TWO DIPLOMATISTS.
The colloquy between Prince Christodoridi and his son had taken
place at the farther end of the terrace, from which led the orange
walk mentioned by Princess Emilia in speaking to Zoe. On a marble seat
under the orange-trees, shaded by the terrace but invisible from it,
sat a lady in black, who was a deeply interested auditor of all that
passed. When Prince Romanos and his father prepared to descend the
steps, she rose from her seat and hastened noiselessly down the
avenue, turning sharply when she had gone about twenty yards, so that
as they came round the curve in the marble staircase she was visible
coming towards them under the orange-trees with a book in her hand.
“It is the Dowager Princess,” murmured Prince Romanos. “Permit me,
madame, to present my father.”
A thought seemed to strike Prince Christodoridi as he glanced at the
still handsome face, and noted the repressed fire of the dark eyes.
“It is perhaps to you, madame, that I am indebted for the message that
brought me here?” he asked in his bad French.
The Princess looked surprised. “To me, monsieur? Certainly not. It is
not for me to send invitations to my son’s capital nowadays.”
“I am at Bashi Konak uninvited, madame. The message to which I refer
was a warning that my son here was on the point of marriage with a
schismatic, the sister of the impostor Teffany.”
“A message which I am hardly likely to have sent, since I have the
best means of knowing that your son has not the slightest thought of
the kind.” The Princess bestowed a sympathetic smile on Prince
Romanos, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“So he tells me. As to the truth of the matter, you are happy if you
can feel sure you have come upon it, madame. I trust you are on my
side?”
“Undoubtedly, Prince. In my opinion it would be a grave mistake for
your son to countenance the Teffany claims by allying himself with one
of the family, as with an equal.”
“Madame, I see you are a woman of sense. But permit me to say I had
doubted it. What is your connection with a wretched renegade Greek in
Roumi employ, whom we picked up last night from the wreck of a
fishing-boat we ran down?”
“Are you asking me riddles?” demanded the Princess, with distinct
displeasure. “Pray, does this person assert that he is in my service?
You will allow me to remind you that he is not necessarily speaking
the truth.”
“With that I have nothing to do,” was the rough reply. “When I saw the
fellow’s frock-coat and fez I nearly bade my men throw him back into
the water again, but he pleaded with me by God and the all-holy Virgin
to spare his life and land him at some Pannonian port. I told him
plainly that I would not go an inch out of my way for him, but he
might slink on shore here if he liked. Then he seemed happier, and
said that the Dowager Princess would vouch for him. He had escaped
from Therma, he told one of my men.”
The Princess’s eyes met those of Prince Romanos in amused surprise.
“Can it possibly be Skopiadi Pasha?” broke from both of them. “A
grey-haired man with a glass eye?” added the Princess.
“That’s the fellow,” assented Prince Christodoridi.
“This is really very funny,” said the Princess, with decorous mirth.
“It is a good thing you did not throw the poor man back into the
water, Prince. Now we shall get authentic news as to what has happened
at Therma. And am I really the only person to whom poor Skopiadi could
appeal? I came in contact with him years ago, at the time of the
Rhodope negotiations, but I never expected to be asked to vouch for
him after a shipwreck. We must certainly relieve his mind at once, and
see that he is treated properly. You are rather too stalwart a
partisan for the present day, Prince.”
She had turned and walked towards the Palace with them, and now left
them, with an amused smile. Prince Christodoridi was purple with
indignation.
“Does the woman expect me to make an apostate a welcome guest?” he
demanded. “These are fine times, indeed! Why, your grandfather would
have fastened him up in the rigging, and let the worst shots among the
crew practise on him. A good thing I didn’t put him back into the
water, was it? I wish I had!”
“We have to consider our neighbours’ susceptibilities a little
nowadays,” said Prince Romanos languidly. “After all, Skopiadi is
still Vali of Therma, and the Prince of Dardania doesn’t want to get
into trouble at Czarigrad. I think there may yet be some surprises in
store for you, lord.”
Prince Christodoridi recognised the truth of this prophecy in the
afternoon, when he found the man he had treated so cavalierly received
as a guest whom the Dardanian Court delighted to honour, and
accorded--so his jealous mind averred, though no one else could
distinguish it--a precedence superior to his own. Prince Christodoridi
and his ship’s crew were accepted as welcome recruits for the aquatic
sports of the morrow, but in social matters they were outer barbarians
compared with the despised Skopiadi, who was in the inmost circle of
European diplomacy, and knew everybody. It was some consolation to the
wounded spirit of the island ruler that his rival begged to be allowed
to absent himself from the festivities at the port, on the plea that
his health was suffering from the hardships met with in his escape.
