But the landlord shook his head dubiously.
“It’s queer doings, sure enough!” he muttered;—“leastwise, it’s no love meeting they’re up to;” and he followed them as far as the hall, to be within call if needed.
Shielded by the curtain, Madeline Spencer had watched the scene in the courtyard, laughing quietly, the while, at Hertz’s confusion and at what she knew was in his mind, as to the Archduke and herself; now she flung the veil lightly around her head, and put her chair where the sun would be behind her. Moore’s presence had surprised and disappointed her; but, on the whole, she preferred him to Bernheim—and particularly if one of them were to be at the interview. Though she had rather counted upon Armand coming alone, if only to show his contempt for the permission to bring an escort—that he had sent the troop of Lancers she did not credit for a moment, though it might do to twit him with it.
Cool player that she was, and skillful beyond most women, yet even her heart beat a little faster, and her hand showed the trace of a tremble, as she heard the rattle of swords and spurs in the hall-way, followed by the sharp knock upon her door. And she let the knock come a second time before she answered it. She had not seen Armand since that night in her reception room in the Hotel Metzen, when the King and he had surprised her and Lotzen together, and, after tumbling the Duke’s schemes about his ears, had sent him to Lotzenia in disgrace and her across the border; and, now, the sight of him, and the sound of his voice, had stirred again the old fondness that would not down. And though, to his face, she might laugh at his anger and mock at his contempt, and feel it so then, yet afterward, in the depression that in such natures always follows periods of excitement, the recollection of it hurt her sadly, scorn it as she might, despise it as she did—destroy him as she meant to do, and would.
“Entrez!” she called, “entrez!” and with the words, the tremble passed, and she was serene and undisturbed again.
“Your Royal Highness!” she said, very low, and swept him a quick curtsy.
Instead of offering his hand to raise her, he answered with a slight bow.
“Madame desired to see me?” he asked; and crossing over obliged her to turn so that the light from the window fell upon her sideways. And, despite the heavy veil, that gave him only a black mask of crape instead of her face, he was satisfied he had surmised correctly.
Suddenly she caught the veil and flung it away.
“You know me, I see,” she laughed, “so we will dispense with this covering—it is very warm.”