“And you can do nothing with him?”
“No.”
“And the Queen?”
“He smiles at the Queen.”
“What do you want him to do?”
“What his father would have done,” replied Count Piper—“lead an army against Denmark, Poland, and Russia.”
“I see—you want an antique hero—a Viking, as you say, in this modern age of ours!” She seemed scornful, and her lips shook as she spoke. “And you think that a woman’s smiles can rouse a demi-god from a tipsy boy! You think that he might go to war if he could find me among the spoils of victory!”
Count Piper was silent; he could not understand her mood.
She seemed in considerable agitation and leant against the window-frame, pressing a little handkerchief to her mouth; the sharp eyes of the minister noted the stains of red on the cambric as she rubbed off the moistened rouge.
“You think to find in me an Aurora von Königsmarck—a gilded puppet whose strings you can pull!” she cried.