Hawberk looked at his watch. At the same moment a puff of smoke
shot from the casemates of Castle William, and the boom of the sunset gun
rolled across the water and was re-echoed from the Highlands opposite. The flag came running down from the flag-pole, the bugles sounded on the
white decks of the warships, and the first electric light sparkled out
from the Jersey shore. As I turned into the city with Hawberk I heard Constance murmur something
to Louis which I did not understand; but Louis whispered "My darling," in
reply; and again, walking ahead with Hawberk through the square I heard a
murmur of "sweetheart," and "my own Constance," and I knew the time had
nearly arrived when I should speak of important matters with my cousin
Louis. III

One morning early in May I stood before the steel safe in my bedroom,
trying on the golden jewelled crown. The diamonds flashed fire as I
turned to the mirror, and the heavy beaten gold burned like a halo about
my head. I remembered Camilla's agonized scream and the awful words
echoing through the dim streets of Carcosa. They were the last lines in
the first act, and I dared not think of what followed--dared not, even
in the spring sunshine, there in my own room, surrounded with familiar
objects, reassured by the bustle from the street and the voices of the
servants in the hallway outside. For those poisoned words had dropped
slowly into my heart, as death-sweat drops upon a bed-sheet and is
absorbed. Trembling, I put the diadem from my head and wiped my forehead,
but I thought of Hastur and of my own rightful ambition, and I remembered
Mr. Wilde as I had last left him, his face all torn and bloody from the
claws of that devil's creature, and what he said--ah, what he said. The
alarm bell in the safe began to whirr harshly, and I knew my time was up;
but I would not heed it, and replacing the flashing circlet upon my head
I turned defiantly to the mirror. I stood for a long time absorbed in the
changing expression of my own eyes. The mirror reflected a face which was
like my own, but whiter, and so thin that I hardly recognized it And all
the time I kept repeating between my clenched teeth, "The day has come! the day has come!" while the alarm in the safe whirred and clamoured, and
the diamonds sparkled and flamed above my brow. I heard a door open but
did not heed it. It was only when I saw two faces in the mirror:--it was
only when another face rose over my shoulder, and two other eyes met
mine. I wheeled like a flash and seized a long knife from my
dressing-table, and my cousin sprang back very pale, crying: "Hildred! for God's sake!" then as my hand fell, he said: "It is I, Louis, don't
you know me?" I stood silent. I could not have spoken for my life. He
walked up to me and took the knife from my hand. "What is all this?" he inquired, in a gentle voice. "Are you ill?" "No," I replied. But I doubt if he heard me. "Come, come, old fellow," he cried, "take off that brass crown and toddle
into the study. Are you going to a masquerade? What's all this theatrical
tinsel anyway?" I was glad he thought the crown was made of brass and paste, yet I didn't
like him any the better for thinking so. I let him take it from my hand,
knowing it was best to humour him. He tossed the splendid diadem in the
air, and catching it, turned to me smiling. "It's dear at fifty cents," he said. "What's it for?" I did not answer, but took the circlet from his hands, and placing it in
the safe shut the massive steel door. The alarm ceased its infernal din
at once. He watched me curiously, but did not seem to notice the sudden
ceasing of the alarm. He did, however, speak of the safe as a biscuit
box. Fearing lest he might examine the combination I led the way into my
study. Louis threw himself on the sofa and flicked at flies with his
eternal riding-whip. He wore his fatigue uniform with the braided jacket
and jaunty cap, and I noticed that his riding-boots were all splashed
with red mud. "Where have you been?" I inquired. "Jumping mud creeks in Jersey," he said. "I haven't had time to change
yet; I was rather in a hurry to see you. Haven't you got a glass of
something? I'm dead tired; been in the saddle twenty-four hours." I gave him some brandy from my medicinal store, which he drank with a
grimace. "Damned bad stuff," he observed. "I'll give you an address where they
sell brandy that is brandy." "It's good enough for my needs," I said indifferently. "I use it to rub
my chest with." He stared and flicked at another fly. "See here, old fellow," he began, "I've got something to suggest to you. It's four years now that you've shut yourself up here like an owl, never
going anywhere, never taking any healthy exercise, never doing a damn
thing but poring over those books up there on the mantelpiece." He glanced along the row of shelves. "Napoleon, Napoleon, Napoleon!" he
read. "For heaven's sake, have you nothing but Napoleons there?" "I wish they were bound in gold," I said. "But wait, yes, there is
another book, _The King in Yellow_." I looked him steadily in the
eye. "Have you never read it?" I asked. "I? No, thank God! I don't want to be driven crazy." I saw he regretted his speech as soon as he had uttered it. There is only
one word which I loathe more than I do lunatic and that word is crazy. But I controlled myself and asked him why he thought _The King in
Yellow_ dangerous. "Oh, I don't know," he said, hastily. "I only remember the excitement it
created and the denunciations from pulpit and Press. I believe the author
shot himself after bringing forth this monstrosity, didn't he?" "I understand he is still alive," I answered. "That's probably true," he muttered; "bullets couldn't kill a fiend like
that." "It is a book of great truths," I said. "Yes," he replied, "of 'truths' which send men frantic and blast their
lives. I don't care if the thing is, as they say, the very supreme
essence of art. It's a crime to have written it, and I for one shall
never open its pages." "Is that what you have come to tell me?" I asked. "No," he said, "I came to tell you that I am going to be married." I believe for a moment my heart ceased to beat, but I kept my eyes on his
face. "Yes," he continued, smiling happily, "married to the sweetest girl on
earth." "Constance Hawberk," I said mechanically. "How did you know?" he cried, astonished. "I didn't know it myself until
that evening last April, when we strolled down to the embankment before
dinner." "When is it to be?" I asked. "It was to have been next September, but an hour ago a despatch came
ordering our regiment to the Presidio, San Francisco. We leave at noon
to-morrow. To-morrow," he repeated. "Just think, Hildred, to-morrow I
shall be the happiest fellow that ever drew breath in this jolly world,
for Constance will go with me." I offered him my hand in congratulation, and he seized and shook it like
the good-natured fool he was--or pretended to be.