"Persons of high rank, countess, sometimes make great mistakes," said St. Germain, with great calmness. "I thank you for the frankness with which you have spoken to me, and will not touch on matters which you will not understand. I will only say, then, there is an occult science in which I take an interest, and in which I am aided by superior lights. There is nothing supernatural in it, for it is purely and simply that of the human heart—or, if you like the term better—a deeper acquaintance with human life in the most secret springs of its action and resources. To prove to you that I am not a vain boaster, I will tell you what has passed in your life, since you left Count Rudolstadt; that is, if you will permit me?"
"I do—for on that point I am sure you cannot deceive me."
"Well, you love, for the first time in your life; you love completely and truly. Well, the person you thus love with tears of repentance—for you did not love him a year ago—this person, the absence of whom is bitter to you, and whose disappearance has discolored your life and disenchanted your future, is not Baron Von Trenck, for whom you entertained no feeling but gratitude and great sympathy; neither is it Joseph Haydn, who is but a young brother in Apollo; nor is it King Frederick, who both frightens and terrifies you; it is not the handsome Anzoleto, whom you can no longer esteem—but the one you saw on the bed of death, with all the ornaments which the pride of nobles place even on the tomb of the dead—Albert of Rudolstadt."
Consuelo for an instant was astonished at this revelation of her secret thoughts, by a man whom she did not know. Remembering that she had unveiled her life, and exposed her most utter secrets on the previous night to the Princess Amelia, and knowing from what Prince Henry had said, that the princess had mysterious affiliation with that society, a principal member of which the Count de St. Germain was, she ceased to be surprised, and told the latter that there was nothing strange in his being acquainted with matters she had owned to an indiscreet friend.
"You speak of the Abbess of Quedlimburg. Well, will you believe in my word of honor?" said the count.
"I have no reason to doubt it," said Porporina.
"I pledge it to you," said the count, "that the princess has not spoken a word to me of you, for I have not been able to exchange a word either with her or with Madame Von Kleist."
"Yet, sir, you have communicated with her at least indirectly."
"As far as I am concerned, my communication has gone no farther than sending Trenck's letters, and receiving hers by a third party. You see her confidence in me does not go very far, since she thinks I am ignorant of the interest I take in our fugitive. She is only foolish, as all tyrannical persons become, when they are oppressed. The servants of truth have expected much from her, and have granted her their protection. Heaven grant they may never repent of it."
"You judge an interesting and unfortunate princess harshly, sir count, and perhaps know no great deal of her affairs. I am ignorant of them."