Chapter XXIX. 'Twixt Night and Morning

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　After this, they waited. They did not know what they waited for,nor could they guess even vaguely how the waiting would end. Allthat Lazarus could tell them he told. He would have been willingto stand respectfully for hours relating to Marco the story ofhow the period of their absence had passed for his Master andhimself. He told how Loristan had spoken each day of his son,how he had often been pale with anxiousness, how in the eveningshe had walked to and fro in his room, deep in thought, as helooked down unseeingly at the carpet."He permitted me to talk of you, sir," Lazarus said. "I sawthat he wished to hear your name often. I reminded him of thetimes when you had been so young that most children of your agewould have been in the hands of nurses, and yet you were strongand silent and sturdy and traveled with us as if you were not achild at all--never crying when you were tired and were notproperly fed. As if you understood--as if you understood," headded, proudly. "If, through the power of God a creature can bea man at six years old, you were that one. Many a dark day Ihave looked into your solemn, watching eyes, and have been halfafraid; because that a child should answer one's gaze so gravelyseemed almost an unearthly thing.""The chief thing I remember of those days," said Marco, "isthat he was with me, and that whenever I was hungry or tired, Iknew he must be, too."The feeling that they were "waiting" was so intense that itfilled the days with strangeness. When the postman's knock washeard at the door, each of them endeavored not to start. Aletter might some day come which would tell them--they did notknow what. But no letters came. When they went out into thestreets, they found themselves hurrying on their way back inspite of themselves. Something might have happened. Lazarusread the papers faithfully, and in the evening told Marco and TheRat all the news it was "well that they should hear." But thedisorders of Samavia had ceased to occupy much space. They hadbecome an old story, and after the excitement of theassassination of Michael Maranovitch had died out, there seemedto be a lull in events. Michael's son had not dared to try totake his father's place, and there were rumors that he also hadbeen killed. The head of the Iarovitch had declared himself kingbut had not been crowned because of disorders in his own party.The country seemed existing in a nightmare of suffering, famineand suspense."Samavia is `waiting' too," The Rat broke forth one night asthey talked together, "but it won't wait long--it can't. If Iwere a Samavian and in Samavia--""My father is a Samavian and he is in Samavia," Marco's graveyoung voice interposed. The Rat flushed red as he realized whathe had said. "What a fool I am!" he groaned. "I--I beg yourpardon-- sir." He stood up when he said the last words andadded the "sir" as if he suddenly realized that there was adistance between them which was something akin to the distancebetween youth and maturity-- but yet was not the same."You are a good Samavian but--you forget," was Marco's answer.Lazarus' intense grimness increased with each day that passed.The ceremonious respectfulness of his manner toward Marcoincreased also. It seemed as if the more anxious he felt themore formal and stately his bearing became. It was as though hebraced his own courage by doing the smallest things life in theback sitting- room required as if they were of the dignity ofservices performed in a much larger place and under much moreimposing circumstances. The Rat found himself feeling almost asif he were an equerry in a court, and that dignity and ceremonywere necessary on his own part. He began to experience a senseof being somehow a person of rank, for whom doors were openedgrandly and who had vassals at his command. The watchfulobedience of fifty vassals embodied itself in the manner ofLazarus."I am glad," The Rat said once, reflectively, "that, after allmy father was once--different. It makes it easier to learnthings perhaps. If he had not talked to me about peoplewho--well, who had never seen places like Bone Court--this mighthave been harder for me to understand."When at last they managed to call The Squad together, and went tospend a morning at the Barracks behind the churchyard, that bodyof armed men stared at their commander in great and amazeduncertainty. They felt that something had happened to him. Theydid not know what had happened, but it was some experience whichhad made him mysteriously different. He did not look like Marco,but in some extraordinary way he seemed more akin to him. Theyonly knew that some necessity in Loristan's affairs had taken thetwo away from London and the Game. Now they had come back, andthey seemed older.At first, The Squad felt awkward and shuffled its feetuncomfortably. After the first greetings it did not knowexactly what to say. It was Marco who saved the situation."Drill us first," he said to The Rat, "then we can talk aboutthe Game."" 