“Your will, madam, is sure to be thwarted,” he replied, “as long as you suffer Prince Rakota to act as he pleases. Your son is a Christian. He prays with the Christians and encourages them in this new doctrine. We are lost if your Majesty does not stop the prince in his strange self-willed ways.”
“But,” repeated the Queen, “he is my son—my only, my beloved son! Let him do what he pleases. If he wishes to be a Christian, let him—he is my beloved son!”
“But, madam,” urged Rainiharo, who hated Rakota, “if your son resists your will what becomes of the Government? I know that Rakota—”
“Cease to speak to me of Rakota,” interrupted the Queen, impatiently. “He is my son, I tell you. I love him. Let him alone—he will not disobey me.”
“Prince Ramonja, it is said, has also joined the Christians,” continued the minister, with a slightly cynical expression.
“Is this true?” demanded Ranavalona, fiercely, while she seemed to grind her teeth in wrath.
“I have reason to believe it.”
“Let inquiry be made, and if it proves to be true,” said the Queen, sternly, “let Ramonja be deprived of all his military honours, reduce him to the ranks, and fine him heavily.”
“But he is your own nephew, madam,” returned the Minister, simply, yet with a touch of sarcasm in his tone.
“It matters not. It is of our mercy that he does not die, as many others have died before him. Let my orders be obeyed if Ramonja is guilty. Let him be a warning to others in the palace, for it has come to my ears that some of our courtiers are hankering after this religion that seems to have turned my people mad. Indeed it is said that some related to yourself are among them.”