“I think she is fit for any throne on earth,” said Caerleon, indignantly. “Your Highness seems determined to misunderstand me. It is not my fault that Nadia--I beg your pardon, Miss O’Malachy--is not Queen of Thracia at this moment; but she would not have me when I was King, and yet she wouldn’t allow me to abdicate. She put me on my honour to stay in Thracia until I was turned out, and refused to have anything to say to me as long as I stayed there. Of course I see the difficulties in the way. Her Scythian blood, and her name, would make the people detest the marriage at first, even now, especially after what has just happened, and Drakovics would oppose it violently, and he is capable of a good deal. But time works wonders, and if she would have given me a grain of hope, I would have waited any number of years; but she wouldn’t, and therefore your Highness can’t wonder that I shall be glad if Prince Otto Georg is left in peaceable possession of the throne.” “This is a declaration of war, then? If you find yourself once more a private individual, you will again ask Nadia to marry you, and do your best to deprive me of my child?” “Like a shot,” returned Caerleon, promptly. “I am sorry if you think I am ungrateful, but I thought it only fair to tell you the state of the case.” “You are right. I prefer an open enemy. Now, I can see that all your fatigues and anxieties have left you very tired, and no wonder. Don’t let me keep you up if you would rather go to your room at once. I hope the servants have made you comfortable?” “Perfectly, thank you. But I am going to sit up and look after my brother.” “Are you?” asked the Princess. “I think not. I lay my commands upon you to leave him to-night to my care and Tatiana’s, while you take a good rest. If you wish to please me (and you know that I am a very important person to please if you want to marry Nadia) you will do as I tell you.” “How can I thank you for all your kindness?” asked Caerleon, gratefully, but she stopped him at once. “By saying nothing about it. Good night.” “I don’t think she is really as angry with me for wanting to marry Nadia as she seemed to be just now,” was Caerleon’s reflection as he kissed her hand, while the Princess was congratulating herself that she had at least shown him plainly that he need not contemplate marrying Nadia out of pity, nor imagine that she had no friends.