"
The Prince removed his cigar from his mouth and looked grave.
"But, my dear Brott," he said, "have you considered the enormous
gulf between your--views? The Countess owns great hereditary
estates, she comes from a family which is almost Royal, she herself
is an aristocrat to the backbone. It is a class against which you
have declared war. How can you possibly come together on common
ground?"
Brott was silent for a moment. Looking at him steadily the Prince
was surprised at the change in the man's appearance. His cheeks
seemed blanched and his skin drawn. He had lost flesh, his eyes
were hollow, and he frequently betrayed in small mannerisms a
nervousness wholly new and unfamiliar to him.
"You speak as a man of sense, Prince," he said after a while. "You
are absolutely correct. This matter has caused me a great deal of
anxious thought. To falter at this moment is to lose, politically,
all that I have worked for all my life. It is to lose the confidence
of the people who have trusted me. It is a betrayal, the thought of
which is a constant shame to me. But, on the other hand, Lucille
is the dearest thing to me in life."
The Prince's expression was wholly sympathetic. The derision which
lurked behind he kept wholly concealed. A strong man so abjectly
in the toils, and he to be chosen for his confidant! It was
melodrama with a dash of humour.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258