“I do not intend to broach the matter to her unless I can do so with some prospect of success. What is your opinion?”
“That you will see her Majesty shaking the dust of Thracia from her feet, and retiring to Germany with her son, before she will compromise his spiritual welfare by such a step.”
“You forget that I am a member of the Orthodox Church, Count.”
“True, monsieur. I had forgotten that you were anything but a statesman.”
“You flatter me. But consider the enormous advantages to be gained by the sacrifice. The cost is ludicrously small. Could we not convince her Majesty by means of an object-lesson?”
“By some one else’s conversion, I suppose? Will you try the British Minister or Lady Stratford to begin with?”
“We will start nearer home, I think. An excellent impression would be produced by your reception into the Orthodox Church, my dear Count.”
“And what sort of impression on the Queen?” was Cyril’s mental comment. “This is a little dodge to get me shunted out of your way, my good Drakovics.” Aloud he replied, “You do me too much honour, monsieur; I really cannot pretend to be a personage of so much importance as you kindly hint. Besides, my creed is too valuable for me to sacrifice it merely as an object-lesson. Who knows whether I may not be able to barter it for a crown some day?”
M. Drakovics bit his bushy grey moustache angrily, for the hit galled him. “We will turn to considerations of policy rather than of commerce, Count, if you please. Surely you cannot be blind to the advantages of such an event as the King’s conversion?”
“I see that you would be exhibited to all Europe as implicitly following the dictation of Scythia, if that’s what you’re aiming at.”