She regarded him proudly.
“It is very seldom,” she remarked, “that you permit me to forget it.”
He smiled. The sight of his white teeth gleaming in the twilight filled her with repulsion. The man was like a wolf.
“Countess,” he said, “I am not a hypocrite. I am pledged to the deposition of the King, and you are my natural ally, for it is your brother who must take his place, and you who must prevent the sacrilege of this proposed marriage. So you see I am open with you. We are both working towards the same end. Therefore I say, let us work together.”
They were silent for a few minutes listening to the distant roar of the guns, watching the lurid lights which every now and then lit up with an unholy glare that distant background. Then she turned to him.
“There is nothing,” she said, “which I can do. Besides, whilst the war lasts everything else seems small. To see Theos drive back the infidels and retain her freedom I would be content even to let things remain, and end my days there in the convent.”
He shook his head.
“Dear lady,” he said, “you were not made for a convent any more than Sara Van Decht was made for a throne. Try and believe in me a little more. I, too, desire a free Theos. You are a woman, and you have wit and courage. Say to yourself this. It is necessary for Theos that your brother and the King should quarrel. Keep it always in your mind. Remember that your brother’s anger only slumbers. The King has insulted you and your House. The whole history of your family could disclose no such affront tamely borne. Besides, there is your friend—the Englishman.”
She turned swiftly upon him.