“I hope M. Drakovics is happy,” returned Caerleon, in a tone which showed pretty plainly that he himself was not. “I have accepted the offer of the Thracian crown.” “Then I congratulate the Thracians,” said Madame O’Malachy, heartily. “My dear marquis (you really must excuse my employing the old title), I have seldom heard a more delightful piece of news. The Thracians could not do better, and for yourself it is a situation exactly adapted to your character and talents. You have your opportunity now.” “I thought so myself until a minute ago,” said Caerleon, gloomily; “but now I begin to doubt it. Nadia will have nothing to say to me.” “Nadia--my daughter?” with a slight elevation of the eyebrows. “Yes,” said Caerleon, scarcely noticing the touch of _hauteur_ which the lady had infused into her tone. “She seemed so much disappointed about my having refused the crown before that I thought she would certainly be pleased now, and she--she spoke as if she had never met me before in her life.” “But that may be quite as well,” returned Madame O’Malachy, gracefully determined not to be baulked of her point. “You must remember that the friendship _à l’anglaise_ which has subsisted hitherto between your Majesty and my daughter cannot continue under present circumstances. You will now occupy very different positions.” “Is that what Miss O’Malachy is thinking?” asked Caerleon, quickly. “I have not spoken to her on the subject, but I have no doubt that she has that in her mind.” “Then might I beg that you will have the kindness to let me see her again at once, madame? I will do my best to disabuse her of the idea.” “But what will you do, my dear marquis?” “Ask her to share the throne with me.” “But it is impossible!” cried Madame O’Malachy. “I cannot hear of such a thing. Your Majesty’s chivalrous sentiments have carried you away, and you are willing to atone for a slight mistake by a lifelong sacrifice. Your friendship was a mistake--I admit it freely, in view of the events which have since come to pass--but we will not make matters worse by overestimating it. I sympathise with you, but I assure you that you need fear no trouble from us. Suffer us simply to retire quietly--we will not force ourselves upon your notice, and my daughter is far too proud to exhibit any regret for what has happened.” “But you don’t understand, madame,” cried Caerleon, impatiently. “There is nothing to regret in our friendship--on my side, at any rate. Of course I can’t answer for Miss O’Malachy’s feelings, but I am only anxious to replace the friendship by--by something stronger.” “My dear marquis, I honour your chivalry, but your future is not in your own hands. M. Drakovics will have something to say about it.” “M. Drakovics will have nothing to say on the subject of my marriage. That is a question I shall settle for myself.”