‘Pardon me, my dear Countess, but when you did me the honour to
consult me, I assumed that you had some confidence in my ability. I
offer to take you wherever you wish to go.’
‘You misunderstand me, my dear friend. I do not doubt your power to
release me. But my flight would become a public event; Alexander has
too little self-restraint to keep silence about it. I should thus
damage him as much as by accepting the throne which he offers me.
He has sworn, moreover, that if I persist in my refusal, he will
abdicate.’
With what sophistries will a woman deceive herself where her heart is
concerned! And how worse than useless is it to reason with her.
‘You have told me enough,’ I answered, in a voice which was
melancholy in spite of myself. ‘I perceive that this young monarch
is not indifferent to you.’
The lovely Servian lowered her glance, and began picking a rose to
pieces with her delicate fingers.
‘He is my King,’ she murmured. ‘He is the last of the dynasty of
Obrenovitch, which my family have served faithfully for a hundred
years. The one thing which alarms me most in the whole situation is
that I have been urged to accept the King’s hand by Colonel Masileff.’
‘Colonel Masileff?’
‘Who is understood to be the secret head of the party in favour of
Prince Peter Karageorgevitch.’
I now understood the seriousness of the affair, since it was
clear that whatever step was favoured by the supporters of the
Karageorgevitch claimant must be fraught with some danger to the
Obrenovitch.
‘Is Alexander aware of this fact?’
‘I have told him, but he considers it an excuse on my part. Perhaps,
if you were to warn him, he might listen to you.’
I did not much relish the task of forcing my advice on a headstrong
youth, intoxicated with love and sovereignty. In the end I decided to
return from Belgrade through Switzerland and take an opportunity of
finding out something about Alexander’s rival for the Servian crown.
But the ways of women are proverbially difficult to calculate.
While I was still lingering in Belgrade, on the look-out for some
useful introduction to Prince Peter, the world was startled by the
public announcement of the forthcoming marriage of the King and the
Countess.
I went at once to wait on the prospective Queen of Servia to tender
my formal congratulations. I found her already surrounded by a throng
of courtiers, among whom I discerned the lean military figure and
vulture nose of the man whom Draga herself had denounced to me a few
days before--Colonel Masileff.
So magical is the influence of royalty that I found myself able to
detect a difference already in the manner, and even in the very
voice, of the woman who had bared her heart to me so short a time
before. She was gracious and cordial, but it was the graciousness
and cordiality of a Sovereign to a subject, rather than that of a
beautiful woman to a man.
Coming away I thrust my arm through that of the formidable Colonel.
‘Have you any commands for Geneva?’ I asked. ‘I shall be there in the
course of two days.’
Masileff let himself be surprised.
‘But I thought you were a friend of the Countess?’ he stammered.
‘Certainly--as you are,’ I retorted. ‘It seems to me that the
Countess is doing a very good stroke of work for a cause in which you
and I are both interested.’
Masileff glanced at me with curiosity.
‘Do you know, Monsieur V----’ (I had not seen cause to disguise my
identity on this occasion), ‘that I think you must be more fortunate
than I am. That is to say, I think you must possess the confidence of
a person who has not yet honoured me by a sign that my services are
acceptable to him.’
‘Thank you, Colonel,’ I replied, bowing. ‘Your message shall be
delivered in the right quarter.’
I left Belgrade the same night, and two days later found myself in
the presence of a quiet, elderly man in a modest apartment near the
famous Lake Leman.
I had sent in my card with the pencilled addition: ‘Confidential
agent of the Tsar, the German Emperor, and Monsieur Chamberlain.’
I felt sure that the names of the powerful triumvirate who, between
them, controlled the destinies of the Old World, would secure me the
attention of Prince Peter Karageorgevitch; and I was not mistaken.
The Prince received me with a real or assumed nervousness, and
expressed himself anxious to receive any message I might have for
him.
‘I have no message of any importance for your Highness,’ I replied,
scrutinising carefully the careworn features of the elderly man who
sat in front of me. ‘My only message at all is one from Colonel
Masileff, which is perhaps not worth your attention.’
‘I have heard of the Colonel, and shall be pleased to hear anything
on his behalf,’ the Prince replied cautiously.
‘Colonel Masileff is a little disappointed, sir, that your Highness
has not offered him any token of your approbation. He would welcome
some sign that you are not indifferent to your friends in Servia.’
Prince Peter looked at me with a glance which, though quiet, was not
less searching than my own.
‘I thank you, Monsieur V----. Is that all?’
‘It is the whole of the message, sir.’
‘Again, thank you.’
‘Your Highness does not wish to make me the medium of your answer,
perhaps?’ I hinted.
‘There is no answer.’
I perceived that I was dealing with a man of no ordinary penetration
and shrewdness. With such men it is always best to come straight to
the point and to be frank.
‘And now, sir, for the real object of my visit. I need not tell your
Highness that I did not come to Geneva to oblige Colonel Masileff.’
‘That is already quite clear,’ the Prince commented drily.
A remark from which I inferred that it was in the power of Masileff
to have given me credentials which would have secured me a very
different reception.
‘I have come here, then, to beg for the life of a woman.’
Karageorgevitch started slightly, and began for the first time to
look uneasy.
‘I thought you said you had no important message,’ he reminded me.
‘I have none. The woman I speak of is totally ignorant of the step I
take in coming here.’
‘Then your interest in the matter is----?’
‘Is personal merely. I make it my private prayer to your Highness
that, in a certain event which no longer seems improbable, the life
of this woman shall be spared.’
Prince Peter gave an imperceptible shrug, a shrug which said very
plainly, nevertheless, ‘I have no motive for obliging you.’