Helène leaned forward, resting her elbows upon her knees, and pressed the lace against her tired eyes. Suppressing a sob with a quick intake of her breath, she continued in a trembling voice, though with no trace of resentment in it:
“Why did not papa send someone we know—one of our own people? Please, do not misunderstand me. I have done all I could—I told her everything you bade me say,”—the tears were not to be denied now; they fell slowly unchecked.
John felt as if he would choke. It was as he had feared! He looked at Helène confounded and utterly at a loss what to say.
“Do not blame Her Highness, Mr. Morton. She has had much to bear. She has been waiting, hoping, expecting news from her brother, the Prince, who was abroad when the dreadful upheaval came. She has not heard a word, and she is almost distracted. She cannot believe that she is alone now—that she has no friends any more. And I don’t know how to convince her.”
Morton had recovered himself. He no longer felt any commiseration for the Princess but instead an overpowering resentment filled him. Was this girl to be sacrificed to satisfy an hysterical weakling of a Princess? Once the Comtesse returned to the castle, she would be a prisoner for the day, and the arrangements for the evening would have been made for nothing. Why, it was absurd, ridiculous! Confound all Princesses! He must take things in his own hands now.
His face flushing he rose and planted himself firmly before Helène. “Comtesse, under the circumstances there is but one thing to do. I am ready now, this very minute, as ready as I shall ever be. In half an hour the team will be here. You will get into it just as you are and we shall start north at once! The Princess has chosen, and we—we cannot be expected to sit down and wait for Providence or a miracle! I shall call Herr Rosen.”
He expected, nay, dreaded, a breakdown and a flood of tears. But in place of hysterics, he met a woman as determined and as proud as himself.
Helène rose, her eyes flashing, her face pink with indignation.
“How dare you, sir, speak of Her Highness in that manner! How dare you take advantage of my helplessness! I am a Rondell, sir, and a Rondell has never forsaken his king. My duty and my choice are with the Princess. Permit me, sir, to retire.”
John was dumbfounded. This was worse than anything he had even dreamed of. Good God, she must not be permitted to leave the house. What was he to do? Where was Rosen or Rachel? He must plead with her until one or the other came.