The Princess Wilhelmina was in the act of having her skates fastened on by her maid, when Prince Henry advanced with hasty steps from the alley which led to the lake.
Count Kalkreuth advanced to meet him, and greeted him with gay, jesting words; but the prince had no word of reply for him; he passed him silently, with a contemptuous glance, and stepped directly in front of the princess, who looked up with a kindly smile. He said:
“Madame, it is too cold and rough to skate to-day; I will have the honor to conduct you to your rooms.”
Princess Wilhelmina laughed heartily. “It is a fresh, invigorating winter day, my husband. If you are cold, it is not the fault of the weather, but of your light clothing. I pray you to send for your furs, and then we will run a race over the ice and become warm.”
Prince Henry did not answer. He seized the arm of the princess and placed it in his own. “Come, madame, I will conduct you to your apartment.”
Wilhelmina gazed at him with astonishment, but she read in his excited and angry countenance that she must not dare oppose him. “Permit me, at least, to have my skates removed,” said she, shortly, giving a sign to her maid. The prince stood near, while her maid knelt before her and removed the skates. Count Kalkreuth was at some distance.
Not one word interrupted the portentous silence. Once the prince uttered a hasty and scornful exclamation. He had intercepted a glance which the princess exchanged with Count Kalkreuth, and a glance full of significance and meaning.
“What is the matter with you, prince?” said Wilhelmina.
“I am cold,” said he roughly, but the perspiration was standing in large drops on his forehead.
When the skates were taken off, the prince drew his wife on quickly, without a word or greeting to his friend. Kalkreuth stood pale and immovable, and gazed thoughtfully upon the glittering ice. “I fear he knows all,” murmured he. “Oh my God, my God! Why will not the earth open and swallow me up? I am a miserable, guilty wretch, and in his presence I must cast my eyes with shame to the ground. I have deceived, betrayed him, and yet I love him. Woe is me!” He clasped his hands wildly over his face, as if he would hide from daylight and the glad sun the blush of shame which burned upon his cheeks; then slowly, with head bowed down, he left the garden.