“A letter addressed by the Queen to the Emperor of Scythia!” said Cyril. “H’m, that’s bad. Has it been sent off?”
“Unfortunately it has. The secretary took it to the Scythian Legation last night, and placed it, I believe, in the hands of the Minister himself.”
“What a way of doing business!” groaned Cyril in disgust. “Well, that’s bad too—worse, in fact. Now to read this precious epistle.”
He applied himself to the task, while M. Drakovics ejaculated with a hollow laugh, “Wait a little. You have not heard the worst yet,” and watched him again.
“It’s pretty strong,” remarked Cyril, reassuringly, “but it’s not badly put together—would make a magnificent stage letter. Yes, this bit would certainly bring down the house: ‘It is less than a month since I was deprived of the protection of my husband, and left to battle with the world for my son’s rights. Your Majesty chooses this moment to attack a lonely woman in her tenderest point. This is the chivalry of Scythia!’ And the pit would shout itself hoarse over the conclusion: ‘But it is possible to pay too high a price even for the favour of an Emperor. To save my son’s kingdom, I would sacrifice much—wealth, comfort, happiness, life itself; but my child’s faith and honour—never! Your Majesty may regard it as an excellent piece of diplomacy to send your representative to stir up the fanaticism of a nation which, thanks to the intrigues of your agents in the past, has as yet scarcely emerged from barbarism; but rather than yield to such dictation, I will quit Thracia with my child, knowing that when he grows up he will thank me for thus depriving him of his inheritance. Europe shall judge—Heaven shall judge between us—you seeking to turn a little child from the faith of his parents for the sake of a paltry political advantage, I preferring to see my son reduced to the position of a mere cadet of his father’s house, but with a stainless name, rather than the pervert King of a nation sunk in subservience to you.’ Good gracious! this must be stopped at any cost,” cried Cyril. “We shall have the Scythian Legation withdrawn, and the choice given us of fighting or knuckling under—and how we are to fight, when Scythia makes public, as she is safe to do, the Queen’s unflattering opinion of the Thracians, as expressed in this letter, I don’t know.”
“And have you any measure to propose?”
“Has the letter, of which this is the draft, left the Legation yet?”
“No; I think we may be sure that it has not.”
“Then there is a hope. We must get at Baron Natarin, and have the letter back. What excuses precisely are to be offered we can consider later; but I think we can make him see that the choice lies between his surrendering the document and our justifying the charges contained in it, which we can do at the trial of the Metropolitan. Soudaroff is sure not to have gone beyond his instructions, though it’s pretty clear that he mistook his man, and we shall have some interesting revelations to make, which will prove that Scythia has been interfering most unwarrantably in our internal affairs. Yes; I think they will prefer to hush it up.”
“That is now scarcely possible, unfortunately,” said M. Drakovics, with a kind of sombre triumph in his tones, “for look here.”