But I arrested him with a gesture, as, in the hopes of distracting my attention from an awkward topic, he was about to roll his bulk in quest of these treasures.
I had no wish, indeed, to feast my eyes upon that face, the lineaments of which, with all their beauty, I could not bear to recall. What was it to me whom that Ottilie married? If they had had a portrait of my Ottilie, indeed!... But, sweet soul, she had told me herself of her obscurity and unimportance.
“And so,” said I, “they are at the summer palace, your reigning family?”
And though I had hugged the thought of her dear living presence so close to me this night, behind yonder palace walls, I nevertheless rejoiced to learn that she was safer harboured.
“The Princess has her retinue with her, I suppose?”
“Oh, ay,” said the innkeeper, rising as he spoke and clacking his tongue again over the last drop of his wine. “Though our Princess is so simple a lass, if I may say so without disrespect, and loves not Court fashions. But she has one favourite companion, and they are as sisters together, so that when one sees her Highness, one may be sure the Fräulein is not far distant. Oh, ay, sir, they have returned from their travels together, though I have heard it rumoured that one or two of her Highness’s attendants have been left behind, dead or ailing. Na, it is better to stay at home: strange places are unwholesome!”
He opened the stove door and shoved in two or three great logs, and I turned and stretched my limbs to the warmth with lazy content, and, for the first time for many a long day and night, a restful heart.
To-morrow I should see her. When I slept that night I dreamed golden dreams.
The next day dawned upon a world all involved in creeping grizzling mist, that seemed to ooze even into the comfortable rooms of the “Silver Lion”; that wrapped from my view the lofty towers of the palace beyond my window, and damped even my buoyant confidence. My good János had the toothache, and though it was not in him to complain, the sight of his swollen, suffering face did not further encourage me to cheer. A little before noon we mounted to ride forth to Ottilienruhe in the dismal weather. Our garments, despite the heiduck’s endless brushing, bore many traces of our hard journey. We cut but a poor figure, I thought, in these stained, rusty clothes; and the young lord of Tollendhal was ill-mounted upon the wretched jade, which had, nevertheless, faithfully served him upon his last cruel stage. The poor nag was yet full weary, and stumbled and drooped her head, while János’s white-faced bay might have stood for the very image of starving antiquity.
I winced as I thought of Ottilie’s mocking glance; but the haste to see her overcame even my delicate vanity.