“And, of course, the next condition will be for me to resign my pretensions to Ida in his favor,” said he, with a savage irony.
“I stipulate for nothing of the sort; Count Wahnsdorf's pretensions will be to-morrow just where they are to-day.”
“You hold them cheaply, madam. I am indeed unfortunate in all my pursuit of your esteem.”
“You live in a sphere to command it, sir,” was her reply, given with a counterfeited humility; and whether it was the tone of mingled insolence and submission she assumed, or simply the sense of his own unworthiness in her sight, but Wahnsdorf cowered before her like a frightened child. At this moment the servant entered, and presented a visiting-card to the Princess.
“Ah, he comes in an opportune moment,” cried she. “This is the Minister of the Duke of Massa's household,—the Chevalier Stubber. Yes,” continued she to the servant, “I will receive him.”
If there was not any conspicuous gracefulness in the Chevalier's approach, there was an air of quiet self-possession that bespoke a sense of his own worth and importance; and while he turned to pay his respects to the young Count, his unpolished manner was not devoid of a certain dignity.
“It is a fortunate chance by which I find you here, Count Wahnsdorf,” said he, “for you will be glad to learn that the young fellow you had that affair with at Massa has just been liberated.”
“When, and how?” cried the Princess, hastily.
“As to the time, it must be about four days ago, as my letters inform me; as to the how, I fancy the Count can best inform you,—he has interested himself greatly in the matter.” The Count blushed deeply, and turned away to hide his face, but not so quickly as to miss the expression of scornful meaning with which the Princess regarded him.
“But I want to hear the details, Chevalier,” said she.