“But is she married again?” he asked anxiously. “How does she come to be Lynar?”
“Dear youth, you are not discreet,” thought the Prince, as he replied frankly that her mother had been a Countess Lynar, and that his daughter had taken her mother’s name, he was himself never very sure why; but she was always a little self-willed and fanciful, she was a woman; femme très femme! When she had married into la haute finance she had of course forfeited her place in the Hof-Kalendar.
“But her maiden name is there.” He turned over the leaves of the Almanac de Gotha and pointed to the entry of the birth of his daughter the Countess Olga Marie Valeria.
“Why does she call herself Countess Lynar?” said Brancepeth with curiosity, conscious of his own bad manners. Prince Khris pointed to the page:
“It was her mother’s name, you see; and more than that, in the property which my daughter possesses there is a little Schloss Lynar, hardly more than a ruin, hidden under woods in Swabia which gives that title to whoever owns it. Were you to purchase it you would have the right to write yourself Graf zu Lynar.”
“I would rather own the lady than the castle,” said Brancepeth, too stupid and too careless to note the deepening offence in the eyes of Mouse.
Prince Khris smiled meaningly.
“The lady might give you the more trouble of the two.”
“How he hates her!” thought Brancepeth. “I suppose she keeps a tight rein on the property.”
Brancepeth’s experiences, which had been extensive in range though brief in years, had told him that these family dislikes and disagreements usually had their root in the auri sacra fames; and the fact was well known all over Europe that this serene, courtly, distinguished-looking gentleman, whose name was recorded in the Hof-Kalendar, lived very nearly, if not entirely, by his wits.