“Fräulein, permit me to remind you that you are speaking of her Majesty in terms for which there is no justification. If I had any wish for revenge—to which you seem to consider I am entitled—I could find no better way of wreaking it than by simply resigning my office and returning to England. I am actuated by no feelings but those of the greatest respect and kindness towards the Queen, who was left in my charge under the most solemn circumstances by my dead friend. It is not my fault, but I fear it will be her own great misfortune, that she herself is the worst enemy of her son’s kingdom.”
“I wish I could trust you!” she cried with a gasp. “But no, you must have some other motive. You could not endure her coldness, her childish peevishness, her foolish little affronts, as you do, unless you had some end in view.”
“My end is solely to see King Michael seated safely on his father’s throne, Fräulein. I have given up my life first to Otto Georg and now to his son, and it strikes one as a little hard that the sacrifice should be supposed to be made for the sake of some personal advantage. If you can suggest one, I should be glad to hear it, for I confess it has occurred to me more than once that I am wasting my pains on an ungrateful family.”
“I long to believe you,” said Fräulein von Staubach. “I might be able to make your path easier, but how can I, knowing what I know? I remember you of old—your intrigues, your deceptions, all the course of trickery you carried on when your brother was King. I do not—I cannot—believe that you have really changed.”
“Perhaps, Fräulein, you will believe in my disinterestedness when the kingdom is ruined in spite of my best efforts. Pray don’t misunderstand me. I am not uttering any threat, for I shall continue to do my best for the King, for his father’s sake. But I cannot hope to succeed, and you know to whom my failure will be owing.”
“I wish I could trust you!” she said again, as she passed out of the door he held open for her, and Cyril went back to his desk well pleased.
“Now she is divided in mind,” he said to himself. “The new light is beating fiercely on all her preconceived notions of a martyr Queen persecuted by a revengeful Minister. She will do all she can to reconcile the two views, and meanwhile she will improve matters a little.”
And Cyril turned his attention to other subjects, feeling perfect confidence in his new agent. It was no surprise to him a few days later to receive a visit from Mrs Jones, who entered the office with a face wreathed in smiles.
“You’ll be pleased to hear as I’ve changed my mind about goin’ home, my lord,” she said. “I hope as your lordship haven’t give yourself no trouble about findin’ out trains for me?”
“I am extremely glad to hear this,” returned Cyril. “You decided that you had been a little too hasty, I suppose?”