The Heritage

“I will come,” she said, and with trembling fingers tied on the black bonnet with its long fall of crape reaching to the ground, reminiscent of the court mourning of her early days in Scythia, which had made Maurice so anxious and uneasy when he caught sight of it once that the doctor had fairly driven her out of the room. Together they had concocted a myth concerning Eirene’s desire to show sympathy with the families of the slain insurgents, which the patient’s dulled brain and limited powers of asking questions had not yet been able to penetrate; but Eirene had not ventured to appear in the bonnet again in his room, though she scouted angrily the surgeon’s blunt advice that she should consider the living husband before the dead child, and defer the outward tokens of woe for the present. She did not herself realise the actual satisfaction that her depth of crape gave her; it was in accordance with her feelings and the situation, and she derived a certain mournful pleasure from it.

“I am glad you have lost no time,” said the Princess, when she was ushered into her presence. “This affair at Therma renders your husband’s position most precarious.”

“Are the rioters demanding his death?” asked Eirene, almost in a whisper.

“Rioters? This is not a riot. It is an attack by Roumi troops on the troops and Consulates of the three ‘Liberal’ Powers—the three Powers which are protecting your husband. Jalal-ud-din remains passive. The Scythian and Pannonian Consulates have so far escaped, and the Hercynian Consulate has actually been saluted by the revolted troops. There lies your danger.”

“Hercynia has always been hostile,” murmured Eirene.

“Hercynia is ranged on the side of Roum. If this outbreak is quelled, Hercynia will act as mediator between her protégée and the insulted Powers, and her first duty will be to show that Roum is more sinned against than sinning. She will demand the instant surrender of the Hagiamavra leaders.”

“But they would not grant it, when Roum has allowed the Consuls to be attacked.”

“They would not, if there was a sufficiently strong party in the Concert against it. At present the Powers are three and three, and because Scythia and Pannonia and Hercynia know what they want, and England is willing to obey any one who tells her what to do, they will prevail. But if one of them is detached, England will gladly help to form a majority on the side she herself prefers.”

“And which of them is to be detached? and what is the price?”

“I will tell you presently. It is some years now since you were in Scythia, madame, but you will remember the characteristics of her diplomacy sufficiently to be sure that in the unprecedented situation arising out of your husband’s filibustering expedition she has not forgotten her own plans for the future of Emathia. For the promotion of those plans, it is necessary that Emathia should only be released from Roum to come under the rule of a Scythian nominee.”

“Your son Kazimir,” murmured Eirene involuntarily.

The Princess frowned. “We are not concerned with personalities, madame, but with facts. Let it suffice that the person chosen must be possessed of certain qualifications to which your husband cannot pretend.”

“I know,” said Eirene wearily. “And therefore he is to retire in the other person’s favour. Why not say so at once?”

“Because that is not what is required of you. Your husband is not recognised by Europe as a candidate. Therefore his withdrawal would be the private act of a private person, and have no political significance whatever. At the same time, it might have a slightly invidious appearance for Scythia suddenly to propose the virtual independence of Emathia under a prince of her choosing.”

“I can’t imagine what you want me to do.” Eirene was wearied to impatience. “Please say what it is, and let me go back to my husband. Only”—with a sudden thought—“it is no use suggesting that Maurice should become a puppet prince under the thumb of Scythia, for nothing would ever induce him to do it.”

“Dear madame, I know your husband and his prejudices. In this little matter, you and I are going to arrange things for his good, for his life’s sake”—the emphasis was significant—“without consulting him. You will believe that it is with the keenest pleasure I tell you that we shall also gratify, though, alas! only temporarily, the ambition you have cherished so long.”

“Madame,” said Eirene, with quivering lips, “my ambition is dead, and you know it. It was for my child I cherished it, and it died with him. No political success can be more than dust and ashes to me now. It is for the sake of my husband’s life, and that alone, that I listen to you.”

The Princess shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Very well, let it pass. To my suggestion, madame. If you agree, the Scythian Ambassador at Czarigrad will definitely propose your husband as Governor-General and Prince of Emathia, under the nominal sovereignty of Roum, but with the guarantee of the Powers and owning responsibility to them. The Liberal Powers will testify surprise, but will eventually joyfully agree. If a popular election is demanded—well, we all know that these things are managed somehow—he will be the person elected. I shall have the honour of paying my respects to the Princess of Emathia in the Konak at Therma.”

