“Do not grieve, dear Count! I am not worth it. Why should you weep for me? Why should you still extend your love and care for one so useless as I?”
“My Prince, I beseech you, do not speak thus of yourself! Let us forget what has passed and look forward to what is to come. I am glad to have found you, so glad to be with you. Now, all will be, must be, well!”
“No—no, my dearest friend and guardian. No—there is nothing to look forward to. I feel that the end has come. I know I shall never again see my loved ones, my land, my king. I knew it when they brought me here. Ill as I was, I was not unconscious. How long have I been lying here? Raise my head so that I may look at you well—and, pray, be seated!”
The Count gently adjusted the head and sat down.
For some moments not a word was spoken, then the young man broke the stillness:
“Dear General, I have given you and all the world a great deal of trouble, have I not? It will be all over and done with soon—pray, don’t grieve, don’t worry. What difference will it make to the world or to our Roumelia if I go and another succeeds to the throne? It could only be a worthier man whoever he may be! Why should you waste a thought on one who has been foolish as I have been? Why waste time on the dreamy fool who bartered a throne, the love and respect of a people, your friendship, Count, for the smiles of a false woman, a wanton? Have I not shown myself a coward? A man who after his first failure turned tail and ran off like a sulking boy? A good riddance I call it! Better to know the truth now than burden a hopeful land with so worthless a ruler. Do not weep; truly, I am not worth it!”
Count Rondell, his cheeks wet with the tears that were freely coursing down his now deathly pale face, extended his hands imploringly. With a great effort he recovered his calmness, and vehemently exclaimed, “I beg of you, my Prince, do not let us harp on actions which must have been beyond your control. Let us rather speak of your welfare and your health. May I ask you to look at it in this light, your Highness?”
“Very well, my good teacher; let it be as you will. What do you wish me to say or tell?”
“Your Highness, I trust and confidently believe we shall get you well and out of this deadly place very soon. But you may shortly relapse into a fever and with it into unconsciousness. I beg of your Highness to state now what you wish to have attended to. I ask for your commands! But first take this draught the physician has left for you.”
Indifferently at first, but after a sip or two, with grateful expression in his features, the invalid partook of the drink.