CHAPTER XI
The ten minutes became half-an-hour. Domiloff at last lost patience and knocked at the door. Brand, who had just finished a shorthand copy of the treaty, and had tucked it within the inner sole of his boot, realized the fact that he had reached the end of his tether.
“Come in,” he called out cheerfully.
Domiloff entered and closed the door behind him.
“I cannot understand your Highness’s indecision,” he said, impatiently. “The document which I have had the honour to submit for your approval is one of the most simple and straightforward which was ever written. And while you hesitate, Prince, your kingdom passes away. Every moment affairs in the capital draw nearer to a crisis.”
Brand leaned back in his chair. He looked no longer at the manuscript. It was evident that his decision was taken.
“It seems to me,” he said, quietly, “that my kingdom passes away none the less surely when I sign this paper. Your terms, Baron Domiloff, amount to a Russian Protectorate. Our trade is to be yours, and yours only. Russian is to be taught in our schools, and Russians are to control our army and our customs. What will Theos gain in return for this?”
“Her independence will be guaranteed. Russia will be her faithful friend!”