“Johann!” she exclaimed. “Do you mean a tall man, with dark hair and a pointed beard?”
“Yes. Do you know him?” cried Dorothea in natural surprise.
Hermengarde, taken aback for the moment, hardly knew what answer to make.
“He is now in the Castle,” she said at length. “He has had an interview of some kind with the King, who has taken him into favour, and invited him to remain.”
Dorothea was utterly bewildered. Only two hours ago her cousin had left her, breathing hatred against the false Maurice. Now she learned that all his wrath had apparently been appeased, and replaced by quite opposite feelings. It was more than she could understand.
Meanwhile Hermengarde sat busily revolving in her mind the new light thrown upon the King’s extraordinary action in pardoning his would-be assassin.
“Is Johann a friend of yours?” she demanded presently, looking up.
“He is my cousin,” answered Dorothea, with simplicity; “he is my greatest friend in the world.”
The Princess sat silent for a time, sipping her cider and watching Dorothea. At length she seemed to have made up her mind what course to pursue, and putting down her glass, asked quietly—
“How should you like to come and stay at the Castle for a time, and see your cousin?”