“It is strange, isn’t it,” said Cyril, “that Miss O’Malachy should have failed to keep Caerleon on the throne, after all her trying, and that the one piece of his work which he hoped would last should be undone six weeks after he leaves Thracia? They have both failed utterly.”
“Some people’s failures are better than other people’s successes,” said the Princess, with unwonted sharpness. “I must say that I prefer your brother’s failure to the success which would have been yours had you been able to secure his remaining on the throne.”
“Well, I can congratulate myself that I did what I could to keep him there,” said Cyril, a little uncomfortably.
“Can you indeed congratulate yourself?” asked the Princess. “I do not know what your methods were, but I remember that you did not appear to look back upon them with complacency when you thought yourself dying.”
“Well, you know, I felt that I had played it rather low down on Caerleon, and that isn’t a thing one cares to think of.”
“You schemed to separate your brother and his bride,” said the Princess. “Whether you actually went beyond the truth in anything that you said I do not know; but it seems to me that you would not have called your conduct honourable in a private matter.”
“That’s just it. Public business is conducted on different principles.”
“Is it? But why? Public considerations required, as you thought, that Carlino should not marry Nadia. Accordingly, you sought to separate them, and you succeeded for a time. Happily, you were not permanently successful, and your efforts were overruled for good. But of what use were your attempts? God did not intend your brother to be King of Thracia, and you could not keep him on the throne.”
“But would you have one simply let things slide?”
“I would have you leave things to God. When you find that you can go no further in your chosen path without breaking His laws, is it not a sign that you are to stop there?”