'Tention!" shouted The Rat, magnificently. And then theyforgot everything else and sprang into line. After the drill wasended, and they sat in a circle on the broken flags, the Gamebecame more resplendent than it had ever been."I've had time to read and work out new things," The Rat said."Reading is like traveling."Marco himself sat and listened, enthralled by the adroitness ofthe imagination he displayed. Without revealing a singledangerous fact he built up, of their journeyings and experiences,a totally new structure of adventures which would have fired thewhole being of any group of lads. It was safe to describe placesand people, and he so described them that The Squad squirmed inits delight at feeling itself marching in a procession attendingthe Emperor in Vienna; standing in line before palaces; climbing,with knapsacks strapped tight, up precipitous mountain roads;defending mountain- fortresses; and storming Samavian castles.The Squad glowed and exulted. The Rat glowed and exultedhimself. Marco watched his sharp-featured, burning-eyed facewith wonder and admiration. This strange power of making thingsalive was, he knew, what his father would call "genius.""Let's take the oath of 'legiance again," shouted Cad, when theGame was over for the morning."The papers never said nothin' more about the Lost Prince, butwe are all for him yet! Let's take it!" So they stood in lineagain, Marco at the head, and renewed their oath."The sword in my hand--for Samavia!"The heart in my breast--for Samavia!"The swiftness of my sight, the thought of my brain, the life ofmy life--for Samavia."Here grow twelve men--for Samavia."God be thanked!"It was more solemn than it had been the first time. The Squadfelt it tremendously. Both Cad and Ben were conscious thatthrills ran down their spines into their boots. When Marco andThe Rat left them, they first stood at salute and then broke outinto a ringing cheer.On their way home, The Rat asked Marco a question."Did you see Mrs. Beedle standing at the top of the basementsteps and looking after us when we went out this morning?"Mrs. Beedle was the landlady of the lodgings at No. 7 PhilibertPlace. She was a mysterious and dusty female, who lived in the"cellar kitchen" part of the house and was seldom seen by herlodgers."Yes," answered Marco, "I have seen her two or three timeslately, and I do not think I ever saw her before. My father hasnever seen her, though Lazarus says she used to watch him roundcorners. Why is she suddenly so curious about us?""I'd like to know," said The Rat. "I've been trying to workit out. Ever since we came back, she's been peeping round thedoor of the kitchen stairs, or over balustrades, or through thecellar- kitchen windows. I believe she wants to speak to you,and knows Lazarus won't let her if he catches her at it. WhenLazarus is about, she always darts back.""What does she want to say?" said Marco."I'd like to know," said The Rat again.When they reached No. 7 Philibert Place, they found out, becausewhen the door opened they saw at the top of cellar-kitchen stairsat the end of the passage, the mysterious Mrs. Beedle, in herdusty black dress and with a dusty black cap on, evidently havingthat minute mounted from her subterranean hiding-place. She hadcome up the steps so quickly that Lazarus had not yet seen her."Young Master Loristan!" she called out authoritatively.Lazarus wheeled about fiercely."Silence!" he commanded. "How dare you address the youngMaster?"She snapped her fingers at him, and marched forward folding herarms tightly. "You mind your own business," she said. "It'syoung Master Loristan I'm speaking to, not his servant. It'stime he was talked to about this.""Silence, woman!" shouted Lazarus."Let her speak," said Marco. "I want to hear. What is it youwish to say, Madam? My father is not here.""That's just what I want to find out about," put in the woman."When is he coming back?""I do not know," answered Marco."That's it," said Mrs. Beedle. "You're old enough tounderstand that two big lads and a big fellow like that can'thave food and lodgin's for nothing. You may say you don't livehigh--and you don't--but lodgin's are lodgin's and rent is rent.If your father's coming back and you can tell me when, I mayn'tbe obliged to let the rooms over your heads; but I know too muchabout foreigners to let bills run when they are out of sight.Your father's out of sight. He," jerking her head towardsLazarus, "paid me for last week. How do I know he will pay mefor this week!""The money is ready," roared Lazarus.The Rat longed to burst forth. He knew what people in Bone Courtsaid to a woman like that; he knew the exact words and phrases.But they were not words and phrases an aide-de-camp might deliverhimself of in the presence of his superior officer; they were notwords and phrases an equerry uses at court. He dare not allowhimself to burst forth. He stood with flaming eyes and a flamingface, and bit his lips till they bled. He wanted to strike withhis crutches. The son of Stefan Loristan! The Bearer of theSign! There sprang up before his furious eyes the picture of theluridly lighted cavern and the frenzied crowd of men kneeling atthis same boy's feet, kissing them, kissing his hands, hisgarments, the very earth he stood upon, worshipping him, whileabove the altar the kingly young face looked on with the nimbusof light like a halo above it. If he dared speak his mind now,he felt he could have endured it better. But being anaide-de-camp he could not."Do you want the money now?" asked Marco. "It is only thebeginning of the week and we do not owe it to you until the weekis over. Is it that you want to have it now?"Lazarus had become deadly pale. He looked huge in his fury, andhe looked dangerous."Young Master," he said slowly, in a voice as deadly as hispallor, and he actually spoke low, "this woman--"Mrs. Beedle drew back towards the cellar-kitchen steps."There's police outside," she shrilled. "Young MasterLoristan, order him to stand back.""No one will hurt you," said Marco. "If you have the moneyhere, Lazarus, please give it to me."Lazarus literally ground his teeth. But he drew himself up andsaluted with ceremony. He put his hand in his breast pocket andproduced an old leather wallet. There were but a few coins init. He pointed to a gold one."I obey you, sir--since I must--" he said, breathing hard."That one will pay her for the week."Marco took out the sovereign and held it out to the woman."You hear what he says," he said. "At the end of this week ifthere is not enough to pay for the next, we will go."Lazarus looked so like a hyena, only held back from springing bychains of steel, that the dusty Mrs. Beedle was afraid to takethe money."If you say that I shall not lose it, I'll wait until the