“Ah, that makes it more difficult, then, for me to speak of what lies close to my heart, my dear sir. But necessity knows no law and I am in the position of a man who has no choice. Mr. Morton, I beg you to let me say a few words to you, in the hope that you will grant me your attention and—if possible, sympathy.”
Morton nodded and, reaching for the cigars, selected one at random and carefully lit it. “Very fine aroma indeed, Count; I haven’t had as good a smoke as this in many a day. Please begin; I am all attention.”
The Count nodded and began: “More than twenty-five years ago my king, then a young and little known prince of the Coburg family, was called to the throne of Roumelia by the vote of its people. Among the younger men whom he asked to join him in this new country to aid him in establishing a good government, I was one. I was a young Army officer at the time, with little ambition and with scarcely any diplomatic experience. I settled down in the new country. I was very enthusiastic, a prerogative of youth the world over, and became very much enamored with my work. Since then I have been very closely bound up with the fortunes of Roumelia and those of my king. I was one of the few of my Prince’s Court who succeeded in gaining the confidence of the Roumelians. I acquired their language and customs thoroughly. I succeeded in gaining the friendship of some of the leading men of all parties. I won the respect and I think even the love and perhaps the admiration of the Court by my loyalty to the cause of the country, my devotion to my duties, my work and my fidelity to the interests of the principality and later the kingdom, the creation and growth of which, I may be permitted to say, may be due, in a small measure, to my efforts.
“My king, God bless him, one of the noblest men who ever lived, was kind to me and trusted me implicitly. The work to which I had devoted my life was successfully done; the dynasty of my king firmly established: a clean, fine constitution, safe-guarding the interests of the people and assuring the welfare and development of my country, strongly founded. The one cloud in the blue sky of destiny was the lack of a son and heir.
“Many years ago, his majesty assenting, we secured an amendment to our laws of succession, by which the King’s brother was to be his heir, thus securing the succession to a younger brother and through him to his son, then a youth of health and promise. Thus far our work in perpetuating a dynasty had been wisely and well done. Do I weary you with these particulars, Mr. Morton?”
“Not at all; I am more than interested; I am learning. Please continue!” The Count smiled and went on:
“This structure, which, as I explained before, was of the utmost importance to a still broader plan, was, in this manner, erected as we felt on a firm foundation. Our land had developed wonderfully; from an almost unknown Turkish province in 1866 we had created a principality of several millions of frugal, thrifty and moral inhabitants, engaged in fostering trade and agriculture. We built railroads and highways, opening the country to foreign intercourse and markets; we laid telegraph lines connecting all corners of the land; we also introduced and firmly established an efficient school system. In brief, we transformed into a community of order and civilization a previously chaotic Turkish dependency. A dozen years after the beginning of our, I might almost say, my work, we fought a glorious and victorious war against our old oppressors and, although the jealousy and greed of the great Powers robbed us of the full reward of our victory; although the very nation whom we enabled to win what, without our aid and valor, they would have lost, deprived us of some of our territory, yet we grew in wealth, education and well being. When my prince was acclaimed constitutional king of the realm he had created, I, his servant, was rewarded by being chosen his faithful adviser and friend. Honored and trusted for many years, I believe I helped to form and execute those policies that I feel went far toward the establishment of peace and happiness in our beloved kingdom.”
Count Rondell rose to his feet and strode the floor of his cabin agitatedly. Resuming his seat after a while, he smiled pathetically at the younger man, and said: “Pray pardon me, Mr. Morton; my feelings get the better of me, I am afraid. My disease seems to have made sad inroads on me. Shall I go on?”
“Pray do, Count Rondell. Don’t disturb yourself about me. I am all ears.”
The Count crossed his legs and closing his eyes turned his face upward. His cheeks, lately flushed and feverish, now looked drawn and gray. Reaching for a portfolio he began automatically fingering its lock. Then with eyes wide and in a voice husky with emotion, he said: