“I suppose you have come to tell me what is to happen to me,” she said, with extreme coldness, and yet before his entrance the irony of the situation had almost made her laugh. To have come all the way from Witska to save Caerleon, and to find herself accused of trying to murder him!
“I am here as the bearer of a message from my brother, which I have promised to deliver to you word for word,” said Cyril. “If it had not been for your appeal to his good feeling, he would be here himself now; or he would have written, but I refused to carry a letter. He implores you to reconsider your former determination, and to consent to marry him. He undertakes that there shall be no opposition to the match among the people, and he will regard it as the proudest day of his life if you will be crowned with him next month as Queen of Thracia.” He paused for a moment, then went on. “I am anxious to keep my word to Caerleon, and therefore I will tell you that no one could be more delighted than he was at the rupture of his engagement to Princess Ottilie of Mœsia.”
“Ah!” said Nadia, her eyes shining for a moment, “and what do you advise me to do?”
“I don’t presume to offer you any advice whatever. If my counsel was not in accordance with your wishes, I dare not hope that you would follow it, and if it agreed with them, it would be unnecessary. I am so anxious to leave you absolutely unfettered, that I will go so far as to say that I see no likelihood of my brother’s taking the course which it seems to me would be most advantageous for the kingdom, and making another attempt to ally himself with a royal house. He appears firm in his determination to allow no one to occupy your place in his heart. I congratulate you on your triumph.”
“I hate you!” cried Nadia, with fierce irrelevance. “If anything could induce me to marry Carlino, it would be the thought that I was spoiling your plans by doing it.”
Cyril shrugged his shoulders. “I hope that I should never forget myself so far as to behave otherwise than politely to the lady who had honoured my brother with her hand,” he said.
“Oh no, there is no fear of that,” said Nadia, wearily. “But do you think I don’t know what would happen if I married him? Don’t be afraid—I am not going to accept his offer. Your conduct would be unexceptionable, no doubt, but the things you would say—the hints you would give—the way you would look at me! Whenever trouble came upon Thracia, you would make me understand that you considered it was due to me. I cannot see how you and Carlino can be brothers. He is so—and you are——”
“We seem to be both easier to imagine than describe, at any rate,” said Cyril. “I said I wouldn’t offer you any advice, and I won’t. If I were an orator like Drakovics, I might discourse to you on the beauty of self-sacrifice, the expediency of renouncing one’s private wishes for the sake of the State, and other similarly appropriate themes. But being merely a man of the world, I can only say, marry Caerleon if you like, and become Queen of Thracia. No doubt you will be very happy until the next revolution comes. Or else leave him free still, and let him and the kingdom have a chance.”
“I believe,” said Nadia, slowly, “that you would prefer that your brother had been killed rather than that he should be saved through me.”
“Now you are becoming excited,” said Cyril, “and when you think over the things you have said you will be sorry for them. Certainly I might wish that you had not chosen to warn him in such a noticeable—one might almost say theatrical—way. But that is a detail, a mere error of judgment, and does not really prejudice the fact, for which both he and I must always remain grateful to you.”