“No, I will go back for them,” and Cyril retraced his steps, wondering the less, now that he had seen this shrewd and kindly old man, at the curious conditions of Thracian life, which had given Paschics a relative so low down in the social scale. But as he approached the spot where he had left the ladies, he forgot all about the charcoal-burner, for he could distinctly hear the Queen sobbing, and Fräulein von Staubach trying to comfort her in German. His first thought was that they had been tracked by the enemy and taken prisoners; but almost at the same moment he saw that there was no one there but themselves.
“I fear that you have been alarmed, madame,” he said, hurrying forward; “but I assure you that I have not been longer than I could help. The charcoal-burner is most willing to shelter and help us, and I have left the King in his charge while I came back for you.”
“I have not been alarmed,” said the Queen, rising stiffly. “Give me that bundle of rugs, if you please; I prefer to carry it.”
“Unhappily it is already bespoken, madame. May I be permitted——?”
He offered his arm to assist her, but she drew herself away. “I wish to carry the rugs,” she repeated, but her voice failed her.
“Madame!” said Fräulein von Staubach, imploringly.
“Be quiet, Sophie. I know that it is my own fault. I have placed myself in a false and degrading position, and Count Mortimer takes advantage of it to humiliate me.”
“Madame!” protested the maligned Cyril, in utter astonishment.
“You know it is true. You rejoiced when you ordered me, in the presence of that horrible old man, to carry the bundle.”
“You must know that it was merely to avert suspicion, madame.”