His account of this reflected the highest credit upon himself. Driven
to desperation by the insubordinate conduct of Jalal-ud-din, whom he
had discovered to be plotting a massacre of the Christians, and who
had incited his own guard to murder him, he had gone on board a
steamer in the harbour at the beginning of the troubles, intending to
go straight to Czarigrad, and lay his case before the Grand Seignior,
demanding support against his aspiring colleague. Unfortunately, when
the fire broke out in the city, and accounts of fresh horrors arrived
perpetually by the mouth of a continuous stream of refugees, the
captain of the steamer refused to take his ship to Czarigrad, or any
Roumi port, and the unfortunate Skopiadi would have been carried off
to Egypt if he had not insisted on being transferred to a
fishing-boat, the crew of which promised to put him on shore at some
Illyrian coast-town. The sad accident which had brought about the loss
of the fishing-boat prevented this, and it was to the prompt help of
Prince Christodoridi that the Pasha owed his life. It was only natural
that he should feel unstrung and disinclined for gaiety, and he
listened without regret to the bustle which marked the departure of
his hosts and their other guests. The Palace and its grounds were at
his command, and he wandered out into the garden with great
contentment, though not without the occasional apprehensive start
which betrayed that his dwelling-place had of late been in the midst
of alarms. He encountered nothing more alarming than the Dowager
Princess, sitting at work on the marble seat in the orange walk, but
for a moment it seemed as if he found her as terrifying a sight as he
could well have met. Then he rallied his courage, and was about to
retire with a bow, when she stopped him.
“Pray, monsieur, do not treat me as if I were a monster. We seem to be
left to keep each other company, so you must be good enough to
entertain me.”
At her gesture he took a seat, as far from her as the limits of the
marble bench would allow, and protested, with all the ease and
vivacity of a criminal summoned to execution, that he could ask for
nothing better than to be allowed to make an humble effort to
entertain her Royal Highness. She watched him through half-closed
eyelids, enjoying his discomfiture.
“And when do you propose to return to take up the duties of your post,
monsieur?” she asked him softly. “I have not observed any undue
anxiety on your part to discover the quickest way of getting back to
Therma.”
“My health, madame--the shocks I have undergone----”
“Ah, yes--true. The first shock occurred before you embarked, did it
not? Otherwise you could hardly have mistaken a Port Said boat for a
Czarigrad one.” The unhappy man writhed. “And it must have been most
humiliating when the captain defied you to your face,--of course you
had threatened him with condign punishment if he did not put back and
land you on the quay again?--and even refused your lavish offers of
money.” She looked across at him, then laughed gently. “No, my poor
Skopiadi, nature never intended you for a hero, but she made you a
serviceable diplomatist. Why did you run counter to all her warnings
by allowing them to make you Vali of Therma?”
“Alas, madame! I had no choice.”
“I see. On the whole it was rather less dangerous to accept than
refuse, was it? Your ruin was only problematical if you went, but
certain if you stayed at Czarigrad. I imagine, however, that you gave
no hostages to fortune? Madame Skopiadi and your daughters are nowhere
in the Roumi dominions?”
“My wife was unable to accompany me to Therma, madame. She was ordered
to take a protracted cure at Charlottenbad, and she is now in Paris,
superintending the education of her daughters.”
“Very wise. And I shall not be doing you an injustice if I suppose
that your fortune is safely invested--also outside the Roumi
dominions? On the whole, then, we may take it that you have no thought
of returning to Czarigrad at present--in fact, that you will
studiously remain at a distance from it?”
“Madame, I neither assent to your conclusions nor deny them.”
“It is unnecessary. But observe, monsieur, they are more than
conclusions, they are facts. Still, they will remain hidden in my
mind, unless I have occasion to make them public. You have a
considerable reputation in Europe, I believe? The Powers all favoured
your appointment?”
“Unfortunately for me, madame, they did.”
“Then you have some thought, doubtless, of visiting the Foreign
Ministers of the interested Powers, and explaining the reasons for the
failure of your mission? I think it might be well, in your own
interest.”
“I shall be honoured, madame, if I can combine any interest of yours
with my own.”
