And the King departed in haste, as though fearing that he had compromised himself by his impulsive generosity, and left his mother to face the worst ordeal of all—her interview with Cyril. He arrived not long after King Michael had left the room, and found Ernestine sitting idle, with her hands locked together. She looked at him almost fearfully as he approached her.
“Cyril,” she said in a half-whisper, “I have something to tell you that you will be sorry to hear. Michael and Lida of Dardania are in love with one another.”
“Then it is the Princess’s doing, and nothing else, for any one could see that they had no thought of anything of the kind before.”
“I don’t know how it happened, but it is too late to stop it now.”
“Too late, my dear Ernestine! A boy of sixteen and a girl of fifteen! I will undertake to put a stop to it in no time.”
“But, Cyril, you must not. I cannot allow that.”
“Not allow it? Surely you have forgotten that I explained to you the other day that such a marriage was out of the question?”
“So we thought at the time, but this alters everything. We must think of some way in which things can be arranged satisfactorily.”
“But it is impossible. No arrangement could be satisfactory which would give the Princess of Dardania a pretext for interfering in our affairs. Besides, the whole balance of power would be upset.”
“You will be able to devise some scheme which will put things right. You are so skilful; I am depending on you.”