Nadia sank back speechless and horrorstruck, and Queen Ernestine and the Princess of Dardania exchanged looks of triumph.
“What did I tell you?” asked the Princess.
“Count Mortimer,” said the Queen with energy, holding Nadia’s hand in hers, and rising in order to give greater effect to her words, “owing to various unfortunate circumstances, I have feared at times that I was unable to judge you impartially; but I can say truthfully that I should never have suspected you of such an action as this. What your motive can have been I am at a loss to imagine——”
“Surely you need not ask the motive,” interrupted the Princess. “Count Mortimer feared lest the lustre of his well-earned popularity should be in the slightest degree dimmed by the appearance of a rival star in the Thracian sky.”
“I could have hoped,” the Queen went on, “that your motive was a worthier one than the gratification of such base jealousy; but I grieve to be obliged to think that this is not the case.”
“No, Ernestine,” said the Princess, “you are doing Count Mortimer an injustice. I never said that his jealousy was personal in its character, for it is political. Lord Caerleon, like any one else who stands in the way of his brother’s schemes, must be crushed.”
“Does that make it any better?” cried the Queen. “It is infamous! That you should have attempted to carry out such a despicable purpose by means of the authority with which I was induced at my husband’s dying entreaty to invest you, is merely an additional crime, Count.”
“Oh, Uncle Cyril,” entreated Philippa, “do say something! I know it was a mistake, or—or you did it for fun. Please do tell them.”
“You don’t understand, Phil, that when the Queen and the Princess are pleased to accuse me, it is my duty to listen in silence, and rejoice to find myself honoured with so much of their attention.”
“If you can possibly suggest the very smallest excuse for your extraordinary action, Count,” said the Queen, “I beg that you will at once bring it forward.”