“I have no doubt that the action is equally new to you, madame.”
She turned from him with a gesture of disgust. “How am I to decide?” she asked angrily. “On the one side I risk my son’s kingdom, on the other my good name. If I could only trust him! Baroness, I will not appeal to you. If Count Mortimer suggested a journey to the moon, you would only inquire mildly, ‘By what route does the Herr Graf propose to conduct us?’ Sophie, you are not a blind idolater. Tell me quickly—shall I trust him?”
Poor Fräulein von Staubach, finding herself thus appealed to, turned first red and then white, twisted her fingers painfully together, and sought inspiration in the corners of the ceiling. Her advice came suddenly, accompanied by a rush of tears and a great gulp: “Trust him, madame. I believe you may.”
“Then you also have gone over to the enemy!” said the Queen sarcastically, as she turned again to Cyril. “I congratulate you upon your convert, Count. I wish you would exercise the same influence over me; but as you have not thought fit to do so, I am afraid I must ask you to swear that you have told me nothing but the truth, and that your motives are what you represent them to be. Will you do this?”
“No, madame, I will not swear. If you cannot accept the word of a man who has endangered his life in order to serve you, you must drag him down to destruction with yourself.”
She looked up in alarm, and caught sight of the repressed fury in his face. She gave a little gasp, and her eyes fell before his.
“Forgive me, Count. I do trust you. I will obey.”
Cyril’s heart leapt within him, but he betrayed no sign of exultation over his victory. His tones were sternly business-like as he said—
“Then, madame, I must beg of you to disguise yourself as an Englishwoman. Put on a tailor-made gown and a small felt hat, if you please, and a short straight veil à l’anglaise, covering only the upper part of the face. It would make it less easy for you to be recognised if the dress was not black, but of some coloured cloth. Bring also a fur cloak, for you will find it very cold. Which of the ladies is to be summoned to attend you?”
“Pardon me, madame; that is my place,” said Baroness von Hilfenstein, as the Queen looked round helplessly.