“Will there be no profit in recovering the Book?” she demanded.
“You will not recover it in Lotzenia.”
“The Duke has it; I saw it last night.”
The Count shook his head. “I feel sure that Lotzen hasn’t the Book; but if you are positive, beyond a doubt, then formally demand it as Regent; if he refuse, take half the Army, if need be, and batter down his Castle and get it.”
The Princess laughed. “Now, Count, you know very well that would be the one sure way not to get it—he would destroy it.”
“And himself with it,” said Epping; “for then your testimony would be enough to convict him, and lose him his last chance for election by the Nobles. It would be as effective as to find the Book itself.”
“Your plan does not please me for two reasons,” she answered, promptly and decisively. “It contemplates the destruction of the Laws of the Dalbergs, which I would rather die than be the cause of; and it would permit the House of Nobles to determine the succession to the Throne, a thing hitherto unknown, and to my poor mind subversive of the rights of my House. What we want is the Book, and the way to get it is to take it quietly and by stealth. Hence, I was willing that His Highness should go to Lotzenia, and I with him, to see what might be done.”
“In other words,” said the Count incisively, “you deliberately stake the Archduke Armand’s life for the preservation of the Book.”
The Princess gasped, and her face went white.
“Don’t say it, my child!” the old man exclaimed, “don’t say it!—think a moment first—and then forgive me for having let my affection for you drive my tongue too far.”