“You might have thought of that before, and saved yourself the trouble, silly child,” the Princess remarked.
And Ludovic von Bertheim remained imprisoned in the organ. His was a curious nature, for the situation amused him, and yet in itself it was by no means pleasant. The space was confined, the atmosphere close and dusty. But for a few feeble rays of light which stole in between the pipes he was in darkness. And yet he laughed. He heard the heavy footsteps of the sacristan, then the clang of the locked door, and still he laughed. The situation had its charm; not a very obvious one. That he was a prisoner was certain enough; he had tried the little door; it was securely fastened on the outside; no doubt he could kick it open, but that would be a last resort. Perhaps he did not want to burst it open. The tortuous pathways in the organ, known only to the tuner, were not inviting; he resolved to leave them untried, and await his release where he was, meanwhile making himself as comfortable as he could. So he stayed, for hours it seemed, for he could not see his watch. Dusk deepened into night; the moonlight streaming faintly through the coloured windows could not penetrate that thicket of pipes and levers; the darkness was as complete and oppressive as the silence.
Perhaps it was from having grown accustomed to the intense silence that his ear at length detected a light footfall; he listened alertly, it came near; yes, his ear had not played him false, the step was just by him, only separated by a thin partition. The latch was turned and the door opened. So used had his eyes become to the darkness that even the subdued moonlight for a moment dazzled him, but without a question he made haste to leave his uncomfortable prison.
“A pretty penance you have made me pay, Countess,” he laughed, then stopped short with a great thrill. It was not the Countess Minna, whom he had looked for, but the Princess.
For a moment he could not speak; only stare at her as she stood before him, the dim light and shadow heightening her beauty by affording of it no more than a suggestion.
“You, Princess?”
The low tone vibrated with recognition as though struck from the depth of his heart. It was eloquent of an acknowledgment that could not be spoken.
“Minna came long ago to release you, but found the chapel locked up.”
Her calm tone was in strong contrast to his fervent ejaculation:—