No more could be said, and Nadia remained silent, feeling that she had wasted an opportunity. All that could be done during the day for her mother’s comfort she did, feeling all the time humbly and unhappily conscious that she was not a good nurse. Her movements were too deliberate, no one could call her deft, and she felt sure that mistakes which passed unnoticed by her sick children and their parents were setting her mother’s teeth on edge at this moment. There was no one to give her any real help, although the people of the inn did what they could. The doctor had departed immediately after giving his verdict, and would not return until late at night, for he was an over-worked general practitioner, and was gone to visit several cases in a different direction, in which his ministrations might possibly prove effective, while for this patient nothing could be done. Even if the O’Malachy were still to be found at the address to which the telegram had been sent, he could not be expected at Witska for three days at least, and it was by no means certain that he had not left before it could reach him. Nadia felt utterly lonely. Wearied and inexpressibly miserable, she sat down by the stove in the dusk, longing to say something, she knew not what, to her mother, to break down, even at this eleventh hour, the barrier of silence which their lives had raised between them. But she was tongue-tied, and it was Madame O’Malachy who spoke first. “Turn your face this way a little, my daughter, that I may see you. No; I cannot understand it. Tell me, what was it about you that attracted the notice of King Carlino?” “I don’t know,” said Nadia, humbly. “I think it was only that he loved me.” “Yes; but why did he love you?” resumed Madame O’Malachy. “You do not make the most of yourself, you have no conversation, you make no effort to be agreeable. Is it that he admired your plainness of speech, which I, for one, call brutal?” “Perhaps, a little,” said Nadia. “Not altogether, certainly.” “You seem very doubtful,” said her mother. “Have you never asked yourself these interesting questions? How are you to retain your influence over men if you have no idea of the means by which you first attracted their attention--their admiration?” “I don’t want to obtain influence over men,” said Nadia, in a choking voice. “My own life has not been so successful that I need make any more efforts to direct others.” “That exactly proves the truth of what I was saying,” said Madame O’Malachy. “Tell me,” she added suddenly--“do you still love this young man?” Nadia dropped on her knees by the bedside, and hid her face in the coverlet. “It is cruel to ask me,” she sobbed, “when he is going to marry the Princess of Mœsia; but I do.” “I hear that he looks most unhappy, and appears to loathe the engagement into which he has undoubtedly been forced,” said her mother. Nadia raised her clasped hands in wild appeal.