She glanced at him with mingled terror and indignation in her eyes, and he raised his hand soothingly.
“Do not mistake me, my most beautiful. It is quite possible for you to leave this house, force your way into the Palace—the guards shall have orders not to stop you—and lay the proofs of our marriage before the Council, calling in those good, kind-hearted meddlers”—the sneer was terrific—“Princess Emilia and her mother-in-law, to vouch to your words. The result is simple. Exit Romanos, Prince of Emathia, and enter the Englishman, Prince Maurice Theophanis, with his wife and his sister and his sister’s husband, to succeed to all the honours your husband lays down.”
“You know I don’t want you to lose your kingdom. For what other reason have I submitted to this two years’ concealment? But how can things ever be better? What hope is there that you will ever find it safe to acknowledge me as your wife?”
“Ah, now my beloved is becoming more reasonable! Listen, then, my little dove. I have a hope—a great hope—that I may be able to accomplish your wish—and my own—very shortly. This railway imbroglio must be settled first. At present Scythia and Pannonia are bidding against one another for the privilege of traversing your husband’s state, while he merely intimates that the price offered is not high enough. They are raising their offers. I have already had a shadowy hint of the bare possibility that my position may be made permanent instead of merely renewable after five years—even that it may become hereditary.”
“Who offers that?” she asked, with a gasp.
“Ah, that I can hardly tell you at present. But you see, my Olimpia, the frightful delicacy of the situation. The merest breath of suspicion would blast irretrievably this charming prospect—and incidentally your husband’s whole career. Wait until the proposal is made definitely, until the bargain is completed, and instead of the mere temporary nominee of Europe, Romanos the First is acknowledged ruler of Emathia in his own right. Then is the moment for him proudly to present his Princess to an admiring world, and to announce that the succession is already secured in the person of a remarkably vigorous infant heir.”
The Lady’s troubled features relaxed into an involuntary smile. “Ah, that would be magnificent!” she said. “You swear it, Romanos? that there shall be no more delay, no more of this vain entreaty on my part, but that the moment your position is assured you will justify me to the world?”
“I swear it! by all the natural objects to which poets have ever appealed to ratify their vows.”
His lightness jarred upon her. “Do you think it is any pleasure to me to lower myself by these continual appeals to you?” she demanded.
“I hope so, my soul, for you can hardly imagine it is any pleasure to me. Ah, beautiful one, not more tragedy, I beseech you! Smile and look lovingly upon your poet. The Prince has enough of seriousness outside.”