“Dear uncle! how pleased you must be to feel assured of that. And Ernestine?”
“Yes. I watched her too, and there is nothing there either. There was not a particle of difference in the way she spoke to him and to—myself, I was going to say, but of course that is only a figure of speech. You know that empressé manner of hers—a smile and a blush for every one? It is by no means regal; but it would make her popular in any country but Thracia, I believe. Still, Ottilie, I am going to give you a piece of advice. You have daughters; do not bring them up as children of nature. Nature is at a discount in Court life, and it detracts from their political—or shall I say matrimonial?—value.”
“You are becoming quite a philosopher, uncle. I assure you that Bettine and Lida will be as finished pieces of art as I can make them.”
“Ah, your mother was a sensible woman, my dear niece. But I am no philosopher—merely an unworthy devotee of art. And that reminds me; you will not forget to let your little cherubs sit to me to-morrow?”
“You do not think I could forget such an engagement as that, uncle?” reproachfully. “I have wished for years that I had the opportunity of having the children painted by a really first-rate artist.”
“My dear Ottilie, you flatter me. But what my humble powers can do to perpetuate on canvas the charms of childhood—— Ah, your good husband summons me. He wishes to show me the statue he purchased at the late Exhibition. I have never considered him a judge of art, but still——”
“Then Drakovics thought she wanted to marry him?” said Princess Ottilie to herself as her uncle left her. “That shows there was something in it. But it must not be allowed—or, in any case, only as a last resort. Count Mortimer is honest and simple-minded, is he? I think his excellent acting almost deserves success. But he must not know that I have heard—nor must Ernestine. Still, Lida’s crown is in danger; I must see what is going on. I think I will offer to pay Ernestine a visit, and take Lida with me. Yes; that will be best.”
But circumstances prevented the Princess of Dardania from carrying out her intention immediately, and before her visit to Bellaviste took place important political changes had occurred in Thracia. The beginning of this period of transition was marked to Cyril by the sudden apparition of his valet Dietrich at his bedside one morning, with the news that the Metropolitan, who had been ailing for some time, had died in the night. The intelligence would not have appeared startling to Cyril in ordinary circumstances; but at present, with the O’Malachy’s letter fresh in his memory, it was full of excitement for him. Now, if ever, M. Drakovics must show his hand.
At first the course of affairs appeared to be unchanged by the Archbishop’s death. The Queen, who had learnt to respect the old man the more for his return to loyalty after his one outburst of fanaticism, took the little King, who had conceived a whimsical liking for the prisoner he had released, to the cathedral, where the body lay in state, and she even consented to sprinkle the corpse with holy water—a concession which produced an excellent impression on the people. But when the gorgeous funeral ceremonies were over, and Archbishop Dionysius slept with his predecessors in the vault next to that of the Kings of Thracia, there arose a question as to who should be his successor. The appointment of ecclesiastical dignitaries was managed in Thracia in such a way as to meet as far as possible the claims of both church and state. The Metropolitan was chosen from among the existing Bishops by the Synod of the kingdom; but it was understood that he was previously nominated by the Government, while the assent of the sovereign was necessary before he could be considered duly elected. At the present juncture the person to whom all looked as the natural successor to the late Metropolitan was Bishop Andreas of Karajevo, Prince Mirkovics’s brother, the senior Bishop, and a man eminently fitted for the responsible position of ecclesiastical head of the realm. But Bishop Andreas was unpopular among the clergy generally, and more especially among the less educated and more fanatic portion of them, owing to his liberal views, which were evidenced not only by his attempt to protect the persecuted Jews in his diocese, but also by his refusal to curse the emissaries of an English Society who had been discovered selling Bibles in Karajevo. In more ordinary circumstances, however, the feeling against him would not have been allowed to sway the action of the Synod, far less that of the Government; but now rumours began to be current that M. Drakovics did not intend to nominate him for the vacant post—nay, more, that he was about to name Bishop Philaret of Tatarjé in his stead. As soon as this was said openly, Cyril scented battle close at hand, and prepared with zest for the meeting of the Cabinet at which M. Drakovics would announce his selection. Two hours before the Cabinet met, however, he received an urgent message from Ernestine, desiring him to come to the Palace at once; and, guessing that the rumour had penetrated to her, he obeyed. He found her alone, and in a state of much excitement.
“You have heard what they are saying about the Bishop of Tatarjé?” was her greeting, almost before the door was shut.