie was gallantly 
 prepared to encounter. “You come along, do?” 
 “ Well, just a turn then.” 
 
 And away they went, spinning down the 
 length of the long room, then shovelling, and 
 twirling, and floating, and chasseeing, back- 
 
256 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 wards and forwards, to right and to left, in 
 every direction at once, as it seemed, and yet 
 firmly, in perfect accord, and without ever once 
 losing step or time. 
 
 It was marvellous, and universal acclamations 
 of applause broke from all sides, while one pair 
 of dancers after another, paused to watch the 
 unparalleled performance, and to envy with 
 despair, the uncomparably dexterous agility, of 
 this the most skilful couple of valsers whom 
 America had sent to astound Europe that year. 
 
 Mrs. Redmond’s long, flounced train seemed 
 no impediment, Mr. Willie Cathcart managing 
 it as he had promised with admirable ability ; 
 it went floating round her just at the right 
 angle, and if for a moment it entwined fast 
 about his nimble feet, it never seemed to in- 
 commode him in the very least, but was shoved 
 dexterously away, and thrown out again to float 
 airily round them with their next rapid sweep 
 and whirl. 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 257 
 
 “ Well done ! ” laughed Prince Hugo, who 
 stood leaning against the threshold of the 
 window watching them by Zare’s side. 
 
 “ Well done, indeed,” answered Zare, 
 
 “ What an enviable agility,” said John Frere. 
 “ Such light heels must surely betoken very 
 light hearts.” 
 
 “ So they do as a rule,” remarked Harcourt 
 Lynton. “ Light hearts, amid all variety and 
 adversity of life, is quite a characteristic of the 
 nation.” 
 
 “ They take life as merrily,” said the Prince, 
 “ as my Rochsdorf takes it gloomily, I suspect. 
 Well, it is a happy, national attribute ; I never 
 can see myself, the good of making the worst of 
 things. Well done, Madame Redmond,” he 
 continued, as that gay little lady with her 
 partner came suddenly to anchor, quite near. 
 “ Thank you very much, you have given us all 
 a great enjoyment, it is a pleasure to see you 
 float so airily over the ground.” 
 
 YOL. II. 
 
 S 
 
25b 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ Oil, it is easy enough when you can catch 
 it up ; and then Willie Cathcart is a skilful 
 dancer,” said Mrs. Redmond ; “ he gets you 
 around most beautifully — you really don’t feel 
 your feet go. Will not any of you ladies take 
 a turn, or do you never dance yourself, your 
 Highness ? ” 
 
 “ Not your wonderful ‘ Boston,’ ” said the 
 
 Prince. “We have our own style of valsing in 
 
 Germany, you know, though for my own part 
 
 I like the Austrian step best. We danced a 
 
 good deal at Vienna, did we not, Lynton ? ” 
 
 “ I never did much in that line, sir, but I 
 
 remember your being a distinguished performer 
 
 verv well.” 
 
 «/ 
 
 “ I think there is nothing so graceful as the 
 Austrian Valse,” said Zare. “ I learnt it once 
 from a Viennese gentleman in Paris, and I like 
 it best ; do you know, I have given up dancing 
 the ‘ Boston ’ ever since.” 
 
 “ You like it ? ” said the Prince. “ What, 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 259 
 
 the smooth sweeping Austrian step ? Will 
 you take a turn with me then, Mademoiselle 
 Zare ? If Mr. Cathcart and Mrs. Redmond 
 would begin again so as not to look on at us, 
 we should not feel so shy. Go on again, Cath- 
 cart, and we will follow you. Miss Ray, do 
 you not ever dance ? ” 
 
 “ No — at least, I have seldom, done so ; it is 
 not, as Mr. Lynton says, in my line,” said 
 Miriam; “but I shall watch you from here 
 with pleasure Prince. Do dance, Zare, I have 
 never seen the Austrian Valse anywhere, as far 
 as I know.” 
 
 “ Come then,” said Prince Hugo, and in one 
 moment, with his firm, strong arm, he had 
 encircled Zare’s waist, and they floated away 
 together, sweeping down the length of the 
 bright room, sweeping with a long, smooth step 
 and a slow, floating dignity of movement quite 
 different from the swift and skilful manoeuvres 
 of Willie Cathcart and the fair lady of his race. 
 
260 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 A flowing movement, full of rythmic and poetic 
 grace, that suited, as a style of dancing, both 
 Zare and the Prince, much better than the 
 rapid, shovelling twirl of the American Valse 
 would have done. 
 
 In their way, the pair were as graceful and 
 accomplished performers as were the other two, 
 and Miriam, and Harcourt Lynton, and John, 
 watched them also with admiration and with 
 curious interest as well. 
 
 It was curious to see the Prince dance. He 
 did it with the same verve and purpose, and 
 sedate energy of enjoyment, which he threw 
 into all things, and at the same time, with a 
 dignity of movement that seemed to characterize 
 him in his style of valsing, as much, if not more, 
 than in anything else they had seen him do. 
 
 “ What a graceful, handsome fellow he is,” 
 murmured John, as they stood, still out in the 
 twilight of the garden, and looked into the 
 brightly-lit salon. “ How well he does every- 
 
TEE BOSTON. 
 
 261 
 
 thing, that he ever allows himself to do, even a 
 slight thing like this. One might have felt- 
 sure that he valsed better than most men, or 
 he would not have stood up to do it.” 
 
