“Far from it, madame. My hopes have never climbed so high.”
Horror was taking hold upon her, but she was still unconquered. “Let them make the effort, then, Count. Otherwise Europe will see you as the traitor this journalist calls you. You are too deeply involved to draw back with honour. I hold your reputation in my hands, and Prince Soudaroff is behind me. Choose! Safety and——” she touched the wedding-ring on her finger, “or——”
“Evidently, madame, you are unaware that I have just recommended the Emperor of Pannonia to nominate Prince Franz Immanuel of Schwarzwald-Molzau as his candidate for the post—one of the posts—you are good enough to offer me. His religious opinions are so truly liberal—for in view of the uncertainty as to his future he has been brought up on an admirably eclectic system, so as to be ready for any country that may need a king—that he seems the very man for it.”
The vague terror which had seized the Princess became certainty. Her face hardened, her lips grew tense, and her right hand went swiftly to her head. Cyril understood the movement. The peasant-girls of Dardania carry in their hair a silver-hilted dagger as a part of their elaborate head-dress, and the Princess had worn the national costume constantly before her widowhood. He wondered mechanically whether she had contrived to retain the weapon under the folds of her cap, and if so, how many seconds he had to live. Almost before the thought had crossed his mind, however, the hand dropped again, empty. The dagger was not there. The Princess pointed silently to the door, and he bowed and retreated. Her voice arrested him before he reached the threshold.
“Why have you done this?” she demanded passionately. “Oh, I know—I have not forgotten your threat to revenge yourself on me. But that I should have been deceived by you—I!”
She sat for a moment without speaking, then rose and came towards him.
“Come, Count, you have had your revenge, and enjoyed it, no doubt. You had a right to it, I will confess, so let it pass. We are quits now. Why not start afresh? Purely as a matter of business, don’t you think you are very foolish to quarrel with me? You and I together could do anything we chose. What is the use of pitting our wits continually against each other? You know what I can do for you—you have no prospects otherwise. Let us blot out the last quarter of an hour. Why should not our compact remain in force? What do you say?” She laid her hand upon his arm, and behind her honeyed smile a passionate eagerness shone in her eyes and trembled upon her lips. Many men would have succumbed to the temptation of the woman and what she offered. Not so Cyril.
“I can only repeat, madame, that I know of no compact.”
She drew back from him and stood erect. “Then there is some other woman,” she said, absolute certainty in her voice. “Is it Ernestine?”
“It is Ernestine.”