The King started and leaned forward, looking at her. She rose to her feet, crying: "More than that! While we sit talking here, he may be marrying that woman!"
"Marrying her?" cried the King; his face turned red, and then, as the blood ebbed again, became very pale.
"That's what she means—yes, and what he means, too!"
The King was aghast. The second assault struck home—struck at his dearest hopes and wounded his most intimate ambitions. But he was still incredulous. He spread out trembling hands, turning from the vehement woman to his two counsellors.
"Gentlemen!" he said, imploringly, with out-stretched hands.
They were silent—grave and silent.
"Captain Markart, you—you saw anything to suggest this—this terrible idea?"
The fire was hot on poor Markart again. He stammered and stuttered.
"The—the Baroness seemed to have much influence, sir; to—to hold a very high position in the Prince's regard; to—to be in his confidence—"
"Yes!" struck in the Countess. "She wears the uniform of his artillery! Isn't that a compliment usually reserved for ladies of royal rank? I appeal to you, Colonel Stafnitz!"