“Ladies!” Nadia heard Caerleon remark, in tones of dismay; but catching sight of their shadows behind Wright, he took his courage in both hands and came towards them. There is a popular superstition, which is an article of faith with some people, that a gentleman looks like a gentleman under any circumstances. Perhaps Caerleon was the exception which is said to prove the rule—at any rate, wearing neither coat nor waistcoat, and not having had the opportunity of washing or shaving for several days, he presented the appearance of an unusually powerful ruffian with whom trade had not prospered of late.
“I am most grateful for your kindness,” he said, coming to the door and bowing to the Princess; “but I could not think of trespassing upon it by accepting your offer. The fact is, we are not exactly in trim for ladies’—— Nadia!” he seized her hand in both his, and stood gazing at her, forgetful alike of the Princess and of what he had been saying, until Nadia, feeling herself growing crimson under the look in his eyes, drew her hand away and retreated behind the Princess.
“My child, you are acquainted with this gentleman, I think?” murmured her godmother reprovingly; and Nadia came forward again for an instant and said in confusion—
“The King of Thracia—Princess Soudaroff,” and retired in greater confusion still, feeling that it was indeed the most unkindest cut of all that she should be the first to remind him of his altered estate, by presenting him to the Princess instead of the Princess to him. But her godmother was already crossing the room towards Cyril, who was lying moaning and only half-conscious on a bed of maize-leaves in a corner.
“I am afraid he is very ill,” said the Princess aside to Caerleon, “and he certainly cannot be nursed here. We must take him to Valetta in my carriage immediately, and there is a room in my lodgings where he can be well looked after, and you will be safe at the same time.”
“Oh, really,” began Caerleon, “I don’t know how to thank you enough; but I can’t saddle you with all the bother of an invalid in this way.”
“Of course not,” said the Princess; “I saddle myself with him. I have the room, and he needs it. Besides, you are friends of my dear child’s, so that I cannot count you as strangers, though I hope I should do the same if you were.”
“I have seen my godmother bring home a dying beggar from the roadside, in a most dreadful state, and have him nursed and cared for,” said Nadia, reassuringly. The comparison suggested was not a particularly happy one; but her intention was so kind that Caerleon felt ashamed of the twinkle in his eye as he glanced at her, and hoped she had not seen it.
“See,” said the Princess, “we will get into the carriage, and you and your servant shall carry your brother to it. Then we will make room for you too, and the groom shall go on the box. Stay,” and she drew him aside and put her purse into his hand, “you will wish to reward these honest people who have given you shelter, and you can repay me afterwards, when you have been able to make arrangements.”
“You are too good, Princess,” said Caerleon, gratefully; and he remunerated the farmer and his family for their kindness in a way that left them calling down blessings on his head. Then he and Wright carried Cyril to the carriage, where the Princess and Nadia had been arranging the cushions as comfortably as they could for him, and when he had been propped up safely, they were able to leave the farm on the way back to Valetta. There was little opportunity for conversation during the drive, for Cyril was restless and uneasy, and turned continually from Nadia to his brother in weary bewilderment, relapsing now and then into moaning unconsciousness, so that every one was glad when the city was reached. It was now dusk, and the friendly twilight prevented the Princess’s strange companions from being noticed in their passage through the streets and their entrance into the house. Alessandro had done his work well. The doctor was in attendance, and Cyril was speedily relegated to a comfortable bed, and delivered over to the care of an elderly woman, the widow of a martyred Bibelist, whom the Princess had brought with her on her travels as Nadia’s maid. The doctor said that cold and exposure had brought on an attack of pleurisy, but he hoped that it might not prove very serious; and Caerleon, much relieved by the verdict, gave himself up to the tender mercies of Alessandro, who provided suitable clothes in a marvellous manner, and sent him down in proper trim, an hour later, to dine with the ladies. He was warmly welcomed by the Princess, who had found all her kindness of heart necessary hitherto to help her to conceal the dismay she had felt at his appearance, and who positively beamed upon the transformation effected by Alessandro.