“Oh, madame, I shall follow fearlessly wherever your majesty goes.”
“Enter,” said the prince, “for here is your apartment;” and he ushered them into a charming little room, furnished ‘en buhl,’ with a painted ceiling and walls, and a rosewood floor. It opened into a boudoir, fitted up with white cashmere, beautifully embroidered with groups of flowers, and hung with tapestry of exquisite workmanship. Beyond the boudoir was a bedroom, painted blue, hung with curtains of silk and lace, and with a sumptuous bed in an alcove. A fire burned on the hearth, and a dozen perfumed wax-lights in candelabra.
Such were the marvels which presented themselves to the eyes of the wondering ladies. No living being was to be seen; fire and lights seemed to have come without hands.
The queen stopped on the threshold of the bedroom, looking half afraid to enter.
“Sister,” said the count, “these are my bachelor apartments; here I come alone.”
“Always?” asked the queen.
“Doubtless,” answered he.
“I understand now,” said the queen, “why Madame la Comtesse is sometimes unquiet.”
“Confess, however, that if she is unquiet to-night, it Will be without reason.”
“To-night, I do not say, but other nights.” Then, sitting down; “I am dreadfully tired,” she said; “are not you, Andrée?”