Daphne looked at him steadfastly, half suspecting madness, but his dark eyes gleamed with intelligence and firmness of purpose.
“Therefore,” he said, as if speaking to himself, “I will be advised by the first king and all the vice-regents. In this manner obedience and the rule of reason will even be strengthened. This is the first precaution.
“The second safeguard,” he said, looking on Daphne as an archer looks at an arrow intended for a fateful purpose, “is of more interest to thee.
“At first I had intended at the same time to compel all the men of the royal race to take for themselves honoured consorts of pure Grecian blood, but chance or nature willed otherwise, and thy companions have all perished—chance or nature,” he repeated, “not treachery—not disobedience,”—and again for a moment he seemed to doubt.
“Thy companions have perished, and perchance it is better so for my purpose. For, after much consideration, I have decided that the best plan is to make at first a single experiment. Accordingly I will explain to our chiefs my reasons and intentions, and will offer them an example in my own person.
“I will show them that it is possible to honour women without the madness of love, and that the children born of equals are superior. Everything shall be done with full deliberation, and an imposing ceremony shall be invented to show that I am not driven by the passion which our great ancestor dreaded.”
He spoke rapidly, and Daphne listened to him without grasping his meaning at the moment. His words had entered her ears, but had not penetrated her heart.
But in an instant every word became a flaming dart and pierced her to the quick, when he said—
“Therefore, in two months from this day, with all imaginable pomp, I will make thee my queen.”