“You wonder why I speak like this to you. I can read it in your eyes—for am I not trained to find the truth in the face and hear the lies in the voice? Well, I would warn you, and more, I would warn that good, true, noble woman whom you love. Time was when I hated her, and believed all the harm that was said of her; but now that I have learnt her real object—to act, not with, but against, the bloodsuckers who seek to devour the land—I know her goodness and sincerity. But the movement must fail. The Russians know of it, General Kolfort best of all, and he has already taken his measures to thwart you all. And you will find his hand a heavy one, Count. If the Princess Christina had succeeded in gaining the throne on her own terms—I mean by means of the men you and those with you were seeking to train as her adherents—she must still have failed in her object, and have doomed herself to a lot as miserable and hopeless as mine has been. But Kolfort does not mean her to succeed; and, I warn you, the measures of prevention will be sharp, sudden, and terrible in their severity.”
I sat amazed and disconcerted at his words.
“You wonder how I know all this, and set it down to the Countess Bokara. Of course, she has told me; but I have my news straight from General Kolfort himself. You little know Bulgaria or the Bulgarians, or you would have seen the consummate hopelessness of trying to avoid treachery. Every man you have added to your band has been a fresh centre of probable treachery. The rule here is each man for himself; and some one of the men with you was bound to ask himself in time whether he could not gain more for himself by carrying the news to the Russians than by standing true to a desperate cause like your Princess’s. Someone has betrayed you; and the betrayal began when your love was known. They do not believe in disinterested love in this country, Count. The peasants may, but no one else. And when that secret leaked out, General Kolfort’s task of suborning a traitor became easy enough. If I knew the scoundrel’s name I would give it you, that you might cut his heart and tongue out for his cowardice. But, believe me, everything is known—everything. And your knowledge of that grim Russian leader may tell you what to expect.” He spoke with all the earnestness of a troubled friend; and I could not doubt him.
“When did your Highness learn this?” I asked after a pause.
“Yesterday. Three days ago, the General came to me with proposals that showed he had some fresh plans in mind. He was all for my remaining here as reigning Prince, and offered to concede more than half the conditions of freedom of action I had before demanded. It was a pity to disturb the country by a change of rulers; the country was thriving under my wise rule; the people were growing more contented, and the malcontents could be overawed; the advantages of my rule were appreciated in St. Petersburg, and the basis of achieving mutual ends might probably be arranged with honour to me and substantial benefit to the country; and so on for an hour or more he prated. I asked the reason for the change of tone, and he hummed and hesitated, and, in a word, lied. I said I must have time to think; and he gave me till yesterday. Last night he came with his tale prepared—that the Princess was conspiring for an end hostile to both my aims and those of Russia; that you were her right hand and had been set on by her to fight and kill the Duke Sergius, but had succeeded only in wounding him; that your plot was to use the Russian influence to gain the throne and then yourself marry her and reign as her consort; and to gain this end you were both prepared to throw the country into the throes of a civil war which God forfend, and so on, till I was sick to death of his intriguing slanders. I tried to lure him on to tell me what he proposed for you, but he contented himself with saying he had all but completed what I might rely upon would be effectual measures of precaution.”
“May I venture to ask how your Highness answered him?”
“How should I answer him but as I have always answered? That I would never bend the knee to Russia; that I did not believe St. Petersburg would ever sanction any such arrangement as he outlined; and that if what he stated of the objects of the Princess were true, I would be the first to abdicate in her favour and join with her in her efforts, shouldering a musket if need be, in the ranks of the men to fight for her; and that would I, Count, if I saw the faintest gleam of a hope of success. But there is not a chance, no jot or tittle of hope.”
“Now that we have been betrayed, that is.”
“Before the betrayal the chances were not one in a hundred; now they are not one in a million. There is but one course for you and for her—flight, and at once.”
“She will not desert the men who have stood by her. Nor shall I,” I answered firmly.