“Just as I was having my first long talk with you, Ottilie!” said the Queen, rising. “Well, the Regent must be at the service of the State, I suppose; but do wait here, and I will come back when I have finished.”
She rustled out of the room, her long black robes trailing after her, and the Princess watched her with a curious, meditative smile.
“Ah, my dear Ernestine,” she reflected, “it is a good thing I came here when I did! It is the merest chance that your new friend has not already broached a project of marriage for Michael, and converted you to his views. In not doing so he has committed a fault in tactics, by which I shall contrive to profit. But what I should most like to know is, what there is exactly between you and him. You are in love with him, of course—any one could see that—and I have not a doubt that he knows it, but the question is, do you know it as well? That innocent manner of yours might mean either that you were quite ignorant or that you had everything settled with him. Now which is it?”
She sat musing, with her chin supported on her hand, weighing probabilities in her mind, and not knowing that the information she needed was at that moment on its way to her. The messenger of fate burst into the room in the person of King Michael, following a wild fumbling at the door, and pursued by retributive justice in the form of Baroness Paula. “Majestät!” she was beginning, “why have you run away from your nurse?” but like the intruder, she stopped short on catching sight of the Princess of Dardania.
“I will take care of him until his nurse comes to fetch him,” said the Princess pleasantly, holding out her hand to the child, and Baroness Paula retreated. “What do you want here, my little Michael?”
“I want to hide something—something of mamma’s,” returned King Michael, recovering his presence of mind, and beginning to pull the curtains about. “You won’t tell, will you, Tant’ Ottilie?”
“Certainly not. What is it—a piece of paper?”
“Mamma keeps it in her Bible,” returned King Michael, exhibiting a crumpled paper ball, “and to-day it fell out. I want her to look for it. It will be so funny. Oh dear, there isn’t a place anywhere!” with a heavy sigh, “and I hear nursie coming.”
“Why not smooth it out, and put it under the corner of the rug?” asked the Princess. “Your mother would never think of looking there.”
The King obeyed precipitately, and was patting the rug down with his hand to make it lie flat again when Mrs Jones appeared, panting.