"The Duke of Bora—what of him?" said Paul, with difficulty pronouncing the name that had become doubly hateful to him.
Barbara's eyes drooped. She hid her face on his breast.
"Forgive me, Paul. Do not reproach me with his name. Remember that I thought you dead. I have never forgotten you, nor ceased to love your memory. It was political necessity that drove me to the arms of Bora. On my coming here from Dalmatia in the character of Princess Natalie, I was compelled by the rôle I had assumed to receive the addresses of the duke, addresses which I at heart loathed. It had been my intention to break with him ultimately; but of late, since I have been threatened with deposition by Cardinal Ravenna,—yes, deposition," she repeated with flashing eyes,—"I have weakly thought of marrying the duke; for inasmuch as he is the heir-apparent I should thus ensure my rank, if not my power, as princess. But that idea is gone now; I cast it from me forever."
"But why? Is not the necessity for conciliating the duke as great to-day as yesterday?"
"No; for if I should have lost my crown I should have lost the one thing I held most dear; if I lose it now—"
She paused in her utterance.
"Yes, if you should lose it now—?"
"Have I not you?" she answered with a soft pressure of her arms. Paul would have deserved instant knouting if he had not kissed the princess for that saying. Then, becoming grave again he said,—
"You say the cardinal threatens you with deposition? Why this hostility on his part?"
"Because I will not dance to his piping."