"The Burgrave!" she gasped.
Eliza's black eyes glinted joyfully: the Burgrave! Not only fresh discomfiture for the mistress; but, for the maid, unexpected comfort: Kurtz the Jäger was quite a smart young man.
"Heavens, the Burgrave!" cried Betty again; and she began to tremble. Her husband, upon the very stroke of her escapade! What to do, now, what to say?—What indeed!
"Eliza," she cried breathlessly—she snatched a gold brooch from her wrapper as she spoke, and thrust it into the girl's hand—"you knew I was expecting my cousin's visit ... by news brought by the last courier from Vienna ... you heard me mention the fact ... you heard me regret my husband's absence from Wellenshausen."
There was no time to lose. The Burgrave's step, weighty and ominous as fate itself, was already on the stairs.
"Bien, Madame la Comtesse," returned Eliza, calmly, even as the latch clicked under her master's hand.
Betty von Wellenshausen was a woman of too clever instincts to receive, in this dilemma, her elderly lord and master with exuberant expression of delight. She was not of those who fall into the vulgar error of protesting too much. She settled herself in her chair again and became deeply absorbed in the exact position of a curl. He stood glowering on the threshold. He had to call out in his great voice, before she would condescend to notice him at all. And then it was but a glance over her shoulder.
"Tiens, it is you? Eliza, decidedly this is not successful."
Eliza, deeply enjoying the situation, full of professional admiration for her mistress's handling of the same, was also all solicitude over the rebellious lock.
"Ten thousand devils, madam!" at last exploded the Burgrave. "I would point out to you that I am returned from a journey."