The secret was out. The prince royal's poem had been addressed to Leontine, to a bewitching Leontine, and not to Elizabeth! But who was this Leontine? which of the ladies bore that name? She must, she would know! She called all her courage to her assistance. Suddenly she took part in the general merriment, commenced to laugh and jest; she entered gayly into a conversation with her husband, with Madame Morien and the young Baron Bielfeld, who was her vis-a-vis.
The princess had never been so gay, so unconstrained, and so witty. No one suspected that these jests, this laughter, was only assumed; that she veiled the pain which she suffered with a smiling brow.
The candles had burnt half way down, and some of the gentlemen had begun to light the first tapers of the champagne illumination which the prince had prophesied. Chazot no longer recited, but was singing some of the charming little songs which he had learned of the merry peasants of Normandy, his fatherland. Jordan improvised a sermon after the fashion of the fanatical and hypocritical priests who for some time past had collected crowds in the streets of Berlin. Kaiserling had risen from his seat and thrown himself into an attitude in which he had seen the celebrated Lagiere in the ballet of the Syrene at Paris. Knobelsdorf recounted his interesting adventures in Italy; and even Quanta found courage to give the prince's favorite dog, which was snuffling at his feet, and which he hated as a rival, a hearty kick. The prince royal alone had preserved his noble and dignified appearance. Amid the general excitement he remained calm and dignified. The candles were burning low, and the champagne illumination was becoming intense in the heads of all the gentlemen except the prince and the Baron Bielfeld.
"Bielfeld must also take part in this illumination," said the prince, turning to his wife, and calling the former, he proposed to drink with him the health of his fiancee, whom he had left in Hamburg.
After Bielfeld had left his seat and was advancing toward the prince royal, the princess hurriedly and noiselessly gave her instructions to a servant. She had observed that Bielfeld had been drinking freely of the cold water which had been placed before him in a decanter. The servant emptied this decanter and filled it with sillery, which was as clear and limpid as water. Bielfeld returning to his seat, heated by the toast he had been drinking, filled his glass to the brim, and drank instead of water the fiery sillery.[7]
[7] Bielfeld, vol. i., page 85.
The princess royal, whose aim was to discover which of the ladies was the bewitching Leontine, determined to strike a decisive blow. With an ingratiating smile she turned to Bielfeld and said:
"The prince royal spoke of your fiancee; I may, therefore, congratulate you."
Bielfeld, who did not dare to acknowledge that he was on the point of shamefully deserting this lady, bowed in silence.
"May I know the name of your fiancee?" asked she.