An Uncrowned King Chapter 10 Part 8

“I only wish you had displayed a little of this aggressive virtue before,” said Cyril. “You quite gave Drakovics to understand, when he first offered you the crown, that you were prepared to fall in with his views on matrimony, and he has merely been acting upon that.”

“On the contrary, I disagreed with his ideas even then,” said Caerleon; “and if I hadn’t, what has happened since would have put my adopting them out of the question. You ought to know that. But perhaps it was you that put Drakovics up to this business about Princess Ottilie?” turning upon him sharply.

“No, on my honour,” said Cyril, eagerly, relieved at being able to deny with perfect truth this direct accusation. “Drakovics is a Spartan sort of fellow, and I suppose he thinks that as soon as you are off with the old love you may as well be on with a new. It’s his own idea altogether.”

“I beg your pardon, old man,” said Caerleon. “Everything is so crooked in this wretched place that I was even beginning to suspect you. But I am glad you had nothing to do with it. Just telephone to Drakovics to come up at once, will you?”

“Why?” asked Cyril, standing before the tube, lest his brother should resent his hesitation and insist on using it himself.

“That he may explain to the King of Mœsia that he has made a mistake, of course.”

“But, Caerleon, you can’t do things in that way!” cried Cyril. “Think of the girl! Why, the news is public property by this time, all over Europe, and there isn’t a soul that won’t believe but that you have found out something against her that has made you change your mind.”

“Then I will disown Drakovics’s action, and say that he acted without my authority.”

“Then he will resign, and you will lose the only man who possesses the confidence of the people, and can support you to any purpose at this juncture. You can’t do it, Caerleon. Besides, that again is a nasty one for the girl. Won’t you see her? No one can tell what might happen then.”

“If I see her, I shall simply tell her the whole story,” said Caerleon, grimly. “She will have no wish to marry me after that.”

“Let me tell her about the matter for you,” suggested Cyril.

“No, thank you,” returned his brother. “I have a pretty fair idea of the way you would speak of it—as a youthful indiscretion, of which I was ashamed. And I am not ashamed. I should be the proudest man on earth if Nadia were to be crowned with me this day two months.”

“Very well,” sighed Cyril. “I suppose if you will make an ass of yourself, you must. We are to arrange, then, for a personal interview, in the course of which you will, in so many words, refuse to marry Princess Ottilie?”

“There’s no occasion to do anything so rude. I shall simply tell her the truth, and leave it to her to refuse me. Or I’ll write to her. Yes, that’s much the best plan. It will save time and a lot of difficulty.”

“But you can’t!” cried Cyril, with his hand on the door. “Do you mean to write to a girl who hasn’t even accepted you, and tell her you won’t marry her? No, you must see her, as you say, and explain things. I’ll manage to get you an interview somehow, though it’s against my better judgment.”

“Be quick, then,” cried Caerleon after him, as he went out, “for if there’s any delay, I shall write to her myself.”