“But I am ruler now, and, as such, I ask your Highness to withdraw from my castle.  I did not know that I was to submit to these threats and insults, or I should not have been kind enough to grant you an audience, Prince though you are.  When I came to this room it was to give you my deepest sympathy and to receive yours, not to be insulted.  You have lost a son, I my betrothed.  It ill becomes you, Prince Bolaroz, to vent your vindictiveness upon me.  My men are doing all in their power to capture the man who has so unfortunately escaped from our clutches, and I shall not allow you or any one else to dictate the manner in which we are to proceed.”  She uttered these words cuttingly, and, at their conclusion, arose to leave the room.

Bolaroz heard her through in surprise and with conflicting emotions.  There was no mistaking her indignation, so he deemed it policy to bottle his wrath, overlook the most offensive rebuke his vanity had ever received, and submit to what was evidently a just decision.

“Stay, your Highness.  I submit to your proposition regarding the other stranger, although I doubt its wisdom.  There is but one in whom I am really interested,—­the one who killed my son.  There is to be no cessation in the effort to find him, I am to understand.  I have a proposition.  With me are three hundred of my bravest soldiers.  I offer them to you in order that you may better prosecute the search.  They will remain here and you may use them in any way you see fit.  The Duke of Mizrox will linger in Edelweiss and with him you and yours may always confer.  He, also, is at your command.  This man must be retaken.  I swear, by all that is above and below me, he shall be found, if I hunt the world over to accomplish that end.  He shall not escape my vengeance!  And hark you to this:  On the twentieth of next month I shall demand payment of the debt due Axphain.  So deeply is my heart set on the death of this Grenfall Lorry that I agree now, before all these friends of ours, that if he be captured, and executed in my presence, before the twentieth of November, Graustark shall be granted the extension of time that would have obtained in the event of your espousal with the man he killed.  You hear this offer, all?  It is bound by my sacred word of honor.  His death before the twentieth gives Graustark ten years of grace.  If he is still at large, I shall claim my own.  This offer, I believe, most gracious Yetive, will greatly encourage your people in the effort to capture the man we seek.”

The Princess heard the remarkable proposition with face deathly pale, heart scarcely beating.  Again was the duty to Graustark thrust cruelly upon her.  She could save the one only by sacrificing the other.

“We will do all in our power to—­to prove ourselves grateful for your magnanimous offer,” she said.  As she passed from the room, followed by her uncle, she heard the increasing buzz of excitement on all sides, the unrestrained expressions of amazement and relief from her own subjects, the patronizing comments of the visitors, all conspiring to sound her doom.  Which way was she to turn in order to escape from herself?