And while the count thus questioned, he took the hand of the Princess and covered it with kisses. Then, with graceful gallantry and solemn seriousness, as if they had been in the midst of a grand courtly assemblage, he conducted her to the divan. There she seated herself, and he bowed before her with all the formality and obsequiousness of a courtier as he took his place beside her.
"Now your highness desires to know above all things how I can have dared to intrude here at so unusual an hour, and without the shadow of permission," he said with his mellifluous, insinuating voice. "Most gracious Princess, I confess that you are well justified in this curiosity, and I hasten to gratify it. Your grace expected a visitor indeed, but not the tiresome, unbidden Count d'Entragues—not the ambassador and servant of King Louis XIII or Cardinal Richelieu, but you expected an eloquent, handsome young Prince, who loves the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine with passionate enthusiasm, and to whom after long and vain entreaties she has at last granted a rendezvous."
"My God!" said the Princess, with an expression of horror, "how know you that, count?"
"My most gracious Princess, I have a magician in my service, who acquaints me with everything that happens here at court and, above all things, in the palace of the Queen of Bohemia, and first of all in the apartments of the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine."
"And the name of this magician is?"
"Ducato, sweetest Princess, Ducato. Ah! if you knew what dear, precious secrets this magician has imparted to me, how loquaciously he blabs out to me everything that the fairest Princess in the world thinks and does by day and by night! I know, for example, how the lovely Princess stays with her mother with ever so much seriousness, goes with her to church, visits respectfully the Stadtholder of Holland, and fondles and pets the little Princess Louise; how she carries on her studies, plays the lute, paints and sings. But, God be thanked! life consists not entirely of days, but happily has its nights likewise."
"What do you mean by that, Sir Count d'Entragues?"
"I mean," replied the Count, while he smilingly bent over closer to the Princess—"I mean that here at The Hague there is a wonderful, charming combination of young gentlemen and noble young ladies, who have laid themselves out expressly to embellish these nights, and to indemnify themselves for their somber, gloomy days by joyous, merry nights. It is a secret order, into which it is a distinguished honor to be received, and which is shrouded in deepest secrecy. Never would a lady own that she belongs to it, and yet they say that the fairest, most exalted, most virtuous ladies press to be received into this order. It is not known of any of the ladies of the court that they belong to it, but it is suspected of each. No one can say that he has seen this or that one among the noble and virtuous ladies there, for at all the reunions of the members of the order the ladies wear small half-masks, and it is the first and most sacred law of the order that no man dares to lay so much as a finger upon this mask—this precious secret of the ladies. Moreover, they appear only in Grecian robes, so that it is difficult to recognize the beautiful forms of the ladies again in their elaborate court dresses and with their stiff Fontanges. The name of this secret society is Media Nocte, and it is especially an honor to belong to it, for nobody is admitted who has not stood his probation—that is to say, shown that he has acquired considerable proficiency in some art, and excels in it. He, therefore, who can not sing or play on the lute, paint or improvise, speak eloquently, or by some gift contribute to the enjoyment of the company, can never arrive at the distinction of becoming a member of this order. When, therefore, it is whispered of a gentleman that he belongs to the order, he is supposed to be not merely an accomplished gentleman, but an entertaining companion, a favorite of the Muses. If this secret is whispered of a lady, then we look upon her with admiration, rapture, joy for we know that we have before us one of those choice, enchanting, and rare beings, who are exalted above all prejudice; who believe not, with zealots and ascetics, that we live only to die, but who joyfully acknowledge that we live to live, and, therefore, that the noblest, worthiest task proposed is to render this life as pleasant as possible."
"Why do you tell me all this, dear count?" asked the Princess impatiently.
"It is true," replied he, smiling; "why should I tell you what you know already? I tell it to your highness in order to prove to you that I, thanks to my little magician Ducato, know the secret of the Media Nocte; I tell it to you in order now to whisper a secret in your ear: the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine belongs to the society, she is a member of the order of the Media Nocte."