“I do not believe that you people like the Turks,” he remarked.
Reist turned upon him with a sudden violent gesture. His voice was low, but charged with passionate hate.
“Like them! To us they are as vermin, a pest upon the face of the earth. You wonder why! I tell you that it is because we know them, because their border villages are in touch with ours, we know their life and the manner of it. I could tell you things which you dare not put in print; stories which, if English people read in your paper they would brand you a liar. So, my friend, Brand, believe this. There is not a true Thetian breathing who would not rather die himself and kill his wife and children than that the Turks should enter Theos.... Pardon me!”
He moved away with a quick, expressive gesture. Brand remained in his corner, and presently the King with Marie of Reist upon his arm passed by. They paused before him.
“Come, Brand,” Ughtred remarked, “why so thoughtful? You must dance, my friend.”
“Your Majesty,” Brand answered, “I was pondering upon the inequalities of life. Yesterday I was a King, and a most uncomfortable position it was! To-day you are King—and”—he glanced at Marie—“it is a trial to one’s disposition to refrain from envy.”
Marie detached her hand softly from the King’s sleeve.
“So gallant a speech, sir,” she said, smiling, “must be rewarded. You have not yet asked me to dance!”