He looked at her with deep admiration. “Princess, you are more than woman. I confess that I have not discovered in your brother the capacity—the faculty, I should say—for such a plot, and if you assure me that you cherished no grudge against me, I rejoice to proclaim my conviction of your ignorance of it.”
“So far was I from cherishing a grudge, that when once you left off following me about, your affairs did not even interest me,” said Zoe, rather hastily.
“Ah, there spoke the woman, after all! That blessed little touch of pique! But have no fear of me, Princess. You shall not be ‘worried’ by your patient Apolis. You impose a probation, a test? So be it, then. You shall see me emerge from it with credit, or die in the attempt.”
“I don’t impose anything of the kind!” in alarm. Evidently nothing but the plain declaration that she cared for some one else would pierce the armour of this man’s self-conceit, and she had far too little confidence in his discretion to make it. “I hope you will emerge with credit, of course, but it has nothing to do with me.”
“Ah, cruel! But since you will it——” with a deep sigh. “Henceforth Apolis is silent, until his moment of triumph. Then—— But it is forbidden. I understand. I am discreet as the tomb.”
“A remarkably indiscreet tomb, then!” said Zoe in indignation, as they reached the welcome refuge of the monastery gates. Eirene was waiting for her in the gallery, full of excitement and anxiety, after receiving her little son’s fragmentary and incoherent account of the morning’s doings. The effect of Zoe’s narrative was to confirm her sister-in-law in her fixed determination never to let Constantine out of her sight again, his peril looming much larger in her eyes than that to which the whole peninsula had been exposed. When Zoe dragged herself away to rest at last, it was with the exasperated conviction that her lot was cast among the most irritating set of human beings that was ever assembled on one spot. Her sole consolation sprang from the reflection that as she was the only available unmarried woman, it was natural for Prince Romanos to fancy himself in love with her, and that as soon as he returned to the society he was so well fitted to adorn, his affections would at once be diverted to other objects. But there was more in the man than a roving fancy and a colossal self-esteem, or even than considerable poetic gifts, and this Maurice and Wylie discovered the same evening.
They were sitting in the gallery, discussing rather anxiously how soon Armitage might be expected to reappear, and what means could be devised of communicating with the yacht, in view of the close blockade which had been proclaimed that morning, and which had already been enforced in the case of several small vessels approaching from the mainland, which had been ruthlessly turned back by boats from the fleet. Prince Romanos was accustomed to spend this time in entertaining the ladies, and incidentally the guards and a few bold monks, with song and recitation, but this evening he joined the two men, with a modesty of manner which was almost an apology in itself.
“I am going to ask you to allow me a definite part in the defence,” he said to Maurice. “I fear you have thought me a sad idler hitherto, but I had my reasons. I observed that when I mentioned I had fought with the Foreign Legion in the Roumi-Morean War, Colonel Wylie appeared to think it but a poor recommendation—and I confess that I know little about drill. But it is different in the case of ships, of the water. There, Prince, I am at home. The instinct of sea-fighting is in my blood, as your Admiral observed only yesterday, and it is in this direction I ask you to find me employment. Colonel Wylie, whose preparations are so complete, so far-reaching, has organised the fishermen of the peninsula for land defence, but I believe he has made no use of their boats?”
“No, except as scouts,” said Wylie, interested in spite of himself. The Greek’s sallow face was flushed, and his eyes bright.
“Then commit this portion of our forces to my care,” he entreated. “No, I am not mad. I have no intention of provoking a conflict with the armed boats of the warships, far less of attempting to attack those vessels themselves, but there are humbler ways in which I might be useful. Even the blockade will hardly prevent our fishermen from exercising their calling in their own waters. Why, then, should we not make use of them occasionally to penetrate farther, and bring us provision and news, perhaps reinforcements and warlike stores? But for such work they must be trained and directed. Then we must—oh, pardon me; I speak too boldly in my enthusiasm for my own element—should we not possess our own counter-blockade? A service of fishing-boats constantly patrolling our coasts to guard against a landing—if this had been in existence to-day, there would have been no fear of the raid which endangered not only our whole enterprise, but the life of the peerless lady who calls you brother, Prince.”