"I am too good a Protestant to rejoice at this marriage," she replied quietly, "and my thoughts were all sad ones, noble Count, and did not in any way touch your high policies."
Louis of Nassau answered gently; he knew something of her history.
"It is all a question of policy certainly," he paid her the compliment of sincere speaking. "The marriage suits the Elector and my brother—the lady too, I think—and religious differences are easily accommodated among people of sense. The Prince is no fanatic—your faith will be protected as long as you are in his household. He, too, was bred a Protestant."
Rénèe could make no answer; she knew the Prince had left his faith when the splendid heritages, rank, and honours of his cousin René of Orange had fallen to him—his father had sent the German Protestant to the Emperor's Court to become a Papist, and almost a Spaniard. Rénèe saw nothing splendid in any of this—it was a piece with the rest of the world.
"You dislike my brother?" asked Louis shrewdly.
"I like no one," said the waiting-woman calmly.
"Have you seen the Prince?"
"Nay; when His Highness came to Dresden I was very ill."
"I thought that you had not seen him," remarked Louis. "No one who has seen him dislikes him."
"You put me in the wrong," protested Rénèe. "Who am I to judge great ones? Take no heed of me, gracious Count. I am looking for a hero, and that is as hard to find as the holy stone," she added, with a smile at the alchemist.