A KING WITHOUT A CROWN.
Banished from Scythia, Princess Soudaroff and Nadia turned their
faces southwards, and after a hurried winter journey across Central
Europe and a more leisurely one through Spain, found themselves at
Cadiz and on board the yacht Anna Karénina. The Princess had acted
with her usual impulsiveness in deciding on the way in which she would
spend her winter, and she was a little startled when she found herself
in command of a ship, the crew of which, with one exception, was
entirely English. She had no experience of yachting whatever, and her
ignorance made her fall an easy prey to the captain, an ancient
mariner endowed with as many wiles as those popularly attributed to
the heathen Chinee. Like his late Majesty King George III., however,
this gentleman “gloried in the name of Briton,” and considered that
all foreigners were constitutionally afflicted with a more or less
mild form of insanity. It was both right and advisable to humour their
fancies, especially when they were sufficiently wealthy to hire a
large yacht for the winter; but it was also necessary to guide them
gently in the direction in which they ought to go, and to restrain
their natural eccentricities by the moral influence of a stronger
mind.
On the very day that the Princess first came on board, the captain
asserted his independence by refusing to receive his orders through
the courier, a useful and important individual whom Prince Soudaroff
had chosen to accompany the ladies on their travels, and protect them
from extortion by the way, since if he did cheat them right and left
himself he would take good care that no one else should have the
opportunity of doing so. The Princess, in her kindness of heart,
recognised at once that it was only natural that the captain should
dislike to take orders from Alessandro, and accorded him the privilege
of seeing her whenever he found it necessary, thus yielding herself as
a helpless slave to a most unbending autocrat. Not that Captain Binks
was rude or overbearing--far from it. The commander of a Cunarder
could not have been more accommodating and urbane; but it was evident
that he must know more about the winds and currents and shoals of the
Mediterranean than his employer, and when some conjunction of these
natural objects interfered to prevent anything that the Princess was
anxious to do, it certainly could not be considered the fault of
Captain Binks. This being the case, it was not, perhaps, a just
punishment which overtook the old sailor when, after a short cruise in
which he had regulated the ladies’ trips on shore in regular
man-of-war fashion, the yacht was run into by a lumbering collier as
she lay at anchor outside the Grand Harbour of Valetta on the night
after arriving in sight of Malta. It had been Captain Binks’s
intention to take the Anna Karénina into the harbour by daylight,
thereby exhibiting to all and sundry both her beauties and his own
seamanship, and then to grant the Princess the day in which to make
her pilgrimage to St Paul’s Bay and back while he took stores on
board; but now the spars and bulwarks were so much damaged as to
render necessary a stay of a week or more in the island.
It must be confessed that this accident gave keen pleasure to Nadia,
who was not a favourite with Captain Binks; but the Princess failed to
perceive either his uplifting or his fall, for she was absorbed, as
usual, in schemes of kindness for the benefit of those about her. She
was acquainted with the histories of all the crew by this time, knew
how many children each man had, and who had aged parents to support,
and it was her delight to write letters home for them in her formal
foreign hand with its queer twirls and flourishes, while Nadia,
longing to be of some use or help to some one, stood shyly aloof, and
wondered how her godmother managed to take so much interest in the
affairs of all these strangers. In one of the Princess’s pleasures,
however, Nadia’s interest was as deep as that of her godmother, for
the person involved had been connected with herself at one of the
crises of her life. It was on the day that they sailed from Cadiz,
before they had been on board more than a few hours, that the Princess
came into Nadia’s cabin with a face radiant with delight.
“Who do you think is the carpenter on this ship, my child?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Marraine,” said Nadia, looking up puzzled. “Some
relation of the English coachman you had once?”
“No; it is not an Englishman--it is a Scythian.”
“One of our own people? or a Bibelist? The Oudenist cabinetmaker you
visited in the hospital, perhaps?”
“Dear child, no. But it is a person of whom you have often
heard--Yegor Popoff, my poor Katinka’s husband.”
“Oh, Marraine! How did he get here?”
“When he left Katinka, he went to Pavelsburg to look for work, and
made a voyage to Sweden as ship’s carpenter. At Bergen he heard that
my friend Feodor Petrovitch, to whom this yacht belongs, was in the
harbour looking out for a carpenter, as the one he had brought from
England had died, and he obtained the post. And now, without our
knowing it, he was waiting at Cadiz, and we, without his knowing it,
were bringing Katinka to him. Do you see now why we were driven out of
Scythia, my child?”
