“Not in favour of Thracia, at any rate. Thracia had me once, and resigned me with quite unnecessary willingness. Now she may want me, but she can’t have me. The punishment is deserved.” “But for our sakes, Count--your friends?” “No, Prince, I am not up to it. I gave the best part of my life to building up a workable and fairly honest system of government, and two years have been enough to reduce it to chaos. I could not submit to the years of weary office drudgery over again. New work I can take up and carry through; but I have lost the patience and elasticity I used to possess, and I will not fail where I succeeded once.” CHAPTER IV. A DISTURBING ELEMENT. The bitter words in which Cyril renounced all interest in Thracia were interrupted by an exclamation from Mansfield, who was staring incredulously at a little party of people approaching from one of the winding paths. There were an old lady in a bath-chair, a girl, and a young man, the last two unmistakably English. “Don’t you see, Count? It’s Lady Phil and Usk!” cried Mansfield, quickening his steps; but Cyril caught him by the arm. “Wait a minute, Mansfield. Did my brother stipulate that you were not to speak to Lady Phil during this year of probation? If he did, I will curb my natural longing to see my niece, and we will turn our backs upon danger.” “Oh, no, really!” Mansfield was horror-struck by the suggestion. “I was not to follow her about; but I was never forbidden to speak to her if we met. Lord Caerleon trusted me, I am sure.” “Caerleon was always trustful,” said Cyril unkindly; but he consented to keep pace with Mansfield’s hurrying feet, and was considerate enough to allow the young people to greet one another apart, while he presented Prince Mirkovics in due form to Princess Soudaroff, an exiled Scythian lady who occupied the position of godmother to both the Marchioness of Caerleon and her daughter. Had the matter rested with him, he would have left them to themselves for a longer time, but Prince Mirkovics, who was standing with his hat in his hand, looked at him reproachfully. “Alas, Count! am I not to enjoy the honour of being presented also to Madame your niece?” “Prince Mirkovics accords you royal honours, Phil,” said Cyril. “Is it necessary to mention that Lady Philippa is Lord Caerleon’s daughter, Prince?” “Quite unnecessary, Count. Madame must not come to Thracia unless she comes as queen. There are still old men who remember her father’s reign, and it goes without saying that all the young men would be ready to champion the cause of such a lady.” “I’m so glad you think me like my father,” said Philippa, in her old impulsive way. “But even if he was still King of Thracia, I shouldn’t be of any importance, you know. Usk would be the great person, not I.” Prince Mirkovics glanced at the slight dark-haired youth whose mirthful grey eyes met his across the bath-chair, and shook his head.