They say that you are at heart a democrat. That it is in your
mind to marry this daughter of an American tradesman, to offer her to
the people of Theos as their queen."

"It is true," he answered. "What of it?"

She looked at him for a moment as though stricken with a sudden blow.
To her the idea was heresy, rank and foul. A storm of indignant
passion swept through her.

"It is impossible," she cried, fiercely. "There is not a lady of
Theos who would attend your Court. Do you think that I--Marie of
Reist, would kiss the hand of this Van Decht woman--I, or any of the
others? Oh, it is madness."

"Countess," he said, quietly, "we will choose another time for the
discussion of this matter. You must forgive me if I beg that you will
leave me."

"Another time," she answered. "Oh, listen! You depend at this moment
on the loyalty of Theos to defend your throne. Do you believe that you
could command it if this were known? In the mountains the Turks are
gathering a great army, in the city there is treachery. Ah, you start,
but my words are true. If the words which you have spoken to me had
been spoken from the balcony there your throne would have been lost
forever."

He looked at her curiously--not altogether unimpressed. Treachery!
What did she mean by that? She moved a step nearer to him. Underneath
her loose gown her bosom rose and fell quickly. Her face was flushed
and her eyes brilliant.

"Your Majesty," she said, "do you know that by all the traditions of
Theos you are betrothed to me--that the people of Theos wait day by
day for the announcement?"

He looked at her in blank amazement. He was bereft of words. Her eyes
flashed fire upon him.

"It is an insult--this purpose of yours," she cried. "You and I have
drunk together from the King's cup. It has been the betrothal ceremony
in the royal House of Theos for generations. You a stranger, who owe
your very throne to us, have dared to ignore it--you, who propose to
raise to the throne of the most ancient kingdom of Europe a woman of
unknown birth. It is an infamy."

"Countess," he answered, "you know quite well that I was ignorant of
your custom, of the history of that cup."

"There are times," she said, fiercely, "when ignorance is worse than
crime. No man yet, even a king, has lived to break faith with the
House of Reist."

He had recovered himself--and he remembered. He addressed her
steadily, yet with a growing coldness in his tone.

"Is it your wish