up to justice, and enlisted Natalie’s co-operation with this object.  Milan, however, was resolute not to surrender the plotter, and turned a deaf ear to all the Princess’s pleadings and cajoleries.  “The most exciting scene followed.  Natalie, abandoning entreaties, threatened and even commanded her husband to obey her”; and when threats and commands equally failed, she gave way to a paroxysm of rage in which she heaped the most unbridled scorn and contempt on her husband.

Thus jealousy, a thwarted will, and Milan’s low pleasures combined to widen the breach between the Royal couple, so recently plighted to each other in the sacred name of love, and to prepare the way for the troubled and tragic years to come.

CHAPTER XXIX

AN ILL-FATED MARRIAGE—­continued

If anything could have restored happiness to Milan of Servia and his Princess, Natalie, it should surely have been the birth of the baby-Prince, Alexander, whom both equally adored and equally spoiled.  But, instead of linking his parents in a new bond of affection “Sacha” was from his cradle the innocent cause of widening the breach that severed them.

For a time, fortunately, Milan had little opportunity of continuing the feud of recrimination with his high-spirited and hot-tempered spouse.  More serious matters claimed him.  Servia was plunged into war with Turkey, and his days were spent in camp and on the battlefield, until the intervention of Russia put an end to the long and hopeless struggle, and Milan found himself one February day in 1882, thanks to the Berlin Conference, hailed the first King of his country, under the title of Milan I.

Then followed a disastrous war with Bulgaria into which the headstrong King rushed in spite of Natalie’s warning—­“Draw back, Milan, and have no share in what will prove a bloody drama.  You have no chance of conquering, for Alexander is made of the stuff of the Hohenzollerns.”  And indeed the struggle was doomed to failure from the first; for Milan was no man to lead an army to victory.  Read his method of conducting a campaign, as described by one of his aides-de-camp—­

“Our troops continue to retreat—­I never imagined a campaign could be so jolly.  We do nothing but dance and sing and fiddle.  Yesterday the King had some guests and the champagne literally flowed.  We had the Belgrade singers, who used to delight us in the theatre-cafe.  They sang and danced delightfully.  The last two days we have had plenty of fun, and yesterday a lot of jolly girls came to enliven us.”  Such was Milan’s method of conducting a great war, on which the very existence of his kingdom hung.  Wine and women and song were more to his taste than forced marches, strategy, and hard-fought battles.  But once again foreign intervention came to his rescue; and his armies were saved from annihilation.