“I must have a nice long talk with you to-night, darling Nestchen. I have such sweet, delightful news to give you.”
Princess Ottilie as a sentimentalist was appearing in a new character, and Ernestine felt a thrill of alarm when she heard her words; but with the conviction that it would be of no avail to defer the evil day, she granted the private interview which her cousin had asked for.
“I do not know when I have felt so happy!” said the Princess, when she had sent her maid away, and she and Ernestine were facing one another in the rose-tinted light of her dressing-room. “Even when dear Albrecht came to tell me that he loved Bettine, I could not feel such complete satisfaction as I do to-day, for you and I have always been such close friends, and it is so thoroughly suitable that our children should—— But how I am running on! Well, Nestchen, our children understand one another. Dearest Michael confessed his love to me to-day—quite without any prompting on my part—and as for my Lida, I have known her innocent little secret for a long time. Is it not delightful that all should have fallen out exactly as we planned?”
Ernestine was sitting very straight in her chair, and her face looked drawn and ghastly in the soft light. “But, Ottilie——” she said, with a sort of gasp.
“What, Ernestine?” cried the Princess. “You don’t mean me to understand that you have changed your mind? You have never even hinted at such a thing.”
“I have not changed my mind,” said Ernestine, speaking with difficulty, “but I wish this had happened two days ago or not at all.”
“I must insist on knowing what you mean, Ernestine. My daughter’s happiness is at stake—which seems to be more to me than your son’s happiness is to you.”
“My son’s happiness is of the very highest importance to me, Ottilie. Your news comes as a shock, because only yesterday morning I was told, by one in whom I have every confidence, that it was impossible, for political reasons, for the marriage to which we have both been looking forward to take place.”
“And you imagine that I shall be content to sacrifice my child to the opinion of some anonymous busybody? But no—I know only too well who your sapient adviser is. It is Count Mortimer.”
“You are right. It was Count Mortimer.”