“Mademoiselle, I acknowledge you readily as a true prophet--I will even confess that your reproaches are deserved--but it lies with her Majesty, and not with you, to grant or refuse me an interview.” “It does lie with me. I refuse to submit your request to her Majesty, do you understand? I take upon myself the responsibility of excluding you from her presence. You shall not tear open the cruel wound you once made. I will have you dragged back again to your prison.” “Pardon me, mademoiselle. I am master of the situation at present, for I fancy the Arabs would obey my orders--perhaps as readily as your own. In any case, the sounds of a scuffle would attract the Queen’s attention.” “I have no fear of the fidelity of the Arabs, Count.” “Then pray test it, mademoiselle. I ask merely that my presence here should come to her Majesty’s knowledge. Her pleasure is my law. If she refuses to grant me an audience, I will go away without another word.” “Then consider that she has refused it, for it will not be granted. I am bold enough to risk her Majesty’s displeasure when it falls to me to guard her happiness. You need not hope to move me by an air of meekness, of suffering. Pray remain there in the sun the whole day. I rejoice to see you shut out--unable to reach her. Nothing could please me better.” “Pardon me, mademoiselle, there is one thing wanting to complete your enjoyment. If her Majesty rejoiced to see me shut out, then you could be happy indeed. But you are afraid to lay my request before her, because you know that she would grant it.” “I cannot stand talking all day,” said the lady angrily. “You, Count, have doubtless plenty of time to spare. I hope you may enjoy yourself!” She disappeared from the grating, and all through the long, hot, noonday hours Cyril held his ground, with Mansfield, as determined as himself, at his side. Recommended to find his way back to the cave and take counsel with Mr Hicks, Mansfield refused to leave his post in the portico. With the nature of the grudge that Princess Anna Mirkovics cherished against Count Mortimer he was unacquainted; but she seemed to have little regard for consequences provided she could obtain her revenge. In the course of the afternoon she appeared again at the window, fresh from a cool siesta--so, with a refinement of cruelty, she informed them--and jeered at Cyril’s persistence in remaining where he was not wanted, and where he could do no good. Even Mansfield grew fainthearted after this. Cyril’s paleness and evident exhaustion alarmed him, and he suggested a retreat to the cave and the employment of Mr Hicks as ambassador. But Cyril was resolute.