“And the price?”

“A mere nothing. A promise signed by your husband to resign his post, for reasons of health, when he is required to do so by Scythia.”

“He would never do it.”

“I think he would, when he knew that the document would be made public in case of his refusing.”

Eirene flushed angrily. “You know I don’t mean that!” she cried. “What Maurice promised he would do, of course. But he would never give the promise.”

“Then he will be handed over to Roum, and—shot.”

“Madame, you ask impossibilities. Why tantalise me like this? My husband would refuse the suggestion with scorn.”

“Dear madame, did I not say that you and I would arrange the matter for his good? He will sign the promise, but it is not necessary he should know what it is.”

“He would never sign it without reading it.”

“Then he must think it something different from what it is. Madame, I understand that your husband has something to forgive you. Have you not the courage, the cunning, if you will, to play a slight trick upon him for his life’s sake?”

“He would never forgive me,” said Eirene, trembling.

“He need never know, unless you tell him. Listen—the intimation that his retirement is desired shall be conveyed to you first. I will not do you the injustice to imagine that you cannot induce him—by urging ill-health on your own part, if necessary—to take a step on which you have set your heart. Once he has complied, the paper shall be handed back to you, to be dealt with as you please.”

Eirene caught at a straw. “But even if he did resign, the people would at once elect Prince Romanos Christodoridi. He is the Pannonian candidate, and the Greeks adore him.”

“My dear friend, it is quite unnecessary for you to trouble yourself about that young man. I know something about him that would make him, if I even whispered it abroad, an impossible candidate. I assure you that everything has been provided for. But I will make your task as easy as I can. The preliminary to proposing your husband as candidate must of course be the decision on the part of the Powers that he is not to be handed over to Roum—that he is, in short, a free man. This I will undertake to obtain at once, confiding in your honour. If I am able to announce to you—and events confirm it—that his life is safe, may I depend upon you to perform your part of the compact?”

“But his life is all that I want. I don’t care now about his becoming Prince.”

“But I do. As I have already pointed out, his life depends upon his being useful in the future.”

“But if I drew back then—you don’t mean——”

“I mean that if you were so foolish as to deny that you had entered into this engagement—well, it is not beyond the resources of diplomacy to discover that the illegal acts of which your husband was guilty during his occupation of Hagiamavra were such as to place him, after all, outside the pale of pardon. We are not to be played with, madame.”

“The—the pardon would cover Colonel Wylie and Lord Armitage, and all who were concerned?”

“Certainly. The Powers—except perhaps Hercynia—are not really thirsting for the blood of these obscure individuals, you know! You have decided to take action, madame—you have conceived a plan? Good! In return, then, for the assurance I trust to be able to convey to you, in two days at most, of the safety of your husband and his associates, you will deliver to me a paper signed by him, containing a solemn promise on his part to resign the Governor-Generalship of Emathia, without assigning other than private reasons, whenever he shall be required to do so by the Emperor of Scythia or his representatives, in consideration of their good offices in bringing about his release?”

“You mean to make him impossible for ever as a candidate!” cried Eirene. Then her indignation faded. “Well, it does not signify. After all, it is for his life. But wait,” her tone was full of animation once more. “It is possible that he will not be elected. Prince Romanos has many supporters. Don’t be afraid,” noticing the Princess’s expression; “Maurice shall offer himself as candidate, according to our compact, and I will do nothing and say nothing to prevent his succeeding. But if he fails, if Prince Romanos is elected, you can do what you like with him, so you have said. Therefore the paper will be of no further use to you. In that case will you give it me back?”

The Princess considered the matter. “Yes,” she said, “I think I can promise that.”

“Swear it!” cried Eirene eagerly. “You have an icon of great sanctity there, I see. Swear upon it.”

“You ask a great deal, madame.” The Princess shot an angry glance at this suppliant who was presuming to make terms with her, but she moved across to the icon and kissed it. “I swear that if Prince Christodoridi is elected, I will return the paper signed by your husband to ‘you,’” she said, with an emphasis on the pronoun which Eirene remembered afterwards. “But do not be afraid, the election will be properly managed, and our friend Apolis will have no chance.”

“I will give or send you the paper when it is certain that my husband’s life is safe,” said Eirene. “I see how it is to be done. You need not be afraid.”

