“You have the love of your people.”
“Not even that. The sentiment of love for their queen is dead. That is the root of the whole matter. There is but one thing, then, for me to do: to retire gracefully––to anticipate their wishes––to listen to their cry and declare a republic. Then you and I will go back to the cottage together and drink our tea in peace.”
“You are wrong. That is not the wish of the people; it is the wish only of a few hundred blackguards led on by those devils brought here from over the sea.”
“You mean Dick’s men?”
“The devil’s men. If you give me authority, I’ll have every mother’s son of them shot before morning.”
She shook her head.
“Not even to please my bloodthirsty general. They have played us false but––still they are countrymen of his.”
“You insult him. They belong to no country.”
“Why,” she asked thoughtfully, “why should I expect them to fight for me? Perhaps they think I played Dicky false. They have reason––he is not here where he won his right to be.”