"Where shall I go?" she returned.
"Anywhere. Only go; surely you have friends in England where you went to school."
"I have no friends anywhere but here."
"Don't say that. You have me. I am your friend."
"Surely you do not urge that I fly with you?"
My feeling got the better of me. I determined to make an attempt to save her, even against herself. There was nothing to bind her to her country except the great love she bore her father. It was worth the try.
"Solonika, we must come to an understanding. You surely have guessed how I feel toward you. I do not want to give offence; neither do I care to appear absurd in your eyes. You are a Princess. You 'sit upon a joyless height, too high for hope; too great for happiness.' I am an American lacking title and position. But what I have is yours to command. If a love that shall live forever can do aught to make your life happier, and lead you away to a humble home full of peace and happiness, it stands ready at your bidding."
She understood as I knew she would. I could feel it in the light hand that rested on my arm; in the sad, gentle look within the depth of her brown eyes. She could not bear to face me and turned away, apparently to watch the setting sun of the dying December day as it sank amid the thousand colours of a glorious finality.
Even as I watched her I knew there was no hope and that she was forever removed from me. Her feet were set in the pathway she was destined to tread before she was born. She must go her way and I mine until the end. She would continue acting the boy before the world. She would be crowned and reign as King in Bharbazonia. In spite of all I could do she would live her unsexed life, guarding her secret carefully until death released her. I was powerless to save her even from herself. The love she had for her father was greater than any affection she might have even for me.
"We will not talk of it any more, my—friend," she said. And thus did she sacrifice me also upon the altar of her devotion.