She went out with a pale face and set lips, determined on betraying Maurice for his life’s sake, even arguing to herself that her action was justifiable, since it involved the loss of her own ambition. But on one point she had no illusions. Maurice would never forgive her for setting his life above his honour. She returned home, and before going into the sick-room chose out two sheets of black-edged paper and wrote two letters, arranging the sentences carefully, so that when glanced at cursorily, or seen upside-down, the wording appeared to be the same. Taking these in her hand, with several loose pieces of blotting-paper, she went into Maurice’s room.

“Hush!” came softly from Zoe, who was sitting close to the door. “He’s asleep.”

“No, I’m not,” said a weak voice from the bed. “Eirene, I think you might let Con in to-day. I feel as if I hadn’t seen him for years, and he will be quite good.”

“Oh, hush!” cried Eirene, in a voice that thrilled with pain. Then she recollected herself hurriedly. “No, Maurice, you are not strong enough yet. But I do want you to sign this letter if you feel fairly well. I want Merceda to sell out ten thousand pounds of Mr Teffany-Wise’s money, and pay it into our joint account.”

“What! not had enough adventures yet?” groaned Maurice.

“This is not an adventure; it is a most excellent thing. Zoe, you heard Admiral Essiter talking of the new idea the Constitutional Assembly have started, to police the peninsula themselves, under the Admirals?”

“Yes, but I thought you didn’t care about it,” said Zoe.

“Oh, I have been thinking about it since. They only need money, Maurice, and it would be a step to self-government. Let us lend them this ten thousand.”

“I don’t like taking such a step without consulting any one,” said Maurice.

“You can consult the Admiral before doing it. It can’t be any harm to have the money ready. And it would show that we really wished well to the people, and didn’t care about them merely as potential subjects.”

“I should like to think it over a little.”

“Oh, but I want to do it at once!” Zoe frowned as Eirene’s voice rose higher. “I have written the letter. Look, Zoe, that is all right, isn’t it? Maurice will only have to sign it. You can read it to him if you like, so as not to try his eyes.”

“Just like Eirene!” thought Zoe as she read the letter through. “Pushing her schemes exactly as usual, after all that has happened! If Eirene won’t be satisfied unless you sign it, Maurice,” she added aloud, “I suppose it can’t do much harm. You will have to sign the transfer first, and then the cheque, before she can do anything with the money.”

“Of course. I only feel that one ought to be rather careful what one does in present circumstances, for fear of adding to the Admirals’ difficulties,” said Maurice, by way of apology to his wife for Zoe’s chilling tone and dignified withdrawal to the window. “We will find out exactly what Essiter thinks before taking any further step, but as you say, it can’t hurt to have the money in the bank.”

“Do be careful, Eirene! You will be giving Maurice the blotting-paper to sign,” said Zoe sharply, as the papers fluttered from her sister-in-law’s trembling hands.

“Much more likely to spill the ink,” retorted Eirene, gathering them up, and holding one in front of Maurice with a book to keep it steady. The room was dim and his eyes weak, and neither he nor Zoe had the faintest idea that the paper to which he had laboriously scrawled his name was not the letter to the stockbroker, but the promise demanded by the Princess.

CHAPTER XXIV.
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.

CHAPTER XXV.
A CONTESTED ELECTION.

If Pannonia imagined that Maurice’s failure to secure a unanimous nomination would lead to the withdrawal of his candidature, events proved her to be mistaken. The present anomalous system of government by an International Commission was not to be perpetuated until in pure weariness Europe agreed to the partition of Emathia between her and her great rival. Since neither party would withdraw its candidate, the British Ambassador displayed the impatience and ignorance of the rules of the diplomatic game characteristic of his nation by proposing that the matter should be referred to the Emathians themselves for decision. The naïveté and rashness of the suggestion brought Scythia and Pannonia together in opposition to it, but in the absence of Hercynia the other three Powers had a clear majority. There was no excuse for foreign interference, since neither of the candidates belonged to a reigning house, and the election of delegates could be supervised by the European officers of the Gendarmerie already at work. Moreover, the Emathians had already shown their capacity for representative institutions by the way in which, under the noses of their rulers but without their knowledge, they had elected delegates to the informal assembly held at Bashi Konak under cover of the Prince of Dardania’s Pan-Balkanic Games. The protest of the two Powers which considered themselves specially interested, and aggrieved, was therefore overruled, and a stern warning addressed to the various Balkan states, which were one and all thrilling with indignation at this new development of affairs, by which they were threatened with a rival instead of the acquisition of territory they had demanded. The Dardanian attitude alone remained perfectly correct, the Prince managing to restrain the activities of his warlike subjects, even while he allowed their tongues to wag. The question of Illyria was still in abeyance, for there was no thought of complicating the problems already clustering thick in the path of the new state by adding to it an inaccessible highland largely peopled by irreconcilable Moslems. At present the Illyrians were loudly putting forward their claim to enjoy a republic of their own, but they would soon forsake words in favour of aggressions on the territory of their more civilised neighbours, and then Prince Alexis intended to act as the mandatory of the European Congress which must be held for the final settlement of Balkan affairs. If he once had the opportunity of getting a footing in Illyria, there were innumerable precedents and solid facts which made it extremely unlikely that he would ever be turned out.

