As we had both foreseen, Queen Draga incurred the obloquy of the world by marrying Alexander. Her reputation was sacrificed to his, and I believe that she deliberately posed as the instigator of all his violent and injudicious measures, in the hope of acting, so to speak, as a conductor of the popular wrath, and thereby saving her husband.
Had she been able at the same time to wean Alexander from his wild passion for herself, he and his dynasty might have been preserved. It is the charitable view to take that the young King was not fully responsible for his acts at this time. The distressing circumstances of his bringing-up, the fatal inheritance of his father’s example and influence, render it impossible to regard Alexander Obrenovitch as a normal young man.
The long period of suspense which I passed through, while watching from Paris over the safety of the Queen of Servia, was at last put an end to by a cypher telegram from the agent whom I had stationed in Belgrade unknown even to Draga herself.
‘Death of King fixed for next week. Queen must be persuaded to fly at once.’
The despatch reached me just half an hour before the departure of the Oriental express, into which I flung myself panting as it began to glide out of the station.
My agent, warned from Vienna, met me as I alighted in Belgrade.
The pallor of his countenance told me that he had bad news to communicate.
‘The worst—instantly!’ I exclaimed, in Polish, a language I have taught to all the most trusted members of my staff.
‘Nothing has happened,’ he stammered out. ‘But I tried to give a hint to the Queen; she has passed it on to her husband. The conspirators have learned that suspicion has been aroused in the Palace; and——’
‘And what?’ I seized him by the wrist.