“In my pocket. I took it off when—I heard.”
“Put it on again. Or, no! Give it to me and let me do that myself—here, before them all. Kings must have queens, must they not? You were always mine: you are always going to be. Even the day of our wedding is not to be changed.”
“Oh, hush!” she made answer. “One’s duty to one’s country must always stand first with—kings.”
“Must it? Kings after all are only men—and a man’s first duty is to the one woman of his heart.”
“Not with kings. There is a different rule, a different law. Oh, let me go—please! I know, I fully realize, it would be different with you—if it were possible. But—it is the penalty one must pay for kingship, dear. Royalty must mate with royalty, not with a woman of the people. It is the law of all kingdoms, the immutable law.”
It was. He had forgotten that; and it came upon him now with a shock of bitter recollection. For a moment he stood silent, the colour draining out of his face, the light fading slowly from his eyes; then, of a sudden, he looked over the glittering room and across its breadth at Irma.
“It would not be possible then?” he asked.
“Not as a royal consort, sir. The people’s choice in that respect would lie with the hereditary princess of Danubia. I have already explained that to Mademoiselle. But if it should be your Majesty’s pleasure to take a morganatic wife——”
“Cut that!” rapped in Cleek’s voice like the snap of a whiplash. “So, then, one is to sell one’s honour for a crown; break a woman’s life for a kingdom, and become a royal adulterer for the sake of a throne and sceptre!”
“But, Majesty, one’s duty to one’s country is a sacred thing.”