Impostors and imposture -- Fiction; Short stories; Swindlers and swindling -- Fiction; Thieves -- Fiction
That same night, after dinner, Jack was standing alone with the Princess
in the gorgeous _salon_ with its gilt furniture and shaded electric
lights. He looked smart and well-groomed, notwithstanding that his
evening clothes showed just a trifle the worse for wear, while she was
brilliant and beautiful in an evening-gown of palest eau-de-nil
embroidered chiffon, a creation of one of the great houses of the Rue de
la Paix. Upon her white neck she wore her historic pearls, royal
heirlooms that were once the property of Catherine the Great, and in her
corsage a splendid true-lover's knot in diamonds, the ornament from
which there usually depended the black ribbon and diamond star-cross
decoration, which marked her as an Imperial Archduchess. The cross was
absent that night, for her only visitor was the man at her side.
Her two female companions were in the adjoining room. They knew well
their royal mistress's attraction towards the young Englishman, and
never sought to intrude upon them. Both were well aware of the shameful
sham of the Princess's marriage and of his neglect and cruelty towards
her, and both women pitied her in her loveless loneliness.
"But, Jack!" her Highness was saying, her pale face raised to his. "You
really don't mean to go? You can't mean that!"
"Yes, Angelica," was his firm reply, as he held her waist tenderly,
drawing her towards him and looking deeply into her fine eyes. "I must
go--to save your honour."
"No, no!" she cried, clinging to him convulsively. "You must not--you
shall not! Think, if you go I shall be friendless and alone! I
couldn't bear it."
"I know. It may seem cruel to you. But in after years you will know
that I broke our bond of affection for your own dear sake," he said very
slowly, tears standing in his dark eyes as he uttered those words. "You
know full well the bitter truth, Angelica--just as well as I do," he
went on in a low whisper. "You know how deeply, how fervently I love
you, how I am entirely and devotedly yours."
"Yes, yes. I know, Jack," she cried, clinging to him. "And I love you.
You are the only man for whom I have ever entertained a single spark of
affection. But love is forbidden to me. Ah! yes I know! Had I been a
commoner and not a princess, and we had met, I should have found
happiness, like other women. But alas! I am accursed by my noble
birth, and love and happiness can never be mine--never!"
"We love each other, Angelica," whispered the man who was a thief,
softly stroking her fair hair as her head pillowed itself upon his
shoulder. "Let us part, and carry tender remembrances of each other
through our lives. No man has ever loved a woman more devoutly than I
love you."
"And no woman has ever loved a man with more reverence and more passion
than I love you, Jack--my own dear Jack," she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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