In the end, a way out of the dilemma was found in a compromise. The delinquent officers were sentenced by court-martial to undergo the penalties due to their offences, without taking into consideration any mitigating circumstances; but when the sentences came up for confirmation by the Queen, the royal prerogative of mercy was freely exercised, and the culprits allowed to return to their regiments with a censure and a warning. The Mayor of Tatarjé, who had also been a dupe throughout the affair, was considered to be sufficiently punished by being deprived of his office (he had not the army behind him to demand his total exemption), but it was otherwise with Bishop Philaret. The sentence passed upon him of six months’ suspension from the duties of his post and seclusion in a monastery was neither commuted nor lightened, since, as M. Drakovics explained, the supposed Queen was in his palace the whole time, and it was his own fault if he did not discover the deception. This righteous sternness on the part of M. Drakovics exercised Cyril’s mind not a little. Still smarting under the revelation made in the O’Malachy’s letter, he had been cherishing a hope of unmasking the Premier and exposing the unholy compact into which he had entered with the Bishop; but no opportunity was given him, and he perceived that this was only a new proof of M. Drakovics’s shrewdness. The younger man was not, however, to be deprived of the honour of a struggle with his colleague and former ally, for in the course of the Cabinet Council at which the measures to be taken in the case of the Tatarjé conspirators were announced, a strong and almost unprecedented difference of opinion declared itself. The War Minister desired to divide the officers to be dealt with into two classes, leaving the majority to be pardoned and reinstated, but punishing with dismissal from the army a certain number, who had been clearly proved to have met together secretly and plotted against the Government before the outbreak. One of these was the brother of the late commandant. To this proposal M. Drakovics opposed a direct negative, refusing to consider any cases separately.
“Some rumour of your Excellency’s intentions has got about,” said M. Georgeivics, the Minister for War, “and the feeling of the army is much opposed to it.”
“I am happy to say that the army does not govern Thracia,” retorted M. Drakovics, in what seemed a needlessly offensive tone.
“No,” said Cyril; “but you have discovered before the danger of alienating the army. Why, then, outrage the feelings of the officers, by compelling them to receive proved rebels as their associates?”
“Bah!” cried M. Drakovics; “these unfortunate youths played at treason in their leisure hours; but that is no valid reason for excluding them from the benefits of the pardon.”
“On the contrary,” returned Cyril, “it appears to me to furnish a very strong reason. Several of them are by no means youths, but of field rank, and if they are allowed to return to the army, the probability is that they will not only go back to their old ways themselves, but corrupt those under them. No wonder that the army fears for its honour.”
“You are inciting the army to mutiny, Count!” cried the Premier.
“Not at all. It is you who are driving them to it.”
M. Drakovics glared at his rebellious colleague in speechless wrath, while two or three minor members of the Cabinet endeavoured to throw oil on the troubled waters; but it was Prince Mirkovics who at last suggested a modus vivendi, although not until the Premier, with a glance at M. Georgeivics and Cyril, had reminded those who differed from him that their remaining in the Ministry was merely a matter of choice. Prince Mirkovics proposed that the officers whose fate was under discussion should, while they were allowed to remain in the army, lose all seniority in their respective ranks, be deprived of their decorations, and be declared ineligible for extra-regimental posts or promotion; and this compromise was finally accepted, with some unwillingness, by the dissentients, since the punishment, severe as it was in itself, was still quite inadequate to the offence. It was evident, however, that M. Drakovics was determined to maintain his point; and even if Cyril and the War Minister had been prepared to push things to extremity, the earnestness with which Prince Mirkovics entreated them to accept his suggestion, and not to break up the Government for the sake of this small matter, would have prevailed upon them to pause. M. Drakovics accepted the compromise, and the council broke up peacefully, although with some feeling of constraint. As soon as he got outside, Cyril found himself seized upon by Prince Mirkovics.
“Come to my rooms and drink coffee,” said the old chieftain, who scorned to rent a house in Bellaviste, and always lived at a hotel when his official duties called him to the capital.