[CHAPTER VI]
But oh, my God! can the shrewdest dominican who ever discharged the functions of grand inquisitor, contend with the wit of three women, when love, fear and friendship inspire them equally. In vain did Frederick adopt every manner, by caressing amiability, and by provoking sneers, by unexpected questions, by feigned indifference, and oblique threats. He detected nothing. The explanation of the presence of Consuelo in the apartments of the princess was absolutely in accordance, as Madame von Kleist and the abbess accounted for it, with that so fortunately improvised by Porporina. It was the most natural and probable. Trusting to chance is the best thing one can do. Chance is mute, and cannot contradict you.
Weary of war, the king yielded, or changed his tactics. He said at once—
"But I have forgotten, Porporina is in there. My dear sister, since you are better, let her come in. Her chat will amuse you."
"I wish to sleep," said the princess, who feared some snare.
"Well, wish her good bye, and dismiss her yourself." As he spoke, the king preceded the baroness, opened the door, and called Porporina. Instead, however, of bidding her adieu, he brought about a dissertation on German and Italian music. When that subject was exhausted, he said suddenly—
"Ah, Signora Porporina, I forgot to tell you something which certainly will please you. Your friend, the Baron von Trenck, is no longer a prisoner."
"What Trenck, sire?" asked the young girl, with an artfully imitative candor. "I know two, and both are prisoners."
"Ah! Trenck, the Pandour, will die at Spelberg. Trenck, the Prussian, has gotten possession of the key of the fields."