"That puzzled me as much as it does you, lady," replied Bertha; "but there were a thousand things besides that, which made me feel sure that he had got nearly as good information as I could give, from some one else. I went to him in the nun's gown, and he took me for you at first; but when he found out the mistake, he questioned me closely, I can assure you. Amongst other things, I told him that it was high time for both you and Ferdinand to run away, inasmuch as I believed, if you had staid, my good and merciful lord, your father, would have chopped both your heads off. Then he asked if you were very handsome, and I said Not particularly; for it seemed to me that this mighty Kaiser had a great faculty of falling in love, and that if I told him how beautiful you really are, you might find it unpleasant."
"Hush! hush! Bertha," said Adelaide; "there is no fear of the Emperor falling in love with either of us. You must not mistake mere courtly words for lover's professions."
"Well, I wish I were safe out of the place," answered Bertha; "for, on my life! these courtly words are very warm ones; and as summer is hard by, the air is hot enough without them. But to my tale again I told him, in short, that I thought you were married; that I knew you had long loved; that I believed you knew who Ferdinand of Altenburg really is, as well or better than he does himself, and that I was quite sure you acted for the best in giving him your hand without your father's knowledge. On that he questioned me a long while, as to whether love would not make a woman do anything, and whether you had not listened to love instead of duty. I said No; that love would do great things, but not all, and that, whatever his Majesty might think, there were some women who would not do what they knew to be wrong, even for love."
"You said well, Bertha;--you said well," answered Adelaide, casting down her eyes thoughtfully, and questioning her own heart as to how far love had made her lend a willing ear to persuasions that took the voice of duty. But the elder lady bent her head approvingly towards the maid, and gave her a well pleased smile.
Bertha's tale was soon concluded, and for a while both the ladies mused over her account. The elder seemed not dissatisfied with what she stated had taken place, but there were parts of the maid's narrative which created some uneasy feeling in Adelaide's breast.--She had previously shrunk from meeting a monarch to whom she might be obliged to speak of feelings and actions which she would fain have left in silence for ever, although the feelings might be pure and noble, and the actions just and right; but she gathered from Bertha's words that there had been a lightness of tone in the Emperor's conversation which might well increase her apprehensions and make the timid modesty of her nature almost deviate into terror. Her cheek turned pale as she thus thought, and the watchful eye of her elder companion saw the change.
"You are somewhat faint and weary, my dear child," she said; "I wonder that the Countess of Schönborn has not yet appeared. She would doubtless procure you some refreshment."
"I can do that as well, Madam," answered Bertha, turning gaily to the door. "In the Emperor's absence, I command the buttery, and the cellar, and am humbly served, I can tell you.--Here, slave," she continued, opening the door and speaking to some one in the passage; "bring these ladies some food and wine; and be quick, if you would merit favour."
Adelaide smiled, inquiring, "Who have you there, giddy girl?"
"Oh, one who has vowed humble service this morning," answered Bertha; "and as I hope and trust his bondage will not be long, I may as well use my reign imperiously."
In a few minutes, the page whom we have seen before came in with an inferior servant bearing refreshments; but ere Adelaide and her companions had tasted much, Count Rudolph of Schönborn and his Countess were announced, and ushered in with more of the pomp and state of high station than had yet been seen in the Retscher. To the surprise of both Adelaide and her companion, it was to the latter that the Countess of Schönborn first addressed herself, and that with an air of deep deference and respect.