Therma was now once more the cynosure of European eyes, for here the delegates from the whole of Emathia were to meet for the purpose of choosing their Prince. The city was rising like a phœnix from its ashes, since the engineers of the four occupying Powers, seconded by an army of labourers from all the eastern Mediterranean, had hardly waited for the ruins to cool before they were at work upon the new Therma. It was highly superior to the old Therma, of course,—in sanitation if not in picturesqueness,—and the poorer fugitives who returned to it wandered about disconsolately, unable to find rest for the soles of their feet. Everything was so wide and clean and highly whitewashed, and when they tried to erect their little huts and lean-tos, in which they might have felt comfortable, in the spaces which were one day to be public gardens, or clinging to the skirts of the great new houses, unsympathetic soldiers came and cleared them away, sweeping off the owners and their belongings to be disinfected. Therma was to become the model city of the Egean, but its former inhabitants could hardly be expected to appreciate the change. The people who did appreciate it were the sightseers of the Old and New Worlds, who flocked to it with enthusiasm, charmed with the cosmopolitan population, the passing to and fro of soldiers of four armies, the presence of the great warships lying in the harbour, and an occasional glimpse of the diplomatists of European reputation who were assisting at the birth of the new state. All these people lived in tents at first, then crowded into the newly erected houses before the plaster was even dry, and concealing deficiencies with precious carpets and Eastern draperies bought from the faithful Moslems who were shaking from their feet the dust of the faithless city and escaping to more rigidly orthodox shores, held festivities as polyglot and almost as unrestrained as those that follow a gold rush.

Among the diplomatists who bent their steps towards Therma was one whose advent proved singularly displeasing to the Dowager Princess of Dardania, who had quitted Skandalo, in common with those more deeply interested in the approaching election, for the larger life of the reconstructed city. It was not the first time that Prince Soudaroff had followed in her steps when she had been in charge of a negotiation which she was carrying out with full satisfaction to herself, and she resented extremely the idea that he was appointed to inspect, perhaps to revise, her methods. Nominally, of course, he had no connection with her, but as soon as she had heard of his arrival in the city, and found his name in her visitors’ book, she knew that sooner or later he would ask for a business interview. This time the request came very quickly. He was the bearer of an autograph letter from the Empress of Scythia to Princess Theophanis; would the Princess of Dardania advise him as to the best way of presenting it to her, as he understood she had maintained a strict seclusion since her recent bereavement? The Princess gave him an appointment, and it was without surprise that she remembered afterwards the total omission of any mention of the Empress’s letter.

“It does not strike you, madame, that we are in danger of being too successful?” asked the envoy, after a few preliminary civilities designed to allow Donna Olimpia to be safely despatched out of hearing.

“Too successful, Prince? How could that be?”

“I find, madame, that the candidate we are supporting is too strong. To-day I have examined the secret returns prepared for me as to the predilections of the delegates, and I should say that Prince Theophanis would be elected by an absolutely overwhelming majority. The partisans of Prince Christodoridi are noisy enough, but his behaviour at Hagiamavra, which brought about the final catastrophe, has told against him with many.”

“But so long as the candidate we favour is elected, how can it signify whether the majority is small or large?” cried the Princess.

“On the contrary, madame, it is of supreme importance that the majority should be small. There have been cases before when a parvenu prince, finding himself unexpectedly strong, has repudiated the conditions on which he was raised to the throne. If Prince Theophanis has practically the whole of Emathia at his back, he may even venture to deny the authenticity of the document you hold, and refuse to resign when called upon.”

“He will not dare to break with his wife,” said the Princess eagerly. “To deny his signature would be to expose her, and she is his link with our court, besides being the inheritor of claims rather better than his own.”

