"I feel safe with you," she whispered in a caressing voice. "God has been good to me this morning. I have found a friend, count. When I tell you that my name is Anna Schnieder it will convey nothing to you, because that is only the name I was given to conceal my true position. I was comparatively happy until two years ago. Until then I thought I was merely the daughter of an honest shoemaker and his wife, though I was puzzled that they were able to give me a first-class education. Then I discovered that some one was providing everything for me. Judge of my astonishment when by accident I learned that that some one was His Majesty the German Emperor."
The count stiffened perceptibly, and his eyes distended. He was one of the leaders of the National Polish party which demanded to be freed from the intolerable tyranny of Germany. He had been one of the Polish aristocrats who had refused to attend the Kaiser's receptions in Posen, the capital of Prussian Poland, and he was keenly interested in all that referred to the man he and his countrymen loathed.
"Yes, go on," he said under his breath. "You can confide in me. I never betray a trust."
"I am sure you never have," she said, giving him another appealing glance. "But to proceed. I am naturally quick-witted, and I was able to put two and two together. I began to recall incidents of my childhood, and after a while I got my foster-mother—for that is all she is—to answer certain questions. Within an hour I knew the truth. I, Anna Schnieder, was in reality Her Royal Highness Princess Anna of Prussia, the daughter of His Majesty the Emperor."
Count Renenski started to his feet. Was the girl fooling him? He sharply scrutinized her features, but she bore it bravely. There was certainly something aristocratic about her. He sank on to the seat again, and indicated he was listening.
"The year before the Kaiser married the Kaiserin he was in Posen"—the count ejaculated that he remembered it—"and there he met and fell in love with a Polish girl of the name of Vera Savanoff."
"The Savanoffs!" cried the count in amazement. "Why, I knew the family well. And there was a girl too—several girls, in fact. I have often wondered what became of them. But proceed, mademoiselle," he added with a courteous inclination of the head. "I will not interrupt you again."
Encouraged by his attention, the girl proceeded to amplify her story. She told of a mysterious marriage in a Polish church—long since destroyed—between the then Prince William of Prussia and Vera Savanoff, and how after the ceremony the girl had disappeared. She had been taken to a castle in the Black Forest, and there the Kaiser had visited her regularly for five years. Then a child had been born, and that child was christened Anna Schnieder. Meanwhile William had married a Princess of the Blood Royal, and was the father of a family, but no one suspected that in the sight of God the Kaiser had only one legal wife, and that she was Vera Savanoff. When after the birth of her daughter poor Vera died mysteriously the Kaiser suddenly lost all interest in his first romance, and Anna hinted that William II connived at her death.
It was an amazing story, and would have been unbelievable had she not produced proofs. The count was still trying to understand it all when she thrust into his hands a bundle of papers which she had carried concealed under her blouse.
"These are some of the proofs," she said frankly. "I know it is difficult to credit my story—sometimes I can hardly believe it myself."