‘I have had the walls varnished, because almost any sort of tinting might rub off on your Excellency’s dress,’ said Schmidt. ‘The passage is so extremely narrow, you see.’
‘It is very nice,’ Maria answered. ‘It was most sensible of you.’
Behind her, Orlando Schmidt blushed with pleasure at her praise, and watched her graceful moving figure, shown off against the shining white walls by the close-fitting black she wore. They reached the boudoir, and there also Schmidt closed and locked the door. But this time he took out the key and handed it to Maria.
‘As the passage is for your Excellency’s private use, you may prefer to take away the key, since the workmen have nothing more to do there.’
‘Thank you,’ Maria answered.
‘The servants need not know that the door is a real one,’ observed Schmidt.
It chanced that Maria did not much like the maid she had at that time, but as the woman was clever she meant to keep her. It struck her that there was certainly no reason why she need know that her mistress could go from her own rooms to the chapel without being seen, if she wished to say her prayers there in private. As for the chapel itself, its outer door was formerly kept locked, and Montalto had given her a key to it when they had been married. The reason for keeping it shut was that the altar contained a reliquary in which was preserved a comparatively large relic of the Cross, already very long an heirloom in the family. No doubt Schmidt knew this, as he seemed to know everything else about his hereditary employers—or masters, as he would have called them. When one family of men has served another faithfully, those who serve possess a sort of universal knowledge of such details which no ordinary servant could acquire in half a lifetime.
Maria left the boudoir, after putting the key into the small new black Morocco bag, which had taken the place of the rather shabby grey velvet one she had used so long. When she came to live in the palace she meant to keep the key in her writing-desk.
‘The Count wishes me to be here when he comes,’ she said as they passed through the great ball-room. ‘He writes that you will engage servants and see to everything. Our old butler and coachman have never left me. Do you think I may keep them still? I wish to do nothing, however, which does not agree with your instructions.’
‘My master’s orders,’ said Schmidt, ‘are to meet your Excellency’s wishes in every respect. He will not even bring his own man with him, and I have orders to engage a valet for him. If you will tell me what day will be convenient for you to move, I will see that everything is ready.’