THE WAGES OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS.
The situation at Therma was “serious” in the opinion of the most
optimistic observers, “critical” in that of others. The Roumi troops
were irritated beyond endurance, so said their apologists, by the
action of the Admirals in saving the Hagiamavra insurgents from the
punishment they merited, and were still further incensed by the
importation of European soldiers to guard the Consulates. An indemnity
had been demanded by the three “Liberal” powers for the damage to
person and property sustained by their nationals during the rioting of
which Zoe had spoken to Wylie, and since settlement was deferred in
the old familiar way, it was thought well to act decisively, and seize
the Therma quays. This was the last straw. The international force
sent to take over the customs buildings was attacked by an armed mob,
largely composed of Roumi soldiers, led by their officers. Not
expecting serious opposition, and desirous of sparing Roumi
susceptibilities as much as possible, the Consuls had sent only small
detachments, and these were compelled to retreat down the quay, fired
at from windows and roofs, and sustaining many casualties. The British
destroyer lying in the harbour shelled the mob, and covered the
embarkation of the survivors, but could not protect either the
European or the Christian parts of the town. The fact that three of
the great Powers were to some extent in sympathy with the malcontents
made it impossible to arrange for a joint defence of the diplomatic
quarter, and the British, Neustrian, and Magnagrecian Consulates were
subjected to three separate sieges, in which the occupants suffered
severely, until their Admirals, arriving in haste, landed parties to
relieve them. When the sacred abodes of diplomacy were thus treated,
it was clear that no consideration for the homes of ordinary
Christians, whether Roumi subjects or foreigners, was to be expected.
The rest of the city was given up to rapine of all kinds; the ravages
of the massacres in the spring, which had been in process of being
repaired, were renewed, and anarchy reigned. Jalal-ud-din Pasha,
summoned by the Admirals to recall his soldiers to barracks, declared
his inability to restrain them unless the foreign troops whose
presence excited their ire were removed, and when this was indignantly
refused, relapsed into a benevolent neutrality. But unfortunately for
himself and his master, he had misread the situation. Outrages on
Emathian Christians were one thing,--Europe had endured them with more
or less equanimity for centuries; but to burn European officials in
their houses and shoot down European troops was something very
different. The insulted Powers hurried reinforcements to the spot
(those of England were already on their way, thanks to Admiral
Essiter’s appreciation of Wylie’s warning), and the Admirals were
given full authority to deal with the state of affairs.
Nor was the vindication of the insulted dignity of Europe left
entirely to the sword. The Ambassadors at Czarigrad, who had debated
earnestly and fruitlessly for many months, labouring at a Sisyphean
task with a patience and lack of success that were little less than
pathetic, found a ray of light suddenly cast upon their path. The
Neustrian and Scythian Ambassadors arrived at the scene of their
discussions one morning in company,--a circumstance that in itself
aroused comment, since the representatives of the friendly and allied
nations had for some time been on opposite sides. The reconciliation
was emphasised when the Neustrian Ambassador, acting under instruction
from his Government, pointed out that the events now occurring at
Therma showed how unlikely it was that the Hagiamavran leaders would
receive fair treatment at Roumi hands, and proposed their immediate
release. The Scythian Ambassador, similarly instructed from home,
caused an immense sensation by seconding the suggestion, and it was
carried. The Magnagrecian Ambassador was thereupon encouraged to bring
forward the proposal, which had been shelved for so long, that Emathia
should be constituted an autonomous principality, under the merely
nominal suzerainty of Roum; but his Pannonian colleague, who had by
this time recovered from the shock of finding himself deserted by
Scythia, countered his plan with the suggestion that a Christian
Governor-General, approved by the Powers, but responsible to
Czarigrad, was all that was necessary. That this Christian Vali should
be a Roumi subject was of course a foregone conclusion, and he
believed that the Grand Seignior might be induced to reappoint M.
