The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1902-11-07
TIE KING
WHO WAS
A PAUPEP
BY Frances WILSON
1891, by Frances Wilson

The king was in his counting house
but he was not counting out his money
He left such details as that to tho
hencilmcn who sat In the large outer
office under the soft radiance of greer
shaded electric lights. adding up col
umn$ in Il perfunctory manner and
dreaming, to man, of what they
would do if they We're king.
y modest door. upon the glass of
tiers Mr.. AllSton," led into the king
private room. where Turkish rugs
Smotlered the floor and leather coy.
cred chairs We're ranged along the wall
There WAS also low bookcase, which
contained such Invaluable biographical.
dictionaries as BradStrcrt'S and Dun's
to say nothing OF Poor'S Railroad Man.
ual. Somebody's Street Railways and Il
number of similar works. which con.
Stituted the kings solid reading. though
he had once observed dryly that they
contain more fiction than you'd suppose
from the titles"
The king was sitting at his desk,
tracing with Il lead pencil crude
squares and rcctanglcs on the pad be-
fore him. The buzz of Wall street,
SOftcned to Il gentle murmur by the
height, came III through the open win
dows, and :; soft breeze fluttered the
papers on his desk and filled the room
with its freshness, just to let him know
that ii was April.
The breeze was damp and cool, as if
it had blown across moist, earthly
places where the viOlets were pushing
upward instead of across acres of
metal roof. 1t rumpled the kings thick
hair as nonchalantly as if he had been
4 mere commoner and somehow set
him to thinking of the queen.
lie stopped making squares and rec
tanglcS aud began to Scrawl something
on the pad instead. something that
would have made the clerks in the
outer Office open their eyes and stare
in wonder could they have seen it, for
it was quite sentimental and had moth
IL" whatever TO do with stocks and
bends:
OH, faint. delicious springtime violet,
Thine odor. Ike Il key,
Turns noiselrssly in mcmory's wards
To let thought of sorrow free!
Indeed the king himself was aghast
when he looked at what he had writ
ten. and he tore the sheet from the pad
with Il hurried, guilty air and crumplcd
and crushed it into small wad before
he threw it into the waStcbasket.
Then lie took it out again and tore it
into small pieces, Il precaution which
WAS entirely unnecessary, as no one
had ever been able to read more than
two consecutive words of the kings
writiII.: and, besides. TO one in the
world wu..!.l have believed him capable
OF quGtiu; poetry.
He went back to his squares and rec
tanglCs again. his mind busy with the
days before his millions had made him
4 serene highT"SS. In those days, he
lie and the queen used to
take long walks in the park when he
could get away fr0m the Office in time.
She called it their picture gallery and
affected fine scorn for the people who
guShctl over their COrutS. MilletS or
RouSSCauS. but gave never Il thought
to the real thing-the tender greens,
the misty grays, the last flush of sun
in the western Sky. against which the
trees stood out in y@ly2ty, mysterious
darkness. I'VE get our beauty at first
hand" she was wont to say gayly, iii
stead of on small pieces of canvas
which rcck OF man instead Of God
And they. had gone their way through
the soft April twilights or sensuous
summer dusks, i'll love with life and
the world.
But that was all very long ago. The
king gave Il weary little sigh as he
realized how long. The qucen-he liked
to think of it all as hcrs-had "onc Of
the finest private galleries in Amer
lea" now, and she drove III the park
on spring afternoons rather bored and
disilluSiunizcd and certainly too busy
in bowling to the occupants Of other
carriages to give much time to the
beauty about her. 1t no longer gave
her Il thrill of delight to notice how
the gray CT the lcaticss trees some
times melted into Il pale amethyst
nor did it touch her with Il subtle sad
ness to watch the sunset through a
net work of bare branches. 1t is only
the poor who have time to appreciate
natures free exhibitions.
Even kings have their bad quarter
hours. though! YOU couldn't make any
of the clerks in the outer office be-
lievc il. In this particular case, for
instance. not one of them OWNED that
luxurious private room longing for the
old days before he was king, living
over tn days when he and the queen
were first married those exciting days
when he could scarcely get home fast
enough in his Ca @GrncSS to tell her per-
hapS that the time had come when she
might afford the pate green carpet and
furniture upholstered to
match which she had So long coveted
for her little drawing room.
And the pink brocadG hangings! The
king smiled rcminiSccntly us he
thought of them. for they were Il sur
prise. She never dreamed that they
had reached that point of afllucncc
where they could afford them. and he
mad decided TO surprise her with them.
lie could still see the shine in her eyes
and the flush on her checks when they
came home! The portrait painters
khould have done her then, the king
1 bnIUbt tiiScoutrnrp1lv
Well, the queen had her carriage now
and rctinuc of servants and Paris
gowns galore, but none of these things
had ever brought the light =, her eyes
that had shonc there when ne brocade
hangings came homo. Life had given
her all her wishes and filchcd from her
-ZcSt 1t seemed rather tragic to the
poor king ut his moment that the very
success to which she had been his chief
inspiration had leComC the ocean upon
which they were drifting apart; not
Intentions lly-hcavcn forbid that-but
like two ships when the cable that
dashed them together had been sum
dered.
Twas the price they paid for Lions