Il Boschetto was reached after a further drive—a pleasant oasis of gardens and orange-groves in the midst of the surrounding desolation, and the northern eyes of the Princess and Nadia rejoiced in the luxuriant greenness. The place was a favourite one for picnics; but it happened that there were no other visitors that day, and they had the gardens to themselves. After lunch the Princess suggested a rest in the shade; but Nadia could not sit still, and preferred to walk on by herself and obtain a view of the sea from a hill near at hand. She had been gone some time, and the Princess was becoming a little drowsy, when the sound of footsteps roused her to full consciousness, and she saw Alessandro coming towards her with a telegram in his hand. Taking it from him, she turned back among the trees and tore it open:—
“Too true that King Carlino was murdered at outbreak of revolt. Prince Otto Georg of Schwarzwald-Molzau is to be crowned King to-day.”
“This poor Carlino!” broke from the Princess. “And my poor child! how shall I tell her?”
“Marraine,” said the panting voice of Nadia behind her, “wasn’t that Alessandro I saw from the hill-top just now? It looked like him, and he seemed to be coming here. Did he bring any news?”
The Princess turned quickly, guilty and tongue-tied, crumpling the telegram in her hand. Nadia caught sight of it, and knew at once what it was.
“Marraine, you have had news of Carlino!” she cried, snatching the paper from her godmother’s reluctant hand and reading it. The moment that the words had met her eyes she dropped it with a groan.
“He is dead, and I have killed him!” she cried.
“Killed him? But you did not kill him, my child,” said the Princess.
“Yes, I did; I urged him to accept the crown, I wouldn’t let him abdicate when he wished to do it. I made him stay in Thracia, and I have killed him. It is my doing.”
“It is God’s will, dear child. You may have been the instrument——”