“I do not for a moment expect him to denounce her as having practised a fraud upon him, madame. But what if Princess Theophanis should declare the document a forgery?”

“It is impossible!” cried the Princess, in anxious protest. “It is in her own writing, with his signature added.”

“Still, handwriting has been counterfeited before to-day. You know your own sex better than I do, madame, but I must own that a woman who would deliberately deceive a sick husband, even for his advantage, would not seem to me incapable of denying the deception in order to set herself right in his eyes. I assume, as you say, that their interests are identical, and that he has a high respect for her.”

“It is possible,” she allowed unwillingly. “But who could foresee such a thing? What more could I have done?”

“Witnesses?” suggested Prince Soudaroff.

“My lady saw her come, but knew nothing of her business. Indeed, I could not have admitted her to the secret, for she is a strong partisan of the Christodoridi.”

Their eyes met, and Prince Soudaroff permitted himself a smile. “The lady, I presume?” he said. “No, madame, I agree that it would not have been prudent to complicate matters further in that direction.”

“Then what is to be done? Shall I get Princess Theophanis here, on the plea that you have doubts as to the authenticity of the document, and make her swear to her husband’s signature?”

He shook his head slowly. “I fear, madame, that so decisive an act might lead to the Princess’s confessing everything to her husband, which would be most disastrous at this juncture. The memory had better slumber for the present. No, I think it would be advisable to detach some of the Theophanis supporters.”

“And allow Prince Christodoridi to be elected?”

“Possibly; I do not know. To ensure that the majority, on whichever side it is, should at any rate be very small.”

“You would not think of exposing Prince Christodoridi at once, and removing one obstacle altogether.”

“And allowing Prince Theophanis an absolutely unanimous return? No, madame. I must recommend you once more to cultivate patience. But I am pleased to observe that our championship of the Englishman has already created an uneasy feeling among the party which is always intensely suspicious of our designs. If that feeling of uneasiness were to deepen——?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Madame, your promptness is admirable. Nothing, save to emphasise in conversation the favour with which Princess Theophanis is regarded at our court, the anxiety felt in the highest quarters to see her husband successful—the efforts, indeed, that are being made to ensure his election. You will know how best to disseminate the impression in the most likely soil.”

“You may trust me!” said the Princess.

The first tangible result of this conversation was the presentation to Eirene, with great ceremony, of the Empress’s letter. It was accompanied by a most sacred icon, which had been specially blessed by Father Serafim, the favourite miracle-worker of the day in Scythia, and he had sent with it an assurance of his prayers for Maurice’s success. The sensation caused by this embassy had hardly subsided, when all the cosmopolitan circles of Therma were buzzing with the news of a most extraordinary indiscretion on the part of Prince Soudaroff. He had actually said—true, it was after dinner and in the presence of only a few intimate diplomatic friends,—but he had said that Scythia looked to Emathia under her new ruler to compensate her for the losses and disappointments she had sustained in the Far East. Instantly all the people who had been thunderstruck when the Scythian Ambassador at Czarigrad proposed Maurice’s election nodded wisely at one another. This was the explanation, then! No one had ever suspected Scythia of acting on an impulse of pure philanthropy, and it was abundantly clear that she had received ample guarantees from Prince Theophanis before she put her interest in him to the test of publicity. When Maurice’s supporters denied indignantly that he had given her any pledges, they merely nodded more wisely still, and implied that the denial raised their opinion of his political sagacity.

The most keenly amused of his critics was Prince Romanos, who had been one of the first arrivals at the resuscitated city, carrying one arm in a sling, but more gay and debonnaire than ever, so bubbling over with pleasure at meeting his friends again that it would have been sheer cruelty to refer to the circumstances in which he had parted from them. A violent flirtation with Donna Olimpia occupied most of his time at first, but the Princess Dowager took a very strong view of this amusement when it came to her knowledge, and practically forbade him her house, so that his rivals were free to enjoy his society all day long.

“You are unfortunate in your backer,” he said one day, when Maurice and Wylie had been discussing with considerable irritation the latest Scythian manœuvre. “Now I cannot flatter myself that Pannonia proposed me for any more exalted reason than to prevent your being elected, but at least she lets me alone.”

“Probably much better for your prospects,” growled Wylie.

“But certainly. Scythia’s fussy eagerness for your success can only do you harm, while Pannonia’s wholesome neglect will bring me in triumphantly.”

