“She turned her head—our eyes met—a deep flush suffused her countenance, but it was instantly succeeded by a deadly paleness.
“‘Eh, wass henker!’ cried the Emperor, ‘what’s the meaning of this?—the Margravine is going to faint!’
“‘Oh no—no—your Majesty—’tis nothing—a likeness—a dream—a dizziness, I mean, has come over me! It is gone now. You shall be welcome, chevalier,’ continued she, with a sweet smile, ‘when you visit our poor dominions. Indeed, I have a hereditary claim upon you, which I am sure you will not disregard.’
“‘Hagel und blitzen!’ cried his imperial Majesty—‘What is this? I understood the chevalier was never in Germany before.’
“‘That may be, sire,’ repeated the Margravine with another blush. ‘But my great-grandmother was nevertheless a Mandeville, the daughter of that Field-marshal Herbert who fought so well at Lutzen. His picture, painted when he was a young cuirassier, still hangs in my palace, and, indeed, it was the extreme likeness of the chevalier to that portrait, which took me for a moment by surprise. Let me then welcome you, cousin; henceforward we are not strangers!’
“I bowed profoundly as I took the proffered hand of the Margravine. I held it for an instant in my own—yes!—by Cupid, there was a gentle pressure. I looked up and beheld the dark countenance of the Duke of Kalbs-Braten scowling at me from behind his cousin. I retorted the look with interest. From that moment we were mortal foes.
“‘Unser Ritter ist im klee gefallen—the chevalier has fallen among clover,’ said the Emperor with a smile—‘he has great luck—he finds cousins everywhere.’
“‘And in this instance,’ I replied, ‘I might venture to challenge the envy even of your Majesty.’