"What are you going to do?" she asked, at last.
"G.o.d only knows!" he answered, bitterly. "I have no King and no country. Yet if I stay here I shall go mad."
She removed her hands from her face and looked at him stealthily.
"If there were a way," she whispered, "to save Theos, and to be avenged on Ughtred of Tyrnaus."
He stopped short.
"What do you mean?"
"If there were still a way," she whispered, "by which our old dream might come true. If it were still possible that you might become the saviour of our country, might even now rescue it from the Turks----"
"Plain words," he cried. "Let there be no enigmas between you and me.
What do you mean?"
She looked at him more boldly.
"If a great Power should say "I will not help Theos in her trouble because I do not recognize Ughtred of Tyrnaus, but if the right man is willing to accept the throne--so--I will stretch out my hand--the war shall cease--Theos shall be free." What do you think of that, Nicholas?"
He looked at her with new eyes.
"Whose thoughts are these?" he asked, slowly.
"Domiloff"s!"
"He has spoken to you?"
"Yes!"
"It is treason," he cried, hoa.r.s.ely. "I will have none of it."
"Who," she asked, "is a greater traitor than Ughtred of Tyrnaus?"
He was silent.
"Who," she cried, "is better beloved in Theos?--who could rule the people more wisely than you, Nicholas? It would save our country from conquest and pillage. It is--the only way. Is it not what we have spoken of before--have not you yourself pointed upwards to that motto, whose writing is surely no less clear to-day? Oh, Nicholas, you cannot hesitate."
He walked to the window and looked out towards the hills, where the red lights still flared and the guns made sullen music. Her words were like poison to him.
"Listen, Nicholas," she said. "While Ughtred of Tyrnaus is king no help will come to us from any other nation, and without help how can Theos hold out against a hundred thousand Turks? We have few soldiers and fewer guns. Our population will be decimated, our country laid waste, and the end will be slavery. It is for you to save us all. It is you who can save Theos."
He looked at her with cold, stern eyes.
"How long have you been the confidante of Domiloff?"
"It is only lately," she answered, "that he has spoken to me of these things. I think, Nicholas, that he is afraid of you."
"Perhaps," Reist remarked, bitterly, "he mistook me for an honest man."
"It is freedom for Theos," she said, softly, "and revenge upon the King. Whatever may befall him from our hands he has deserved."
"Is Domiloff still in Theos?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You will find him at the Cafe Metropolitan," she said, "only he is now a Frenchman. You must ask for Monsieur Abouyat."
Reist moved restlessly up and down the room. Often his fingers sought the place where his sword should have been.
"Something I must do," he muttered. "I might disguise myself as a peasant and fight in the ranks. To be here idle is horrible; to go to Domiloff--I cannot!"
He looked gloomily out into the darkness. The inaction was unendurable. She crossed the room to his side and laid her hand upon his arm.
"It is not by standing still, Nicholas, or by indecision that you can preserve your country or avenge your honour," she said. "Go to Domiloff. Hear what he has to say. Then ask yourself what is best for Theos."
"Domiloff has the tongue of a fiend," he answered, "or a serpent. I do not dare to trust myself with him. Russia would play us false in the end. Our freedom would be undermined. I myself should be a puppet, a doll, at the beck and call of a master. Oh, I know how these Russians treat an independent State if once their fingers are upon her throat."
"You talk as though Theos were not already doomed," she cried. "What hope have we as it is? Nicholas, have you ever thought what must happen when the Turks have crossed the frontier. You know their way--it is blood and fire and desolation. Have you considered the women and children, Nicholas?"
He groaned. The recollection of former raids was lurid and terrible enough. It was hard for him to see clearly. And his scabbard was empty.
"I will go to Domiloff," he said at last, "I will hear what he has to say."
CHAPTER x.x.xV
It was very dark, very stuffy, and a strong, malodorous suggestion of garlic pervaded the little _cafe_. The ordinary customers of the place preferred always the round tables outside, and very few pa.s.sed through the worn swing doors which led to the gloomy interior. The two men who occupied one of the small part.i.tions had the place to themselves.
"It is not the time, this, for any weak scruples, my dear Reist,"
Domiloff was saying. "Theos in a week"s time will be either a Russian State forever, or once more a free country with a ruler who is one of her own sons, and in whom my master can repose every confidence. You see I am very frank with you. I admit that this attack upon your country is the will and the decree of Russia. It was broached in London, confirmed in St. Petersburg, and planned in Constantinople.
Yet, believe me, it was conceived in no spirit of enmity to Theos. It is simply this. We will not have a Tyrnaus upon the throne of Theos."
"Your country," Reist answered, hoa.r.s.ely, "has no great reputation for generosity. What are we to pay for our freedom? You would not have me believe that there is no price."
"There is none," was the quiet answer, "which you, as a patriot and a Thetian, need hesitate to pay. We should require the abolition of the present edict prohibiting Russians from holding public offices, and a few more such unimportant concessions. They are nothing. They will serve only to knit our countries more closely together in friendship."
Reist laughed hardly.
"Yet I think," he said, "that the freedom of Theos would become somewhat of a jest were I to accept your terms."
"The alternative," Domiloff remarked, "may seem more pleasing to you.
Yet I have heard people say unpleasant things of the Turkish yoke."
"Theos is not yet conquered," Reist answered. "Ughtred, to do him justice, is a soldier, and my people have the love of fighting born in their hearts."