“But you don’t blame the unfortunate girl for wishing her children to be of the same faith as herself?” asked Caerleon warmly.
“I don’t blame her, if she feels strongly on the subject; but I do say that it’s a pity, for such a concession would have conciliated the people and attached them to the dynasty more than anything. Then the Queen shares in the unpopularity of her mother, who considered the Thracians a set of savages when she came among them, and let them see it. Together they have done their best to make the Court a third-rate copy of the minor German ones. The national costume, which is distinctly fetching, and very dear to the people, was tabooed altogether, and the use of the Thracian language frowned upon. No one need expect to enjoy the Queen’s favour, or rather the Princess’s, for that was more important, unless they got their clothes from Vienna, and their conversation from Berlin. The mountain chiefs wouldn’t stand it. They didn’t want to learn German, and the new etiquette disgusted them, and they were very angry at the slights cast upon their nationality. The result is that they never come near the Court unless they are absolutely obliged.”
“The Queen must be mad,” said Caerleon. “She is alienating the very men who keep Otto Georg on the throne.”
“Just so; and she has alienated the lower classes long ago by her lack of the bourgeois virtues. They see that she and Otto Georg don’t get on, and they put it all down to her. Then, at the time of the marriage, some wiseacre made researches into the Weldart family history, and put it about that some remote ancestress of Princess Ernestine’s had at one time or another been a Jewess. Our people detest the Jews, as you know, and now that the Queen is unpopular, their favourite nickname for her is ‘the Jewess.’”
“The poor little woman seems to have a fine stock of blunders and other crimes to live down,” said Caerleon meditatively. “Can’t say I think your prospects in Thracia are roseate, Cyril; but I daresay there’s good stuff in her, and trouble may bring it out. After all, you must acknowledge that she has had rather a bad time of it since her marriage.”
“Her own fault altogether. She should have accepted her destiny like a sensible girl, and Otto Georg would have made her an excellent husband. Princesses are born merely to be married to foreign potentates, and feelings don’t come into the matter at all. Hearts are almost as much of a nuisance in politics as consciences are. Both have a detestable habit of upsetting a statesman’s calculations.”
“Stuff!” said Caerleon. “Wait until it’s your turn.”
“I have escaped it a good long time at present. I don’t think, Caerleon, that you ever yet saw me rush into a foolish thing blindfold, and I have no intention whatever of walking into one with my eyes open. If I ever fall in love, it will be in such a quarter as to advance my material interests very largely.”
“All right; we shall see. I shall be satisfied if it only brings you home from Thracia. But in any case you know that there is always a welcome for you at Llandiarmid.”
“Thanks, old man. I’m sorry I can’t say the same to you about Thracia. The farther you keep from Bellaviste for the present the wiser it will be for your own sake, and the better I shall be pleased.”