“Oh yes, of course; but it’s quite a different thing now. You must think me an utter cad if you imagine that I’m going to let her take this journey just to save me, and get herself into awful trouble with her own people, and then simply send her adrift again after it all. It’s absolutely the only thing to be done.” “It’s a most unfortunate affair altogether,” said Cyril, meditatively. “If you ask me, Caerleon, I say that the only thing to be done is to get her out of the city to-night, and hush the matter up. Just wait a moment, and listen to me. You may not know--I didn’t want to bother you at the time--that very nasty reports got into the Scythian papers a little while ago about you and her. The O’Malachys left Bellaviste hastily and in dudgeon, you see, and the old man takes it into his head suddenly to express a deadly hatred of you, and begins to talk big about the vengeance he will have for the way in which you have treated his daughter. The girl makes no sign, but all at once, hearing of your engagement to Princess Ottilie (for she must have started before it was known to be at an end), she returns in disguise and attempts to murder you--that is how it will appear,--and all this will be simply nuts for the newspapers.” “This is awful!” groaned Caerleon, aghast. “You mean to say that I have let her in for vile suspicions of that kind?” “I should have said that she had let you in for them. But it’s my firm impression that she knows as little about this Scythian _canard_ as you did a minute ago. If she had known, she is not fool enough to have used that dagger as she did.” “I don’t quite see what you are driving at. That doesn’t make any difference. Get out a special ‘Gazette,’ will you?--you’re always issuing special ‘Gazettes’ for some reason or other--and tell the truth in it for once. Give her reason for coming here, and--no, I’ll draw it up myself.” “Caerleon, stop!” cried Cyril, peremptorily, “and listen to me. You can’t carry things off in this way. No one would believe your story, and it would be said that you had married her as the price of her silence.” “Stuff!” said Caerleon, contemptuously. “I shall ask the Queen of Mœsia to invite her to Eusebia on a short visit, and that will put an end to these slanders. As for leaving her unprotected now, I tell you I won’t hear of it.” “Do you mean to marry her against her will?” asked Cyril. “No, I shall see her and make her understand the state of the case--not telling her anything of what you have said, of course. But I am sure I could have made her listen to me before, only she begged me not to urge her against her conscience, and I obeyed her, like a fool! At any rate, I won’t do that again. It would be absurd to talk about refusing me now for the sake of the kingdom,--after what has happened she must know that, for if I don’t marry her I shan’t marry at all,--and besides, when once the people hear why she came here to-day, they will be ready to worship her.”