“I don’t desire it——” began the Queen, gazing at his angry face as though the sight fascinated her; but she was interrupted suddenly.
“Que vous jouez à merveille votre rôle, M. le Comte!” cried the Princess’s voice from her hiding-place, and she emerged from behind the screen. Cyril turned upon Queen Ernestine.
“Is it possible, madame, that you have ventured to make this infamous proposition to me in the presence of a third person? Perhaps I shall discover that I have had the honour of furnishing a little entertainment to the whole of your Majesty’s Court?”
“No, no; indeed you are unjust, Count.”
“Is it so, madame? At any rate your Majesty has the satisfaction of realising that it is for the last time.”
“No, you are unjust still; you must let me speak. It was a trick, Count—a foolish jest. My m—— some one pretended to doubt you, and I assured them of your honour, and offered to test it in this way. I was wrong to do it, but I felt certain of your answer.”
“As I am no longer in your Majesty’s service, it may perhaps be permitted me to entreat you to remember your own position, madame, if you have no care for mine.”
“Count, you must not allow this foolishness of mine to deprive my son and Thracia of your services. I forbid it—I, your Queen.”
“There are certain insults, madame, which are so deadly as to absolve a subject from his allegiance.”
“Nothing can absolve you from your promise to my husband. You cannot desert my son and me when he confided us to your care.”