There was no secret about it any longer—they were all sitting there waiting for her decision.
“And, mademoiselle,” pursued the baron, “our little kingdom would be like home to you; since you have already lived so long among our people.”
Selden looked the question he scarcely felt at liberty to utter.
“Nearly all of our people who went to America settled in one place,” explained the baron, “in the town founded by the father of mademoiselle and named after him. There they assisted the development of an enormous property—a mountain of copper.”
A great light burst upon Selden. So it was that Davis—the copper king! Well, there would be millions enough!
But those were the people who had come back from America to make their own country a republic also—Jeneski had told him the story; it was their labour which had amassed those millions which were to be used to rivet back upon them the chains they had broken! He did not know whether to laugh or weep at the savage irony of it!
The king had bent over toward Mrs. Davis and asked her a swift question, his face purple with excitement; she had glanced toward her daughter and a long look had passed between them. Selden could see the baron’s mesmeric gaze upon the girl. She looked down, she looked up; then her cheeks went crimson, and she nodded her head.
The king, with beaming face, signed to the attendants to fill the glasses.
“Mesdames et messieurs,” he said, rising, glass in hand, “I have in my life, which has been a long one, had many happy moments, but none so happy as this, when it is my privilege to announce the betrothal of my grandson and successor, Prince Danilo, and the fair young lady who sits beside him. Let us drink to their happiness and to that of my beloved country!”
He drained his glass, sent it crashing over his shoulder, trundled around the table, caught the girl in his arms, and kissed her resoundingly upon each cheek.