"We have come," he said, "to beg you to reconsider this step. I fancy you will find no more insults awaiting you in the senate."
"Your highness," he said, "I can look back on my life and say I have done one wise thing in it, and that this morning. And if, as you say, there are no insults awaiting me in the senate, that confirms my belief in its wisdom."
"But this is absurd, Nicholas," remonstrated Petrobey, "and all the primates, even Germanos himself, regret what you have done."
Nicholas laughed.
"That is a sweet word to me," he said, "and you know it. But I am no child to be coaxed with sugar."
"But think of us—we want your help. You have more weight with the men than any of us!"
"I shall not fail you," said Nicholas, "and if I do my duty in the ranks as well as I hope, I think I shall be more useful there than anywhere else."
"But your career, now on the point of being crowned," said Petrobey, eagerly. "The prince has promised—"
But Nicholas waved his hand impatiently.
"I have just got rid of my career," he said, "and I feel like a tired horse when a stout rider dismounts and loosens the girth. Do not attempt to saddle me again. Ah, dear cousin," he went on, suddenly with affection and more gravity, "even you know me not at all if you speak like that. Believe me, I care only for one thing in this world, and that is the object for which we have labored together so long. That cause I serve best here, and for these months I have been puffing myself up to think that fine, angry words were of no avail. But I will try them no longer; I am sick of anger, and my belly moves, whether I will or not, when I sit there and have to listen—you know to what. Leave me in peace. It is better so."