Nestor Skopiadi, who had already proved himself so zealous and capable
a ruler. This barefaced attempt to establish over again the hopeless
state of things which had ended with Skopiadi Pasha’s flight from
massacre in the spring was a little too much for the rest of the
Ambassadors, and the gathering broke up without expressing any
collective opinion, that its members might report to their respective
Governments the alternative proposals submitted to it.
But at least the lives of the insurgent leaders were safe. The tidings
was brought to Skandalo by the _Magniloquent’s_ steam pinnace,
carrying Admiral Essiter’s flag-lieutenant, who was charged with
despatches for the Magnagrecian commander at Ephestilo. He brought
also the Admiral’s own suggestion that he should offer to take Zoe to
Ephestilo with him, in case she might like to carry the news to Wylie
herself, and she accepted the invitation joyfully. While she was
getting ready, Eirene was summoned from the sick-room by the news that
the Princess Dowager of Dardania was inquiring for her. The creditor
had come to demand the payment of the bond, and Eirene took the
fateful paper from its hiding-place inside the bodice of her dress,
and went to face her.
“I felt that I must come and bring my congratulations in person,” said
the Princess, in a tone loud enough to be heard by the flag-lieutenant
in the next room. “Well, have I kept my promise?” she asked, in a
lowered voice.
“You are very good, madame,” said Eirene loudly. “Yes, and I will keep
mine,” she added, almost in a whisper.
The Princess took the paper from her hand, and without ceremony opened
and read it. “Good!” she said lightly. “This is quite satisfactory.
Prince Theophanis is fully aware of the nature of what he has signed,
of course?”
“You know he is not!” said Eirene indignantly.
“Ah, well, sooner or later he will be. Good-bye, dear friend. So glad
to have had just this glimpse of you!”
She rustled out, and the flag-lieutenant wondered why Eirene’s face
should look so tragic after a mere visit of kindly courtesy. But Zoe
came hurrying from her room, and the incident was forgotten. He had a
good deal to tell her as the pinnace carried them down the coast and
round the point and up again, for the Roumis had shown their
resentment at Scythia’s defection from their cause by attacking the
Scythian Consulate at Therma, the guards of which were not expecting
an assault, and while the occupants were rescued by a sortie from the
British Consulate, the place itself was looted and burnt. It was the
general opinion, he told her, that this change of front on the part of
Scythia portended the separation of Emathia from Roum, and its
establishment as an autonomous state under Maurice, insomuch that
various old and orthodox Mussulmans at Therma were already packing up
their goods, preferring transplantation to living under the rule of
the Giaour. This news troubled Zoe almost as much as the tidings of
the prisoners’ safety had rejoiced her, for it recalled to her Wylie’s
unbending attitude in the past, and she wondered, sick at heart,
whether he would again think it right to withhold from her, for her
own sake, all that she cared for. It was with fear and trembling that
she climbed the steps to the verandah, in the wake of the sentry, who
was beaming with sympathy for her good news. She did not quite see why
he insisted on going up first, and proclaiming, “The lady, sir, with a
hannouncement,” but when Wylie actually walked to meet her, leaning on
a stick, she understood.
“Oh, have you walked from your chair to the steps quite by yourself?”
she cried in delight.
“Absolutely. How’s that for improvement? And I don’t mean you to enjoy
all the privileges of our engagement in future,” he said, stooping and
kissing her. “Why, Zoe, what’s the matter?” as he looked into her
face. Her tearful eyes, and the general air of agitation about her,
prepared him for the tidings she must be bringing. “Is it news, dear?”
“Yes. I have something--to tell you,” she broke out, stopping short,
and putting out her hands to keep him from her.
“My dear girl, I can guess. Do these naval fellows think I can’t stand
a shock, that they send you to break it to me? Don’t trouble to say
it.”
Zoe gave a little shivering laugh, which sounded oddly in his ears. “I
must. I said I would,” she gasped, but she let herself be drawn into
his arms, and clung to him convulsively. “You won’t turn away from
me?” she besought him. “You won’t be different? Everything will be as
it has been till now?”
“Turn away from you--because the brutes have given you such a thing to
do, poor little girl?” His tone was answer enough. “Here, let me say
it for you. They are going to hand me over to the Roumis, I suppose?”
