“Merely this, that the brother of the much-injured lady is still an officer in my brother’s guard, and dined at our table, quite in a friendly spirit, the night before we left Bellaviste. If the O’Malachy had any sense of dramatic consistency, he would have ordered him to resign his commission; but as the idea hasn’t struck him, we are all right.”
“But the mere demonstration that the charge he has brought against your brother is an absurdity will not affect this Dickinson,” said the King.
“Oh yes, it will. The very suggestion that he has been taken in by such a ridiculous story will be a sufficient punishment for him.”
“But if the aim of his journal is to circulate lies, he cannot have any regard for the truth,” objected the King.
“He cares very much about his reputation as a shrewd man of the world,” said Cyril. “And you musn’t judge his paper from its title. That is Dickinson’s little joke. He calls it ‘Mendacity’ on the lucus a non lucendo principle, from a theory of his that the name is intended to indicate what the paper is not. The ‘Times,’ he says, is behind the times; the ‘Standard’ lags in the rear, instead of leading; and it is just the same with his paper—in each case the contents contradict the name. But some people think that there is more truth in the title than anywhere inside the cover.”
“So it would appear,” said the King.
“We are rather proud of Dickinson at home,” Cyril went on. “He is a purely English product, and fin de siècle at that. No other nation can rival his peculiar humour.” The King looked as though he, at any rate, found it difficult also to appreciate the bent of Mr Dickinson’s genius. “But the ‘Universe’ will have him on toast this time with a vengeance,” continued Cyril, cheerfully. “I suppose we may consider the little affair agreeably settled, sir? Perhaps I may remark that the sooner our application at Czarigrad is granted the easier we shall find it to deal with cases of this kind.”
“Naturally,” said the King, “before I took any steps whatever to promote a marriage between my daughter and your brother, it was understood that Pannonia would at once do her best to secure the recognition of your rights from Roum.”
This was a most satisfactory assurance, and Cyril went away well pleased. The morrow was the day fixed for the betrothal—a ceremony which, according to German ideas, would be wellnigh as indissoluble as marriage itself—and it struck him that the Emperor of Pannonia would probably consider it a pleasing and friendly act to begin to press the claims of Thracia on the Roumi Government immediately, in order to obtain Caerleon’s recognition by the suzerain Power as a graceful wedding-gift to the betrothed pair. All seemed to be prospering with Cyril’s schemes, and he prepared with a light heart for his departure from Schloss Herzensruh. It was considered more correct that the King of Thracia should arrive on Mœsian soil from his own territory on the morning of the betrothal, and the brothers were therefore to return to their shooting-box for the night. Caerleon’s state of mind was a pitiable one. The time fixed for his penance had all but dragged out its weary course, and yet he saw no hope of obtaining his release. What was he to do if no means of escape offered itself during the one day that was left? He was firmly resolved under no circumstances to take upon him the solemn vows of betrothal; but how was he to refuse to do so without either casting a slur on Princess Ottilie or betraying her secret? It is absurd, even humiliating, to be obliged to confess it, but the idea of flight presented itself to him more than once in tempting colours.
The first break in the clouds became visible at the mid-day meal, which might be considered either as a late breakfast or as an early lunch, and at which Princess Ottilie did not appear. She was not very well, her mother said, and had decided to remain in her room for the day; and she herself sent a special message to Caerleon to the effect that her indisposition was caused by grief regarding the anxiously expected Paris dress, which had indeed arrived, but was horribly cut, and made her look hideous. King Johann received the excuse with considerable seriousness, and remarked that his daughter had an undisciplined mind, and he hoped that Caerleon would teach her to be less frivolous when they were married; but it was evident that he regarded the cause of the illness as amply sufficient under the circumstances, and Caerleon recalled with some amusement the Princess’s words in the forest. He could afford to be amused now, for he guessed that Princess Ottilie intended on the morrow to urge her indisposition as a reason for postponing the betrothal; and, although the means were not such as he would have chosen, he was so nearly desperate by this time as to be ready to snatch at any prospect of escape. Hence he also was able to leave the castle cheerfully, and even to endure with patience the chaff in which Cyril indulged as they rode through the forest, although it dealt chiefly with engagement-rings and loss of bachelor freedom, and similar well-worn and appropriate themes.