Bernstein, in a rage, turned to Berwick.
“Sir,” he said, “the Prince of Orlamunde will take cognizance of this affair. Your friend and protégé must submit to the authority of his Highness.”
“Alas, Bernstein,” replied Berwick, “I cannot answer for Mr. Egremont submitting to the authority of the Prince of Orlamunde. William, Prince of Orange, Stadtholder of Holland, and de facto King of England, a great prince, although a usurper, could not bring Mr. Egremont to submission, and how does the Prince of Orlamunde compare with William of Orange?”
Bernstein rose, speechless with anger. Berwick and Roger accompanied him ceremoniously to the head of the stairs, Berwick saying, “We shall hope to see you when we have our appointed interview with the Prince at noon.”
At twelve o’clock the two found themselves entering the palace doors of Monplaisir. They were ushered into a room Roger had not before seen, known as the Prince’s cabinet. It was small and luxurious, and the bright sun of April laughed in at the one tall window, with its yellow satin hangings. There was an inner room, which seemed smaller still.
Seated at a table in the first apartment, was Prince Karl, and with him Bertha von Kohler.
The Prince rose as Berwick entered, and saluted him pleasantly; nor was he cold to Roger.
“I desire to place in your Highness’s hands,” said Berwick, suavely, “the letter of His Most Christian Majesty. Likewise to convey to you the views of His Most Christian Majesty on certain matters concerning the league between the kingdom of France and the principality of Orlamunde.”
The Prince extended his hand for the letter. Countess Bertha wore a broad smile of delight. She aspired to be the Maintenon of this dissipated, evil Prince.
“Pardon,” said Berwick, bowing, “I must ask your Highness for a private interview.”