“I told you that I had recovered fully; tell me, therefore, your news without hesitation. You spoke of a marriage. Who were the happy lovers?”
“Your highness, Madame von Kleist has married,” murmured Pollnitz.
The prince received this blow without betraying the slightest emotion.
“When did the marriage take place?” he asked, with perfect composure.
“Yesterday; and I assure your highness that I never saw a happier or more brilliant bride. Love has transformed her into a blushing, timid maiden.”
Prince Henry pressed his hand upon his heart with a quick, unconscious movement.
“I can well imagine that she was beautiful,” said he, controlling his voice with a great effort. “Madame von Kleist is happy, and happiness always beautifies. And the bridegroom, M. du Trouffle, was he also handsome and happy?”
“Your highness knows the name of the bride-groom,” said Pollnitz, appearing astonished.
“Yes, Madame von Kleist told me herself when she announced her approaching marriage. But I am not acquainted with Du Trouffle—is he handsome?”
“Handsome and amiable, your highness, and besides, a very good officer. The king gave him, as a wedding present, a major’s commission.”