Dennis Wheatley - The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

Roger smiled. "I notice, Count, that you qualify your last state­ment. Would it be indiscreet to inquire the traits that you admire in him and those you do not?"

"Since he has given us a free press and the right of free speech I will do so willingly," Count Hans smiled back. "Being a normal man myself, to whom the vices of the Greeks have never made any appeal, I regard his private life as most unsavoury; and his character leaves much to be desired. Mayhap 'tis due to the manner in which he was brought up, with his person surrounded by people whom he could only regard as spies and enemies, that is to blame; but he is so secretive and deceitful that it would be difficult to find his equal as a liar. On the other hand he is a man of great attainments, high courage and prodig­ious brain. As a lad he was extraordinarily precocious, with a vivid imagination and most retentive memory. He had only to see a play to absorb the whole content of it; and his attendants declare that on dressing the following day he would solemnly declaim the longest speeches to which he had listened, without fault. Before he was twenty-five he had read every important book of which French literature can boast, and among others, acquired a mastery of the barbarous ^ Swedish tongue. He was- the first monarch capable of addressing his people in their own language that we have had for generations; and, even in the age when oratory has again become a great art, he is among the finest orators in all Europe. He is an arch-plotter but capable, resolute and brave. His greatest merit, to my mind, is his intense love of his country, and 'tis that which attaches me to him more than anything else."

To Roger's annoyance their host interrupted the conversation at that moment to inquire as to the length of his stay in Sweden. He returned an evasive answer, and then became involved in general talk; as several of the gentlemen present, including Count Hans, asked him to call upon them and offered to show him some of the beauties of their country.

When he was about to leave, the black-clad major-domo came up to him and said that Madame la Marquise hoped that his engage­ments were not so pressing that he would fail to wait upon her in her boudoir before returning to the city; so he willingly allowed himself to be conducted upstairs.

During his short stay in Sweden Roger had already been struck with the individuality of the house furniture. It was nearly all of natural unpolished wood or else painted white and decorated with scrolls of flowers in the gayest colours; but Madame de Pons' boudoir was a little oasis of Versailles set down in this far-northern country. Its cabinets, chairs and occasional tables, were of highly polished and elaborately inlaid satin-wood, a Buhl clock adorned the mantel and pictures by Boucher and Fragonard hung in the satin-covered panels of the walls. It was the perfect setting for its elegant owner.

She made Roger sit down and tell her all about himself, then she discoursed a little plaintively on the hard lot of a diplomat's wife, separated for years on end from her family and friends. Roger learned that her name was Angelique, which he thought very pretty; and that before coming to Sweden she and her husband had been stationed in Berlin. She greatly preferred Stockholm to the Prussian capital, as there were many more entertainments at King Gustavus's court than there had been at that of the mean, cantankerous Frederick the Great, who had ruled from his bleak, barrack-like town of Potsdam until his death twenty-one months ago. But, even so, she hankered sadly after the super-civilised delights of her own country.

Roger sought to console her and by gentle stages introduced a flirtatious note into his conversation; then he moved swiftly over to the tapestry-covered sofa on which she sat, took her hand, and lightly kissed her cheek.

She let her hand remain in his but drew her head away with a laugh. "You silly boy. What made you think I wanted you to do that?"

" 'Twas mere selfishness," he declared. "And for my own gratification. You are the most charming person in all Sweden and my thoughts have been full of you ever since we danced together."

"Then you had best find some other image to enshrine in your mind; for I warn you that you will derive little profit from thinking of me other than as a friend."

"I'll not believe it," he cried, pressing his attack; but she pushed him firmly from her and said seriously.

"I mean it, Monsieur. Your ardour is a charming compliment, but if you were older you would realise that appearances are often deceptive. I hope I do not look it, but I am near old enough to be your mother."

"Nay, 'tis impossible," Roger protested. "I'll vow you're not a day over twenty-six."

"I am thirty-one,""she told him with a little grimace.

"Well, what of it? 'Tis truly said that a woman is as old as she looks and a man is as old as he feels. I rate you as twenty-six and, if you'll let me, I'll show you that I have as much experience as most men of thirty."

"You delightful child," she rallied him. "If I were ten years younger I'd be tempted to make trial of you; but the question of age apart; I, like the Queen, feel that any woman who holds a public position owes it to France to set a standard; so I am faithful to my husband."

Roger felt certain from her tone and glance that she was not seek­ing to set a higher value on surrendering to him later, but really meant what she said; and as deliberate virtue was so rarely to be found in a woman of her class at that time, he admired her for it.

After a moment he said: "I would that you were ten years younger, then; or at least not the wife of France's representative. But from what you say Queen Sophia Magdalena must be a puritan indeed, for if any woman had good cause to take a lover, it seems, from what I hear, that 'tis she."

"Nay, I was speaking of Queen Marie Antoinette," replied the Marquise quickly. "As for the other, her case is very different; and from my heart I pity any woman who is forced to take a lover against her will."

."What mean you, Madame!" exclaimed Roger in surprise.

Angelique de Pons' blue eyes were grave as she said: "Since you appear not to know her situation 'tis well that I should put you au fait with it; for knowledge of it may prevent you from making some unfortunate faux pas when in Swedish society. There is good reason to suppose that King Gustavus has never co-habited with his Queen."

"I had heard that he was no constant votary to the goddess Venus," Roger remarked, "but had supposed. . . . Surely you do not mean that the young Crown Prince, and the Queen's little daughter, born more recently. . . ?"

The Marquise shrugged her plump shoulders. "Alas, 'tis the fact. Quite soon after their marriage Gustavus endeavoured to persuade his wretched bride to take one of his friends as a lover, in order that she might provide him with an heir; but he met with a most indignant refusal. He ceased then from his vile proposals and for eleven years they lived apart. But it seems that a time came when he realised that if he allowed many more years to pass she might not be able to give him an heir at all, and he again attempted to persuade her to take a lover. She still resisted but, finding that her scruples were mainly of a religious nature, he finally gained her consent to an arrangement whereby he divorced her in secret and with equal secrecy she was remarried to his friend Major Muncke."

"Then the heir to the Swedish throne has no legal title to it."

"None; but there is every reason to suppose that he will succeed; since Gustavus disguised the whole affair from the common people with his usual cunning. Everyone knew that he and his Queen had been estranged for many years, so he stage-managed a grand recon­ciliation in '77, the year before the Crown Prince was born. But all the nobility saw through the imposture and the old Dowager-Queen, Louisa Ulrica, publicly refused to acknowledge the child as her grand-son.