“You seem very sure you are going to succeed,” said Maurice.

“I am; absolutely certain. I feel it here,” he struck his chest. “I will tell you why,” he lowered his voice mysteriously; “everything has succeeded with me lately. I am in the—what do you call it?—line of success.”

“I can’t for the life of me see why you should succeed,” said Wylie.

“Because I am not handicapped by the favour of Scythia, if for no other reason. You cannot deny that Princess Theophanis was the playmate of the Emperor’s sisters, or that the Scythian court is showing the kindest interest in her. Now no one can say that I have a wife at all, far less one connected in any way with royalty, so that I stand upon my own merits—a poor foundation, perhaps, but less slippery than the Scythian iceberg.”

Not less perturbed than Maurice and Wylie by the unaccountable benevolence of Scythia were the former’s supporters among the delegates, who were now beginning to pour into the city. Most of the men who survived the fall of Hagiamavra seemed to have contrived to get themselves elected, and they gravitated naturally to the house (little more than a broad verandah approached by steps and with some cupboards beneath and in the rear), which was the headquarters of the Theophanis cause. Here Maurice and Wylie were generally to be found, with Dr Terminoff, and Professor Panagiotis when he could spare time from his wire-pulling, and the delegates became accustomed after a time to see Prince Romanos there also. This friendly association of the two candidates, which at first revolted their sense of propriety, began to recall the days at Hagiamavra, over which a glamour was already tending to gather, and the delegates applied themselves to well-meant efforts for perpetuating the happy state of things that had reigned there, quite oblivious of the fact that an arrangement which had not even answered particularly well temporarily might be a disastrous failure if adopted in permanency. To their practical minds it seemed now quite beside the question to determine which of the candidates had the greater right on his side; the important thing was to compose an unhappy family feud in such a way that all parties should, if possible, be satisfied. Early one morning a number of them invaded the verandah, and when Maurice had been established in his chair in their midst, and coffee and cigarettes brought in, the spokesman demanded one more assurance that he was not in any way pledged to Scythia in the event of his being elected.

“It is not that we doubt the Prince’s word,” said the old man; “but we desire to treat the Lord Romanos with all fairness, and we have a word to say for him to-day.”

Prince Romanos, leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his hand, smiled, and acknowledged the kind intention lazily.

“The Lord Romanos is the younger man, and unmarried,” pursued the spokesman. Prince Romanos started involuntarily. “Let him marry the sister of the Lord Mavrikios, and they two shall be next heirs after him and his wife.”

“My sister is already betrothed, with my full consent, to the Lord Glafko here,” said Maurice, keeping a grave face. A look of dismay went round the assembly.

“Yet another prince!” muttered the spokesman. “There were two kings in Sparta, but who ever heard of three?”

“I am the Prince’s servant, and desire no more,” said Wylie.

The old man’s face cleared. “But it is beneath the dignity of the Lady Zoe to wed a servant. Will the Lord Glafko stand in the way of this excellent arrangement?”

“Certainly not, if the Lady Zoe prefers it,” said Wylie heartily. “Shall I go and tell her so? But I suppose I am not the proper person. Would you like to represent it to her?” he asked the spokesman, who hesitated, but recovered himself quickly.

“Nay, lord; how could I put the thing as it should be put? Let the Lord Romanos himself ask her, for who should plead his cause better than he himself?”

Again the rest applauded, and Prince Romanos seemed to shake off a certain hesitation, and looked round laughing.

“I take you all to witness that I am sent on this errand without my consent. One does not go by choice to propose to another man’s bride. But if I have your moral support——? The ladies are at home, Prince?”

He disappeared indoors, and the assembly awaited his return breathlessly. When he came back, he was still laughing.

“The Lady Zoe says she would not marry me if I were the only man in the world,” he said. “Well, you will at least bear witness that it was not I who refused, but she.”

The delegates assented sadly, and the spokesman propounded, without enthusiasm, an alternative plan.

“Let the Prince and his wife adopt the Lord Romanos as their son.” Maurice winced painfully. “Then he may take part in the government while they live, and reign after them.”

“The idea is not a bad one,” murmured Professor Panagiotis, who had come in almost unnoticed, and taken his place beside Maurice. But Prince Romanos laughed boisterously.

“My dear good friends, I hope Prince Theophanis will live a hundred years, but I do not propose to be kept out of my inheritance as long as that. No, what I want is to be Prince of Emathia at once. He wants the same. Therefore we must fight it out.”