“No. They are going to set you free,” came from Zoe in a kind of wail,
and her fingers tightened their hold.
“But you must be dreaming, my darling. Or am I dreaming? It is all
right--and you are _sorry_?”
“Oh no, no!” Zoe freed herself, and stamped her foot at him. “I was
only afraid--you might want to give me up. But you shan’t!” as she saw
the look she knew so well creeping over his face. “You promised that
everything should be as it has been, and I won’t give you up--not if
Maurice was made Emperor to-morrow! That was why I was glad when the
Admiral let me bring you the news--that mere gratitude might keep you
from throwing me over.”
“Don’t talk about my throwing you over,” he said, more sternly than
she had heard him speak for a long time. “I might feel bound in honour
to release you from your promise.”
“You couldn’t if I refused to release you.”
“I must think what is the best thing to be done for you.”
“The best thing? Ask Maurice. When I told him you and I were engaged,
he said it was the finest news he had heard for many a day.”
“It would have been wiser to ask your sister-in-law.”
“Worldly-wiser, perhaps! No, not even that. Have I been so
particularly happy and useful all these years, so conspicuously
successful in my influence on every one around me, that you want to
condemn me to it all again? I suppose you think that trouble is good
for me, since you are kind enough to let me be engaged to you as long
as you are expecting to be killed, and then, as soon as that strain is
over, go on to jilt me.”
“You must let me think,” repeated Wylie, dropping into his chair. “It
is harder for me than for you.”
Zoe’s eyes flamed. “Harder!” she cried. “If you cared for me, it might
be.”
“Not care?” he groaned. “It’s because I do care----”
“It is not!” she said passionately, standing in front of him like an
accuser. “It is because you are afraid what people will say, or hint,
or think about you. You say it would be hard to give me up, but it
would be harder to say to yourself,--I don’t even ask you to say it to
me,--‘It was pride that kept us apart all these years, and I won’t let
it do us any more harm now.’”
“I can’t argue with you, but I am going to try to do the proper
thing,” persisted Wylie.
“Very well, then. I can’t go on pleading for myself with a man who
tells me plainly he doesn’t care what I say. But remember this: if you
throw me over now, you must never, never cross my path again, never
think of helping Maurice in his work. I could not stand seeing you,
meeting you--thinking of these few days when you could afford to let
me be happy, because you were going to die and I could not presume
upon it! And I suppose even you would hardly wish to cut me off from
Maurice, the only person I have left in the world?”
“Zoe, Zoe!” His voice reached her as she walked away, and she paused,
but could not trust herself to turn round.
“If you send me away now, it’s for ever,” she jerked out.
“Let me think,” he entreated.
“No, I won’t. Am I to go or not? You must make up your mind at once.
Oh, Graham, can’t you see--I can’t bear it----”
“No, don’t go! I can’t give you up again. Forgive me, dearest. I
thought I was thinking of you, and it was myself after all.”
White and trembling, Zoe allowed herself to be drawn back. “You must
never do it again,” she managed to say.
“I won’t--it isn’t worth it. What does it signify if all Europe cries
shame upon me as a fortune-hunter, when it would make us both
miserable for ever if I wasn’t?”
“Especially when my fortune is so very desirable,” said Zoe, regaining
calmness. “Plenty of hard work, with a little fancy fighting thrown
in, and a month or two of imprisonment under sentence of death as an
occasional variety.”
“You are the fortune,” said Wylie. She shook her head.
“That sounds very nice, but it isn’t true. My fortune is that I have
Maurice for a brother. That’s all you care about. You know quite well
it was not until you found you would lose him that you changed your
mind about giving me up. But don’t think I mind. I am glad that any
one should appreciate him properly. Oh, there’s the whistle! I must
go--and leave you to think of Maurice.”
“Come here first.” She approached incautiously, and found her hands
seized. “Now tell me whether you really believe I care more about
Maurice than you?”
“You will make me keep the boat waiting. I think you like me nearly as
much as Maurice, you know; well, almost--quite--as much. Oh, you are
hurting my wrists!”
