“Noble lord,” interrupted Musdœmon, “it is by no means certain that he went there.”
“What! Then why did you say so? Are you trifling with me?”
“Pardon me, your Grace! I merely repeated what the baron’s servant said. But Mr. Frederic, who was on duty yesterday at Munkholm, saw nothing of Baron Ordener.”
“That’s no proof! My son does not know the viceroy’s son. Ordener may have entered the fortress in disguise.”
“Yes, sir; but Mr. Frederic asserts that he saw no one.”
The count grew calmer.
“That’s a different matter. Did my son really say so?”
“He assured me of the fact three separate times; and Mr. Frederic’s interests in this case are identical with your own.”
This suggestion quite relieved the count.
“Ah!” said he, “I understand. The baron, on his arrival, must have wished to take a short sail on the fjord, and his servant fancied that he went to Munkholm. After all, why should he go there? I was foolish to take alarm. My son-in-law’s lack of eagerness to see old Levin proves, on the contrary, that his affection for him is not so strong as I feared. You will hardly believe it, my dear Musdœmon,” added the count, “but I actually imagined that Ordener was in love with Ethel Schumacker, and I constructed a romance and an intrigue out of this journey to Munkholm. But, thank God, Ordener is not such a fool as I am. By the way, my friend, how fares it with that young Danaë in Frederic’s hands?”