 “ Yes,” said Miriam, with enthusiasm, “ there 
 is something about him, that challenges one’s 
 admiration at every turn in the most curious 
 way. I always find myself liking him afresh, 
 all over again, as it were, for some new reason, 
 nearly every day. I like to see him sweep 
 round with that grand-looking movement, do 
 -jot you ? He looks so powerful and so amus- 
 ingly in earnest, and yet so eager and full of 
 enjoyment and life.” 
 
 “ And Mademoiselle Zare’s dancing,” said 
 Harcourt, “ is as harmonious with herself, too, 
 as everything she does — or sings. It is like a 
 perfectly complete and melodious poem, to see 
 them float round together. Dear me, shall we 
 ever wear out the faculty, I wonder, of imbibing 
 fresh sensations of interest and amusement from 
 
202 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 these foreigners and their diversified ways ? 
 Why do we not feel the spirit move us now 
 to go pirouetting ‘ around,’ as Mrs. Redmond 
 says ? ” 
 
 “ Because our education was neglected in 
 our early youth, I presume,” said John. “ I 
 do not know why, but I never did take to 
 dancing.” 
 
 “ Nor I either,” said Miriam. “ But I 
 imagine I was just coming to my dancing days 
 long ago, when you all left me, and I had no 
 one to dance with. So, somehow, I never took 
 to it later ; there was little temptation to the 
 acquirement of the art in the balls which we 
 have occasionally frequented in London, in these 
 latter years.” 
 
 “ It gets into one’s blood here though, some- 
 how,” said John. “ That sweep and flow of 
 the step and music, and one expects to be at it 
 some day before one has done. Lynton, why 
 did not you learn to foot it with the rest ? ” 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 263 
 
 “ Oh, I used to dance sometimes when I was 
 an attache ,” said Harcourt, languidly. “ But I 
 never thought it, even at a ball, the best part of 
 the affair. I preferred a nice, quiet corner with 
 a pleasant companion, even in those days. Now, 
 I will valse, if Miss Ray will valse with me ; 
 but — if it is all the same to her — I think it is 
 much pleasanter out here.” 
 
 “ I think so, too, most certainly,” laughed 
 Miriam. “ What a lovely evening it is, and 
 in there it is as hot and airless as possible 
 already.” 
 
 “ Yes, and what a disgusting glare of light,” 
 said Harcourt. “ Look, look round a moment, 
 what a lovely gleam is coming up over the lake. 
 The moon will rise in a moment. I never saw 
 * Leman ’ look more bewitching ; what an 
 exquisite light is creeping over the distant 
 scene.” 
 
 “ Yes, and — ah ! they have stopped dancing — 
 the Prince and Zare, I mean,” said Miriam; “ so 
 
264 
 
 PEINGE HUGO. 
 
 now I will not look into that hot, glaring 
 room any more, it is an insult to the beauty 
 outside. Ah, Zare, are you tired, dear ? I 
 think I should often be tempted on to that 
 perilous-looking, icy floor if I were as sure of 
 my footing as Prince Hugo and you are.” 
 
 “ I very seldom dance,” said Zare, passing 
 out through the window to stand by Miriam 
 with Prince Hugo, and still leaning upon his 
 arm. “ I very seldom dance, indeed.” 
 
 “ And I never dance,” said the Prince, laugh- 
 ing, “ but that was a delightful turn.” 
 
 “ How delicious is the cool air,” said Zare. 
 “ How hot it is in the salon already ! ” 
 
 “ Yes, how delicious, indeed,” said the Prince. 
 “ Valsing and everything taken into account, I 
 think it was foolish to desert the garden, 
 especially as we have, at least, the music there, 
 and besides, do you know, Mesdemoiselles,” he 
 continued, turning both to Zare and Miriam, 
 with his bright, winning smile, “ it was not in 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 265 
 
 the least for dancing, that I was tempted to 
 come down to you this evening, hut from quite 
 another idea, one which this lovely, soft air and 
 the blue glory of that expanse of water brings 
 back to my mind. May I suggest it now ? ” 
 
 He was looking at Miriam ; she bent her head 
 slightly, and smiled her ready eagerness to hear 
 what he would say. 
 
 “ This is your last evening on the shores of 
 Geneva, Miss Ray, and the last evening we 
 shall be all together, and there is one thing 
 which we have never done together yet. By 
 day and in twilight shades, we have done 
 nearly everything in this last bright fortnight 
 that there is here to do. Only one thing remains. 
 Will you do it with me to-night ? ” 
 
 “ And what is that, Prince Hugo ? ” 
 
 “ What, you will not promise until you 
 know, prudent young English lady ? Well, 
 you shall know, and then, I hope, be tempted. 
 Will you come out with me in my little boat 
 
266 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 oji the lake now, by moonlight, for see, we 
 shall have a radiance of the autumn moon 
 flooding the whole, glorious view in a few 
 minutes ? ” 
 
 “ Out on the lake to-night, Prince ! ” ex- 
 claimed Miriam. 
 
 “ Why not P ” he said. 
 
 44 Oh, I think it would be perfection,” mur- 
 mured Zare. 
 
 44 Quite charming ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Red- 
 mond, who stood also now close by the window, 
 and heard the Prince’s suggestion. 44 Quite 
 charming ! Oh, do let us go, it will be all right, 
 Miss Ray ; you know I can 4 matronize ’ both 
 you and Zare.” 
 
 44 Come then,” said the Prince. 44 Is it agreed? 
 My boat is lying just below the garden ; I told 
 the men before dinner to come round.” 
 
