He cast a glance here and there, asking the pages questions as he went. They told him that the hall of audience was at the other end, and that he would be summoned presently. There being no need of haste, he sauntered, giving more heed and indeed coming to a stand before a newly painted canvas of a princess.
"The Archduchess Stephanie!" exclaimed both pages.
Nigel stood gazing at it.
"By Signor Pourbus, a Spaniard, who has but just painted the Emperor!" they went on.
"Wondrous like!" was Nigel's exclamation.
"Very like!" said the pages. "Here comes Her Highness. She walks here a little while most mornings."
And out of a chamber at the side the Archduchess Stephanie came, and Nigel and the pages awaited her approach. She came with no hurried pace, and as she came Nigel grew pale and red by turns, for here, if any one, was Ottilie von Thüringen, gloriously apparelled, her hair framing her face in a multitude of curling locks of raven hues, rows of pearls about her neck, suspending against the whiteness of her throat a jewelled dragon.
The Archduchess stayed in her walk, and having cast a look at Nigel, said gently to one of the pages—
"Hermann! Who is this gentleman who waits for audience?"
"If it please your Highness," said the page, "it is Captain Nigel Charteris, bearer of despatches from Magdeburg!"