“And where is Rudolph?” she demanded. “Is he so very busy that he cannot spare a moment even to welcome me?”
The Baroness changed color, but with as easy an air as she could assume she answered that Rudolph had most unfortunately been summoned from England.
“Indeed?” observed the Countess, and the observation was made in a tone that suggested the advisability of a satisfactory explanation.
This paragon among mothers and peeresses was a lady of majestic port, whose ascendant expression and commanding voice were commonly held to typify all that is best in the feudal system; or, in other words, to indicate that her opinions had never been contradicted in her life. When one of these is a firm belief in the holder's divine rights and semi-divine origin, the effect is undoubtedly impressive. And the Countess impressed.
“My dear Alicia,” said she, when they had settled down to tea and confidential talk, “you have not yet told me what has taken Rudolph abroad again so soon.”
On nothing had the Baron laid more stress than on the necessity of maintaining the most profound secrecy respecting his mission. “No, not even to your mozzer most you say. My love, you vill remember?” had been almost his very last words before departing for St. Petersburg. His devoted wife had promised this not once, but many times, while his finger was being shaken at her, and would have scorned herself had she thought it possible to break her vows.
“That is a secret, mamma,” she declared.
Her mother opened her eyes.
“A secret from me, Alicia?”
“Rudolph made me promise.”