"She's for neither you nor me, Cal," he said regretfully. "She must marry a man she has never seen for the sake of a country that she adores. Without this submission on her part we could count on no united Krovitch. Our country worships her and will follow no king who will not seat her upon his throne. Get that angel face out of your heart. Deafen your ears to her voice before, like me, you try too late. Oh, I know, I saw," he hastened on as Carter would have stopped him, "love makes all eyes keen. You love Trusia."
As the significance of the last remark went home, Carter sat as one stunned. The perspiration gathered slowly in great beads on his forehead. He hung his head gloomily; his face went pale. It seemed, suddenly, that life, ever a pleasant vista to him, had built a wall before his eyes, unscalable, opaque.
Then he understood. A pain gripped his heart as the great truth came home to him.
"I do," he answered jerkily, for he was striving to keep a strong man's grip on his soul. Slowly, however, the agony, defying him, triumphed. "My God," he wailed in surrender, "it is true though I never realized it till now." That was all he said, but with blind hands he groped for fellowship and welcomed Zulka's responsive grip of steel.
Relaxing his handclasp, he arose and walked to the window, to gaze out upon darkness until his own night passed from him sufficiently to enable him to seize upon his soul in the elusive shadows and hold it firmly. From where he stood, after an interval of pregnant silence, he turned a high-held, stern, white face upon Zulka.
"Paul," he said quietly, "we'll have to stand by her now to the end. If Krovitch wins and I'm alive, I'll go back to New York. If she loses, our lives must purchase her safety, should that be the price. It will be Trusia first, then."
"It will always be Trusia," said Zulka.
Carter nodded his understanding.
"Come, Carter!" Zulka said almost brusquely, "enough of sentiment. We must dress for the levee. I can fit you out in clothes."