"But, if it should be Albert?" said Consuelo.
The princess shrugged her shoulders.
"Beyond all doubt," said she, "fate condemns me to have as friends either male or female fools. One of you fancies my sorcerer her husband, the Canon Von Kleist, and the other her deceased husband, the Count of Rudolstadt. It is well that I have a strong head, otherwise I would fancy he was Trenck, and no one knows what would happen. Trismegistus is a poor sorcerer not to take advantage of all these mistakes. Porporina, my beautiful, do not look at me with an expression of such consternation. Resume your presence of mind. How can you fancy that if Count Albert has recovered from lethargy so strange a thing would have been known? Have you, too, kept up no correspondence with the family?"
"None," said Consuelo. "The Canoness Wenceslawa has written twice in one year to inform me of two pieces of bad news, the death of her eldest brother Christian, my husband's father, who ended his long career without any knowledge of his misfortune, and the death of Baron Frederick, brother of the count and canoness, who was killed while hunting, by rolling down a ravine in the fatal Schreckenstein. I replied as I should have done to the canoness, and did not dare to offer her my consolations. From her letters I gathered that her heart was divided between kindness and pride. She called me her dear child and generous friend, but did not seem to desire the succor or aid of my affection, at all."
"Then, you suppose that Albert, who has been resuscitated, lives quietly and unknown at the Giants' Castle, without sending you any note, and without any one outside of the castle being aware of the fact?"
"No, madame, I do not; for that would be entirely impossible, and I am foolish in wishing to think so," said Consuelo, concealing her face, which was covered with tears, with her hands.
As the night advanced, the princess seemed to resume the evil traits of her character. The mocking and frivolous tone in which she spoke of things which were so dear to Consuelo, terribly afflicted her.
"Come, do not make yourself unhappy," said Amelia, brusquely. "This is a pretty pleasure party: you have told us stories sufficient to call the devil from home. Von Kleist has trembled and grown pale all the time, and I think she will die of terror. I, too, who wished to be gay and happy, suffer at witnessing your distress." The princess spoke the latter part of this sentence with the kind diapason of her voice. Consuelo looked up, and saw a tear roll down her cheek, while an ironical sneer was on her lips. She kissed the hand which the abbess reached out to her, and internally compassionated her for not being able to act kindly during the four consequent hours.
"Mysterious as the Giants' Castle may be," added the princess "stern as is the pride of the canoness, and discreet as her servants are, be sure nothing can pass without acquiring a certain kind of publicity. It was in vain that they attempted to hide Count Albert's whimsicality, for the whole province soon discovered it, and it was long ago talked of at the little court of Bareith, when Supperville was sent for to attend your poor husband. There is now in this family another mystery, to conceal which every effort is made, but which is altogether ineffectual against the malice of the public. This is the flight of the young Baroness Amelia, who was carried off by a handsome adventurer, shortly after her cousin's death."
"I, madame, was long ignorant of it. I may, however, tell you that everything is not discovered in this world, for up to this time no one has been able to tell the name and rank of the man who carried her away. Neither have they been able to discover the place of her retreat."