“Listen,” he said. “These people have come to put me in Metzger’s place. There would be no difficulty about that. Already I have received a message from the House of Laws. Bah! I have no stomach to sit in council with tradesmen and citizens, to have my will questioned, to rule only by a casting vote. These modern forms of government are vile. They would make me President of their Republic—I, a Reist of Theos, whose forefathers ruled the land with sword and fire. They would put me in the place of Metzger, the merchant—Metzger, who would have sold his country to the Russians. I say no!”
“What, then?” she cried. “What, then? Speak, Nicholas. There are thoughts behind. Who but I should know them?”
“When I rule Theos,” he answered, slowly, “it shall be even as the Dukes of Reist have ruled it before me, with a sceptre in their hands, and a sword upon their knees. That time is not yet, Marie, but it may come. I think that you and I will see it.”
“Why not now?” she cried. “The people would accept you on any terms. The Republic has fallen. You shall be their King.”
He shook his head.
“The time is not yet,” he repeated. “Marie, believe me, I know my people. In their blood lingers still some taint of the democratic fever. You must learn, little sister, as I have learned it, the legend on our walls and shield, the motto of our race, ‘Slowly, but ever forward.’”
“But the people,” she cried. “What will you say to them? It is you whom they want. Their throats are hoarse with shouting.”
He threw open the great windows, and a roar of welcome from below rose high above the storm.
“You shall hear what I will say to them, Marie,” he answered. “Come out by my side.”