“I have never told you anything of the kind,” said Nadia, sharply, “and I am sure the King of Thracia has not. I cannot tell how you have found it out.”
“Ah, these wicked newspapers!” murmured the Prince, smiling gently at Nadia’s unintentional admission, “they publish everything. But if you assure me that they have been misinformed, mademoiselle, I can only resign the hope of serving you which has brought me here, and depart, entreating your forgiveness for having troubled you.”
“They were not misinformed. It is quite true that the King asked me to marry him, and that I refused,” said Nadia, bluntly.
“So I imagined, mademoiselle. I felt convinced that such a magnificent self-renunciation could not be merely a creation of fancy. But there is no reason,” he went on quickly, as she rejected his praise with a gesture of impatience, “why your delicacy should be alarmed by the thought that your admirable conduct has become known. It has won you friends all over Europe, and I may mention that in Scythia persons in a very exalted position have been much pleased with the spirit which you displayed under extremely trying circumstances, and have even been led to wonder whether it might not be possible to avert the difficulties which you feared might result from the marriage proposed to you. Pray sit down, mademoiselle,”—he rose and handed her his chair, and she accepted it mechanically, for her limbs were trembling so violently that she could scarcely stand,—“and let us consider the matter. The sympathies of my sister-in-law, Pauline Vassilievna, have been engaged, and she testifies the greatest eagerness to assist in bringing the affair to a happy conclusion. May I take it for granted that the only obstacle to a marriage between Lord Caerleon and yourself lay in these honourable scruples of yours?”
Nadia nodded silently, and he went on, watching her as a cat might watch a mouse.
“The first difficulty was caused, no doubt, by the difference of position? Well, I do not deny that between Nadia Mikhailovna and the King of Thracia there is a serious gap; but it is not so wide that it cannot be bridged. We can scarcely aspire to restore the ancient regal glories of your father’s house,” he smiled indulgently, “but his Majesty the Emperor has for some time entertained the desire of conferring on my good friend Colonel O’Malachy a patent of nobility, in recognition of his long and meritorious services; and between Lord Caerleon and the Countess Nadia, daughter of Count O’Malachy de Lisnacoola, there is no very great disparity of rank.”
“But Carlino is King of Thracia,” Nadia managed to say.
“Pardon me. I am aware that he calls himself king, but he has simply usurped the throne. He cannot be king without the consent of the Powers, and of Roum, the suzerain State. His so-called election is merely the work of an ignorant peasantry, led on by irresponsible agitators. The present condition of Thracia is a standing menace to European peace, and it cannot be suffered to continue. If this errand with which I am charged to you fails to bring about a settlement, Lord Caerleon must fall. He is nothing but an adventurer, a land-pirate.”
“But,” urged Nadia, more for the sake of gaining time than for any other reason, “if this patent of nobility is intended as a reward for my father’s services, why should it not be granted to him in any case?”
“Sure that’s the most sensuble thing I’ve ever heard you say, Nadia,” exclaimed the O’Malachy, with hearty approval, while his wife frowned angrily, and Prince Soudaroff looked a little nonplussed.