[WANDA.]
[CHAPTER XI.]
On her return she spoke of her royal friends, of her cousins, of society, of her fears for the peace of Europe, and her doubts as to the strength of the empire; but she did not speak of the one person of whom, beyond all others, Mdme. Ottilie was desirous to hear. When some hours had passed, and still she had never alluded to the existence of, the Princess could bear silence no longer, and casting prudence to the winds, said boldly and with impatience:
'And your late guest? Have you nothing to tell me? Surely you have seen him?'
'He called once,' she answered, 'and I heard him speak at the Chamber.'
'And was that all?' cried the Princess, disappointed.
'He speaks very well in public,' added Wanda, 'and he said many tender and grateful things of you, and sent you many messages—such grateful ones that my memory is too clumsy a tray to hold such eggshell china.'
She was angered with herself as she spoke, but the fragrance of the white lilac and the remembrance of its donor pursued her—angered with herself, too, because Hohenszalras seemed for the moment sombre, solitary, still, almost melancholy, wrapped in that winter whiteness and stillness which she had always loved so well.
The next morning she saw all her people, visited her schools and her stables, and tried to persuade herself that she was as contented as ever.