“Forgive me, my husband. Surely it seems a good thought, to bring the Englishmen here and tell them the truth under a promise of secrecy? They are honourable men, and would watch over Janni’s rights if anything happens to you and me.”
“You are incorrigible, Olimpia. Don’t you see that those two men are the very last to whom the secret must be revealed? Theophanis is my rival, and bound for his own sake to take advantage of any slip on my part.”
“But he is so honourable, Romanos—punctiliously, quixotically honourable, as you have often said yourself.”
He moved restlessly. “That’s all very well, but he may be secretly plotting against me all the time. And to give him a hold upon me now—it would be sheer insanity. I told you it was the railway business they were coming to discuss. Doesn’t it occur to you that these good simple fools would never willingly consent to allow either Scythia or Pannonia to gain the power over us that the concession would give them?”
“But what do they propose you should do?”
“They have some idea of an international guarantee, which would merely mean that we should have ten nations claiming control over our affairs instead of one. No, if they like to construct the line entirely from their own resources, and so keep it all in the family, as one may say, I am quite willing. It will leave Emathia independent, and keep them from intriguing against me by using up their money. But they won’t. So they are coming to argue about it, and I shall have to ply them with fair words and try to hustle them back to Klaustra before the negociations come to a head.”
“But do you think it safe to give Scythia or Pannonia the control of the line?”
“I should not, if they had not something supremely desirable to offer in exchange. You know what that is, and you should be the last person to have scruples about it.”
“Yes, let me see,” she said meditatively. “You are confirmed in the absolute possession of Emathia, and it is secured to your heirs. “And—” she paused—“you marry the third cousin twice removed of the Emperor of Scythia. You intend to murder me, I suppose? For I warn you, Prince Romanos Christodoridi, that I will not accept a divorce, nor will I go tamely away disgraced. I am your wife,” her voice broke, “and for my child’s sake, I mean to be acknowledged as your Princess.” She burst away from him in a passion of tears, and ran into the house.
“Now how in the world did she manage to hear of that little point?” demanded Prince Romanos of himself, as he rose reluctantly to follow her. “The most delicate matter of all—to reap the benefit without paying the price. She will ruin everything in this mood. Olimpia! Olimpia!” he raised his voice, “you are cruelly unjust to me. I insist upon your hearing what I have to say.”