The Princess frowned. “If these things are to be done, they should not
be said, monsieur.” He bowed, crestfallen. “It is your unbiassed
opinion, is it not, that the present state of things in Emathia cannot
continue? Nothing is to be hoped for from the system of illusory
safeguards imposed by the Powers on the Roumi Government?” He bowed
again, but evidently thought silence wiser than speech. “A new plan
must be tried, involving the virtual expatriation of the Roumis. They
may keep garrisons in Therma and two or three other cities, in token
of suzerainty, but the province must be administered by a Commissioner
appointed by the Powers, and responsible to them.”
“You have voiced my own opinion, madame. But these claimants--which do
you support?” He trembled at his own audacity in asking the question,
but an answer was vital for the direction of his future course. The
Princess showed no anger as she replied with much frankness--
“Neither. I hope to show you that they are both impossible. What do
you think of a plan to seize the Hagiamavra peninsula, and defy the
Roumis there at the head of the Emathian insurgents?”
“There is no doubt that such a scheme would gravely prejudice its
planner in the eyes of Europe, madame.”
“This is more than a scheme. In a few days it will be a fact.”
“And you would have the Powers occupy the peninsula, madame, and thus
frustrate the plot?”
“By no means!” There was something almost amounting to despair at his
obtuseness in the Princess’s voice. “It must not be frustrated. They
must carry it out, and make themselves impossible. Listen. It is
Romanos Christodoridi who has conceived the plan, but I can ensure
that the other party adopt it. They are stronger than he, and will
probably succeed in establishing themselves at Hagiamavra. If blows
are exchanged, it will only be a proof of the unfitness of both sides
to rule; it may even eliminate him altogether. But if not, he can be
removed from the path in another way--by a schismatic marriage.”
“With Princess Zoe Theophanis?” asked the listener.
“No, that would be too great a risk. The united claims of the
Theophanis descendants would be too strong, if they agreed to act
together instead of quarrelling. Another marriage, far more
efficacious for the purpose---- But leave that to me.”
“I desire nothing better, madame. But who, then, is your candidate?”
“Need you ask, monsieur?”
“I must have it from your own lips, madame.”
“That is absolutely unnecessary.” The Princess was clearly annoyed,
but there was a point beyond which the Greek could not be brow-beaten.
“Unless I know your wishes, I cannot undertake to forward them,
madame.”
Defeated by his obstinacy, she spoke hurriedly. “You must represent
the importance of haste. Unless Europe intervenes at once, the Balkans
will be in a blaze, and the conflagration may spread. The delay for
which Scythia and Pannonia hoped, which was to defer the crisis until
they were ready to divide Emathia between them, is out of the
question. In the circumstances, what better ruler could there be than
my son Kazimir,--a _persona grata_ to Scythia, connected with every
royal house in Europe, born and brought up in the Balkans, in the one
state which has given the Powers no trouble, and unmarried?”
“Undoubtedly, madame, there are few candidates with superior
claims--if those of descent are to be ignored.”
“I tell you, the claimants here shall render themselves impossible. My
son will need advisers, monsieur,--men acquainted with Emathia----”
“You honour me, madame. Provided, then, that the Theophanis claim
becomes a mockery----”
“Trust me for that. I have a little experience, you will allow?
Indeed, I believe I know too much for my son’s gardeners. I always
declared that this orange walk ought to run in the opposite direction,
and you can see how much better the growth of the trees would have
been.”
The words might have suggested that the Princess had suddenly taken
leave of her senses, as she rose and emphasised her meaning vigorously
with gestures; but they were accounted for to Skopiadi Pasha by the
appearance of a lady-in-waiting, who was hovering in the middle
distance, anxious to know where her Royal Highness would have tea
served. The colloquy was at an end, but all that was necessary had
been said, and it remained only for both parties to carry out their
agreement. The Princess was the first to make a move, having the
advantage over Skopiadi Pasha in that the material on which she had to
work was close at hand. She began upon it the same evening, when the
princely party returned from the port, tired and sunburnt, and
decidedly inclined to think that aquatic sports were generally
over-praised, at any rate from the spectators’ point of view. In
Princess Emilia’s hearing she asked Donna Olimpia to come to her rooms
when she was dismissed for the night, and write a letter for her that
she wished to send to a Magnagrecian acquaintance. The maid-of-honour,
who had been looking weary and dispirited, brightened up at once, and
presented herself in the Princess’s sitting-room with shining eyes,
which lost their light, however, after a hasty glance round.
