“Aye,” muttered the Countess, “we were dragged upstairs and cast into a coach, and no one there ever saw us again nor spoke our names.”
“They drove us through the night to Schloss Ahlden … thirty-two years ago.”
The Princess paced up and down the hearth.
“I have thought of so many things–if he would have been different, if he had ever loved me–it was the hate of fourteen years vented then–if Philip von Königsmarck cursed me when he saw he was trapped.”
She drew a deep breath and put her pallid fingers to her pallid face.
“I kissed him again,” she said, “when all was over—”
With a fumbling gesture Madame von Arlestein groped for her sewing. “Why do we rip up this?” she asked.
“I have never been kissed since,” added Sophia Dorothea, unheeding.
The Countess pointed a skinny finger at the clock.
“We have never been so late before. Get to your bed, Highness.”