“Then,” she retorted, “it is open to me to make one.”
“No, no. It is madness,” he protested. “Is there need, my sweetest Princess? Why will you misjudge me? Were we married we could defy——”
“I have listened to your absurdities too long,” she exclaimed with a flash of scorn. “Enough! Never!”
But as she moved away, this time with determination, he seized her hand. “Princess,” he urged resolutely, “you shall hear me. You shall return the love you have called forth. You make me desperate, and——”
She, looking past him, gave a little cry. Instantly he dropped the hand he was by force keeping and turned. A man was in the doorway, a man with set face and eyes as those of one who stares at the wavering balance of his fate. There was for the moment a pause of speechless embarrassment, then Ludovic, with a bow and muttered apology, passed out of sight.
But as Udo turned back to his companion she saw with fear that his look had changed from annoyance to triumph.
“Your lover?” he asked in a tone that needed no answer. “At last he is found. You had better grant my prayer, Princess.”
Fate, he realized, had in that moment put a weapon into his hands. How well it would serve he had yet to determine, but at least he would use it. And Ruperta on her part, in that unlooked-for crisis, debated in desperation what line she would take.
“Your prayer?” she repeated to gain time for her feverish thoughts to take shape.
“Accept my love,” he insisted.