The Grävenitz's witch practices had long been an eyesore to his Highness. In the first place, he feared magic exceedingly, and knowing the Landhofmeisterin's extraordinary magnetic power, he believed entirely in her witchcraft. Friedrich Wilhelm had thoroughly alarmed his Highness; doubtless a curse rested on him for his sin. Surely, thus to harbour an avowed witch would inevitably draw down the wrath of God, and 'we princes must make personal sacrifices for State reasons.' Then too Eberhard Ludwig, having ceased to love the Grävenitz, was in a propitious mood for returning to duty.
When the Duke regained consciousness he found himself with the kindly court physician, who told him of the Landhofmeisterin's visit, and of how it had been her touch on his hand which had first roused him from his swoon. The good man prated amiably to his Highness, thinking to please him, but the Duke's face grew dark. The physician had seen her Excellency's care of his Highness during his illness in the preceding autumn, and had been deeply impressed by her charm which she had chosen to exercise upon him.
At this moment the Duke's valets entered to remove the blood-filled bowl and the cloth used to stanch the blood, these having been left by the physician's orders, as it was imperative for Serenissimus to be undisturbed till he regained entire consciousness. The lackeys searched for the cloth, and not finding it, inquired if the physician had removed it. Baron Roeder, who was waiting in his Highness's writing-closet, heard the question through the open door. He tiptoed to the threshold and informed the physician that her Excellency the Landhofmeisterin had carried away the cloth. His Highness heard, and, starting up, commanded Roeder to bring it back forthwith.
'But, your Highness, her Excellency has carried it to La Favorite,' said the astonished courtier.
'You are to fetch it and bring it here! I tell you to go. If her Excellency will not give it, take it by force—by force, do you hear? Here is my signet-ring, show her that. Take a company of guards with you—but bring me back that cloth!'
The Duke was beside himself; he was weak from loss of blood, and he had worked himself into a frenzy of fear. Suddenly the woman he had loved for twenty years had become, to his thinking, a dangerous, threatening witch; she who had lain on his breast, his mistress, the woman who had tended him in illness, the hallowed being he had well-nigh worshipped—offering up his country, his wife, his son, all things at her shrine—now appeared before him as the incarnation of evil to be compelled by a company of guards.
In vain the physician essayed to calm his Highness; he was as one distraught, raving frantically of the missing cloth, of spells and incantations.
Roeder, arriving at La Favorite, stationed his guards carefully. As a fact, the gentleman was terribly alarmed. It was no pleasantry to affront the wrath of the Grävenitz. Was she not a tyrant? and tyrants had strange ways of hanging on to power after actual favour was gone past. And was she not a witch? it was not reassuring to incur a witch's curse. Nay, but she was a fallen favourite, the vile amputated canker of a terrible epoch, harmless now the blister of her evil glory was pricked, and yet——
Politely he requested the Landhofmeisterin to deliver up the missing cloth, but she denied possessing it; he insisted, threatened to call the guard, and the whole house should be searched; he had his Highness's warrant. He showed her the Duke's signet-ring. She raged at him, dared him to oppose her, menaced him. Then, changing her tone, she cajoled him: if she indeed had the cloth, it would be easy for him to retract his statement concerning having seen her purloin it. Then she would be a friend to him; did he forget her power? He questioned her on the uses she would make of a blood-stained linen rag. She told him she had her purposes, and he remembered her witch practices, the stories of the ghastly ingredients of her magic potions. He alluded to witchcraft, and she defied him again, then he called the guard; but when the soldiers' tread echoed in the corridor, she drew the cloth from a hidden panel in her bureau and flung it at him, with bitter words cursing him. And he departed trembling, the fear of the Grävenitz upon him.