 44 1 wonder if my mother would mind,” said 
 Miriam. 44 1 think it sounds very delicious. 
 Let me go and tell her of your proposition, 
 
THE BOSTON. 
 
 267 
 
 Prince, and we shall see if she has any objec- 
 tions to make.” 
 
 Mrs. Debugines made no objection, nor was 
 she likely to make one to any suggestion coming 
 from so lofty a source. She was seated happily 
 in one corner of the verandah, surrounded by a 
 brilliant concourse of the most aristocratic in- 
 mates of the hotel, and she was contented that 
 Miriam should go, wherever the Prince might 
 please to take her ! Por surely the fact, author- 
 ized Mrs. Debugines in talking, with pleasant 
 familiarity, of His Highness and his doings for 
 the rest of the evening, seeing that her daughter 
 and favourite nephew were of his select and 
 special party in his little boat ! 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TURQUOISE. 
 
 Prince Hugo’s boat was a small one, but 
 pretty and trim and well rigged for a voyage over 
 the blue rippling surface of Lake Leman. With 
 snowy sail, and trio of smartly attired mariners, 
 and rows of crimson seats ; with a mast rising 
 slim and tall in the centre, which divided the 
 large circle of places for guests and voyagers at 
 the stern, from a small compact seat just' sufficient 
 for two people, that the Prince always chose for 
 himself near the prow. From there he could 
 watch the wave and ripple of the lake, as the 
 sharp boat’s point cut a silvery course through 
 the blue water, and could stand upright and 
 watch the coming waves on the smooth broad 
 glistening expanse, as the boat dived and rocked 
 
TIIE TURQUOISE. 
 
 269 ' 
 
 and rode gaily on, and danced lightly over the 
 heaving blue bosom of the lake, and darted 
 forward through the frothy mist thrown up on 
 the tracks of its own swift eager way. 
 
 When the fancy for boating was upon him, it 
 enthralled Prince Hugo with the same force of 
 attraction, which all other manly active pursuits 
 had for him successively from time to time. As 
 he loved the mountain and the glacier solitudes, 
 and the lonely forest shades, so he loved, at other 
 times, the blue broad waters, and the curving 
 bays, and the dancing billows, and the bracing 
 fresh invigorating air of Lake Leman, whether 
 she smiled before his eager eyes in summer soft- 
 ness and in glad sunshine beauty, or as she rose 
 and rocked his little skiff tempestuously beneath 
 the rough caress of the Bise, or the angry and swift 
 rising Sou-wester, that came sweeping down the 
 mountain vales. 
 
 He loved it in all its variety, and in every 
 changeful mood, from smile to frown. 
 
270 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 And as a boatman, lie was courageous too — 
 to rashness, as many who had watched the fragile 
 Turquoise fight the early autumn tempest knew. 
 And many had watched him anxiously, for he 
 often stole off from them all to his boat as he 
 had done now without a word to apprise them 
 at the villa as to where and how he meant to 
 pass the early hours of the coming night. 
 
 And he staid often through a storm in his tiny 
 boat till past daybreak, while De Vigne, Searlati, 
 and Rochsdorf, with an anxious group of his 
 affrighted servants, watched him from the terrace, 
 or from the piers along the shore. 
 
 He had no intention of staying out till day- 
 break, now, however, having inveigled his Prima 
 Donna and his favourite young English lady- 
 friend into the gay little Turquoise as his com- 
 panions to-night. He would only, he thought, 
 take them skimming across the smooth blue 
 water towards Meillerie, through the soft sweet 
 air, just to breathe that “living fragrance from 
 
THE TURQUOISE. 
 
 271 
 
 the shore,” blowing on the gentle wings of the 
 night winds and just to see that wonderful 
 moonlit view of — 
 
 “ The margin and the mountains dark, yet clear, 
 Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen.” 
 
 The lines were murmured by John Frere as 
 they one by one stepped from the little pier oil 
 to the dancing boat, and took each their seats on 
 the red cushioned benches as indicated for them 
 by the Prince. 
 
 Purposely it would seem, that he detained 
 Zare La-Gonidet, beside him on the pier until the 
 very last, for, it appeared then, unexpectedly, 
 that at one end the little boat was full. He was 
 obliged quite naturally, to suggest her passing 
 with him to the prow’s point, and occupying 
 there by him, for the moonlight voyage, the 
 small place — just fitted for two at that end. 
 Nothing seemed more natural. He held her 
 firmly but lightly, and courteously by the hand. 
 
272 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 and, as the three sailors in their blue jerseys and 
 red woollen caps bent over the gunwale, and 
 held the little rocking boat close to the pier, 
 the Prince conducted Zare by slow and wary 
 footsteps, and with many a deft and skilful 
 spring, round the corner of the tall mast, over 
 ropes and benches and long tidily-shipped oars, 
 to that cushioned and inviting-looking corner 
 just behind the gilded and turquoise-crowned 
 figure-head at the boat’s point. 
 
 She laughed low and happily, as he seated her 
 with care and gentle solicitude, and remained 
 standing a moment at her side. 
 
 “ Loose off! ” he exclaimed in a curious patois 
 to his sailors, and the little vessel slipped silently 
 away from the pier. 
 
 “ Unship the oars, let us row a while,” he 
 continued ; “ we can put up the sail when we get 
 out into the breeze.” 
 
 Deftly they unslung the long slim oars, 
 swiftly they were fixed in their grooves by two 
 
THE TUBQUOISE. 
 
