“And this,” she said, with illogical fierceness, “you call being in love!”
With this Parthian shaft the combat terminated, for at the moment they emerged into the open space before the castle, and it was necessary for them to take up their posts immediately behind the King and Queen, in order to share with them in the offering of bread and salt which Princess Mirkovics presented at the gate. With great ceremony the visitors were conducted across the courtyard and into the house; but before they partook of the meal which had been prepared for them, a council of war was held, consisting of the Queen, Cyril, Prince Mirkovics, and the Bishop, to deliberate upon the steps which ought to be taken at once. It was decided that Prince Mirkovics should keep his retainers under arms as a guard to the castle, in case the rioters from Karajevo, discovering that their prey had escaped them, should cross the river and attempt an attack; and that Cyril should leave the next morning for Bellaviste, there to inform M. Drakovics of the safety of the royal party and find out what measures were being adopted to crush the rebellion, and then return to the castle with an escort to fetch the King and Queen. The Queen took little part in the discussion, sitting very upright in her chair, and gazing at the rest with a peculiar solemnity of expression which the two Thracians found somewhat disconcerting, although it increased their opinion of her wisdom; but which Cyril interpreted as showing that she was almost falling asleep, though struggling bravely against being overcome by her fatigue. His diagnosis was confirmed a little later by Princess Mirkovics, who announced that her Majesty would not appear at supper. She had lain down to take a moment’s rest, and had immediately fallen into such a deep sleep that she could not be roused, a result which surprised no one who knew even a portion of the fatigues and anxieties of the last few days.
The Queen was still asleep when Cyril started in the morning on his journey to Bellaviste. Relays of horses had been prepared for him as far as the railway, which he struck at a small country station, where it was possible to stop the trains for the capital. He reached Bellaviste in the course of the afternoon, and went first to his own house, in order to change his Thracian clothes for more civilised attire. To his great amusement, he found his official garb laid out in readiness for him to wear, with the faithful Dietrich guarding it.
“Well, Dietrich, glad to see you again. How did you guess I was coming back to-day?”
“Excellency, I have put out your clothes three times every day,—for morning, and the Palace, and the evening. Your Excellency told me to wait here for orders; and I have not left the house since I carried the note which you gave me to his Excellency the Premier.”
“Oh, you delivered it, did you?”
“Into the Premier’s own hands, Excellency.”
“And what did he say when he got it?”
“His Excellency was much disturbed. He pressed his hand to his forehead, and staggered from his seat, crying out, ‘He has stayed behind!’ Then, remembering me, I suppose, he said, ‘My friend, your master has risked his life in the hope of preventing a rebellion. I fear you may never see him again.’ But I had your orders, Excellency, and I returned here and waited.”
“Good,” said Cyril absently, for his mind was busied with what he had heard. It was sufficiently puzzling, bearing in mind the telegram which M. Drakovics had sent begging him to remain at Tatarjé, and which, having been delayed three days in transmission, had arrived too late to allow him to alter his expressed intention. “It looks as though he expected me to come in spite of the telegram,” he said to himself. “What can it mean? Surely the telegram did not turn up too early instead of too late? Did Drakovics know of the plot, and want me out of the way, but preserve appearances by sending a bogus telegram which ought to have been delivered after my departure? No, it’s too complicated; but I’ll keep it in mind, at any rate.”