“I see what you mean, but I’m afraid I should have a sneaking fondness for the poor old chap still,” said Caerleon. “But has your brother done anything, that you should talk of him in this way?” “I do not _know_,” was the reply. “I only guess. They tell me nothing. But I have found out enough to be sure about him.” “And what is that?” asked Caerleon, incautiously. Nadia drew herself up. “That I cannot tell you, Lord Caerleon. If you had now any interest in Thracia, or were likely to be at all affected by my brother’s doings, I might tell you what I believe to be the truth, but you cannot expect me to gratify mere curiosity.” “I beg your pardon, I’m sure,” said Caerleon, taken aback by this outburst. “Pray don’t think that I want to know anything you don’t wish to tell me.” “Please forgive me,” said Nadia. “I was rude again. Only I am afraid of telling you what I ought not, and I don’t wish to be disloyal, even to my family.” “I quite understand,” said Caerleon, although at the very moment he was reflecting that the ins and outs of a woman’s mind were beyond the wit of man to penetrate. “But tell me what you mean by saying _if_ I had any interest in Thracia? I remember that on the day I met you first you told me you were sorry when I declined the crown. Why was it?” “Because I thought you ought to have accepted it,” returned Nadia. Then, fearing that her tone had been slightly dictatorial, she added, hastily, “I mean that if I had been in your place I should have accepted it.” “But you thought so--you, a Scythian in politics?” asked Caerleon. “I thought I had told you that our circle--my godmother’s--are not necessarily Scythian in politics,” said Nadia. “We desire to take the side of justice, of right. I am certain that if Scythia were to enter on an unrighteous war, Count Wratisloff would lift up his voice against it at once. And so we desired for Thracia only the man who would be most likely to rule it well.” “Then you think I ought to have accepted the crown?” said Caerleon again. She caught him up quickly. “I cannot judge for you. Only your own conscience can do that. But I have always been taught never to refuse work that offered itself unsought, unless it would interfere with other work on which one was already engaged, and even then one should consider carefully which was the more important of the two. You know best where your responsibilities would have been greatest--in Thracia, or at home in England. Wherever there was most to do, there your work lay, I think. And you might have done so much for Thracia!” “But would you have had me go there against my father’s express wish?” asked Caerleon, indignantly. “If you will allow me to have had a conscience at all in the matter, I believe it pointed distinctly to staying at home as the right thing for me to do.”