“I see,” said Nadia. “But what are you going to do? Have you said
anything?”
“Said anything?” cried the Princess. “My dear child, I have said
everything! I sent for Yegor to come to me in the saloon, and I have
spoken to him very seriously. I told him how wrong and foolish he had
been in doubting Katinka and in listening to Anna at all, and much
more so in running away as he did. He saw it all for himself--in fact,
nothing but pride had kept him from coming back and telling her so. He
was waiting for her to write first, when she did not know where he
was! I think I made him thoroughly ashamed of himself. When I saw that
he was really sorry, I slipped out and fetched Katinka. _She_ was
ready enough to forgive, poor child! and I left them together. What a
happy beginning for our voyage, is it not?”
Nadia acquiesced, and a new hope rose suddenly in her own heart. Could
this voyage be destined to bring Caerleon and herself together, as it
had already united Yegor and Katinka? The same thought had occurred to
the maid, who came shyly to tell her that she and Yegor were praying
that she might be as happy as they were. They did not know her story;
but Katinka guessed at it, and found it easy to fill up the details
from imagination. Her sympathy contributed still further to raise
Nadia’s spirits, and perhaps to bring her into the somewhat
uncharitable frame of mind in which she welcomed the discomfiture of
Captain Binks. In any case, she submitted cheerfully to the necessary
detention at Valetta, in spite of the desolate aspect of the dried-up
town, with its huge fortifications and flat-roofed white houses, and
was indefatigable in helping the Princess to render habitable the
enormous rooms, stone-floored and scantily furnished, in which they
took up their abode while the repairs to the yacht were pending.
Here it was that two days later they heard the news of the rebellion
in Thracia--news which sent all the special correspondents who keep
portmanteaus ready packed, in case of a sudden summons, to the Balkans
at racing speed. Carlino was dethroned, Peter was restored, Bellaviste
was in the hands of the Franzist party,--this was what the telegram,
despatched by M. Sertchaieff and his brother the General, told the
world, and after its contents had been made public there was silence
for several days. What those days of waiting were to Nadia it is
impossible to describe. As is always the case when no authoritative
news can be obtained, the most sensational rumours were rife--all, of
course, founded on “private messages of undoubted trustworthiness,” or
on the utterances of “a person who was better acquainted with the east
of Europe than any other man living.” The purveyors of news of this
description were largely concerned with the fate of Caerleon, and his
supposed adventures formed the universal subject of conversation in
Valetta society. There was not an Englishman in the island that did
not admire the way in which he had stuck to his kingdom, although
there were some who objected to his having gone to Thracia at all, and
many were the conjectures, each backed by the authority of some
newspaper statement or other, as to what had become of him. He had
yielded to the demands of the rebels without striking a blow; he had
refused to abdicate until a pistol was held to his head; he had
offered such a strenuous resistance that he had been vanquished only
when severely wounded; he was now imprisoned in one of the underground
galleries of the Bellaviste fortifications; he had entered the service
of King Peter; he had disappeared mysteriously; he had blown out his
brains; he had been murdered;--the variety and mutual inconsistency of
the rumours bore reliable testimony to one point only, the
impenetrable mystery that shrouded his fate. It seemed certain that he
was not at large, or why was he making no effort to regain his throne?
but it seemed certain also that the victory of the insurgents had not
been so complete as was at first reported, or why did they not send
for King Peter?
That easy-going gentleman was still at Nice, apparently caring very
little whether he was restored to his kingdom or not, and professing
to have no more certain knowledge than any one else whether Thracia
was in a state of civil war or had submitted calmly to the new order
of things. Meanwhile the Thracian border was beset by hordes of eager
journalists, each man anxious to obtain for his own paper the first
authentic news, and all alike refused an entrance into the kingdom.
One or two, more enterprising than their fellows, succeeded in
crossing the frontier at some unguarded point; but they were detected
and seized before they had got a mile nearer the capital, and after a
few hours’ detention in a police-station to cool their ardour, were
escorted over the border again without gaining any information beyond
a further addition to the stock of rumours.
