“Where to, Sir?” asked the man.
Moret advanced to the carriage. “I will go on the box,” he said. “I can take the carriage on after dropping you,” and before Savrola could say a word he had climbed on to the seat beside the driver.
“Where to, Sir?” repeated the coachman.
“Home,” said Savrola desperately.
The carriage started, passed through the cheering crowds, and out into the less frequented parts of the city.
XI
In the Watches of the Night
Lucile lay back in the cushions of the brougham with a feeling of intense relief. He had saved her. An emotion of gratitude filled her mind, and on the impulse of the moment she took his hand and pressed it. It was the third time in their renewed acquaintance that their hands had met, and each time the significance had been different.
Savrola smiled. “It was most imprudent of your Excellency to venture into a crowd like that. Luckily I thought of an expedient in time. I trust you were not hurt in the throng?”
“No,” said Lucile; “a man struck me with his elbow and I screamed. I should never have come.”
“It was dangerous.”
“I wanted to—” She paused.
“To hear me speak,” he added, finishing her sentence for her.
“Yes; to see you use your power.”
“I am flattered by the interest you take in me.”
“Oh, it was on purely political grounds.”
There was the suspicion of a smile on her face. He looked at her quickly. What did she mean? Why should it be necessary to say so? Her mind had contemplated another reason, then.
“I hope you were not bored,” he said.
“It is terrible to have power like that,” she replied earnestly; and then after a pause, “Where are we going to?”
“I would have driven you to the palace,” said Savrola, “but our ingenuous young friend on the box has made it necessary that we should keep up this farce for a little longer. It will be necessary to get rid of him. For the present you had best remain my niece.”
She looked up at him with an amused smile, and then said seriously: “It was brilliant of you to have thought of it, and noble of you to have carried it out. I shall never forget it; you have done me a great service.”
“Here we are,” said Savrola at length, as the brougham drew up at the entrance of his house. He opened the carriage-door; Moret jumped off the box and rang the bell. After a pause the old housekeeper opened the door. Savrola called to her. “Ah, Bettine, I am glad you are up. Here is my niece, who has been to the meeting to hear me speak and has been jostled by the crowd. I shall not let her go home alone tonight. Have you a bedroom ready?”
“There is the spare room on the first floor,” answered the old woman; “but I fear that would never do.”
“Why not?” asked Savrola quickly.
“Because the sheets for the big bed are not aired, and since the chimney was swept there has been no fire there.”
“Oh, well, you must try and do what you can. Good night, Moret. Will you send the carriage back as soon as you have done with it? I have some notes to send to The Rising Tide office about the articles for tomorrow morning. Don’t forget—as quickly as you can, for I am tired out.”
“Good night,” said Moret. “You have made the finest speech of your life. Nothing can stop us while we have you to lead the way.”
He got into the carriage and drove off. Savrola and Lucile ascended the stairs to the sitting-room, while the housekeeper bustled off to make preparations for the airing of sheets and pillowcases. Lucile looked round the room with interest and curiosity. “I am in the heart of the enemy’s camp now,” she said.
“You will be in many hearts during your life,” said Savrola, “whether you remain a queen or not.”
“You are still determined to drive us out?”
“You heard what I said tonight.”
“I ought to hate you,” said Lucile; “and yet I don’t feel that we are enemies.”
“We are on opposite sides,” he replied.
“Only politics come between us.”
“Politics and persons,” he added significantly, using a hackneyed phrase.
She looked at him with a startled glance. What did he mean? Had he read deeper into her heart than she herself had dared to look? “Where does that door lead to?” she asked irrelevantly.
“That? It leads to the roof—to my observatory.”
“Oh show it me,” she cried. “Is it there you watch the stars?”
“I often look at them. I love them; they are full of suggestions and ideas.”
He unlocked the door and led the way up the narrow winding stairs on to the platform. It was, as is usual in Laurania, a delicious night. Lucile walked to the parapet and looked over; all the lamps of the town twinkled beneath, and above were the stars.
Suddenly, far out in the harbour, a broad white beam of light shot out; it was the searchlight of a warship. For a moment it swept along the military mole and rested on the battery at the mouth of the channel. The fleet was leaving the port, and picking its way through the difficult passage.
Savrola had been informed of the approaching departure of the admiral, and realised at once the meaning of what he saw. “That,” he said, “may precipitate matters.”
“You mean that when the ships are gone you will no longer fear to rise?”
“I do not fear; but it is better to await a good moment.”
“And that moment?”
“Is perhaps imminent. I should like you to leave the capital. It will be no place for women in a few days. Your husband knows it; why has he not sent
