When the Chancellor ceased reading, and was examining the hand-writing, Louis thought of the caution he had received the preceding evening. Dreading a similar attack might way-lay Ignatius next morning in his journey to meet the ambassador, (when the faithful Jesuit would be attended by no stronger guard than the unweaponed arm of Martini,) his anxious pupil, full of alarm, abruptly asked the date of the letter.
"Yesterday morning," replied Sinzendorff, folding up the paper, "and since we cannot count the loss of any of our members, we must conclude this doughty champion, whoever he may be, has failed in his pledge to the lady to whom he has devoted his sword."
"Or rather his dagger!" replied the Empress, "we have found they do not challenge with fairer weapons. But now, let us vote thanks to the vigilant hand that intercepted this bungling piece of treason; and pass to a pleasanter subject. My Otteline found the fairy favour!"
"And by what kind dispensation?" enquired the Chancellor, as with a bow of acquiescence to the Empress, he returned the letter to her friend.
"While I was at the Luxemburg, a whole bundle of letters collected themselves in this drawer," replied the Countess, putting her hand upon a part of the table, in which was an aperture to receive and to hold in safety all that might arrive during her absence; "and only returning to-day, I had not time to examine my correspondence till about an hour or two ago, while I was waiting for the Empress. In turning them over, I saw this directed, as you see, to the Electress's Lady of the Key. I know that she is the repository of her mistress's secrets; and it was possible this letter might contain some of them. I thought the hand-writing was that of the envious Count Stalhberg. Accident had conducted it to me," added the beautiful Otteline with an exulting smile; "and I would not throw away my fortune:—I broke the seal."
At the last sentence, Louis sprang back from the spot on which he stood, as if he had trod on a serpent. The resounding of the floor under his recoiling feet, turned all eyes upon him.
"Monsieur Phaffenberg!" cried the Chancellor, in a voice of reproof; "you forget in whose presence you are?"
Louis put his hand to his forehead, as he strove to recover his appalled senses. He turned to the Empress: "I have no words in which to beg Your Majesty's forgiveness for this! But such irritability shall never offend again!"
"You are ill then?" enquired Elizabeth, with more graciousness than accorded with the brow of the Chancellor.
"I was," replied Louis, smiling ghastily, "but I am perfectly well now. And if His Excellency can pardon the interruption, I beg he will proceed."