At last a definite piece of news made its way to the frontier, and
remained uncontradicted. M. Drakovics, still strong in the possession
of office, was at Tatarjé, and was engaged in conference with the
envoy from Roum, while negotiations were being carried on with the
various Powers. The next day the embargo on special correspondents was
removed, and the long-tried newspaper men rushed across the frontier,
and raced one another to Bellaviste. The ‘Empire City Crier’ only
missed gaining the earliest details through an unfortunate accident
which befell the cart in which its representative was being conveyed
at break-neck speed across country; but as it was, the correspondent
of the ‘Fleet Street’ took the first place, with the unconquerable Mr
Hicks as a good second. After them came the representatives of
numberless other journals, and Europe was speedily deluged with full,
true, and particular accounts of the origin, progress, and extinction
of the revolt.
The news reached Malta in time for publication in the morning papers.
Ever since the first tidings of the outbreak had arrived, the Princess
and Nadia had heard nothing discussed, whether in public or in
private, but the “Thracian business,” with all the gruesome details
which the hopes or fears or imaginations of different people had
grafted on to the truth. The long uncertainty had made the girl sick
with fear. She was almost driven to feel that it would have been less
painful to hear once for all that Caerleon was dead than to have
absolutely no idea as to what had become of him. On this particular
morning she was crouching in one of the windows of the great bare
drawing-room, afraid to go out lest she should hear the question of
Caerleon’s fate discussed once again, but knowing that she could not
refrain from listening to the conjectures which tormented her, when
the Princess was summoned to an interview with Captain Binks.
Breakfast was only just over; but the autocrat of the Anna Karénina
resembled time and tide in that he waited for no man, and he wanted
the Princess’s authority for some item of the repairs to the yacht.
The formality, which was naturally of a purely ceremonial character,
having been gone through, Captain Binks was about to depart, when the
Princess caught sight of a newspaper sticking out of his pocket.
“Is that to-day’s paper?” she asked, moved by a sudden impulse of
alarm for which there appeared no special reason.
“Yes, your Highness. Sad business this about Thracia. I wish I had the
men that murdered that poor fellow aboard of my ship. There would be
no yard-arms to let when I’d done with ’em.”
“Murdered?” said the Princess, with sinking heart. “Please let me
see.”
Captain Binks smoothed out the crumpled sheet and handed it to her,
and she read the account, telegraphed in the first instance from
Bellaviste to London, over a hastily repaired wire, by the
correspondent of the ‘Fleet Street,’ of the recapture of the city, of
Louis O’Malachy’s confession, and of Prince Otto Georg’s election to
the vacant throne. As she read it she resolved instantly that Nadia
should hear nothing of the news until the report was confirmed.
“Thank you, my good captain,” she said, handing the paper back to its
owner. “It is indeed terrible! Will you have the goodness to send
Alessandro to me as you go out?”
Captain Binks departed, somewhat disappointed by the indifference with
which the Princess had received the news, and which he attributed to
the fact of her being a foreigner, and she hastily laid her plans
while waiting for the courier to appear. The account in the newspaper
had mentioned the presence of Mr Hicks in Bellaviste, apropos of the
accident which had delayed his arrival there, and the Princess had a
certain amount of acquaintance with Mr Hicks. He had been sent on a
journalistic mission to Scythia some time ago, charged to ascertain
the real facts as to the persecution of the Evangelicals, rumours of
which had reached America, and he had gone to the fountainhead, and
had interviewed Count Wratisloff and herself. When Alessandro entered
the room she directed him to procure a carriage for the whole day, and
intrusted him also with a telegram to be despatched immediately,
addressed to Mr Hicks at Bellaviste, and inquiring whether the reports
which had reached Malta of recent events in Thracia were trustworthy.
Alessandro was relieved of his usual duty of accompanying the
carriage, and ordered to wait at the house and bring the return
telegram to his mistress as soon as it arrived. Having made these
arrangements, the Princess went in search of Nadia, whom she found
still curled up on the stone window-seat.
“I have ordered the carriage to take us to Il Boschetto this morning,
my child,” she said, briskly. “We will spend the day there, and come
back in the evening. It will be a pleasant change, and you will like
to see the orange-groves.”
“Yes, Marraine,” assented Nadia, without showing much interest in the
prospect. “I suppose there is not likely to be any news before we get
back--genuine news, I mean?”
“If there is, it shall be brought out to us,” said the Princess. “You
may be sure of that, dear child.”
