“Then I suppose there is no use in my giving you her message?” said Cyril. “You may as well let me have it,” said Caerleon, reluctantly. “She impressed upon me that she would not consent to see you under any circumstances. She said she came here to try to do you a service, and found herself your prisoner. If you chose to force yourself upon her in defiance of her wishes, she must submit, since you were her gaoler, but she believed you were a gentleman, and would respect her desire for privacy.” “What is one to do with a girl like that?” groaned Caerleon. He would have liked to accuse Cyril of inventing the message, but it bore the impress of Nadia’s somewhat impracticable style of heroism too plainly not to be genuine. “Still, she doesn’t understand the case. I will put it to her that if she will marry me, she will be clearing me from imputations that have been made against me.” “If she doesn’t understand the case then, she is not so clever as I think her,” retorted Cyril; “and if you don’t put it strong enough she won’t listen to you for a moment. Now look here: she has a home promised her at Pavelsburg with Princess Soudaroff, her godmother, with whom she lived before, and she only needs an escort to the Scythian frontier. The governor’s wife would be quite willing to take the little trip at your expense, and I will accompany them as far as Boloszjen, where they will get the proper train. Then she will be all right, and we can hush the matter up without any scandal at all.” “And leave this wretched slander unrefuted?” “Nonsense! the mere fact of the Princess’s receiving her again into her house will refute it. Besides, I contradicted it at the time.” “I am extremely obliged to you for your solicitude about my affairs. Perhaps on another occasion you will remember that I also have some slight interest in them. Well, I will see her, and then decide.” “Of course, if you care to force yourself upon her after what she has said----” “You will drive me wild, Cyril. I will write to her, then.” “No, you won’t. At least, I am not going to carry any letter. You ought to know by this time that you should never put on paper anything that might prove compromising later on. I’ll take any number of messages from you, if you like, and deliver them without note or comment.” “What do I care about being compromised? If you will tell me the most compromising form in which a letter can be written, I’ll write it.” “I see. What I was afraid of was your compromising her.” “Oh, go and tell her what I want. You badger a man till he doesn’t know whether he’s standing on his head or his heels! But if you will make her understand that I beg and beseech and entreat her to marry me, and that I undertake that the people shall receive her joyfully as queen, I’ll forgive you--that is, if you bring back word that she says yes.”