But as the days passed on and still nothing happened, a sensation of relief diffused itself visibly among Cyril’s opponents, while his supporters became correspondingly dejected. Presently a brief message from the Emperor of Pannonia, forwarded through the Chevalier’s confidential agent in Vindobona, put the question in a nutshell. What measures did Count Mortimer mean to take in order to re-establish his predominant influence in the counsels of the Syndicate? Whether the charges brought against him in the Yellow Pamphlet were true or false did not signify in the least; but unless the Jews were unanimous in preferring him to any other ruler, the Emperor could go no further in recommending his selection by the Powers. While the question of the answer to be returned to this intimation was being discussed between Cyril and the Chevalier--the one in a frenzy of alarm and indecision, the other in an agony of helplessness--the matter was taken out of their hands. It became known throughout Europe that Count Mortimer’s brain was affected, and that he was no longer to be feared. How the jealously guarded secret had leaked out could not at first be discovered, but the report was afterwards traced to Don Ramon of Arragon’s assistant, who had access to his case-books. He had been a student of the University of Vindobona, and was therefore almost inevitably an anti-Semite, and he had shared his discovery with Colonel Czartoriski, with whom he had come in contact at Damascus. Acting upon instructions from his mistress, Colonel Czartoriski communicated the news to the press, and Anti-Semitism all over the Continent went mad with joy. Nor were the professed enemies of Zion alone in their exultation, for the Government papers (those of Pannonia and Thracia alone excepted) took up the slanderous tale in language equally bitter, if slightly more decorous. The man who had known how to impose his will on Europe was helpless--might be knocked down and jumped upon, metaphorically speaking--and there was no lack of moralists to improve the occasion. The vilest calumnies, the most outrageous accusations, were gravely detailed as matters of fact, the attacks growing bolder as each historian, finding that the victim made no sign, strove to outdo his neighbour. The statesmen who had smarted under Cyril’s yoke added their quota of titbits of confidential information, to be duly worked up by the fortunate journalist to whom they were whispered, the result being generally a fable that astonished no one more than the original narrator himself. In short, the only wonder was that the political world could have been so long held in subjection by a charlatan so abjectly worthless and contemptible as Count Mortimer was shown to be.