“By the blue sky, that’s a curiosity. Why, old Petrosch is in the very thick of the army plans and dead against the Court, King, Queen, and all the rest of them. He’ll grin when I tell him.”
“The Minister assured me that the army was loyal to the throne, and that the Colonel could convince me of that. He admitted there was some disaffection in certain regiments, but that the feeling was insignificant.”
“Oh, he’s an ass; and nothing else. That’s the usual rot talked in the Court circles; and of course the officers don’t undeceive them and shew their hand.”
“And what’s the truth?”
“Why that—of course we’re talking as old friends, Bergwyn, and you won’t repeat what I say?”
“I give you my word on that. I’m going to talk to you presently about myself on the same understanding.”
“Well, the fact is then that we’re on the eve of a revolution; and there’s only one real power in the country. The army. They can’t stand the Queen’s methods—and they don’t mean to.”
“Show me.”
“I can’t understand either the King or the Queen. She’s one of the most wonderful women that ever drew breath; and in some respects the ablest and shrewdest. In others, she acts like a perfect fool. She comes from the people, of course; and that’s against her; but she could have made her position absolutely secure if she’d shewn a gulden’s worth of tact in the right direction. But she never does. She could have had the army leaders at her feet; but she has alienated every one of them, by sticking all sorts of impossible men, relations or favourites, at the top of things; and degrading every man of capacity who won’t kow-tow to her in everything. As a result, bar her favourites she hasn’t a friend left in the army. It’s the same in everything else; and the limit has been reached.”
“And the King?”