Gatrina sat down and looked at him very closely.
The Colonel on his side was not without embarrassment as to how to begin. At length he said: “The Princess will, no doubt, be aware that the family of which she is a member has incurred the extreme hostility of the army. And what I said to you before, Mr. Bergwyn, I repeat now—if the Princess consults her safety and interests she will leave the country at once.”
Gatrina’s lip curled. “And if she does not consult either by adopting a course which she would consider cowardly and consent to be frightened away, what then?”
Antagonism and disbelief inspired the reply: the antagonism founded upon the Court view of the army’s attitude; the disbelief proceeding from her own private feelings. Nikolitch pulled his moustache and glanced at her with a mixture of admiration and concern; while the grim old Colonel shrugged his shoulders.
“I should apologise, Princess. I am not your Highness’s adviser, nor had I any right to assume such a position.”
“Is this all you have brought me to hear, Mr. Bergwyn?” she asked, with scarcely veiled disdain.
“No. I wish you to be convinced on two points—that the army is united and must be the deciding force in the present crisis; and that it is against your chance of succession to the Throne. Colonel Petrosch can speak with authority on both—if he will.”
“On both those points I can speak absolutely,” he replied; and very succinctly and clearly he made good his case as to the unanimity of the great majority of the regiments. That he succeeded in impressing her deeply was plain.
“And as to myself?” she asked.
“I much regret to have to say the army would not consent to serve under your Highness, or any member of your family,” he answered, decision in every syllable.