‘Yes, thou canst love, dear Mercia, I know it; for thine eyes were made for the conquest of man’s heart, rather than star-gazing. Cease to disregard the designs of Nature when she formed thee, and yield thyself to the pleasure of love.’ Mercia essayed to answer him, but her tongue refused her utterance, so great was her confusion. She blushed violently, and at last stammered out— ‘Sire, I know not what answer to give in this matter—I am yet unprepared,—perplexed with this reasoning of thine.’ ‘Hast thou not felt the want of companionship, dear Mercia? Here penned in this solitude only fit for a greybeard thou dost pine, yet knoweth not what it is ails thee. It is good to be loved, fair one, to realise how much thy womanhood means: hast thou never felt its joys—its pains?’ ‘But my bond, Sire, I cannot break my bond, signed by my own hand, to forswear love and marriage: no one but thyself can relieve me of this obligation,’ exclaimed Mercia excitedly. ‘I heartily relieve thee, then, my good Mercia. I care not for the bond one iota, if that be all that’s in thy way. Keep thy post as thou likest thy work so well, and enjoy the delights of love at the same time,’ replied the delighted monarch, who found it most difficult to conceal his fancied triumph. Mercia uttered a low cry of joy, and in her gratitude threw herself at his feet, then taking his willing hand in hers, she pressed it to her lips in silence, for her heart was too full for speech. When the matter had arrived thus far, the Emperor forgetting the caution and self-restraint he had been hitherto exercising, was no longer able to contain himself; stooping down towards the kneeling girl he caught her in his arms, and in a perfect frenzy of rapture commenced to shower hot kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her lips. Mercia was so completely taken aback by this unexpected raid, that her brain fairly reeled for a moment; then recovering her senses she quickly wrenched herself out of his arms, and gazing on him with blanched face, she cried in a voice gasping with pain and indignation— ‘What means the Emperor by this unheard-of liberty? What have I done that I should be treated as a courtesan by my Sovereign?’ ‘A courtesan!’ he repeated. ‘Why Mercia, I would give thee a crown if I could! Thy queenly brow was truly made for one; and by the stars, thou shalt have it yet! Yes, Mercia thou shalt share my throne and rule me, my sweet, together with mine Empire.’ ‘Share thy throne and rule thine Empire! Surely, Sire, thou hast gone mad!’ ‘Yes, truly, I am mad—mad with love for thee, and thou knowest it, Mercia, else wouldst thou have kissed my hand in acknowledgment of it?’ ‘In acknowledgment of _thy_ love!’ she answered in strong indignant tones, ‘it was not so—thy love never entered my thought.’ ‘Whose then?’ questioned Felicitas shortly. ‘Geometrus,’ she acknowledged bravely. But the next moment she felt she had given away both herself and him.