 273 
 
 of the sailors, while the third made his way 
 scrambling along the edge with the agility of a 
 monkey and with many apologies to Miriam, as 
 he crept behind her shoulders, to the rudder. 
 
 Softly now, there fell the music of the rippling 
 water struck by the two long oars, and cut by 
 the swift, forward spring of the sharp keel, and 
 then, they paused a moment, glancing towards 
 the Prince for orders. They paused and gently 
 to and fro rocked the little boat across the 
 broad dancing ray of the silver moonlight and 
 while, on the ear, 
 
 “ Dropped the light drop of the suspended oar,” 
 
 there seemed to fall around them with a 
 strange mystical silence and with soft soothing 
 power, all the deep wondrous beauty of the 
 night. 
 
 “ Towards Meillerie,” said the Prince shortly ; 
 and instantly the oars dipped again, the boat’s 
 prow spun round, and they shot out straight 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 FRINCE HUGO. 
 
 towards tlie lake’s centre, across the blue moonlit 
 expanse. 
 
 It was very delicious, the stillness, the fragrance 
 of the fresh cool air, the rippling music beneath 
 the swift dancing keel, the drop of the steady 
 oars upon the water, and the glory of the open- 
 ing lake view. 
 
 There, was the towering circlet of the snow- 
 capped mountains in the distance, and the 
 shadowy and rocky crevices with their dark pine 
 fringes rising in the nearer view. There was the 
 soft sweep of the banks towards the lower end, 
 verdant and vine-clad, and then the majestic 
 precipitous rocks of the higher slopes beyond 
 Clarens, stretching away towards the Gorge of 
 the Rhone, and the distant Yalais Alps. 
 
 The limpid moonlight, the lake’s soft sheen, 
 the wavy ripple, and the broad unbroken ex- 
 panse, all were lovely with a deep and bewitch- 
 ing loveliness that seemed to enthral the soul. 
 
 Scarcely a word was exchanged till they were 
 
THE TURQUOISE. 
 
 275 
 
 well out, dancing over the water quite away 
 from shore. Then “The sail,” Prince Hugo 
 said, and the little boat heaved and rocked again 
 upon the dark deep water, while the men 
 shipped their oars, sprang forward, and with 
 light rapid movements and well accustomed 
 skill, unfurled the snowy sheet, and let it float 
 forth in the moonlight, like a huge graceful 
 white-winged bird before the rising breeze. 
 
 “ This quiet sail is as a noiseless icing to 
 waft me from distraction murmured Prince 
 Hugo in a low voice, as he took his place now 
 by Zare’s side. “ There is a charming light 
 wind coming up the lake, I see. I think we shall 
 make a successful tack.” 
 
 And tack they did, backwards and forwards 
 across the moonbeams, and over the blue bosom 
 of the lake, dancing and rippling gaily along 
 while murmurs of pleasant talk in duets, and 
 trios, went on continuously, and many respon- 
 sive acclamations of admiration and delight were 
 
276 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 again and again echoed across the water, and 
 from side to side of the bright little boat as they 
 sailed along without weariness or interruption. 
 
 The duet at the prow’s point was heard by 
 none but the two speakers therein engaged how- 
 ever, and it was doubtless none the less pleasant, 
 from this unavoidable fact. None the less 
 pleasant, certainly — although, for the first hour 
 of their moonlight sail, every member of the 
 party, or indeed the whole huge table ahdte of 
 the Trois Couronnes Hotel might have listened 
 to every one of the sotto voce remarks that 
 passed between Zare and the Prince, without 
 experiencing one single thrill of astonishment, 
 or decorous deprecation at what they heard. 
 
 Por the first hour, their converse was pleasant, 
 and quite untroubled by any threatening of 
 special sentiment on either side. 
 
 Yet that first hour was very charming to 
 both. For, in such circumstances of easy undis- 
 turbed intercourse between them, Zare for her 
 
THE TURQUOISE. 
 
 277 
 
 part found always a quite unalloyed delight ; 
 and Prince Hugo too, beneath the influence so 
 intensely sympathetic to him, of her soft enthusi- 
 astic manner and bright fearless glance and 
 sweet frequent smiles, gained always, as they 
 talked together, an ease with himself and his 
 rebellious inward feelings for her — an ease 
 and undisturbed pleasure in intercourse, that 
 evinced, more than anything else could do, the 
 perfection of their rapport and suitability to one 
 another. 
 
 Such moonlit scenes and hours, linger softly 
 sometimes in the memory through years of after 
 darkness and storm. Of such an hour writes 
 Alaric Watts: 
 
 “ J Twas Summer Eve — the heavens above, 
 
 Earth, ocean, air, were full of love ; 
 
 I bent, and murmuring, vowed to be 
 The soul of love and truth to thee. 
 
 “ The scene and hour have passed, yet still 
 Eemains a deep, impassioned thrill — 
 
 A sunset glow on memory, 
 
 That kindles at each thought of thee.” 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A GALE. 
 
 They were far away across the lake’s blue 
 expanse, near the Rocks of Meillerie, and were 
 sweeping and bending their boat’s prow again 
 towards the other side — when from the little 
 church-tower of St. Gingolph there rang out, 
 with deep, musical chimes, into the moonlight, 
 the midnight hour. And at that moment — as 
 they all silently listened, and then broke into 
 a light laugh and echoed exclamations to one 
 another over the lateness of the hour — there 
 swept suddenly across their faces a cold swift 
 blast. It rustled noisily among the ropes and 
 upper rigging of the tall mast, and caused the 
 wide white sail to flutter restlessly, With a 
 curious uneasy quiver, shaking it from end to 
 
A GALE. 
 
