His eyes were misty as he shook my hand, and turned away to his room. I did likewise, but slept little, I was too excited, I imagine; to-morrow I was to enter Rudarlia, my own country.
My thoughts were extremely upsetting, the conversation we had had with Colonel von Quarovitch had made me think a great deal.
Here was an elderly man, devoting his whole life to his country, without hope of recompense.
His was an example of quiet heroism that set my blood on fire. I compared his position with mine, I blushed inwardly at the comparison; of course so far I was not to blame, as I was not yet legally my own master, but in a few months from now I should be; what then would my course be?
Should I remain in England, with everything a man could wish for, or come here to Rudarlia, and exert myself to the utmost, in trying to cleanse the country of abuse?
Although I was young, I was not idiotic in my romanticism. I fully realised the futility of starting to wage war on a throne without a great deal of assistance. Could I obtain sufficient following, was I capable of directing the campaign? I would not use force, it would have to be far more subtle; the Press must be won over first, and the natural leaders among the people. Was it possible?
I turned and twisted in my most uncomfortable bed, finding the greatest difficulty in concentrating my thoughts. There were so many conflicting lines of argument to be considered; dreams, and ambitions, rose-tinted, would confuse them.
I dreamed of a Rudarlia set high above the neighbouring countries in everything, well governed, possessing a magnificent army, thoroughly trained and equipped, faithfully paid, fed and clothed, returning for it all a loyal devotion--to whom?
There, my thoughts balked--to the present King Ivan? Impossible. His heir, according to Quarovitch, was little better. Who then? God knows the misery I experienced in that cul-de-sac; I could see no way out, except in the idea of a republic, and the thought of Rudarlia as anything but a kingdom was unthinkable.
The only foreign power to which we could turn in safety for a monarch was England. No German princeling or Austrian Archduke would serve. Russia? As well ask a fox to take care of a chicken. Fool that I was, here was I, a stranger, imagining that I alone could save the country; there must be hundreds of brave men, far more shrewd than I, with influence and wealth, who had no doubt thought and even tried to do the same thing, yet they had failed. That was my opinion when I reached the blank wall in my mind, yet I could not give in, some power seemed to be urging me to try other ways.