“His name?” she asked.
“I profess I know not. I am not yet intimate with my corn-stealer,” returned the Prince. “It was in a professional capacity——”
“Like me! Flatterer!” she cried. “But oblige me in one thing. Let me find you waiting at the seat—yes, you shall await me; for on this expedition it shall be no longer Prince and Countess, it shall be the lady and the squire—and your friend the thief shall be no nearer than the fountain. Do you promise?”
“Madam, in everything you are to command; you shall be captain, I am but supercargo,” answered Otto.
“Well, Heaven bring all safe to port!” she said. “It is not Friday!”
Something in her manner had puzzled Otto, had possibly touched him with suspicion.
“Is it not strange,” he remarked, “that I should choose my accomplice from the other camp?”
“Fool!” she said. “But it is your only wisdom that you know your friends.” And suddenly, in the vantage of the deep window, she caught up his hand and kissed it with a sort of passion. “Now go,” she added, “go at once.”
He went, somewhat staggered, doubting in his heart that he was over-bold. For in that moment she had flashed upon him like a jewel; and even through the strong panoply of a previous love he had been conscious of a shock. Next moment he had dismissed the fear.
Both Otto and the Countess retired early from the drawing-room, and the Prince, after an elaborate feint, dismissed his valet, and went forth by the private passage and the back postern in quest of the groom.