 27 !) 
 
 end. More than ever it appeared just then, like 
 a huge, white bird, pausing in its flight, and 
 trembling with quick drooping plumage as a 
 shot reached its light, buoyant heart, striking 
 the eager life within at its very fountain, even 
 while the bird floated still upon its outspread 
 wings. 
 
 “ Diable,” exclaimed the sailor at the rudder ; 
 and with a rapid movement of his strong guiding 
 hand he altered the course of the little, rocking 
 boat. “ Diable ! ” and a rush of hasty patois 
 came pouring from his lips, with many eager 
 gesticulations, as he shouted to his comrades and 
 grasped the rudder fast with both his firm, 
 sinewy hands. 
 
 A squall was coming down the Rhone Valley ! 
 and it was sweeping round them in a noisy 
 hurricane before they had understood or realised. 
 
 Prince Hugo’s cheek grew pale. John Prere 
 exclaimed under his breath something quite 
 unheard. Miriam sat up and grasped the 
 
280 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 boat’s side tightly with one hand in silence, and 
 then turned her face round calm and fearless, to 
 meet the fierce breath of the wind. 
 
 “ We are in for it,” said Harcourt, composed 
 and languid as usual, but with a quick, curious 
 glance, as he spoke, into Miriam’s face. 
 
 He sat up, too, from his lounging position, 
 fastened his coat across his chest, as the wind 
 swept down upon them ; and then, as she had 
 done, he calmly contemplated the coming storm. 
 
 Mrs. Redmond shivered and shut her eyes ; 
 but the reality of their instant danger had not 
 penetrated to her mind. She shivered, for it 
 was suddenly cold, and a gusty current whirled 
 through the air above their heads, where the 
 sharp, delicate point of the tall mast seemed to 
 cut the sky. She gathered her cloak tightly 
 around her, and exclaimed, “ There is going to 
 be a storm, I believe. How I wish we were 
 nearer home.” 
 
 And — a storm there was ! One of those 
 
A GALE. 
 
 281 
 
 sudden, quick, rising tempests that with squall, 
 and rocking waters, and thunder peal, and swift 
 lightning flash, spring up without warning or 
 notice on these inland mountain lakes. The 
 sultry heat of the day had foreshadowed thunder, 
 which came almost nightly indeed, rolling over 
 the slopes of the mountains and across the high, 
 distant peaks. They had quite expected thunder, 
 but the hurricane had crept down the valley 
 and broke forth upon them over the lake — its 
 approach unheeded, but its aspect none the less, 
 vehement and alarming. 
 
 The little boat rocked and danced, tossed to 
 and fro like a floating feather upon the waves’ 
 wild crest. The rigging rattled and the white 
 sail fluttered and trembled, and swayed them 
 low towards the water before the sailors could 
 gather it in. For, some ropes snapped instantly, 
 with the sudden strength of the tempest, and 
 the furling of the sail was difficult (almost an 
 impossibility) to the two men who stood upright 
 
282 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 on the little piece of rocking deck, clinging 
 eagerly to the mast with both arms and hands. 
 
 “ Furl, for God’s sake,” cried the Prince. 
 But the rope had broken, and the little pulley 
 escaped beyond their reach. The sail, stretched 
 before the squall, again filled and shook with 
 fierce, rustling sound, and away spun the boat, 
 carried forcibly before winds and waves and 
 strong, eddying currents ; rising at one instant 
 on the top of the billow’s silvery crest, and 
 diving the next into the heaving gulf between. 
 Booking and dancing recklessly on, quite beyond 
 control of oar or rudder, and driving straight 
 across the lake towards the rocks below 
 St. Saphorut. Prince Hugo steadied himself 
 and stood upright an instant, clinging also by 
 the slim mast, and gazing eagerly from side to 
 side. He was pale as white marble, and the 
 features of his grave face almost as immovable. 
 He looked from slope to slope on the lake’s side, 
 and up and down the large expanse of water. 
 
A GALE. 
 
 283 
 
 What a change in a few swift passing minutes ! 
 and — in spite of everything — what a grand, what 
 a soul-stirring change ! 
 
 “ Oh Night ! 
 
 And storms and darkness, ye are wondrous strong. 
 Yet lovely in your strength as is the light 
 Of a dark eye in woman.” 
 
 “ Wondrous strong.” It was all there upon 
 them now, whirling through the rigging, sway- 
 ing the tall mast, shaking the wide, white sail 
 like an aspen leaf, tossing the little boat like a 
 toy. All upon them, and great flashes of light- 
 ning lit up the lake from end to end. 
 
 “ Far along 
 
 From peak to peak the rattling crags among, 
 
 Leaped the live thunder. Not from cloud alone, 
 
 But every mountain now had found a tongue, 
 
 And Jura answered through her misty shroud 
 Back to the joyous Alps, who called to her aloud.” 
 
 Many and many a time before now had the 
 Prince been out upon the lake’s wild bosom 
 during such a storm. Many a time had he 
 
284 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 stood up as now and faced the tempest, 
 and watched the great, heaving, and breaking 
 waves, and felt the cool spray dash upon his 
 uncovered head, as the Turquoise drove her 
 gallant course among the waves. Many a time 
 he had stood and murmured to himself, at such 
 an hour and scene, all those wondrous lines 
 which his specially favourite poet has written on 
 a night storm on Lake Leman. 
 
