“There would at least be no excuse for interrupting them, sir. If we could point to five years of peace and advance, and a contented people—but it demands sacrifices. And first of all, the Prince will make every amends in his power to the memory of the lady whom he so truly loved and so deeply mourns.” The Cavaliere, who had been sitting sunk in his chair, looked up sharply. “The marriage, so unfortunately concealed, will be made public, and insisted upon in every possible way. The child whose life has been so wonderfully preserved will be brought forward as heir of the Christodoridi and his father’s natural successor on the throne, and the body of his mother, whom I may now without offence style the Princess of Emathia, taken from its present resting-place and deposited with all honour in the vaults of the metropolitan church. Do you ask how we propose to face the public opposition? There will be none. Once it is known that Prince Romanos married the heiress of Maxim Psicha, and that their son unites in his own person the princely crowns of Emathia and Illyria, the match will be received with enthusiasm.”
“And the murderers of my daughter?” asked the Cavaliere in a hollow voice.
Embarrassment returned upon Professor Panagiotis. “For the sake of Emathia, it is suggested that we all consent to certain sacrifices, monsieur,” he said, after some hesitation. “It will be impossible, I fear, to extricate ourselves from the late negociations without conceding to Scythia and Pannonia an influence in our domestic affairs which we shall find very irksome. We look confidently to Prince Theophanis and his family for pecuniary help in making that influence as small as possible. My master resigns his natural desire for vengeance, since you will see that to accuse Pannonia of plotting the murder of his wife would precipitate instantly the crisis we hope to avert. Is it too much to ask you to exercise a like self-restraint?”
“In order that Romanos Christodoridi may be left in peaceable possession of the throne he has disgraced? I tell you, Mr Professor, I will tear him from it!”
“Will you ruin your grandson’s future, monsieur?”
“Shall I buy a throne for my grandson at the price of his mother’s blood? I would rather bring him up in a garret! No, I refuse your bribe!” he turned upon Prince Romanos. “Your plan is clear to me now. I will do you justice; you did not want to have to kill your wife. Her acknowledgment that your marriage was invalid would have been sufficient to clear the way to your Grand Duchess. But she refused to become a party to the dishonour you wished to bring upon her——”
“Pardon me, monsieur. The lady’s honour is vindicated in the fullest possible way by my proposal,” said the Professor.
“Yes, because she is the heiress of Maxim Psicha. But she was also my daughter, and she was foully murdered by her own husband’s order. I can see it all—that last interview, the demand for her acquiescence in her own disgrace, her staunch refusal, the angry departure of the dastardly husband, the arrival of his bloodthirsty instruments! I see it, and as I see it Europe shall see it also.”
“Europe will ask for proof,” said Prince Romanos. “I may tell you that my wife and I parted the best of friends.”
“Europe will ask for proof of that. Where is the letter that the nurse says she was writing when the murderers came?”