“And does Schumacker know that his comforter is the son of one of his greatest enemies?”
“He knows that he is a friend, and that is enough for him, as for us.”
“But you, General,” said the countess, with a searching look, “when you tolerated—nay, encouraged—this connection, did you know that Schumacker had a daughter?”
“I knew it, noble Countess.”
“And this fact seemed to you of no importance to your pupil?”
“The pupil of Levin de Knud, the son of Frederic Guldenlew, is an honest man. Ordener knows the barrier which separates him from Schumacker’s daughter; he is incapable of winning the affection, unless his purpose was upright, of any girl, above all the daughter of an unfortunate man.”
The noble Countess d’Ahlefeld blushed and paled. She turned away her head to avoid the calm gaze of the old man, as if it were that of an accuser.
“But,” she stammered, “this connection strikes me, General,—let me speak my mind,—as strange and imprudent. It is said that the miners and tribes of the North are threatening to revolt, and that the name of Schumacker is mixed up with the affair.”
“Noble lady, you surprise me!” exclaimed the governor. “Schumacker has hitherto borne his misfortunes calmly. The report is doubtless ill-founded.”
At this moment the door opened, and the usher announced that a messenger from his Grace the lord high chancellor wished to speak with the noble countess.