“Now I hope you are happy!” she said. “You have succeeded in bringing about the ruin of Thracia and your Carlino.”
Nadia took up the paper, a German one, and read the piece of news which figured most prominently in its columns. The rapprochement which had taken place between the Emperors of Scythia and Pannonia was announced, and also the subsequent refusal by the Roumi Government to confirm Caerleon’s election as king—the two events which had plunged Cyril and M. Drakovics into their complicated intrigues with Mœsia. Mr Hicks had not yet given to the world the information which he was to amass with so much astuteness, and therefore nothing was at present known of these negotiations, so that the paper only reflected the general opinion when it remarked that the cause of Thracia was already lost. Cyril was still an unknown quantity in Balkan politics; and although most people were acquainted to a certain extent with the resourcefulness and strength of will of M. Drakovics, they could not conceive it possible that even he could devise any means of tiding over such a crisis as this. Nadia did not venture to dissent from the universal opinion; but there was no sign of trembling in the hand which held the paper as she read through the announcement and the editorial comments upon it, and she looked round unfalteringly at her mother.
“I had rather that he should fall honourably than reign as a pensioner of Scythia,” she said.
“You are a fool!” was Madame O’Malachy’s angry answer. “Go and look after your sick brats. It is all you are fit for.”
But three or four days later she came into Nadia’s room early in the morning wearing an expression in which rage and triumph were mingled.
“You have indeed done well for yourself, mademoiselle!” she said, putting her hand on her daughter’s shoulder as she slept and shaking her. “Your Carlino is to marry the Princess Ottilie of Mœsia. The betrothal is to take place next week.”
“It is not true!” cried Nadia, starting up in bed.
“It is most true. That touches you, does it not? This, then, is your faithful, your constant lover! He assures you of his undying affection, and six weeks after saying the words he betroths himself to another.”
“He is quite right,” said Nadia, recollecting herself. “I told him to do it.”
“I can quite believe it! But you never thought he would obey you,” said Madame O’Malachy, putting down her candle and gazing with cruel certainty into her daughter’s pale face. “Don’t tell me that you did, mademoiselle. You might try to impose upon Prince Soudaroff with your exalted generosity, but you felt confident that Carlino would remain faithful to you. However, I may tell you this for your comfort. Your father has always believed hitherto that Carlino would refuse to accept his dismissal as final, and would try his fate again before long. But now, if he meets him he will kill him.”