"Mademoiselle von Randau," murmured Bielfeld, drinking another glass of sillery to hide his confusion.
"Mademoiselle von Randau!" repeated the princess, "how cold, how ceremonious that sounds! To imagine how a lady looks and what she is like, it is necessary to know her Christian name, for a given name is to some extent an index to character. What is your fiancee's name?"
"Regina, royal highness."
"Regina! That is a beautiful name. A prophecy of happiness. Then she will always be queen of your heart. Ah, I understand the meaning of names, and at home in my father's house I was called the Sibyl, because my prophecies were always true. If you will give me your first names, I will prophecy your future, ladies. Let us commence. What is your given name, Madame von Katsch?"
While the princess was speaking, she played carelessly with the beautiful Venetian glass which stood before her. The prince royal alone saw what no one else observed; he saw that the hand which toyed with the glass trembled violently; that while she smiled her lips quivered, and that her breathing was hurried and feverish. He comprehended what these prophecies meant; he was convinced that the princess had become acquainted with the contents of his poem.
"Do not give her your name," he whispered to Madame Morien. He then turned to his wife, who had just prophesied a long life and a happy old age to Madame von Katsch.
"And your name, Mademoiselle von Schwerin?" said the prince royal.
"Louise."
"Ah, Louise! Well, I prophecy that you will be happier than your namesake, the beautiful La Valliere. Your conscience will never reproach you on account of your love affairs, and you will never enter a convent."
"But then I will probably never have the happiness of being loved by a king," said the little maid of honor, with a sigh.