“Your question, Princess,” he replied with the same Sphinx-like closeness, “is perhaps one which is better left unanswered.”
“All the same, I must have an answer,” she persisted.
“Then,” he said, with uncompromising decision, “I have to tell your Highness that you will not be troubled any more by the person to whom I presume you refer.”
Into his eyes, which were fixed with calm severity on her face, there flashed a look of surprise. A rapid and unaccountable change had come over her expression. Was she actress enough to receive a stab in the heart with an air of joy? For the sudden light in her eyes was surely nothing else. But for an instant was he at a loss; then he turned quickly and looked behind him. The crowd was moving to and fro, talking, laughing, all decorously as under the royal eye; the Chancellor’s sharp and significant scrutiny caused many a furtive glance at the pair, and perhaps cried halt to more than one unguarded remark. His quick, rapacious eyes took in every detail of the human medley, then suddenly glanced back, keen as a hawk’s, to his companion’s face. But the look which had startled him had gone. He saw nothing but a cold self-possession with just a suspicion of triumph in the half-contemptuous eyes.
“You have answered my question, Baron,” she said simply, and without the mocking lip he looked for; “and I thank you. It is well to know our friends—and our enemies.”
“Your Highness,” he returned, “will never have anything but a true friend in Adrian Rollmar.”
“Whose deeds to secure her happiness will speak for themselves.” The mockery was there now, as, with a slight bow, she turned and left him.
Your man of action is never left standing at a loss by discomfiture. With purposeful alacrity, Rollmar turned away on his side and looked for his son.
“Udo,” he said, when, as in response to a sign, the young man joined him, “the man is here. The man we seek: Princess Ruperta’s lover.”
“Ah, where is he? Let us——”