week'sended," she said. "You're nothing but a lad, but you're likeyour father. You've got a way that a body can trust. If he washere and said he hadn't the money but he'd have it in time, I'dwait if it was for a month. He'd pay it if he said he would.But he's gone; and two boys and a fellow like that one don't seemmuch to depend on. But I'll trust you.""Be good enough to take it," said Marco. And he put the coinin her hand and turned into the back sitting-room as if he didnot see her.The Rat and Lazarus followed him."Is there so little money left?" said Marco. "We have alwayshad very little. When we had less than usual, we lived in poorerplaces and were hungry if it was necessary. We know how to gohungry. One does not die of it."The big eyes under Lazarus' beetling brows filled with tears."No, sir," he said, "one does not die of hunger. But theinsult --the insult! That is not endurable.""She would not have spoken if my father had been here," Marcosaid. "And it is true that boys like us have no money. Isthere enough to pay for another week?""Yes, sir," answered Lazarus, swallowing hard as if he had alump in his throat, "perhaps enough for two--if we eat butlittle. If--if the Master would accept money from those whowould give it, he would alway have had enough. But how couldsuch a one as he? How could he? When he went away, hethought--he thought that --" but there he stopped himselfsuddenly."Never mind," said Marco. "Never mind. We will go away theday we can pay no more.""I can go out and sell newspapers," said The Rat's sharp voice."I've done it before. Crutches help you to sell them. Theplatform would sell 'em faster still. I'll go out on theplatform.""I can sell newspapers, too," said Marco.Lazarus uttered an exclamation like a groan."Sir," he cried, "no, no! Am I not here to go out and lookfor work? I can carry loads. I can run errands.""We will all three begin to see what we can do," Marco said.Then--exactly as had happened on the day of their return fromtheir journey--there arose in the road outside the sound ofnewsboys shouting. This time the outcry seemed even more excitedthan before. The boys were running and yelling and there seemedmore of them than usual. And above all other words was heard"Samavia! Samavia!" But to-day The Rat did not rush to thedoor at the first cry. He stood still--for several seconds theyall three stood still --listening. Afterwards each oneremembered and told the others that he had stood still becausesome strange, strong feeling held him waiting as if to hear somegreat thing.It was Lazarus who went out of the room first and The Rat andMarco followed him.One of the upstairs lodgers had run down in haste and opened thedoor to buy newspapers and ask questions. The newsboys were wildwith excitement and danced about as they shouted. The piece ofnews they were yelling had evidently a popular quality.The lodger bought two papers and was handing out coppers to a ladwho was talking loud and fast."Here's a go!" he was saying. "A Secret Party's risen up andtaken Samavia! 'Twixt night and mornin' they done it! Thatthere Lost Prince descendant 'as turned up, an' they've crownedhim--'twixt night and mornin' they done it! Clapt 'is crown on'is 'ead, so's they'd lose no time." And off he bolted,shouting, " 'Cendant of Lost Prince! 'Cendant of Lost Princemade King of Samavia!"It was then that Lazarus, forgetting even ceremony, bolted also.He bolted back to the sitting-room, rushed in, and the door fellto behind him.Marco and The Rat found it shut when, having secured a newspaper,they went down the passage. At the closed door, Marco stopped.He did not turn the handle. From the inside of the room therecame the sound of big convulsive sobs and passionate Samavianwords of prayer and worshipping gratitude."Let us wait," Marco said, trembling a little. "He will notwant any one to see him. Let us wait."His black pits of eyes looked immense, and he stood at histallest, but he was trembling slightly from head to foot. TheRat had begun to shake, as if from an ague. His face wasscarcely human in its fierce unboyish emotion."Marco! Marco!" his whisper was a cry. "That was what hewent for--because he knew!""Yes," answered Marco, "that was what he went for." And hisvoice was unsteady, as his body was.Presently the sobs inside the room choked themselves backsuddenly. Lazarus had remembered. They had guessed he had beenleaning against the wall during his outburst. Now it was evidentthat he stood upright, probably shocked at the forgetfulness ofhis frenzy.So Marco turned the handle of the door and went into the room.He shut the door behind him, and they all three stood together.When the Samavian gives way to his emotions, he is emotionalindeed. Lazarus looked as if a storm had swept over him. He hadchoked back his sobs, but tears still swept down his cheeks."Sir," he said hoarsely, "your pardon! It was as if aconvulsion seized me. I forgot everything--even my duty.Pardon, pardon!" And there on the worn carpet of the dingy backsitting-room in the Marylebone Road, he actually went on one kneeand kissed the boy's hand with adoration."You mustn't ask pardon," said Marco. "You have waited solong, good friend. You have given your life as my father has.You have known all the suffering a boy has not lived long enoughto understand. Your big heart--your faithful heart--" his voicebroke and he stood and looked at him with an appeal which seemedto ask him to remember his boyhood and understand the rest."Don't kneel," he said next. "You mustn't kneel." AndLazarus, kissing his hand again, rose to his feet."Now--we shall hear!" said Marco. "Now the waiting will soonbe over.""Yes, sir. Now, we shall receive commands!" Lazarus answered.The Rat held out the newspapers."May we read them yet?" he asked."Until further orders, sir," said Lazarus hurriedly andapologetically --"until further orders, it is still better thatI should read them first."