Ethel looked far off at the city and castle, for the yacht had taken to the open on account of drifting currents. She was thinking of Morgania. The manner in which the duke would understand his duty under the present circumstances would be a standard by which to judge the man.
That the duke had stayed on in Paris when he ought to have been in Morgania—that she could willingly forgive, since it was for her that he stayed. But that now he should be brave, loyal to his people, with a burning zeal for progress and all that is good—that would be more pleasing to her than all his attentions.
“What is the matter, grandma? You have something on your mind,” said Ethel to her grandmother, who was looking toward the mountains.
“It is nothing,” said grandma. “I was thinking of Will, who is over there, and fearing some accident might happen to him.”
“Just now he risks nothing,” said Ethel. “It is all enthusiasm among the people. Will is to take the most pressing measures. The enemy is sure to return, but the duke will be ready—unless he wastes too much time.”
They heard the stroke of oars, and a small boat came alongside.
“I’m sure it’s the duke coming to congratulate us,” said Ethel. “He must have returned—and you’ll see, grandma, he will thank me for saving Morgania, and will put his heart at my feet! He will say the people wish me, that they are crying for me! Watch him, grandma, when I tell him that it is not I, it is Helia! You’ll see his expression: ‘Helia! hum—hum—charming, very charming, but, really—’”
“You judge the duke wrongly, Ethel.”
“She’s right, all the same!” thought Suzanne.
“The duke knows what he’s about, grandma! But it is not he,” she said, looking over at the boat. “They are two—in long coats! That’s not local color.”