“It seems to me, madame, that one of the actors on the stage was under the same delusion as the audience. Would it suit your Royal Highness to drop metaphor for a moment, and let us see how we stand?” The Princess was genuinely puzzled. She lifted her eyes to Cyril’s face, but discovered there no response to her smile. Was it possible that the man had misunderstood her from the beginning? No, it was merely that he was cautious, he would not commit himself without specific encouragement. “You cannot have forgotten our compact already?” she cried merrily. “I was not aware that there was any compact between us, madame.” The Princess began to perceive whither all this tended. “Not that I was to make you Prince of Palestine? and you----” she stopped suddenly. “Far from it, madame. My hopes have never climbed so high.” Horror was taking hold upon her, but she was still unconquered. “Let them make the effort, then, Count. Otherwise Europe will see you as the traitor this journalist calls you. You are too deeply involved to draw back with honour. I hold your reputation in my hands, and Prince Soudaroff is behind me. Choose! Safety and----” she touched the wedding-ring on her finger, “or----” “Evidently, madame, you are unaware that I have just recommended the Emperor of Pannonia to nominate Prince Franz Immanuel of Schwarzwald-Molzau as his candidate for the post--one of the posts--you are good enough to offer me. His religious opinions are so truly liberal--for in view of the uncertainty as to his future he has been brought up on an admirably eclectic system, so as to be ready for any country that may need a king--that he seems the very man for it.” The vague terror which had seized the Princess became certainty. Her face hardened, her lips grew tense, and her right hand went swiftly to her head. Cyril understood the movement. The peasant-girls of Dardania carry in their hair a silver-hilted dagger as a part of their elaborate head-dress, and the Princess had worn the national costume constantly before her widowhood. He wondered mechanically whether she had contrived to retain the weapon under the folds of her cap, and if so, how many seconds he had to live. Almost before the thought had crossed his mind, however, the hand dropped again, empty. The dagger was not there. The Princess pointed silently to the door, and he bowed and retreated. Her voice arrested him before he reached the threshold. “Why have you done this?” she demanded passionately. “Oh, I know--I have not forgotten your threat to revenge yourself on me. But that I should have been deceived by you--I!” She sat for a moment without speaking, then rose and came towards him.