Somewhat comforted, Nadia went to her room to prepare for the drive;
but her godmother did not breathe freely until they were safely
outside the gates of the city and well on their way. At any moment,
while they were in the house, some acquaintance might come in, and
enter upon the one absorbing topic of conversation. But it was too
early as yet for most of the Valetta ladies to be out, while the
gentlemen were still busy in office or orderly-room, and all was safe
when once the white city on its steep hill had been left behind, and
the long country drive begun. Bare little fields with stone walls
enclosing them, without a tree or a bush to break the monotony,
interspersed with small houses like square stone boxes, windowless and
chimneyless, lay on either side of the road. After driving some
distance, they came in sight of Città Vecchia. Here there is a grotto
which is said to have been at one time the abode of St Paul; but the
Princess thought that its genuineness was too problematical for it to
call for a visit, and the city was left on one side, in spite of the
remonstrances of the driver of the carriage.
Il Boschetto was reached after a further drive--a pleasant oasis of
gardens and orange-groves in the midst of the surrounding desolation,
and the northern eyes of the Princess and Nadia rejoiced in the
luxuriant greenness. The place was a favourite one for picnics; but it
happened that there were no other visitors that day, and they had the
gardens to themselves. After lunch the Princess suggested a rest in
the shade; but Nadia could not sit still, and preferred to walk on by
herself and obtain a view of the sea from a hill near at hand. She had
been gone some time, and the Princess was becoming a little drowsy,
when the sound of footsteps roused her to full consciousness, and she
saw Alessandro coming towards her with a telegram in his hand. Taking
it from him, she turned back among the trees and tore it open:--
“Too true that King Carlino was murdered at outbreak of revolt. Prince
Otto Georg of Schwarzwald-Molzau is to be crowned King to-day.”
“This poor Carlino!” broke from the Princess. “And my poor child! how
shall I tell her?”
“Marraine,” said the panting voice of Nadia behind her, “wasn’t that
Alessandro I saw from the hill-top just now? It looked like him, and
he seemed to be coming here. Did he bring any news?”
The Princess turned quickly, guilty and tongue-tied, crumpling the
telegram in her hand. Nadia caught sight of it, and knew at once what
it was.
“Marraine, you have had news of Carlino!” she cried, snatching the
paper from her godmother’s reluctant hand and reading it. The moment
that the words had met her eyes she dropped it with a groan.
“He is dead, and I have killed him!” she cried.
“Killed him? But you did not kill him, my child,” said the Princess.
“Yes, I did; I urged him to accept the crown, I wouldn’t let him
abdicate when he wished to do it. I made him stay in Thracia, and I
have killed him. It is my doing.”
“It is God’s will, dear child. You may have been the instrument----”
“I was,” said Nadia, in the same hard voice. “You told me that I had
been doing wrong the night I came to Pavelsburg, and now this has
happened to make me sure of it. It is all through me. Don’t speak to
me, Marraine. No doubt it is well that I should see what harm my
wanting my own way can do. But why should he be punished for what was
my fault?”
She stood looking away through the trees with stony eyes that saw
nothing, and the Princess laid her hand on her arm and guided her
gently back to the carriage. When they reached it, Alessandro came
bustling up to express a hope that the telegram had not contained any
bad news, but Nadia neither saw nor heard him. As they left the
gardens behind them, she sat looking out over the arid landscape,
refusing to listen to the Princess’s attempts to comfort her.
“Please don’t speak to me just now, Marraine. Let me get used to the
thought,” she said at last, and her godmother desisted with a sigh
from her well-meant efforts. They had passed Città Vecchia before the
Princess spoke again; and this time she did not address Nadia, but
seeing two weary-looking men toiling along the road a short distance
in front of the carriage, she called to Alessandro, who was riding
behind--
“Tell the driver to stop when we come up to those men, Alessandro.
They look tired, and we might drive them into Valetta.”
Alessandro obeyed in silence, for he was becoming accustomed to his
mistress’s eccentricities, but with a slight grimace.
“Vill your ’ighness zat I speak to zem?” he asked, as the carriage
stopped.
“No,” said the Princess, “I will invite them myself. This one does not
look like a Maltese. I will try him in English. My poor man, I fear
you are in some distress. Can we help you in any way?”
The second wayfarer, a Maltese peasant in the ordinary dusty cotton
clothes and Phrygian cap, stared in surprise and utter lack of
comprehension at the lady; but the one whom the Princess had addressed
came forward respectfully, touching the place where the brim of his
hat would naturally have been, if he had worn one. He was an
undersized, light-haired man, haggard and unshaven, and clad in what
looked like the tattered remains of a suit of livery of some kind.
