“No one is better fitted to improve them than yourself, my beloved Olimpia. And at least she is staunch, and would give her heart’s blood for Janni.”
“What is the danger at which you are always hinting? Is there something new?”
“There is always a certain amount of unpleasantness,” he replied evasively. “And this visit of Theophanis and his brother-in-law will stir up their supporters. My beautiful one, it is my particular wish that you have a proper guard for the present—inside the garden.”
“To guard the Princess—or the Lady?” she asked coldly.
He uttered a furious exclamation. “Olimpia, you are enough to drive a man mad! Do you think I have invited Theophanis here to hand over the crown to him? It will task all my powers to hoodwink him and Glafko as to the promising negociation which is to end by seating you beside me on the throne, and would you have me ruin everything by making him aware of your existence now?”
“Perhaps you are also hoodwinking me on the same subject? No, I will have no guards within these walls. Here, at any rate, I need not see the pointing finger, or hear the things your people say of me. Any danger that may threaten Janni or me is entirely due to your refusing, in defiance of all your promises, to acknowledge us, and I will not accept further protection at your hands while the concealment lasts.”
“Olimpia!” Prince Romanos had thrown himself on his knees, in an attitude that would have been impossibly theatrical in any other man. “You wrong me deeply; I call all the saints to witness to it. Believe me, you should not remain in concealment another hour, if the necessity were not urgent. It is your throne and mine—Janni’s throne, our son’s throne—that is in danger. Trust your husband,” he leaned forward and enfolded her hands in his—“or if not your husband, trust the poet to whom you plighted your troth on the marble terrace among the orange-trees.”
“I do trust you,” she said wearily, allowing her hands to rest in his—“because I must. I remain here because I have nowhere else to go. I have wounded my father grievously for your sake by begging him not to come. You may send your guards here if you will tell them the truth about me. But within these walls everyone must know that I am the Princess and your wife.”
“It is impossible,” he murmured gloomily.
“So I thought. So it will always be when I urge you to make the truth known. You have no intention whatever of acknowledging it.”