“I know, my dear Mr. Morton,” said the Count when he had finished, “that as a republican you may not be in sympathy with monarchy, but if you will permit me to explain it may help to straighten out any false ideas you may have—at least, so far as my own country is concerned.”
“By all means, Count,” replied Morton heartily.
“I shall not attempt to discuss which is or which is not the most proper and most enlightened form of government—that would be futile now—we certainly agree that some form of government is absolutely needed to secure the peaceful development of any commonwealth. You Americans, with a virile and highly gifted population descended from peoples who have lived under liberal laws for many generations, inhabiting a virtually virgin land of great resources, without a history of oppression to live down—you are capable of existing and prospering under a democracy. Believe me, my dear sir, Roumelia never could and never will survive under a similar form of government. The novelty may appeal to them, the delusion of a new kind of freedom may delude them, but the people are not educated for it, they are not ready for it. They need the pomp of a court, the strong personality of an acknowledged ruler to temper demagogue ambitions and to curb the desire of the common mind to become enriched at the expense of the country. There must be some one who is above bribery, who will not be swayed by selfish motives but who has the public welfare at heart—such a man can only be the king. His position is God’s gift; and he is responsible to his Maker alone! A republican form of government in the Balkans! My dear sir, it would be a farce, were it not a tragedy!”
Morton made no reply, and Count Rondell crossed his legs and leaned further back in his chair.
“My dear Mr. Morton,” he said, with a plaintive smile, “may I speak my mind to you? I cannot explain it, but I was drawn to you from the first. You are a man whose kind I have always loved and admired—perhaps it is because we do not raise the like in my own country. I wish I had a son like you!”
“Count, I am proud of your esteem and regard.”
“My dear boy!” and impulsively the Count pressed Morton’s hand. “I am very, very happy and feel certain you will succeed. Save my beloved daughter and the noble Princess—and, perhaps, save also Roumelia from herself and her abominations.”
“At present, Count Rondell, it will be well if I think less of politics or kings and more of the two ladies who will need all our help. If one of them regains her right—well and good.” The old man puffed at his cigar thoughtfully. “You are right,” he said at last.
The two men sat in converse until a late hour. Morton smoking incessantly, was satisfied to sit and listen to this remarkable old man, who in spite of his delicate frame possessed a will of iron, a mind as keen and as brilliant as a diamond and a heart as noble and tender as a woman’s. The Count had told him of his search for the weakling of a prince and its tragic end. Morton marvelled at the devotion and nerve of this faithful servant of the Crown. “What a man!” he said to himself. “What a splendid example for any highly resolved youth to emulate!” Surely he would do well to be moved by a like spirit! “Nihil sine Deo,” was Roumelia’s motto, the Count had told him. Henceforth his motto would be “Omnia cum Deo.” His heart expanded in sympathy for the long-suffering statesman—he would be worthy of the trust imposed in him and would succeed.
Again the likeness of the beautiful girl came before him. An overwhelming desire to see the photograph once more seized him. With the instinctive cunning of a lover, he remarked: “Bye-the-bye, Count, you will, of course, furnish me with proper credentials.”