“What should you say if a crown came of it?” He rather whispered than spoke the words.
“Oh, no! You cannot be in earnest? Surely the King would not marry any one not of royal blood?”
“Perhaps so. And yet perhaps not so.” The old Count cast a cautious look around him before going on. “You know the cloud that rests upon the race of Astolf: their alliance is not very eagerly sought. The other reigning houses remember the fate of Maximilian’s father, and of his grandfather, and of his uncle Otto.”
“Father!”—there was a note of real fear in the girl’s voice—“you do not mean that you think the King is affected by such a taint?”
“Heaven forbid! I have never thought anything of the kind. Maximilian is not like his House. But nevertheless the possibility is there, and he may find it easier to choose a queen among his own subjects than abroad.”
Before the subdued girl could make any further answer, a door opened at the end of the apartment.
“Hush!” whispered the Chancellor, hastily. “Not a hint of this before the Princess. Remember that the King’s marriage means to her an obstacle between her son and the throne.”
And assuming an air in which cheerful friendliness was only tempered by the proper admixture of deference, he turned to greet Hermengarde.
On her part, the Princess approached him rather with the air of an old friend than a superior in rank.
“I am so glad to find you here, my dear Chancellor,” she said graciously. “It must be so pleasant for you to snatch a few minutes from the dry affairs of State for the society of our dear Gertrude. I only hope that you will not mind my joining in your talk?”