This was scarcely reassuring, and Cyril departed on his journey to Praka in no very cheerful frame of mind. He found a travelling companion in M. Drakovics, who was obliged to visit his Praka estate on business, and they agreed to journey back to Bellaviste together the next day. Cyril’s duty was merely to discover whether it was possible to provide sufficient accommodation for the Queen and her suite in the little village, now almost deserted for the winter, which formed the favourite marine resort of the wealthier Thracians, but in spite of the limited scope of the inquiry, his task was a difficult one. M. Drakovics had not built a house on his property, an omission which he now regretted, since it prevented his putting the Queen under an obligation by offering to lend her his villa; but he represented that it would be possible to accommodate one or two of the suite in the small farmhouse occupied by his bailiff, and by taking advantage of this offer, Cyril calculated that he should be able to find room for the whole of the Court. To live in tents, after the manner of the majority of the summer residents, would naturally be impossible in the winter.
Praka was not by any means a lively place, and its natural attractions, at any rate in the autumn, were soon exhausted, so that Cyril found himself ready and eager to quit it as soon as his business was done. The cooking at the little inn was bad, and the beds worse, facts which did not tempt him to linger, and he was waiting at the station some time before it was likely that M. Drakovics would arrive. As he walked up and down the rickety platform, while in the background Dietrich mounted guard over his bag, a telegram was handed to him. It was from the Baroness von Hilfenstein, and bore the date of the previous evening:—
“Her Majesty has just announced that the Court leaves for the Villa Alexova early to-morrow. I fear this will not reach you in time for you to prevent the move, but pray follow as soon as possible. It appears that the Queen sent Batzen to Tatarjé two days ago to make preparations; but he cannot have been able to do much in such a short time. Everything will be in confusion. I depend upon you.”
“Excellent old woman!” was Cyril’s first thought as he read the missive. “If I have the pleasure of spoiling the Queen’s pretty little plot for making a fool of me, it is all thanks to you. So that is what old Batzen’s mysterious mission comes to, is it? I might have guessed; but the idea of employing the poor old parson on such an errand!”
The Herr Hofprediger Batzen was a venerable Lutheran clergyman to whom the charge of the little King’s moral and religious education was supposed to be intrusted; but as his Majesty was still rather young to receive regular instruction, his tutor’s time was more or less at the Queen’s disposal. Hence it was that his sudden departure from Court on one of her errands had excited no surprise, and people had considered the secrecy which enshrouded his destination as due to the desire for importance of the good pastor himself Cyril was wiser now, and could almost have laughed, in spite of his chagrin, when he thought of the tutor’s unfitness for his present task, and the pitiful muddle which would be the probable result of his attempt at housekeeping. But this was not the time for laughing, but for action, and Cyril hurried out to meet M. Drakovics as the Premier rode up to the station on his rough country horse.
“Would you like to hear what is our gracious sovereign lady’s last little game?” was the irreverent question with which the younger Minister greeted the elder. M. Drakovics raised his eyebrows.
“If you could assure me that she had eloped to join the ex-secretary Christophle, and had married him, I should not be heart-broken,” was his answer, as he dismounted.
“No, no, my friend; you are not to be Regent just at present. Her Majesty and the Court remove to-day to Tatarjé, and take up their abode at the Villa Alexova.”
“Mille tonnerres!” cried M. Drakovics, stamping furiously about the platform. “This woman will ruin in a day the kingdom I have been building up for nine years. I ask you, is it to be endured?”
“I’m afraid it must be so, since you can scarcely propose to cure it by superseding the Queen in the regency. But the news is certainly most serious. It would be better if you had told the Queen the real reasons for her not going to Tatarjé, as I advised at the time, instead of simply making out that it was too far away.”