"Excuse me, monsieur. I am having a little thrush shooting," was all she said.
And she nodded to her lackey to leave us.
* * * * * *
I was alone with the queen of my dreams. I had known that this moment would come, but never imagined that it would find us in this leafy tunnel, which I had passed many a time in my walks, without suspecting its existence.
For a few seconds she gazed at me in silence. My embarrassment was absolutely indescribable. It was only later, much later, that I learned how well it had served my cause. So nervous a visitor could hardly be an enemy.
At length she spoke, and her voice was soft, so soft that I did not recognize it.
"I am grateful, Monsieur Vignerte, for your communication. You were right in thinking that any relic of the late Grand Duke Rudolph could not be a matter of indifference to me. Will you tell me," she added, "how this paper came into your possession?"
I told her the whole story of my discovery. There must have been a wealth of emotion and candour in my words, for I felt she was touched.
"Monsieur," she said, and her words were gentleness itself, "if, as I hope, we are to know each other better, you will, I feel sure, cease to bear me any ill-will for what may have seemed unmannerly in my behaviour towards you. No, don't protest. That behaviour was deliberate, monsieur. Indifference in a woman is always feigned. You must believe that, to understand me, certain factors are required which are far from being in your possession."
Where was the pretty speech I had promised myself in reply to these words, long foreseen?