“They are calling for you, Nicholas,” she said, softly. “Listen! It is the voice of our people, and they need you. Will you go out and speak to them? Shall I open the window—yes?”
“Not yet,” he answered, swiftly. “Not yet.”
Her hands were already upon the curtains. She turned around, an impatient frown upon her face.
“You do not hesitate, my brother,” she cried. “No, it is not possible. It is our country, Nicholas, our homeland which calls for you to save it.”
“Ay, to save it—but how? Metzger has made the way difficult.”
Her eyes flashed fire upon him. She was superbly disdainful.
“Are you the first Duke of Reist who has governed Theos?” she cried. “Is there not the blood of former Kings in your veins? Holy Mother, but it is intolerable that you should hesitate! Nicholas, if you let these people call in vain you will be the first of our race who has ever shrunk from his duty. I will not call you any longer my brother. Listen!”
“Reist! Nicholas of Reist! Down with the common dogs. Down with the traitors. Down with Metzger!”
He smiled faintly. Those subtle lines about his mouth were not there in vain.
“I wonder where Metzger is hiding,” he murmured. “How good it would be to see him now. How he would quiver and shake. There is death in those voices.”