“Prince Zertho,” she said, in honest distress, “I beg you won’t go on! I respect your devotion and your kindness, and I don’t want to inflict any hurt upon you; but oh! indeed, you must not ask this.”
“Very well,” he said sadly, rising to his feet. “Let it all be. I will not despair. You know now that I love you, and ere long I shall ask you again as I have asked. Defer your answer until then.”
“Let us go back,” she urged, shivering as she rose. “The wind has grown cold;” and in silence they together retraced their steps along the deserted Promenade.
An hour later, when Liane had gone to her room, the Captain, at Zertho’s request, walked along to the Villa Chevrier, and found his friend awaiting him in the handsome salon.
When the servant closed the door the Prince was the first to speak.
“To-night I have asked Liane to become my wife,” he said harshly, standing with his hands in his pockets.
“Well?”
“She refuses.”
“As I expected,” answered her father coldly.
“As you wish, you mean,” retorted Zertho.