“But it is myself!” cried Nadia, desperately. “I am not what you want in a wife, not good enough, not--not important enough. I should do nothing but bring trouble upon you. I am afraid to marry you. I dare not do it. I will not.” “I think you will, when you understand how much I want you,” said Caerleon, with all the spirit of his fighting forefathers roused by her opposition. “Why, I am offering you work, and you know you have often told me that it is wrong to refuse work when it comes in one’s way. You cannot tell me that you mean to cast me off because you are afraid of the silly remarks people will make?” “Oh, why will you make me say it?” she cried, driven to bay by his tone. “I will not marry you, then, because you ought to marry a princess--some one who has been brought up to be a queen, and whose family will be a support to you in Europe. That is what you must do.” “Nadia!” he said in astonishment, “you tell me to marry a stranger, when I love you? You can’t think that right?” “I know,” she said, despairingly. “It all seems to me horribly, fearfully wrong, but it must be right, because it is so hard to do.” “You are in love with martyrdom,” he said, with unwonted sternness; “but you have no right to try to sacrifice me as well as yourself.” “Very well, say that I am in love with martyrdom, then,” she answered, drearily. “Persuade yourself that I love it better than I do you.” “I have no doubt you do,” returned Caerleon; “but I have the misfortune to love you better than an utterly unnecessary sacrifice.” “And I,” she said, “love you so much that for your sake I can separate myself from you for ever.” “Is that your idea of love?” he asked bitterly, but with something of dismay in his voice. “It is,” she answered. “But, Nadia, this is monstrous!” he cried. “You tell me that you love me, and yet you order me to marry some one else. You must know that such a thing can’t be right. Sit down here quietly, and let us talk the matter out. I think you will see that you are cruelly unfair.” “I daresay I should,” said Nadia, refusing to take the seat to which he tried to draw her. “I have not a doubt that you could convince me--make me yield, at any rate, since my own heart is on your side. But you will not. I know that you are stronger than I am, and you will not take an ignoble advantage of your strength to make me do what I know is wrong. Think,” as he gazed at her in silence, “how we should feel, if I married you, and our marriage plunged Thracia into misfortunes--if you were forced to abdicate.” “I should do it with a good conscience, and go home happily with you,” returned Caerleon, with unexpected promptness. “If that’s all, I’ll abdicate now. What do I care for the kingdom? There has been nothing but worry and rumours of approaching trouble since I accepted it, and if it’s to come between you and me, I’ll have nothing more to do with it.”