"It is my sovereign's desire that the young heiress of Wellenshausen should espouse a member of his own household. And his Majesty's choice has fallen upon your servant here. I may say the charming creature herself is not unwilling."
In that dangerous white mood of passion which can simulate highest composure, Steven heard without wincing.—Mechanically he gathered his cloak into a bundle and laid his hand on the curtain of his bed.—Then he stood silent, as if stricken, staring through the narrow opening of the damask folds, his back turned to his enemy.
D'Albignac rubbed his hands and chuckled. Was not all this better than the most sounding return slap in the face? Better even than feeling the easy steel run through flesh, grate against bone?
"And when my royal master," he pursued, "has a notion in his head, mille tonnerres, he is no more to be kept back than his Imperial brother from victory. Oh, he is of an impetuosity; d'une fougue, d'une verve! ... more eager even than myself, the lucky bridegroom, to have these papers executed. 'If you wait till to-morrow, d'Albignac, my friend,' he said to me, 'the count may be gone, and that may mean delay.... Intolerable!' Hence, M. le Comte, my unceremonious visit, and at this undue hour—already excused, no doubt! Your signature, please, here. I can be witness. One stroke of the pen, and you make three people happy ... not to speak of yourself!"
The cloak glided from Count Kielmansegg's arm on to the floor. He closed the curtains delicately and faced his visitor.
"If you will leave the deed, General," said he, "I will peruse it to-night, and you can have it back in the morning."
He took the paper with marked courtesy from d'Albignac's hand. His face was paler than before, but there was a singular smile upon it, a singular light in the eyes. The youth's composure completely deceived and imposed upon d'Albignac, who, indeed, was none of the subtle-witted.
"An annulment is easier to secure than a divorce, and makes less of a scandal, does it not?" he said, with an insufferable air of intelligence.
"I am quite of your opinion," answered Steven.
"Sacrebleu, and the girl is the greatest heiress in Westphalia! What a morgue these Austrians have! ... The merest hint, it is enough with them!" thought the General as he drew a noisy breath of laughter and relief. "Enchanted," he went on aloud, "enchanted, my young friend, to find you so reasonable. I see you take me—— Ah, yes; these are sad times; and the soldier of fortune (such as I am) cannot afford to be squeamish. Hey! the King sups with Countess Kielmansegg.... Nay, shall we not say ... Mademoiselle de Wellenshausen? ... to-night, at this very moment!"