 “ And this is night ! Most glorious night ! 
 
 Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be 
 A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, 
 
 A portion of the tempest and of thee ! ” 
 
 And even now — though his cheek blanched 
 as he stood up, and as he realised the position 
 and its possibilities — the actual danger in the 
 midst of which the fragile Turquoise with its 
 precious freight was tossed and swayed ; though 
 his cheek paled and his brow was grave with 
 anxiety — yet the wild glory of the scene, the 
 infinite majesty of this fierce storm, swept over 
 
A GALE. 
 
 285 
 
 him again for a moment, and made his cheek 
 flush and his eyes sparkle as he stood. 
 
 The helmsman was fighting bravely with the 
 lake’s current, and keeping the little tossing 
 vessel wonderfully steady upon her course. And 
 gallantly she rode the waves and topped the 
 foam-crests, or dipped into their chasms and 
 rose proudly again. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to sit still, firm, 
 and courageous, and to await results. 
 
 Nothing for it but to let the boat sweep like 
 a sea-gull on the wing, before the rocking wind. 
 
 Nothing for it but to grasp firm the helm, 
 and struggle with the counter currents, and do 
 all that in them lay to escape and round the 
 rocks running out, below St. Saphorut, and to 
 make safely the little harbour beyond. 
 
 Nothing for them all to do but to sit still, and 
 watch the thunder roll from crag to crag, and the 
 lightning dance over the lake, flashing wonderful 
 and beautiful with strange phosphoric gleam. 
 
286 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 Nothing to be done save sit calm and still, 
 test one’s courage and composure, and imbibe 
 that wild mystical irresistible delight, which, in 
 spite of everything, came to them from the 
 majestic storm. 
 
 The lines of his favourite poet were still ring- 
 ing weirdly and irrepressibly in Prince Hugo’s 
 mind, as he once more took his seat by Zare and 
 met the full, spirited and courageous glance of 
 her dark eyes. 
 
 The lines rang in his brain, as some un- 
 bidden quotation does rise sometimes, and will 
 ring and ring in the mind, in utter defiance 
 of other thoughts — more naturally consequent 
 upon the situation. 
 
 He met her glance, and it was full and com- 
 posed, and it lighted up so readily to answer the 
 gleam of ardour and enthusiasm that in such a 
 scene flashed irrepressibly from his, that, as their 
 gaze met and mingled, he continued his thought, 
 and recurring memory aloud. 
 
A GALE. 
 
 287 
 
 In a low soft voice he murmured, with his 
 
 eager wistful eyes wandering over her face, — 
 
 • 
 
 “ Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings ! ye ! 
 
 With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul 
 To make these felt, and feeling, well may be 
 Things that have made me watchful ; the far swell 
 Of your departing voices is the knell 
 Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. 
 
 But what of ye, oh tempest ! is the goal 1 
 Are ye like those within the human breast — ? 
 
 Or do ye find at length, like eagles, some high nest V 9 
 
 “ Will you forgive me,” he added, “ that I 
 have brought you into all this ? Zare, are you 
 much afraid ? ” 
 
 “I like it,” said Zare tremulously, but not 
 from a tremor of fear, but because the gaze bent 
 on her now was so laden with deep feeling, so 
 wistful, so eager, so regretful, so strange, that 
 it seemed to unnerve her, as no tempest of wind, 
 or fear of rocking-billow’s force could do. It 
 unnerved her. 
 
 “ You are afraid,” he said, and he put out his 
 hand and touched hers for a moment. “ You 
 
288 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 are trembling,” he said. “ Zare, will you not for- 
 give me ? I did not mean to bring you into this.” 
 “ I said I liked it,” said Zare. 
 
 “ It will not last long,” said the Prince, in a 
 curious deep tone. “We are very near the 
 promontory of the Bay of St. Saphorut now.” 
 
 “ And then ? ” said Zare. 
 
 He paused, and his eyes again rested wistfully 
 on hers. 
 
 “ Then we may beat round and gain the 
 pier in safety,” he answered. “ You are cold, 
 let me wrap you in this,” and he drew off 
 his overcoat, as he spoke, and in spite of her 
 remonstrances and opposition wrapt it close 
 round her shoulders, and sat himself down again 
 lower, under the shelter of the mast. 
 
 “ We cannot make them hear at the other 
 end now,” he said, “and it would only add to 
 our risk if I were to try to get within reach of 
 their ear. But Carlo is at the helm, and he will 
 explain to Prere, who can understand their 
 
A GALE. 
 
 289 
 
 patois , exactly how the thing stands. It is a 
 question of rounding the rocks, you know,” he 
 added, “ without touching any of the hidden 
 ones ; we can trust Carlo, I think, to do it.” 
 
 They were silent a moment then, listening to 
 the heavy roll of the thunder above their heads 
 and away over the mountain crests ; to the rustle 
 of the sail and rigging, to the dash of the waves 
 around them, and to the whirl of the wind. 
 
 It was a wild and bewitching scene, and it 
 was a strange weird solitude in which they sat 
 and watched the tempest, and awaited destiny 
 there, in the little ship’s bow, side by side. 
 
 They had never seemed so utterly alone, with 
 fate and its unfettered will before, — utterly 
 alone, for it was impossible to reach or hear the 
 others. Alone — and if to be swamped, to be 
 drawn into the deep hungry waves at last, — to 
 close their strange life’s chequered history there 
 together, — and alone. A curious fierce ex- 
 citement kindled and smouldered in the grave 
 
 vol. n . 
 
