Stepping forward and bowing to the deaconess, Mansfield repeated his question in German, and found himself cordially welcomed. The interest which he displayed as Sister Chriemhild conducted him in due course through the hospital, the schools, the asylum, and the chapel, was in no way feigned, for he intended to write Lady Caerleon an account of his visit, and perhaps Philippa would read it. Nevertheless, his attention wandered slightly as the tour of inspection drew to a close, for he had not succeeded in making any allusion to the Queen, and it seemed impossible to introduce her name naturally and without undue emphasis. At last he relinquished all attempt at concealment, and turned suddenly to Sister Chriemhild, who was explaining the methods of instruction, peculiar to Königshof, which were in use among the deaconesses.
“Sister, is it possible for me to see Queen Ernestine?”
“Quite impossible,” replied the deaconess, not showing the slightest surprise at the abrupt question.
“I come from—at least, I have a message for her.”
She looked him straight in the face. “There is only one name that would justify me in asking one of her Majesty’s ladies to see you and take charge of your message.”
“I come from Count Mortimer.”
The glow of delight that irradiated Sister Chriemhild’s face astonished Mansfield, for in view of her grey hair and faded blue eyes he had not expected to find the deaconess’s heart still young and sympathetic. She took him into a small parlour, and hurried away. Presently a stout middle-aged lady in black burst into the room; no other word will express the excitement which characterised her entrance. Bitter disappointment overspread her face at the sight of Mansfield, and she returned his bow with a frigid curtsey.
“Have I the honour of speaking to her Majesty’s lady-in-waiting?” began Mansfield, perplexed by the change in her manner.
“I am Sophie von Staubach, her Majesty’s lectrice. I am on duty to-day. You must have heard my name from Count Mortimer. Excuse my hurry. I could not wait to hear what Sister Chriemhild said. I took it into my head that the Count was here himself. He always looks so young, you know,” returned the lady, all in a breath. Her resentment seemed to have evaporated.
“I am here on Count Mortimer’s behalf,” said Mansfield. “He is at Damascus, making arrangements with the Roumi authorities for the benefit of the Jews, and——”