“I’m sure you’re very good, ma’am,” he said. “If you would be so kind
as tell me the word for ‘doctor’ in this chap’s lingo, and ’ow to find
one in the town yonder when we gets to it, me and my master would be
no end obliged to you.”
“Your master is ill--hurt?” asked the Princess. “You have been
shipwrecked with him, perhaps?”
“No, ma’am; we ain’t been shipwrecked,” returned the man, politely but
repressively. “I ’ope as you’ll excuse me sayin’ any more, for my
master is a very well-known gentleman; but bein’ in difficulties just
now, so to speak, ’e tell me not to mention ’is name. But we want a
doctor badly, and as we couldn’t make out these fellers, nor them us,
’is Maj---- I mean my master, said as me and this chap ’ad better go
on to the town there, and see where we was. We’ve tried ’em in English
and in French and in Thracian----” he broke off suddenly, and stared
at Nadia, whose attention had been caught by the last word, and who
had turned and was regarding him fixedly.
“It is you, is it, Wright?” she said, with listless indifference.
“Then you forsook him too?”
“Me forsook ’is Majesty, miss?” cried Wright, much injured. “Not until
’e tell me to. Would you ’ave me say, ‘Go yourself,’ when ’e sent me
for the doctor?”
“_He sent you_?” Nadia almost screamed. “When? Where?”
“About ’alf a hour ago, miss; from this chap’s farm’ouse over there.”
“Then he is alive? They didn’t kill him? Tell me quickly, or I shall
go mad. He is there, you say?”
“Why, yes, miss,” said Wright, stolidly, trying to disentangle the
sheaf of questions which Nadia poured upon him in her agitation. “’E’s
there, of course--leastways, I left ’im there, and it stands to reason
as ’e ain’t dead.”
“Oh, Marraine!” sobbed Nadia, burying her face on the Princess’s
shoulder, “do you hear? He’s alive, he’s alive!”
“Compose yourself, my child,” said the Princess, although Wright’s
wooden face showed no sign of his having observed the girl’s
excitement. “Who is this worthy man? Tell me.”
“He is the King’s groom, the man who brought me to meet Marie
Karlovna. Oh, Marraine, he isn’t dead!”
“My good man,” said the Princess, abandoning the attempt to reduce
Nadia to reason, and addressing Wright, “get into the carriage, and we
will return to find your master, and drive him to Valetta.”
“Not with you, ma’am,” said Wright, in horror. “It ain’t my place at
no time, and now----” he looked at his disreputable clothes with
disgust. “If I might ride on the box this little way, and get down
before comin’ into the town, so as not to disgrace you----”
“Your companion will sit on the box, and show the driver the way to
his farm,” said the Princess. “Tell him so, Alessandro. Now, my good
man, if you wish to be of assistance to your master, you will do as I
tell you.”
Thus adjured, Wright obeyed in much confusion, and took the seat
opposite the Princess, making himself as small as possible, and with
great delicacy keeping his face turned from Nadia, who was leaning
back in her place, holding her parasol so as to shield her from
observation, and crying quietly for joy.
“Now tell me,” said the Princess, when the carriage had turned and
they were driving in the direction of the farm, “is it the King who is
ill?”
“No, ma’am; it’s ’is brother, Prince Cyril. ’E’s always been sickly,
and me and ’is Majesty think as the cold ’as got to ’is chest. ’E was
moanin’ awful when I come away.”
“Poor boy!” said the Princess. “And what did the King propose to do
when he reached the town?”
“I don’t rightly know, ma’am, seein’ as ’e’s precious ’ard up. We
didn’t ’ave no money with us when we was took, except a copper or two
as I ’ad in my pockets, and ’is Majesty ain’t quite sure what ’e can
lay ’is ’and on ’ere. You see, the British Government, they didn’t
like ’is takin’ the kingdom on, and ’e don’t know that ’e mightn’t be
took up if ’e showed ’imself. That’s why I didn’t tell you ’is name
until I see Miss O’Malachy.”
“I see,” said the Princess, beckoning to Alessandro, who rode up, and
received his mistress’s orders to return to Valetta and prepare some
of the unused rooms at her lodgings, and to secure the services of a
doctor, all without making any fuss, or saying who the new visitors
were. He departed at once, and the Princess began to inquire into
Cyril’s symptoms, a subject which lasted Wright until the carriage
arrived at the farm. The peasant descended from the box and led the
way into the little courtyard with its high stone walls and one tree,
while two or three women and a number of children peered shyly at the
ladies from the shelter of the outbuildings. Wright went straight into
the house, and with an innate dramatic instinct, the existence of
which had hitherto been unsuspected in him, announced merely--
“There’s two ladies ’ere, your Majesty, with a carriage, as will be
pleased to give you and ’is ’ighness a lift into the city.”