The assembly subsided into silence, and suggested no more schemes that day. But in the evening, when the delegates were gone, and Dr Terminoff had joined the party on the verandah, the Professor recurred to the second one.

“I could wish that Prince Christodoridi were willing to waive his present claims in view of recognition as hereditary prince, and eventual successor,” he said.

“No doubt you could,” said Prince Romanos. “But what have you ever seen in me, my dear Professor, to make you imagine me a model of patient unselfishness?”

“Nothing, I confess it,” said the Professor emphatically. “But I should like to see our forces united. As it is, Scythia and Pannonia have every chance of ruining our hopes, and they are already taking advantage of it. Nilischeff is proclaiming loudly that Prince Theophanis is the mere instrument of Scythia, and he influences many votes.”

“And you have already lost so many that if he votes for me, I shall be elected?” said Prince Romanos. “Come, this cheering prophecy gives me courage to make a modest proposal of my own. Let us face the situation without disguise. Emathia is Slav, is Greek. We should probably disagree about the proportions, therefore I will not go into details. Rightly or wrongly, the Slavs entertain a preference for you, my friend,” to Maurice, “the Greeks for me. I speak roughly, of course, but that is the general idea. The Slavs occupy the high ground in the interior—speaking roughly again—the Greeks the low country nearer the sea. Therefore Emathia is capable of division into two provinces, the population of one predominantly Greek, of the other predominantly Slav. Let us determine to divide her thus. Whichever of us succeeds in the election will be Prince of Emathia, and mouthpiece of the Powers, but he cannot dispense with the other. I have no liking for your rugged hillmen, you have no sympathy with my brilliant elusive Greeks. Therefore, if I become Prince, I will place you in charge of the Slav province and the scattered Slavs in the low country. If you succeed, give me the care of the lower province and the Greeks dwelling in the upper.”

“But you are merely perpetuating the racial cleavage which has done all the mischief!” cried Maurice, as Prince Romanos stopped short with gleaming eyes.

“I think not. There would be one army, one judicial system. Colonel Wylie will give us the benefit of his Indian experience in organising them. The plan could not of course be worked unless we were bound by the closest friendship, but we have been through much together——”

“The plan would checkmate Scythia,” said the Professor sharply.

“I could not suggest it to any one possessing less nobility of character than Prince Theophanis,” said Prince Romanos, not without a hint of malice. “His zeal is so entirely for the sake of Emathia that I can do so without being misunderstood.”

“It sounds excellent now, when we expect to succeed,” said Wylie. “The question is, how it will look to us if we fail. What do you say, Prince?”

“The Prince will say that if it is for the good of Emathia, he will agree to it,” said Prince Romanos boldly.

“Very likely,” grumbled Wylie. “I am not the person to judge. It takes a poet to think of a thing of this kind——”

“And a fool to agree to it?” said Maurice. “But if it will give the strength we need for the struggle against disruption? After all, it would only be doing on a large scale what we tried on a small one at Hagiamavra.”

“Where it was not exactly successful,” said Wylie. “Oh, I know it’s ideally desirable, but these things want ideal people to carry them out.”

“There is no idea of binding ourselves by a hard and fast agreement,” said Maurice, as Prince Romanos laughed and bowed. “It must be understood that the thing is purely tentative. If the man in possession finds that the other is not working loyally with him, or if the other—the under dog—finds he is thwarted in his pet schemes without good cause, either may terminate it. We must have arrangements for talking things over thoroughly together at frequent intervals, of course.”

“Then you agree?” cried Prince Romanos joyfully. “Welcome, then, my colleague! You observe that I at once claim for myself the part of upper dog—what is that you say, top dog?—and proceed to constitute my cabinet. Prince Theophanis my Prime Minister, my Protector of Slavs, my second self; Colonel Wylie my War Minister; Professor Panagiotis my Foreign Secretary, Press Censor, Director of Public Education and of my political conscience; Dr Terminoff, Minister of Public Health. This day week the Prince of Emathia will claim your services, gentlemen.”

CHAPTER XXVI.
PAYING THE BILL.

By a majority of thirty-three, Prince Romanos Christodoridi was elected High Commissioner of Emathia. This result caused no surprise at the Theophanis headquarters, where hope was practically extinct from the moment that a pencil note was received from Professor Panagiotis shortly after the opening of the poll:—