The fellow took himself away, and Hermengarde proceeded to talk seriously to the girl whose mind she had been working upon.
“Listen to me, my dear Gertrude; I brought that man in because I wanted you to understand for yourself how serious this matter may become. If any one else were concerned I should look upon it as a mere intrigue, but I have the very gravest fears as to what Maximilian may do. He is strange in many ways; you must have noticed it. Speak freely, have you not sometimes feared of late that he was becoming worse than formerly?”
This was a bolder hint than she had ventured on with the cautious Chancellor. But Gertrude had not yet been wrought up to the pitch at which she could receive such a suggestion complacently.
“No, surely not, Madam!” she exclaimed, in real dismay. “Surely there is no fear of that kind for the King.”
Hermengarde sighed, and assumed a resigned expression.
“We must always be prepared for the worst,” she replied. “I confess I have been a little alarmed for some time. I only hope nothing will happen till my son is older and better fitted to take a public part. By-the-by”—she spoke as if desirous to turn the conversation—“have you noticed the Prince lately? He is growing fast, and will soon begin to make a stir among you young ladies. I cannot help thinking he is handsome.”
“I have not noticed,” answered Gertrude, absently. “At least, yes—I beg your pardon, Madam—yes, his Highness is certainly much improved.”
“I should like you to be friends,” said the Princess, sweetly. “Be so good as to ring the bell for me, and if Ernest is in the Castle, I will send for him.”
Gertrude obeyed wonderingly, and the page was dismissed in search of the young Prince.
“There is no more refining education for a young man than the society of polished women,” observed the Princess, with the air of a philosopher. “I wish I could persuade you to give some of your time occasionally to my bantling, and teach him a little of your own grace.”