“Mr Teffany,” said the Professor angrily, “this is very fine, but it is not business. It is absurd to think that the party I represent will consent to throw its influence on the side of a candidate who derides its most cherished institutions and ideals. I ask you plainly, are you prepared to join the Orthodox Church and accept whole-heartedly the Hellenising programme of the Greek party in Emathia, as the price—if you choose to call it so—of its support of your claims?”
“And I answer you plainly—I am not.”
“Don’t decide hastily,” urged the Professor. “You may not be aware that since your rescue I have made some progress in sounding the representatives of the Powers on the subject of your claims. Sick of the clamour for reform, and the slight success of the steps already achieved, they did not turn an unfriendly ear. A Christian Governor-General, with the support of the most influential section of the population assured to him, ought to succeed, and the neutral Powers seemed to think so. There remain Scythia and Pannonia. Scythia never fights against the inevitable; you are far more likely to suffer from her patronage than her hostility. Pannonia cannot afford to be outdone in unselfish magnanimity by Scythia. In fact, the signs are so favourable that we cannot pause. If you desert us, we must press the claims of Prince Christodoridi, whose way will be cleared by your destruction of the claims of the Princess, your wife.”
“Eirene,” said Maurice, “do you want me to secure your rights at the Professor’s price?” His tone was harsh, and Eirene knew the reason. He could not be sure which side she would take. She responded to the unuttered appeal.
“Not at the price of your conscience. Do what you feel is right. Our claims remain as just as they ever were.”
Maurice’s hand sought hers in the joyful assurance of confidence not misplaced. “My wife and I are agreed,” he said. “We maintain our independence.”
“I am sorry to hear it, but there is no more to be said. You have chosen your own course, and you know the consequences——” The sentences shot out venomously.
“Most certainly, but we hold ourselves at liberty to take any steps that may commend themselves to us in support of our rights. We are still the heirs of John Theophanis, and both the common law of Europe and actual Byzantine usage are on our side. Come, Eirene.”
They left the Professor moodily gnawing the end of a penholder at his table, and once outside the room, Maurice put his arm round his wife. “You know I would rather have cut off my right hand than married you if I had known what you would lose by it,” he said.
“Maurice,” she said quickly, “you know I don’t mind. If you had yielded to him, it would have destroyed all my faith in you. I was afraid—oh, dreadfully afraid for a moment, that you would do it for my sake, but something seemed to keep me from saying a word. And now I am glad. But you don’t see”—she broke into something very like hysterics—“that even what he wanted you to do would not have put things right. It would only have been a trick, a dishonest compact between you and him and the priest. I should have married a schismatic after all!”