"Yes, mademoiselle."
"On a good horse, and provided with money?" she continued, quoting from the letter.
"Yes, mademoiselle, with my own eyes; and well out of the town, with a passport to assure his not being stopped anywhere on the road."
"Then wait in the corridor, Antoine. Will you, too, Gretel, wait there?"
The Landgrave looked surprised at these orders, but, before he could put his disapprobation into more than a frown, the two servants had left the room. Catherine stepped at once to the door, locked it, withdrew the key, and started towards the alcove. The Landgrave's frown gave way to a smile of eager gratification, and he made to grasp her in his arms as she passed him. But she eluded his embrace, and ran towards the alcove. With a look of amused enlightenment, as if he thought her flight a mere trick of coquetry, he ran after her; but his arms, again extended in the hope of clasping her, closed on nothing as the curtains fell behind her. His highness laughed, and, pressing forward, opened the curtains to follow her.
And, instead of the woman he had thought himself about to possess, he saw, standing where the curtains met, that woman's lover, the man he had tried to destroy, the man he had reported dead, the man for whom his soldiers were even now scouring the roads in the vicinity of his capital.
The look on that man's face added nothing to the Landgrave's pleasure at the unexpected meeting.
Frederick II. recoiled a step or two, and stood for a moment as if petrified, his jaw moving spasmodically without producing any speech.
Dick stepped out from between the curtains, keeping his eyes fixed on the Landgrave's. Catherine now stood looking forth from the alcove, affrightedly watching for what terrible thing might next occur.
The Landgrave recovered himself, and made for the door.