“Only when you try to pull your hands away. No, go on, that’s not
enough. I am not going to be libelled by you, at any rate, whatever
Europe may say. Maurice is my friend, and you think I care for you
just about as much as for him?”
“Well, perhaps a little differently, you know.”
“Only differently--not more? And you are satisfied?”
“I am. But I shouldn’t be if I believed it.”
Her hands had lain passive in Wylie’s, and she twisted them
dexterously away and hurried down the steps, laughing and blushing.
She knew he could not follow her, but he succeeded in reaching the top
of the steps, and his “Just wait till next time!” met her as she
turned to wave him farewell. The flag-lieutenant found it absolutely
useless to speak of politics to her during the return voyage.
It was like coming out of the sunshine into cold shadow to return to
Skandalo. As soon as she entered the house, Dr Terminoff, who was in
charge of Maurice during the absence of the fleet, hurried out to meet
her.
“Can you remain with your brother, madame, while I look after Princess
Theophanis? It has been necessary to inform him of the death of the
poor child, and we have had a very sad scene. She has quite broken
down, and I was obliged to get her out of the room.”
“But think of spoiling the good news from Czarigrad by telling him
to-day!” cried Zoe.
“Hush! he will hear you. Pray go to him, and if there is any rise of
temperature, tell me at once. He insisted that I should go to the
Princess, but I am anxious about him.”
Zoe took the thermometer and went into the sick-room, half hoping that
Maurice would be asleep. But he spoke to her as soon as she approached
the bed.
“It was not Eirene’s fault, Zoe. I made her tell me. I told her she
absolutely must bring him in.”
Zoe could not speak, but she laid her hand on his forehead for a
moment, and he went on.
“I wish you--they--had told me before. I have been looking forward so
much---- I thought he would come and sit on the bed, and we should
have such talks together.”
“Yes, he was so good and quiet.” Zoe commanded her voice with
difficulty.
“But it is worse for Eirene than me. She had such hopes and plans for
him. He was to be all that I am not.”
“He would have been exactly like you, and I’m glad of it,” said Zoe,
with fierce conviction. “And Eirene has no one but herself to thank
for the destruction of her hopes.”
“Don’t, don’t!” said Maurice. Then, after a pause, “You have never
been able to be quite fair to her, have you, Zoe?”
“At any rate, I can’t help seeing that but for her you two would have
been living quietly at Stone Acton--with Con.”
“How can you tell? If his time was come---- And I suppose it is--it
must be--better for him. That was what Eirene said--that he could
never disappoint us now, that I need have no fear of treachery from
him, that he need never be afraid to meet my eye. What could she
mean?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps she didn’t quite know what she was saying.
Maurice, you say I haven’t been fair to her, and I confess that about
the time we came here I was very angry with her, thinking she didn’t
care for you at all compared with her ambition. But I believe she
does.”
“You think it is necessary to tell me that? It would be a poor
look-out for me if she didn’t, since she is all that I have now.”
“Oh, Maurice, don’t you count me?”
“You have old Wylie, and it will be quite different. You’ll understand
soon enough.” Zoe felt insulted, for was it not her prescriptive
right, as a novelist, to understand the feelings proper to all sorts
of circumstances, without having experienced them? She could not quite
keep the injured tone out of her voice.
“If you heard Graham talk, you would see that I couldn’t possibly
change, even if I was likely to,” she said. “Why, I told him just now
that he would be marrying me more for your sake than my own.”
“And what did he say?”
“Oh, of course he made a fuss. But really, you know, I feel that all
our future will be decided by yours. Have you thought at all----”
“It is for Europe to decide.” Maurice spoke with a curious hardness.
“But if they nominate me Prince of Emathia, I shall accept it.”
“Oh, Maurice, after all? I thought perhaps----”
“You will bear me witness that I took this thing up because I thought
it right, not from any yearning for a throne for ourselves or--the
poor little chap. We started our enterprise at the wrong time,
possibly, but that’s neither here nor there. If it was right before,
it’s right now. And if there was no other reason, it has cost me too
much for me to give it up without good cause. Zoe, will you take a
message to Eirene for me? Give her my love, and ask how she is, and
say I want her to come and sit with me as soon as she feels up to it.”
