“I hoped,” said Cyril, deliberately, “that you regarded that affair as over and done with, and were intending to sacrifice your private feelings and do the best thing for the country.” “You thought I was intending to be a scoundrel?” “I _wish_ you would not be melodramatic,” said Cyril, pathetically. “Here we are, between the devil, which is Scythia, and the deep sea of the neutrality of the other Powers, and you have the chance of settling everything on a firm foundation by marrying a very handsome girl belonging to one of the oldest houses in Europe. I am not given to preaching, but I do say that it would be a sin not to sacrifice your feelings in such a case, and marry her. The marriage would simply be the making of you and Thracia both.” “I--will--not--do--it,” said Caerleon, forcing out the words slowly. “As for Miss O’Malachy,” went on Cyril, “I give her credit for possessing much too good sense to wish to keep you a bachelor all your life for her sake. If you were to consult her, I am sure she would wish you to make a suitable marriage. In fact, I should think she has probably advised you already to do so.” The blow told, for Caerleon winced at the remembrance of the advice which it had been almost harder for him to hear from her lips than for Nadia to give. “She knew perfectly well what she was doing when she refused you. It meant that you were each to go your own way in the future, with no thought of the other. If you don’t marry, it will be thought you still have hopes of her.” “And what is it to you if I have?” demanded Caerleon, so fiercely that Cyril jumped. He could not think of anything to say, and presently Caerleon resumed in a quieter tone, “But I have none. She put me on my honour to stick to the kingdom, and so long as I am king she will have nothing to do with me.” “I knew she was a sensible woman!” said Cyril, triumphantly. “Now, Caerleon, let me advise you to take this thing quietly. See Princess Ottilie. You haven’t an idea what she is really like, and you may find her very like Miss O’Malachy----” (“I hope to goodness he won’t!” he added to himself), “or she may catch your heart at the rebound, or you may fall head over ears in love with her, and find that you really mistook your feelings last time----” “I am so sure of my feelings,” interrupted Caerleon, “that I won’t pretend to run after another girl for anything you can offer me.” “Then I should like to know what you mean to do,” said Cyril. “It’s not a private and personal matter; it is to save your kingdom.” “Hang the kingdom!” cried Caerleon. “I won’t sell myself for the sake of Thracia. If I can’t be king and be a gentleman, let the kingdom go.”