"There you go," she laughed. "I know what you'll say. You never think of the past because you are so busy thinking of all this business; that when a man is planning a big scheme like this, and has all the details to arrange, he has no time, etc., etc. But you have a secret, cousin Hans—a secret that is never out of your thoughts; that has nothing to do with all this fresh trouble and intrigue; that took you away from the castle for two days just after you arrived; and that has written its lines on your face. That may be because you can find no one to tell it to. Of course you think of me only as a girl—you self-contained strong men always do that—and that I should make no sort of a friend to be trusted with secrets. And yet——" she paused, and laying her hand gently on mine said softly and wistfully, "you have done so much for me I should like to be a little help to you. Can I, cousin? I'm not Queen yet, you know, and cannot command. I'm only a grateful girl, and can do no more than ask."
I was not a little disconcerted to find that she had been watching me so closely, and I could not remain untouched by the last little appeal. But I could not reply to it.
"You are a stanch little comrade," I answered. "But we must put off the story until the Queen commands," I answered, smiling.
"That is at least an open postponement, if not a frank refusal. But the Queen will command, cousin. I want to know why you would not come here at the first; what made you change your mind; how it was that all our ideas about you were wrong; why you are so different from what we all expected—oh, there are a thousand questions that sting the tip of my tongue with the desire to ask them."
"You think a student cannot also be a man of affairs?" I said, divided between pleasure at her interest in me and perplexity at her questions.
"But you are not even a student. You never open a book; you never quote things—ah, now you start because I have watched you. I can read your eyes, although you think you can drape them with the curtains of impassiveness. But your wit is not always on guard to draw the curtains close enough. Yes, that's better; now they are saying nothing."
All this time she had been looking straight into my eyes, and laughing in gleeful triumph. And I found it embarrassing enough. Then she changed suddenly, and said:
"Does my teasing worry you and weary you, cousin? I can school my curiosity if it does. But you will tell me all some day?"
"Is that schooling it?" I asked, and she laughed again. "Yes, I will tell you some day what there may be to tell. But it could do no good to do so yet."
"Is it a sad secret?" she began again after half a minute's silence, and would no doubt have gone on with her pretty cross-examination had we not, fortunately for me, been interrupted by a servant, who brought word that Steinitz, whom I had sent to Munich, had returned, and was asking to see me instantly.