‘So I hoped. And if she loses more—if she loses all the money she has in hand, would she borrow?’
‘Of whom?’
Malakopf paused. He was not sure that he was not talking with a risk. But he decided to chance it, as he had the highest opinion of the idiocy of his fellow-conspirator.
‘Of me, for choice,’ he said at length.
Prince Petros flushed; he did not quite like this.
‘Her Royal Highness would probably apply to her husband,’ he said stiffly, ‘if she was in want of money.’
‘And would you lend it her?’
‘Certainly not. I should request her to come home.’
‘Then you would be acting unwisely,’ said Malakopf, knowing he had done right to open this point. ‘Do you not see that the more hopelessly she beggars herself, and the more deeply she gets into debt to someone, you or another, by so much the more are our plans advanced? If we are to overthrow the dynasty—dethrone the Princess Sophia, I mean—she must meet us half-way; she must run to meet her ruin.’
‘I am sure she would not apply to you for money,’ said Petros—‘not directly, at least.’