had
gone according to his liking. All the time her eyes questioned him.

"One thing," he declared, "is certain. Never again will a republic
exist in Theos. Two generations of _roues_ and madmen have not
sickened this people of the House of Tyrnaus. Their loyalty is
amazing."

"This man," she said, "is neither _roue_ nor madman."

"It is true," he admitted.

He drank his wine, and as he set the glass down he felt her watching
him. He understood the unspoken question in her deep, blue eyes.

"Of his betrothal," Reist said, slowly, "there was no word."

She drew herself up haughtily, a slim, stately figure in her
magnificent white dress, caught up with jewels, and the curious
bejewelled head-dress which in Theos was the symbol of her rank. Yet
Nicholas, who watched her closely, caught the gleam of something in
her eyes which surprised him. It was more like relief than anger.

"Was our ancient usage explained to him?" she asked.

"Yes! I told him that an unmarried king was contrary to the
time-sanctioned custom of our country. I told him that the
announcement of his betrothal should be made at the moment of
his coronation. The people expected it, and it would add immensely
to his popularity."

"You told him that?"

"Yes!"

"And he answered?"

"He answered me with a jest. As yet he was not prepared to marry or to
think of marriage. He preferred to retain his liberty."

She bit her lip, and the colour mantled in her cheeks.

"And you?"

He hesitated.

"It was after the words of the ceremony. He was my king. Between a
Reist and a Tyrnaus the difference is purely accidental. The Reists
are, indeed, the older and the nobler family. But between a Reist and
his king there is a gulf. I cannot point my sword against him."

She walked restlessly up and down the room. Her thoughts were in
confusion. For some vague, unacknowledged cause, her first impulse had
been one of relief. She had expected a formal offer for her hand, and
she would scarcely admit even to herself that that expectation had
been a dread. Yet to be ignored touched her pride keenly. She stopped
by her brother's chair.

"What, then?" she asked. "Am I, the Countess Marie of Reist, to be
flouted and passed over by a beggarly soldier, whose life has been
spent as an adventurer, because the blood of the House of Tyrnaus is
in his veins and chance has brought him to the throne? Nicholas, am I
to look to you in vain to avenge this insult?"

The man