“Why, just this. Your son has had his lesson, and unless he’s a fool he won’t need any more. If he does, the Bluebird will be on hand yet.”
“I hoped you might be going to yield to his wishes in the matter of the yacht. It would be a very graceful concession, and he could not help being touched by it. It would show your confidence in him——”
“Confidence?” repeated Félicia. “I don’t confide in him worth a cent. You say he can’t trust me because I tricked Usk? Well, he helped me do it, so I can’t trust him. I shall continue to run the Bluebird myself, and I’ll have Mr Hicks get a relief crew ready for me when this one wants to go home. And after all, you can just take it from me that this will be the best thing for Michael too. He would trample on a woman that couldn’t defend herself, but one who’s as strong as he is he will respect. And I guess I’ll have him know that he can’t trample on me.”
A few weeks later, and the gathering at Drinitza had dispersed to the four winds of heaven. The Grand-Duke and Duchess had returned to Molzau, and Michael and Félicia to Bellaviste. Lord and Lady Caerleon were on their way to Pavelsburg, where they were to meet Prince Soudaroff (purely on a business footing) and arrange with him for the fulfilment of his sister-in-law’s dying wishes; and Usk and Helene, with their diminished retinue, were on board a leisurely, old-fashioned steamer, which was supposed to be likely to reach England before the end of the year. Cyril and his wife were at Trieste, whence they intended to sail for Syria, but before leaving they were to meet the Chevalier Goldberg, who had entreated them mysteriously not to sail before seeing something that he had to show them. They drove down to a wharf belonging to a private firm, at which a large steamer was loading, and here the Chevalier met them, joyful, alert, elated, almost inspired.
“Well, Chevalier, and where is this wonderful sight?” asked Cyril, looking round at the crates and boxes which were ready to be shipped. At present, what looked like a number of huge blocks of stone were being swung on board.
“Dis iss it,” was the proud reply, as the Chevalier waved his hand to include all the bustle around, “de crown off your worrk, Count—de consummation off de freeink off Issrael.”
“But what are all these things? and what are they for?”
“Dey are de stones off de Temple which iss to be built in de Holy City.”
“You are actually going to rebuild the Temple! Why, you never told me.”
“It wass a secret hope, not to be told efen to de Chentile det hed done so much for Zion. But de stones hef been preparink for a cheneration, maybe lonker. See, here are de great blocks off marble for buildink—all squared and dressed, so det dere may be no sound off iron on de sacred site. Dere iss only one small part off dem on board dis ship; oders will follow. In dese boxes and cases are many oder thinks—rare marble off many colours for de linink off de walls, carfed by de greatest artists, wonderful metal-work, mosaic off precious stones, holy fessels off golt and silfer, embroideries such ess queens and sultans might lonk for in fain. All dose det are wise-hearted hef gifen, men and women alike—de poor woman her silfer clasp, de rich woman her diamonts. De glory off dis letter House shell be greater den any since de first.”