* * * * * * * *
With a madness which suggested that the gods had determined upon their
destruction, the Roumi troops in Therma continued to devastate the
city with fire and sword, until the small European detachments were
hard put to it to hold their ground. More than this they were helpless
to do until their reinforcements arrived, for the Admirals were loath
to face the destruction of life and property which would be caused by
a bombardment, and waited in grim impatience. Meanwhile, the
newspapers of many nations at a safe distance asked, with piteous
reiteration, Are we really in the twentieth century? Is Therma in
Europe or in darkest Africa? Does the European Concert exist? and
similar rhetorical questions which neither needed nor expected an
answer. The British reinforcements were the first to arrive, but the
Power most injured was Neustria, whose Vice-Consul, with all his
family and staff, had been massacred at the beginning of the outbreak.
Therefore the British troops were landed and held in reserve on the
heights overlooking the city, until the arrival of the Neustrian fleet
under command of an officer of impressive seniority, and the next day
an ultimatum, in which the Magnagrecian Admiral concurred, was
despatched to Jalal-ud-din. It demanded, among other things, that he
should surrender for trial by an international commission those of his
soldiers who had been concerned in the murder of Europeans, and embark
the rest immediately for Czarigrad.
As soon as the terms of the ultimatum became known, Pannonia withdrew
her ships promptly from the fleet threatening Therma, though her
Ambassador continued to attend the meetings of his colleagues at
Czarigrad, while Hercynia, in a more uncompromising spirit, retired
from all participation in the Concert and its doings. These
demonstrations of sympathy, it was imagined, stimulated Jalal-ud-din
to reply that the Powers had themselves to thank for the behaviour of
his troops, and need not look to him to get them out of their
difficulties. After this, he translated his words into action, so it
was asserted, by leading in person an overwhelming attack on the
dilapidated remains of the British Consulate. The Powers had had their
answer, and after an hour’s delay, to afford any peaceably disposed
persons an opportunity of removing beyond the bounds of the city, they
delivered their rejoinder in the form of a bombardment. When the
cannonade from the ships ceased, the British force already on shore
covered the landing of the other troops, and that evening the flags of
four nationalities waved on the ruins which had once been the city
walls, and their forces were only waiting for the subsidence of the
flames to penetrate the blocked streets. The knell of Roumi domination
in the two western vilayets of Emathia had sounded when Jalal-ud-din
Pasha surrendered, with his surviving troops, to the Neustrian Admiral
amid the ruins of his Konak.
The heaps of rubbish which had once been Therma were still smoking
when Scythia flung another metaphorical bombshell into the
ambassadorial conference at Czarigrad. The discussions of that august
body were being carried on under difficulties, since there were lively
apprehensions of an outburst of Moslem fury, roused by the course of
events in Emathia, that would sweep away every Christian in the
capital, but the solemn farce of suggesting and considering the names
of candidates likely to be acceptable at once to the Grand Seignior,
and to one and all of the Powers, must be continued at all costs. The
mask was thrown off, however, when the Scythian Ambassador, without
previous consultation with his colleagues, proposed Prince Maurice
Theophanis as High Commissioner of Emathia. His wealth, and his
comparative success in the brief experiment of administering
Hagiamavra, were not forgotten, and much stress was laid upon the fact
of his marriage with a lady of recognised imperial lineage and lofty
connections. The other side of the case was presented by the Pannonian
Ambassador, who could hardly find words in which to exhibit the
absurdity of conferring such a distinction upon an upstart whose
claims had never been scrutinised, far less established, and who had
not only defied the Concert of Europe, but kept it at bay for months.
However, since topsy-turviness was to be the order of the day, he
would not pose as the one wise man in a world of fools, but would
propose, in opposition to Prince Theophanis, a candidate whose claims
were far superior, and his drawbacks no greater, in the person of
Prince Romanos Christodoridi.