At the Petit Maxim the Montagues and Capulets came to blows nightly. Everything here was either Ententophile or Germanophile: there were pro-German waiters, pro-German tables, pro-German tunes, for the benefit of the Germans and pro-Germans who occupied one half of the cabaret and applauded the Austrian performers. Equally there was the Ententist complement. If the first violin was pro-French and played sharp for an Austrian singer, the cornet was pro-German ready to break time to disconcert a French dancer. On the whole, as was natural in what is called "a center of amusement," the pro-French element predominated, and, though it was possible to sing the "Marseillaise" at the cost of a few broken glasses, the solitary occasion when "Deutschland über Alles" was attempted ended in several broken heads, a smashed chandelier, and six weeks in bed for an Austrian contralto whose face was scratched with a comb by a French artiste under the influence of ether and patriotism.
Nor was this atmosphere of plot and faction confined to general demonstrations of friendliness or hostility. Bucharest was too small a city to allow deep ramifications to either party; the gossip of the court on the day before became the gossip of the cabaret on the evening after; scarcely one successful conveyance of war material from Germany to Turkey but was openly discussed at the Petit Maxim. Intrigues and flirtations with the great powers increased the self-esteem of Rumania, who took on the air of a coquettish school-girl that finds herself surrounded by the admiration of half a dozen elderly rakes. Her dowry and good looks seemed both so secure that any little looseness of behavior would always be overlooked by the man she chose to marry in the end.
Sylvia could not help teasing some of the young officers that frequented the Petit Maxim. They changed their exquisite operatic uniforms so many times in the day: they accepted with such sublime effrontery the salute of the goose step from a squad of magnificent peasants dressed up as soldiers; they painted and powdered their faces, wore pink velvet bands round their képis under nodding panaches; and not one but could display upon his breast the ribbon of the bloodless campaign against Bulgaria of two years before. When they came jangling into the cabaret, one felt that the destinies of Europe were attached to their sword-belts, as comfort hangs upon the tinkling of a housekeeper's châtelaine.
"If Italy declares war, we shall declare war; for we are more Roman than they are. If Italy remains neutral, we shall remain neutral, because the Latin races must hold together," the patrons of the Entente avowed.
"Italy will not declare war, and we shall have to fight the Russians. We won Plevna for them and lost Bessarabia as a reward. As soon as Austria realizes that she must give us Transylvania we shall declare war," said the patrons of the Central Powers.
"We shall remain neutral. Our neutrality is precious to both sides," murmured a third set.
And, after all, Sylvia thought, the last was probably the wisest view, for it would be a shame to spoil the pretty uniforms of the officers and a crime to maim the bodies of the nobler peasants they commanded.
In such an atmosphere Sylvia had to postpone any solution of the spiritual side of Queenie's problem and concentrate upon keeping her out of immediate mischief. The manager of the Petit Maxim had judged the tastes of his clients accurately, and Queenie had not been dancing at the cabaret for a fortnight when one read on the programs, QUEENIE, LA JEUNE DANSEUSE ANGLAISE ET L'ENFANT GÂTÉE DE BUCURESTI. Chocolates and flowers were showered upon her, and her faintest smile would uncork a bottle of champagne. But every morning at three o'clock, when the cabaret closed, Sylvia snatched her away from all the suitors and took her home as quickly as possible to their hotel. She used to dread nightly the arrival of the moment when Queenie would refuse to go with her, but the moment did not come; and the child never once grumbled at Sylvia's sigh of relief to find themselves back in their own bedroom. In order as much as possible to distract her from the importunities of hopeful lovers, Sylvia would always aim at surrounding herself and Queenie with the political schemers, so that the evening might pass away in speculation upon the future of the war and the imminence of Rumanian intervention. She impressed upon Queenie the necessity of seeming interested in the fate of the country of which she was supposed to be a native. They were the only English girls in the cabaret; in fact, the only English actresses apparently anywhere in Bucharest. Sylvia, finding that man is much more of a political animal in the Balkans than elsewhere, took advantage of the general curiosity about England's personality to get as many bottles of champagne opened for information from her own lips as out of admiration and desire for Queenie's.
From general political discussions it was a short way to the more intimate discussions of faction's intrigue; and Sylvia became an expert on the ways and means of the swarm of German agents who corrupted Bucharest as blue-bottles taint fresh meat. She sometimes wondered if she ought not to convey some of the knowledge thus acquired to the British Legation; but she supposed, on second thoughts, that she was unlikely to know anything that the authorities therein did not already know much better, and, being averse from seeming to put herself forward for personal advantage, she did not move in the matter.
One of the chief frequenters of their company was a young lieutenant of the cavalry, called Philidor, with whom Sylvia made friends. He was an enthusiast for the cause of the Entente, and she learned from him a great deal about the point of view of a Balkan state, so that when she had known him for a time she was able to judge both Rumania as a whole and the individual extravagances and vanities of Rumanians more generously.