Steinmetz clambered back into the sleigh and drew up the fur apron. He gave a strange little laugh that had a ring of boyish excitement in it. This man had not always been stout and placid. He too had had his day, and those who knew him said that it had been a stirring one.
“That settles one question,” he said.
“Which question?” asked Paul.
He was driving as hard as the horses could lay hoof to ground, taken with a sudden misgiving and a great desire to reach Osterno before dark.
“The question of the ladies,” replied Steinmetz. “It is too late for them to go now.”
The village, nestling beneath the grim protection of Osterno, was deserted and forlorn. All the doors were closed, the meagre curtains drawn. It was very cold. There was a sense of relief in this great frost; for when Nature puts forth her strength men are usually cowed thereby.
At the castle all seemed to be in order. The groom, in his great sheepskin coat, was waiting in the doorway. The servants threw open the vast doors, and stood respectfully in the warm, brilliantly lighted hall while their master passed in.
“Where is the princess?” Steinmetz asked his valet, while he was removing the evidences of a long day in the open air.
“In her drawing-room, Excellency.”
“Then go and ask her if she will give me a cup of tea in a few minutes.”