“No, you shall not go.” She clung to his hand so tightly that he was unable to free himself. “You must hear me, Cyril. Ottilie promised me solemnly that nothing should be done until the festivities were over, and I believed her. So did you. Why punish me, then? Only let me come with you if you mean to leave Thracia. I do not mind being poor. I had rather be poor, with you.”
“I think, Count,” said King Michael’s voice, as the newly enfranchised sovereign appeared at the door which led into the ante-room, “that you can scarcely be aware that Dr Danilovics gave special directions that her Majesty was not to be agitated. Need I point out that so long an audience is extremely injurious to her in her present condition of illness and excitement?”
“I did not know that you had been invited to assist at this interview, sir.”
“If I choose to protect my mother from the schemes of a political adventurer, Count, that is my affair.”
“Such a remark, addressed to one who was your father’s friend and has served your mother faithfully, comes with an ill grace from you, sir, and necessarily deprives me of the honour of serving you in the future.”
“The proper official will relieve you of your portfolio, Count.”
“Your Majesty’s consideration is unbounded. That I may not appear backward in responding to it, allow me to say that should my successor desire any information as to the routine work of the post, I am entirely at her service.”
“At her service? Whose?”
“Surely, sir, it is patent to all that her Royal Highness the Princess of Dardania becomes, ipso facto, Foreign Minister and Premier of Thracia. It is impossible that I should be mistaken.”
The King frowned heavily. “This is not a time for joking, Count,” he said.