 V 
 
290 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 depth of the Prince’s eyes, now, as they sat and 
 watched in silence. 
 
 “ I like it,” Zare hacf murmured again, as the 
 boat rocked and danced, and as he gathered the 
 folds of his rough yachting coat more closely 
 around her. “ I like it,” and, instinctively, 
 as if for shelter and more assurance, she crept 
 nearer to him. 
 
 He looked silently once more upon her face, 
 so full as it was of fervour, of enthusiasm, and 
 of admiration for all this glory of Nature’s 
 tempestuous kingdom, in which they were 
 tossed idly as a feather or a broken leaf. 
 
 He looked upon her face, and still no word 
 came from him, but there was a gleam in his 
 grave eyes that said, speechlessly, — more than 
 any words could say. 
 
 If she “ liked it,” as she eagerly repeated, it 
 was almost perfect to him. For in the wild 
 turbulent external nature he found expression, 
 and, therefore, always rest for that fierce 
 
A GALE. 
 
 291 
 
 tempest within his soul ; and there, sitting near 
 
 and alone with her, gazing unrestrained upon 
 
 • 
 
 the shadowy beauty of her grand face, thrilling 
 as he was with renewed admiration for her, as 
 he watched her high courage, her spirited 
 self-control, and her actual enjoyment, almost as 
 ardent as his own, of the storm-rocked scene, — 
 he felt that it had come — that one supreme 
 moment, — which poetic legend tells us, reaches 
 once — every human life ! 
 
 The moment when he could wish for no 
 more, could sink no deeper into the maelstrom 
 of passionate feeling, nor desire anything better 
 that was ever likely to reach him, of the 
 sweetness of this common life. 
 
 And it broke over him, the strong passion that 
 was swaying him, as the foam-crested billows of 
 this deep lake of the mountains were swaying 
 and rocking fiercely his little fragile boat. It 
 broke over him at length, and his eager weary 
 eyes poured their sweet love-beams upon her face. 
 
292 
 
 FRINGE HUGO. 
 
 It broke over him, and his cheek paled, and 
 then flushed again with a warm living glow. 
 His chest heaved, and he struggled a moment, 
 even then not wholly losing his self-control. 
 Again he put out his hand and took hers, softly, 
 tenderly, this time, and with a firm and linger- 
 ing clasp, and she did not resist him. 
 
 The storm was whirling fiercely at that mo- 
 ment, they were near the sharp promontory of 
 the little bay, and her slight frame was thrilling 
 with the first faint quiver of a mysterious awe. 
 
 W^s it coming ? Would they strike that 
 sharp projection ? Would they shiver within 
 the next few minutes upon some hidden crag ? 
 
 She let him take her hand, — it gave her 
 a strong feeling of protection. He was there, 
 so not much could befall her, and at least she 
 was not alone. 
 
 She let him clasp her hand, and as his closed 
 so lingering over it, she turned once more and 
 looked inquiringly into his face. 
 
A GALE. 
 
 293 
 
 Did he think it so very near then? Was he 
 frightened much for them all ? Did he think 
 the danger great ? She turned her dark inquir- 
 ing eyes in silence upon him, and a paler shade 
 fell upon her cheek, but no tremor of fear 
 touched her lips, even now. 
 
 She turned to him, and she met his eyes with 
 that strong kindling look in them, with that 
 wistful tenderness, that passionate pain, and all 
 that lonely regretful pathos, which Miriam had 
 once, but Zare never, until this stormy moment, 
 seen in their strange depths before. 
 
 She met his eyes, and her own suffused and 
 drooped an instant, and then were raised again 
 to reply with tender compassionate sympathy to 
 his. Her lips parted, a shade of dismay, a quiver 
 of amazement, passed over her face, and then — 
 the shade left it. Dor, as her eyes lingered, they 
 brightened curiously as she met his gaze. Her 
 whole face lightened and glowed all over, and in 
 the vivid moonbeams that broke upon them, from 
 
294 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 behind the fierce storm-cloud, it seemed to him, 
 as if a veil rose from off the dusky shadows of 
 her countenance, as it was indeed, in very truth, 
 rising from before her heart. Lustrous and 
 transparent, her gaze was uplifted to meet and 
 answer his. The veil had risen, and she knew it: 
 at last ! She knew she loved him, and he read the 
 love in every quivering and expressive line of 
 her countenance, and in the sweet vivid light of 
 her deep fervent eyes. He read, as she realized, 
 her own deep love, and her eager and com- 
 passionate sympathy, with his evident but 
 incomprehensible pain. 
 
 Tor she had not realized the whole yet, only 
 her own heart had been unveiled for her; at that 
 moment only, her own strong feeling had become 
 clear. She did not understand him, only this 
 much she realized and knew, as she clung to 
 his protection, that she was all suddenly rocked 
 more turbulently within her heart’s-depths, by 
 that up-springing love and sorrow for him, than 
 
A GALE. 
 
 295 
 
 her frame was rocked by the heavy tempest 
 which dashed their frail bark to and fro. 
 
