The King of Alsander

ountains, keep you sti

Journey to'

r lasts more than one week in the same place. The golden life in Alsander means swimming, sunstruck memories of old walls and young faces; it means prospects down tortuous streets of blue mountains towering to the sky or of blue skies falling into bluer seas. It means the discovery of an elegant founta

antic with a "k." She was romantick like the fair misses of a hundred years ago. But is not the romantick the same as the romantic in principle? Oh, yes, indeed, the sentiment is the same; but to be romantic requires intellect, and to be romantick requires none. But was not Peronella educated? Indeed she was, most abominably educated, quite enough to ruin all the fresh roses of her nature. She had not, could not, ala

hout drying the streets. Norman slipped at every step he took in the glutinous mud. The utter disrepair of the cobbled streets made walking bad enough at any time, heartrending after rain. As for driving, it was a wonder there was a carriage in the place. Across one of the narrowest but most frequented roads gaped a fabulously large hole which had perhaps been opened for some vague dra

pavements do exist they are used for idle shopmen to obstruct with their chairs or pushing shopmen to bar with their merchandise. They also have a way of coming to an end

r to shame in the matter of public works; he feared the smells would give him typhoid, and he began to

ulous-the complement of Peronella with no redeeming beauty. He was only at the scowling stage at present, but would certainly advance, in accordance with the sound early Renaissance tradition of the country, to powder in the coffee, snake in the boot, or knife in the back. But for all this, Norman was chivalrous and conscientious enough, and no coward, either; and though he felt it would be best for all concerned for him to leave his baggage and run away by the nex

lden leaf from the tree of existence. And as for that moment when he heard all the bells of morning ringing in his ears a

st part of the rock, an unconquerable edifice of faceted stone, its Palladian gateway flanked by two stupendous fat uncompromising towers, with hundreds of yards of unbroken, unwindowed wall slan

stal and represented, standing twice life-size, helmeted and hand to sword, the hero King of Alsander, Kradenda the First, the builder of the castle. He was gazing round intently, when an old crouching beggar

here"-and he tossed into the air a heavy purse tha

all visitors?"

sed still when the heavy-eyed sentries gave a sort of furtive salute to his disreputable guide; and most surprised on viewin

m, jasmine and hybiscus gave the prominent colours and scents. The grass was sprinkled with cyclamen, asphodel, red anemones and with wild remnants of old cultivation. There were toy stone

l this?" inq

pointed to the vast encircling quadrilateral of

the Great, founder of the power and glory of Alsander, against whose statue you were leaning in the square. Now I know many stories of the great Kradenda, and will tell you one, my lord. In those days the Saracen g

at after so short a stay in Alsander he should know at least one story of Kradenda the Great. There

t heard that s

they were soldiers and would they run from an enemy? 'Never,' they said, 'if he led them,' 'Do you not see, then,' said the King, 'that fever is our enemy now that I have driven off the infidel: you must fight it and die for your country if needs be.' 'We will! obey,' said the old chief who had led the deput

and concisely told. But tell me now about the

er-houses are crumbling, the garden is a

orman. "But who built them?" he inqui

ng Basilandron: he was

lady, who is a wise woman, has told me muc

f him in Alsander. Here is

f a little summer-house with wooden tracery a

n Greek letters?

He it was who called the river Ian

said Norman, more and more astonished a

I know all the stones of this castle a

r I have never heard it. And after that I shall ask you to tel

t I would rather even tell you the story of my life, tragic as it is, than tell you the story of King

of Basilandron and then

re is a free fight in a café here, or a dog-fight in the square, some foreigner writes to a European newspaper about the anarchy in Alsander. American missionaries, who believe in Noah's Ark and the historical existence of Methusalem, revile the degraded superstitions of our peasants who still hold to their immemorial festivals in honour of the water that bursts from the rock or the grape that grows dark on the vine. And now we are threatened with inspectors, all of v

be unoccupied. But I insist upon your

importunate, but forgive me if I have bee

ngaged therein. The Court was all crammed with fiddlers, painters, poets, dancers, barbers and buffoons. But they were quack fiddlers, feeble painters, vile poets and clumsy dancers, who would not have dared to move a leg in Italy. But the barbers and buffoons were such as the world has never seen, so dexterous and stylish. Need I tell you how the country was taxed to maintai

a troop of noble ladies clothed in forest branches and none too leafy: and one summer evening under the full moon off they went singing to the mountains. After they had danced their fill and sinned God knows what sins, the moon set and back they swooped on the city in a sort of make-believe battle line; and there at the g

r is indepen

them is strong enough to seize us from the other, we shall go. Or if that international commission really sits, it is as good a

eeziness. "Why should Alsander have to wait for an international

That would be hypocrisy, and we have never sunk so low as that. But in Bermondsey the streets are excellently paved. And, by God

in England, you are a wonderful old man. Tell me your

with sorrow. "My tragedy is so little when I think of the

id Norman, touched into respect of

the beggar, and Norman could not te

ave heard also that he usually lives in this castle, but that the Jewish doctor who attends him, and who is said to be the cleverest man in Alsander (and some say the wickedest), has sent him to England or Ulmreich or somewhere as a last hope. If only a new and vigorous King could rule this land awhile, there is still

y lord, that there is no hope for the King'

ce. No one seemed to like to talk of that subject. But it appears she is

ly mad," said the beggar. "A little wild, one might say, and her guardians are wise enough

a great deal of grumbling against him, but nothing very definite, though I have heard so

and professional men and opposed to his reactionary policy. He distributes invitations to dinner at exactly the right moment, and if a dinner fails he decorates. Sforelli (who is only considered a scoundrel because of his dark features and undoubted ability) is almost the only one of them man enough to withstand a title or a decoration. The consequence is he dare not venture out of his hou

have seen him for yea

w others," said

ut a King whom his people seem

what I seem, as you surmise, and I may have powers even you do not suspect. Would

rman. "Is it not true that he is in Europe-an

ar that he was

," said Norman, thinking of his talks with Pedro the

not cured, and that is

tarted a

r voice," he said. "Sure

tramp you met in Gantha, who told yo

. I have much to thank you for: it is a wonderful country indeed. But it was dark on the road that

, and you have l

elieve you to be a beggar. Enough of these mysterious tricks. You are a man of eloquence and learnin

from the lodge beneath the gate a sentry at whose girdle dangled two large keys. He came up to them and saluted, but made no remark, and in silence they all three went across the gard

u supposed, are they not, my l

the extreme end. Norman having walked over to it saw that the window commanded a sweeping view of the plain of Alsander, the river Ianthe, the sea, the mountains, and also noted that no one could look in through that window whoever might look out, for the

the mysterious guide. "

(among very pink angels) of King Basilandron, the same who christened the river Ianthe and was responsible for the disaster of the Bacchic revels. The picture, and indeed the entire room, dated from his lifetime. The wall decorations, however (according to information which Norman subsequently gathered), were added by his son-very tasteful designs of apes and Chinamen-singeries and chinoiseries. Basilandron II evidently disagreed with his father's idealistic tendencies, and held a firm belief that art should not aim at expressing any meaning, not even a lascivious one, but should rather consist of graceful and intricate designs. In this way he anticipated many

s of the great glass chandelier, wherein were still sticking grisly and darkened stumps of candle, the same that had been lit at the requiem of the last Ki

mpervious to such decay. Beneath the great rose window it stood, at the upper end of the room, strangely out of place, a cold and massive work, the ancient throne of the Kradendas. It was fronted by wide steps, flanked by grotesqu

young man, but he seemed to have been alive five hundred years. His features parodied the portraits of his ancestors. With the heavy iron crown of A