The young countess, Kaunitz's niece, and a widow scarcely thirty years of age, flew to greet her uncle, radiant with smiles and happiness.
"What an unexpected honor you confer upon me, my dear uncle!" said she, with her sweet low voice. "Coming yourself to conduct me to the table! How I thank you for preparing me a triumph which every woman in Vienna will envy me."
"I came with no intention whatever of preparing you a triumph or a pleasure. I came solely because I wish to have a few words with you before we go to dinner."
"I am all ears, your highness," said the countess, smiling.
Kaunitz looked at his young and lovely niece with uncommon scrutiny.
"You have been crying," said he, after a pause.
"No, indeed," said she, blushing.
"Do you suppose that you can deceive me? I repeat it, you have been crying. Will you presume to contradict me?"
"No, dear uncle, I will not."
"And wherefore? No prevarication; I must know."
The young countess raised her soft blue eyes to the face of the haughty prince. "I will tell the truth," said she, again blushing. "I was crying because La Foliazzi was so long with you to-day."