“Perhaps it is the Baroness von Steinketel that you refer to, Madam?” she timidly suggested.
Hermengarde smiled. The Baroness, a fat, overdressed woman of about forty, whose chief attraction consisted in a never-failing flow of animal spirits, had made herself the laughing-stock of the Court by her undisguised attempts to attract the notice of Maximilian. It was easy to see what a consolation it would have been to Gertrude to have no worse rival than this.
“I had better enlighten you at once,” said the Princess. “My eccentric nephew has not looked so high as the Baroness von Steinketel. He has bestowed his affections on a young peasant girl, the daughter of one of the royal foresters.”
The countenance of her two listeners underwent a change. On the Chancellor’s face the expression of anxiety was succeeded by one of relief.
“I understand you, Madam. Thank Heaven it is no worse! I confess that you seriously alarmed me. But, of course, a mere intrigue of that kind need not be taken very seriously. Gertrude, perhaps it would be better if you were to ask the Princess’s leave to retire.”
“Stay, do not be too confident,” interposed the Princess, warningly; “I am afraid this affair may turn out to be more serious than you think. You have heard the tale of King Cophetua. For my part I should not be surprised at anything on the part of Maximilian.”
The Minister started, and gazed at Hermengarde in alarm, as if to ascertain whether any graver meaning lurked beneath her words. She returned a look as serious as his own, and proceeded to enlighten him.
“The name of this young girl is Dorothea Gitten, and her father’s lodge is on the other side of the forest, scarcely two miles away. Every day for the past month and more, my nephew has been going there. If he takes a servant as escort, he leaves him at the edge of the wood, and enters the forester’s garden alone. There he sits by the hour in an arbour, pretending to drink cider, while the charming Dorothea keeps him company. All the time he treats her with as much respect as if she were a princess. In short the whole proceeding appears like a regular courtship, which may have the most surprising consequences.”
If Hermengarde had hoped to surprise the Chancellor into any hasty expression of opinion, however, she was disappointed. The old courtier listened to her in silence, striving to regain his composure in order to think the matter over at his leisure. At the close of her narrative, he remarked in his most diplomatic tone—
“I am greatly obliged by your confidence, Madam. I recognise the importance of what you have told me, which will of course remain a strict secret for the present. It is too soon to come to any decision on it as yet. Our best course, no doubt, will be to watch quietly, and wait.”