“I guess you don’t know that Maimie and I don’t speak now,” interrupted Félicia. “We’ve quarrelled about this. She would like to have me accept Michael’s apology, and go right back.”
“And you have quarrelled with her? Oh, Félicia, she may have given you unwise advice at other times, but she is right now. I looked forward to your doing so much in Thracia in raising the condition of the women. They are so despised, so badly treated by the men—almost as badly as the Roumi women. And if the men take your doings as a sample of what is to be expected from civilised womanhood——”
“It will put back the clock in the Balkans a century at least?” suggested Félicia. “And to prevent that you’d have me take Michael back into favour?”
“No,” said the Queen, wincing slightly, “to prevent your both leading soured, loveless lives apart from each other, always in search of pleasure and never finding it. If Michael were not penitent, I would not ask you to return to him. But you will understand each other better, you will grow nearer to each other after this separation, will you not?”
“I guess Michael will understand me better, any way. But I don’t incline to go nearer to him than now—not much!”
“Félicia!” cried Queen Ernestine, in bitter disappointment, “is there nothing that will move you? Have you no regard for any one or anything?”
“That I have,—a real strong regard for one woman that no other person seems to think of at all. All of you come and talk to me about the kingdom, and Michael, and my own august relations, and political exigencies, and you yourself try to work upon my feelings for everything all round, but I myself count for just nothing. I have to watch out for my own interests, and I mean to do it. There isn’t one of you cares a cent for me——”
“Indeed we do, Félicia,” protested her mother-in-law feebly.
“As Michael’s recalcitrant wife, maybe—not for myself. But I have one adviser that’s shrewd enough, as you say, and she don’t care a cent for any of you—just for me alone, though I was awfully ugly to her last time we spoke, and if I listen to any one, it’ll be to her. Maime,” she raised her voice, “come right in. I didn’t feel like listening to you last time we talked, but now you may just state what you think. What good would it do me to go back to Michael?”
“Why, just this,” said Maimie promptly, advancing into the cabin, and speaking with entire disregard of Queen Ernestine and her feelings, “you’ve staked out your claim, and you’ve got to work it.”