Matuschka, looking almost angrily at her lady, left the room. In the anteroom stood a man wrapped in a cloak. She went quickly up to him with the open etui.
"The diamond coronet," whispered she. "I am to sell the jewels and have their places filled with false ones. It is to be done before to-morrow."
"How much does she expect for it?" asked the visitor in a low voice
"A thousand ducats, sire."
"I will send the sum to-night. Hide the coronet until to-morrow and then return it to her. Where is she?"
"In her cabinet, your majesty."
"Let no one enter until I return."
He then threw down his cloak, and without knocking opened the door. The countess was still lost in thought. She still gazed at the blank wall, still heard the flippant voice which had poured out its profanity as though life had been a jest and immorality a dream.
The emperor stopped to contemplate her for a moment, and his large, loving eyes rested fondly on her noble form.
"Countess Anna," said he, softly.