Gertrude blushed and bowed low, overwhelmed by such unexpected familiarity on the part of the proud Hermengarde.
“Your condescension overpowers me, Madam,” she said. “There is nothing I should think more delightful than to enjoy the society of his Royal Highness.”
“I know the risk I run,” returned the Princess, smiling, and shaking her head in an almost playful manner. “I know how difficult it is for a young man to pass much time in your society and come off heart-whole.” She watched the flush of vanity animate the girl before her, and added thoughtfully, as if speaking to herself: “After all, the age when royal alliances were of importance to the welfare of kingdoms has passed. Why should we attach so much importance to marriages with foreign royalty? Too often such affairs turn out disastrously for those concerned, while a marriage within the circle of the national nobility would have brought happiness and content.”
Gertrude listened greedily, hardly venturing to believe her ears. Was it possible that the royal Hermengarde, the haughtiest princess in all Germany, in whose eyes the Hohenzollerns were parvenus, and who was accustomed to speak of the Guelphs as bourgeois, was now actually contemplating with indifference the possibility of her son marrying a mere private noblewoman, and was even hinting that she should feel no great displeasure if she, Gertrude von Sigismark, turned out to be the lucky bride!
Before she could reduce her thoughts to clearness, the door was opened by a tall, slim lad of fifteen or sixteen, who stood awkwardly on the threshold, looking into the room, his figure slightly stooped, and his dark eyes fixed with an inscrutable expression, from which dread was not entirely absent, upon the Princess Hermengarde.
The Princess caught sight of him, and a smile of fondness softened the asperity of her features.
“Well, Ernest, come in and pay your respects to this young lady,” she exclaimed encouragingly. “You surely know the Lady Gertrude von Sigismark well enough?”
The lad moved forward, shuffling his feet rather nervously as he walked. Gertrude went half-way to meet him, and made as if she would have carried the young Prince’s extended hand to her lips. But this Hermengarde would not permit.
“For shame, Ernest! Where is your gallantry? If any hand is to be kissed, it should be the Lady Gertrude’s. Come, my boy, look into her face. You are old enough to say whether it is worth looking at.”
The Prince lifted his eyes reluctantly as high as the girl’s chin, and responded ungraciously—