is. He lived on those dreams. He promised her it would be so. Every year he would say it yet again." She met Rathbone's eyes. "So to answer your question, he would not see returning to Felzburg as going back on his commitment to Gisela but as returning in triumph with her at his side, vindicating all he had ever believed. But she is not a fool. She knows it would never be so. He would return, and she would be denied entrance, publicly humiliated. He would be astounded, dismayed, distraught, but by then Rolf Lansdorff and the Queen would see to it that he did not renounce a second time."
"You believe that is what would have happened?" he asked quietly.
"We shall never know, shall we?" Zorah said with a curious, bleak smile. "He is dead."
The impact of it shook Rathbone suddenly and forcibly. Now murder did not seem so unreasonable. People had been killed for immeasurably less.
"I see," he said very soberly. "That does make a very strong argument which a jury of ordinary men from any street would grasp." He folded his hands into a steeple and leaned his elbows on the desk. "Now, why should they believe it was the unfortunate widow who committed murder, and not some follower of Prince Waldo or of any other German power who believes in unification? Surely they also have powerful motives? Countless murders have been committed for the gain or loss of a kingdom, but would Gisela really kill Friedrich rather than lose him?"
Her strong, slender fingers grasped the arms of the leather chair as she leaned forward towards him, her face intent.
"Yes!" she said unwaveringly. "She doesn't care a fig about Felzburg, or any of us. If he returns now, renouncing her - whether it was by his own will or by coercion is immaterial; the world won't know or care - then the whole dream crumbles, the great love story falls apart She is a pathetic, even ridiculous figure, a woman abandoned after twelve years of marriage, no longer in her first youth."
Her face sharpened, her voice grew husky. "On the other hand, if she is widowed, then she is the great figure of domestic tragedy again, the center of admiration and envy. She has mystery, allure. And she is free to offer her favor to admirers or not, as long as she is discreet. She goes down in legend as one of the world's great lovers, to be remembered in song and story. Who would not in their hearts envy that? It is a kind of immortality. Above all, one remembers her with awe, with respect. No one laughs. And of course," she added, "she has his private fortune."
"I see." He was convinced in spite of himself. She had his total attention, his intellect and his emotion. He could not help imagining the passions which had moved the Prince at first, his overwhelming love for a woman, so intense he had sacrificed a country and a throne for her. What must she be like? What radiance of character, what unique charms, had she to inspire such a love?
Was she something like Zorah Rostova herself, so intensely alive she awoke in him dreams and hungers he had not even realized he possessed? Did she fill him with vitality also, and make him believe in himself, see in a wild glance all that he could be or become? What sleepless nights had he spent, struggling between duty and desire? How had he compared the thought of a life devoted to the court - the daily, endless formalities, the distance which must inevitably surround a king, the loneliness of being without the woman he loved - and the temptation of a life in exile with the constant companionship of such an extraordinary lover? They would grow old together, separated from family and country, and yet never alone. Except for the guilt. Did he feel guilt for having chosen the path of his longing, not his duty?
And the woman. What choices had she faced? Or was it for her simply a battle, win or lose? Was Zorah right, had Gisela wanted desperately to be queen - and lost? Or had she only loved the man and been prepared to be painted the villainess by her country as long as she could love him and be with him? Was she now a woman whose life was ended by grief? Or was it a circumstance brought about by her own hand, either