“Ladies!” Nadia heard Caerleon remark, in tones of dismay; but
catching sight of their shadows behind Wright, he took his courage in
both hands and came towards them. There is a popular superstition,
which is an article of faith with some people, that a gentleman looks
like a gentleman under any circumstances. Perhaps Caerleon was the
exception which is said to prove the rule--at any rate, wearing
neither coat nor waistcoat, and not having had the opportunity of
washing or shaving for several days, he presented the appearance of an
unusually powerful ruffian with whom trade had not prospered of late.
“I am most grateful for your kindness,” he said, coming to the door
and bowing to the Princess; “but I could not think of trespassing upon
it by accepting your offer. The fact is, we are not exactly in trim
for ladies’---- Nadia!” he seized her hand in both his, and stood
gazing at her, forgetful alike of the Princess and of what he had been
saying, until Nadia, feeling herself growing crimson under the look in
his eyes, drew her hand away and retreated behind the Princess.
“My child, you are acquainted with this gentleman, I think?” murmured
her godmother reprovingly; and Nadia came forward again for an instant
and said in confusion--
“The King of Thracia--Princess Soudaroff,” and retired in greater
confusion still, feeling that it was indeed the most unkindest cut of
all that she should be the first to remind him of his altered estate,
by presenting him to the Princess instead of the Princess to him. But
her godmother was already crossing the room towards Cyril, who was
lying moaning and only half-conscious on a bed of maize-leaves in a
corner.
“I am afraid he is very ill,” said the Princess aside to Caerleon,
“and he certainly cannot be nursed here. We must take him to Valetta
in my carriage immediately, and there is a room in my lodgings where
he can be well looked after, and you will be safe at the same time.”
“Oh, really,” began Caerleon, “I don’t know how to thank you enough;
but I can’t saddle you with all the bother of an invalid in this way.”
“Of course not,” said the Princess; “I saddle myself with him. I have
the room, and he needs it. Besides, you are friends of my dear
child’s, so that I cannot count you as strangers, though I hope I
should do the same if you were.”
“I have seen my godmother bring home a dying beggar from the roadside,
in a most dreadful state, and have him nursed and cared for,” said
Nadia, reassuringly. The comparison suggested was not a particularly
happy one; but her intention was so kind that Caerleon felt ashamed of
the twinkle in his eye as he glanced at her, and hoped she had not
seen it.
“See,” said the Princess, “we will get into the carriage, and you and
your servant shall carry your brother to it. Then we will make room
for you too, and the groom shall go on the box. Stay,” and she drew
him aside and put her purse into his hand, “you will wish to reward
these honest people who have given you shelter, and you can repay me
afterwards, when you have been able to make arrangements.”
“You are too good, Princess,” said Caerleon, gratefully; and he
remunerated the farmer and his family for their kindness in a way that
left them calling down blessings on his head. Then he and Wright
carried Cyril to the carriage, where the Princess and Nadia had been
arranging the cushions as comfortably as they could for him, and when
he had been propped up safely, they were able to leave the farm on the
way back to Valetta. There was little opportunity for conversation
during the drive, for Cyril was restless and uneasy, and turned
continually from Nadia to his brother in weary bewilderment, relapsing
now and then into moaning unconsciousness, so that every one was glad
when the city was reached. It was now dusk, and the friendly twilight
prevented the Princess’s strange companions from being noticed in
their passage through the streets and their entrance into the house.
Alessandro had done his work well. The doctor was in attendance, and
Cyril was speedily relegated to a comfortable bed, and delivered over
to the care of an elderly woman, the widow of a martyred Bibelist,
whom the Princess had brought with her on her travels as Nadia’s maid.
The doctor said that cold and exposure had brought on an attack of
pleurisy, but he hoped that it might not prove very serious; and
Caerleon, much relieved by the verdict, gave himself up to the tender
mercies of Alessandro, who provided suitable clothes in a marvellous
manner, and sent him down in proper trim, an hour later, to dine with
the ladies. He was warmly welcomed by the Princess, who had found all
her kindness of heart necessary hitherto to help her to conceal the
dismay she had felt at his appearance, and who positively beamed upon
the transformation effected by Alessandro.