In this dread presence, then, she would find herself that night! For she would go. There was no way out.
She sent a request to be excused from dinner on the ground of illness, and was, as a result, visited by her royal mistress at nine o’clock. The honor was unexpected. Not often did the Archduchess Annunciata so favor any one. The Countess, lying across her bed in a perfect agony of apprehension, staggered into her sitting-room and knelt to kiss her lady’s hand.
But the Archduchess, who had come to scoff, believing not at all in the illness, took one shrewd glance at her, and put her hands behind her.
“It may be, as you say, contagious, Olga,” she said. “You would better go to bed and stay there. I shall send Doctor Wiederman to you.”
When she had gone the Countess rang for her maid. She was cool enough now, and white, with a cruel line about her mouth that Minna knew well. She went to the door into the corridor, and locked it.
Then she turned on the maid. “I am ready for you, now.”
“Madame will retire?”
“You little fool! You know what I am ready for!”
The maid stood still. Her wide, bovine eyes, filled with alarm, watched the Countess as she moved swiftly across the room to her wardrobe. When she turned about again, she held in her hand a thin black riding-crop. Minna’s ruddy color faded. She knew the Loscheks, knew their furies. Strange stories of unbridled passion had oozed from the old ruined castle where for so long they had held feudal sway over the countryside.
“Madame!” she cried, and fell on her knees. “What have I done? Oh, what have I done?”