 But what he felt, she did not yet realize ! 
 What he had felt during all this weary time 
 since his gaze had first lighted upon her, and 
 ever since he had found in her graceful form and 
 shadowy face, most perfect realization of all his 
 life-long solitary dreams. What he felt as he 
 bent now, and in the weird loneliness of this fierce 
 tempest, held her close and tenderly by the hand, 
 and as the rocky promontory broke close upon 
 them, towering ominously and full of menace 
 right beyond their bows. And she did not realize 
 it till he bent low and close, and murmured : 
 
 “ Zare, mine at last ; in the midst of the 
 storms and cruel tempest, perhaps only for one 
 moment — mine ! Turn your eyes once again 
 upon me, dearest. Bright glimpse of Heaven 
 here, at the dark storm-tossed portals of this 
 lower world ! Zare, the rocks are near us, close 
 under our very keel. Answer me for once, for 
 
296 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 one sweet fleeting moment, answer. From your 
 heart’s pure limpid depth will you not answer 
 mine ? Shall we die now ? Shall we entreat 
 passionately of a tender Heaven that it may 
 really be. O, Zare, here — here with your hand 
 close held in mine, with the waves all fierce and 
 wild about us, with the sky flashing lightning, 
 and the mountains echoing grandly the deep 
 passionate music of our souls, would it not be 
 sweet to die ? Jc/t ! meine Vielgeliebie ! — that 
 it might be — that it might be. That just thus, 
 at this one supreme moment of all my long 
 weary life — Ah ! that God would let us — die.” 
 She was gazing at him, and reading also his 
 story now, reading deep into the passionate 
 suffering, into the pathetic longing, into the 
 weariness and the solitude, and the eager love of 
 his strong deep heart, and it all smote her with 
 a strange, a fearfully vivid and revealing power. 
 It pierced her heart like the forked shaft of the 
 mountain lightning; it threw a lustre like the 
 
A GALE. 
 
 297 
 
 morning glow over tlie past, present, future, 
 probable, possible, and now-existing state of 
 feeling and of things, and in that swift moment, 
 as it is said it may be, in life’s closing moment, 
 when we are indeed about to die, all things became 
 clear, and swept across her soul’s vision now. 
 
 Herself, Roderick, and that far away, little 
 mentioned, domestic hearth of Rodavia, with its 
 sacred and irresistible tie, all became clear before 
 her eyes, — clear as the vivid gleam of passionate 
 tender love for her, which lightened in the 
 shifting moonbeams Prince Hugo’s eyes, — clear 
 as the responsive love which reflected his, and 
 answered back to it so eagerly, from within her 
 heart. 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” she murmured then, in reply to 
 him, as all this in realization flooded over her 
 like a ray of light and fire. “ Yes,” she mur- 
 mured, and her hand crept closer into his, and 
 her face was raised nearer and more wistfully 
 beneath his gaze. “ Yes, I should like it also 
 
298 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 to die now — just here — this very moment, in the 
 storm — alone on the sweet wild lake with You ! ” 
 
 “ Sauve, mon Dieu, Same, !” The cry from 
 the valiant steersman broke above billows and 
 wind. They had entered the bay, — they had 
 swept in safety past the treacherous rocks, and 
 they were drifting before a softened wind, under 
 the shelter of the bank towards St. Saphorut. 
 
 And one after another, shouts rose from sailors 
 and voyagers, from Harcourt and Frere, who had 
 sat almost silent with apprehension, by Mrs. Red- 
 mond and Miriam’s side ; from one and the other 
 and answered back by Prince Hugo, as the gallant 
 little skiff swept triumphantly into the bay. 
 
 Lights were moving rapidly about the pier; 
 and along the road from Yevey, came the swiftly 
 advancing gleam of two lustrous carriage-lamps, 
 displaying, as their star-like beams shot out over 
 the water and quarrelled with the moonlight, the 
 ardour and deep anxiety of De Vigne, Rochsdorf, 
 
A GALE. 
 
 299 
 
 and all the Prince’s household, to say nothing of 
 Mrs. Debugines and poor Mrs. Redmond’s little 
 children at the hotel. 
 
 There was the Prince’s char-a-banc, and an 
 hotel caleche ; for the little ship had been watched 
 in its perilous course from the shore, and followed 
 eagerly as she drifted across the lake, for well 
 they knew, all these accustomed dwellers by the 
 deep water side, that the treacherous squall would 
 drive the light Turquoise far out of her homeward 
 course, and cast her ashore perhaps on some 
 distant and lower point. 
 
 So they had followed, as indeed the char-a-banc 
 frequently did, the Prince’s moonlit tract over the 
 billowy way. And there they were all, eagerly in 
 waiting, — as, at last, the boat came safely to 
 harbour, and reached the end of the little pier. 
 
 All ready, — and, as all acknowledged, it was 
 a welcome, if unromantic, finale to a most ad 
 venturous sail — as they packed Zare, Mrs. Red- 
 mond, and Miriam safely into the caleche. 
 
300 
 
 PRINCE HUGO. 
 
 “ The ladies behaved splendidly,” said John, 
 as he closed the door upon them, and heaved 
 from the depth of his kind heart, most 
 thankfully, a sigh of genuine relief. 
 
 “ And I owe them many apologies,” was 
 nearly all the Prince said, as he assisted, with 
 courteous hand, to draw the carriage rug, which 
 had been thoughtfully put in the caleche, over 
 the spray-dashed dresses. 
 
 He was silent save for this, and he was 
 intensely grave and pale. The hurried landing 
 and immediate start left indeed no time or 
 occasion for more. 
 
 They were driven off, with Harcourt Lynton 
 filling the fourth place in their carriage, and the 
 Prince was left to proceed homewards, through 
 the stormy moonlight, in the char-a-banc with 
 John. 
 
 END OF VOL. II. 
 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, "WHITEFRIARS. 
 
 3 
 
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