“No, he is not here this evening,” said the Princess, with a
sympathetic smile. “We must be prudent, you know. It would not take
much to make my daughter-in-law send you back to Magnagrecia, and then
you might never see him again.”
The girl acquiesced silently, though the tears had started to her
eyes. The Princess laid her hand kindly on hers. “It has been a hard
day, I am afraid?” she asked.
“Oh, so hard!” breathed Donna Olimpia, with difficulty. “My Princess
was so exacting. She kept me close to her the whole time--always
wanting me to hand her things, or tell her which the boats were. And
he--he was at Princess Zoe’s side all day, talking and laughing--and
looking at her as he does at me.”
The Princess restrained a smile at the simplicity of the passionate
girl who expected Prince Romanos to keep the expressive glances of his
fine eyes for her alone, but she made no comment. “This is what I
feared,” she said. “Political necessities, you know----”
“He promised he would make her refuse him.”
“She has not refused him. I happen to know that.”
Donna Olimpia turned so white that even the hard-hearted plotter
before her was frightened, and added hastily, “I don’t mean that she
has accepted him. He has not proposed. His father arrived and
interrupted their conversation.”
“If she had, I would have killed her--and him,” muttered the girl,
looking so like a beautiful fury that for a second time the Princess
was dismayed by the strength of the storm which she had fanned for her
own purposes. This all-important instrument needed supremely dexterous
handling, and she drew away from her a little.
“I hardly know whether to go on with what I was going to tell you,”
she said. “I thought you would be anxious to protect Prince Romanos
from the consequences of his own indiscretion, but perhaps you would
rather leave him to his punishment.”
“He is in danger from the other Englishman? But this is foolishness!
She has not encouraged him--even I can see that.”
“I don’t understand. The danger has nothing to do with Princess Zoe or
any Englishman. It is political.”
“Ah, he is so daring, so rash! What has he done?”
“It is what he proposes to do.” The Princess was encouraged by the
softness of Donna Olimpia’s voice. “He means to throw himself into the
midst of the Emathian insurgents, and lead them against the Roumis.
That sounds a very fine thing to do,” with some irritation, as the
girl’s eyes lighted up, “but you don’t seem to see that it means
almost certain death to him, and in any case ruin to his hope of
obtaining a throne.”
“For his possible throne I care nothing!” cried Donna Olimpia; “but
his life--that is different. He shall not destroy himself!”
“So I thought you would say. Well, my plan was that we must
manage--you and I--to keep him back, and induce Prince and Princess
Theophanis to take this mad step in his place.”
The girl laughed gleefully. “And so relieve him of his opponent as
well!” she said.
“Exactly. But we must work very carefully. Prince Romanos is waiting
for some signal before he starts. Either he expects messengers of his
own, or--which I think is more likely--he is bribing the messengers of
Professor Panagiotis. It must be your business to discover when he
receives the signal. He must promise not to start without bidding you
farewell, and must tell you as long before he goes as possible.”
“Yes, I can manage that.”
“Then I will manage the rest. He must be detained, and the Theophanis
party must be warned of his intention, and hasten to anticipate it.
They will be in Emathia before they discover their mistake, and then
they cannot retreat. He will be safe, and ought to be grateful, though
I cannot say that he will obtain his throne even then. He may have
involved himself too far in this foolish plot. But your love for him
does not depend on a throne?”
“I hate the very thought of it! It is that alone that made him pay
attention to Princess Zoe: he has told me so. But for his imperial
descent and his great future, he would marry me to-morrow.”
“I see. Some women would prefer the lover to succeed, even at the cost
of their happiness,” said the Princess drily.
“Ah, I am not like that. A throne which he could share with me--yes;
but a throne for him without me--no,” was the frank reply. “Not that I
wish Princess Theophanis to put her husband on the throne. That is a
woman of the most absolute heartlessness. All these troubles are due
to her.”
“Why, how is that?” asked the Princess, rather startled.
“It was before you came, madame. She wished Princess Zoe to marry the
Englishman, Lord Armitage. I knew it; I saw her schemes. Then came
he--Romanos--and she changes her mind, and will have him and no other
as brother-in-law. All the pleasant opportunities are now for him, and
the poor snubbed Englishman scowls in the background. Ah, madame, I
entreat you, punish Princess Eirene, and do it through Lord Armitage!
She deserves it, and he--it will be some satisfaction for him.”
“Your methods are forcible, but crude.” The Princess spoke with the
air of a connoisseur. “But leave it to me. I think I see what to do.”