Cyril considered the matter as gravely as if he had believed that the Emperor was really responsible for the suggestion. “I fear, madame, that it is only mentioned because it is impracticable,” he said. “How could the person you speak of aspire so high?”
“Ah, Count, all is fair in—other fine arts as well as politics. Hearts move faster sometimes than the pens of diplomatists.”
“True, madame, but the world has sometimes occasion to say that presumption is rightly punished.”
“That, Count, will never be said of the man I mean. If he is willing to be guided by me, he will leave that part of the matter in my hands. He will continue his diplomatic campaign, and the rest is my business. Is there any reason why he should refuse to accept the arrangement, Count?”
“I see none, madame, unless he is a fool.”
Cyril kissed the hand held out to him, and retired. The Princess flung the scarf contemptuously over the portrait of Queen Ernestine.
“There!” she cried, “you have done your work, and I don’t want your miserable eyes staring at me any longer. Birnsdorf, call one of the servants to take this thing away.”
Following on the complete success of this morning’s experiment, however, the Princess’s plans were threatened by a danger of an entirely unforeseen character. Her son’s withdrawal of his candidature happened very opportunely for the Scythian Court, which was anxious to climb down gracefully from its untenable position, in view of the necessity for yielding to the demands of the United Nation. Still, the opportuneness of the fact could not be allowed to stifle inquiry as to its cause. There was something suspicious, or at any rate strange, about the Princess of Dardania’s proceedings, and a suitable emissary was despatched to look into them. The day after Cyril had left Ludwigsbad for Vindobona, economising the time spent in travelling by making notes for the letters which Mansfield, sitting opposite him, was working off with feverish haste on the typewriter, Prince Soudaroff arrived at the villa from the north, and requested to be allowed to wait upon her Royal Highness. The news of his advent paralysed the Princess with momentary dismay, but an instant’s reflection decided her to embark upon a bold course.
“You have no bad news for me, I hope, Prince?” she asked anxiously of the visitor, when he was ushered into her presence.
“None, madame; and I grieve to have alarmed your Royal Highness. My reason for intruding is a vexatious delay which has interrupted our communications. We understand that you have ordered your son to withdraw from his Palestine candidature, but we have not yet been informed of the reasons for your action.”