“I think you forget that I value Count Mortimer’s opinion highly, Ottilie. I have myself often thought of late that a stronger hand over him would be good for Michael. He is very passionate at times, and fearfully self-willed. He ought to be taught self-control, and I am afraid we are too gentle with him.”
“Ah, that is Count Mortimer again! He wants the poor child brought up like English boys, who call their father ‘sir’ and ‘the governor,’ and never see their mother except in full dress. Seriously, Ernestine, think before you hand your boy over either to the English or the German system. You have to be both father and mother to him, remember. At least keep him with you as long as possible.”
“I will. You are right, Ottilie. It was only because your advice agreed so well with my own wishes that I distrusted its wisdom at first. Of course Michael must be educated as a German—his father would have wished it, I am sure—but I will not let him be subjected to military discipline for some time yet.”
“I think I have put a spoke in your wheel for the present, my dear Count!” said the Princess to herself. “While you are discovering that, I shall hope to find a few other ways of smoothing your path. Just now I should like to see Drakovics, and find out exactly what he knows about your matrimonial schemes.”
When the Princess of Dardania conceived a wish, it was usually not long before she contrived to gratify it, and the first portion, at any rate, of this one was attained by means of a morning visit to the town Museum. It was only natural that the curator should conduct her Royal Highness round the building, and in the course of conversation with him, the Princess learned that M. Drakovics was anxious to sell a part of his Praka estate as building-land. As the Princess wished to buy land on which to build her proposed villa, the next step was obviously to run over to Praka and see the estate, in order to report upon it to her husband. Unfortunately for the Princess’s hopes, although the building-land was satisfactory, the interview with the ex-Premier was not. M. Drakovics could not forget the day when he had shared with Cyril the ignominy of being outwitted by the Princess Ottilie of Mœsia, and while he was obviously ready to work any ill to Cyril that he conveniently could, he was much more anxious to find out what his visitor knew than to impart any information of his own. As this was exactly the Princess’s case, the two diplomatists parted with mutual dissatisfaction, tempered only in the one case by the prospect of receiving a good price for his land, and in the other by the hope of possessing in the future a coign of vantage from which to direct the development of the situation. But if the Princess had failed to find the helper she desired in her campaign against Cyril, she had at least succeeded in leading Ernestine to thwart him in the matter which at present he had most at heart, the method of the little King’s education. When, after due consultation with the officials of the Court and the Treasury, he had drawn up a scheme constituting a technically separate household for the King, and arranging for the appointment of military and other instructors, Ernestine refused so much as to consider the subject at present.
“He is only five years old, Cyril. Even his father would have left him under my control until he was seven.”
“But he is not under your control—that is the worst of it. I do not want to hurt your feelings, Ernestine, but you must have noticed that it is no use to tell him to do anything unless you are prepared to back up your order with physical force. It is the same with his nurse and with Fräulein von Staubach.”
The Queen flushed with vexation. “You cannot think that you know as much about children as a mother does,” she said.
“Won’t you allow that I know more about boys, having been one myself?”
“Not about German boys.” She thought of her cousin’s remarks on the subject. “We educate our children much more by means of love than you English do.”