"Aha--we are on the right track!" the prince reflected, watching her keenly. "As soon as he perceived that there was no other possibility of making you his--certainly! A woman like you can persuade a man to do anything. I don't wish to be indiscreet, but, ma fille--I fear that you have made a choice of which you cannot help being ashamed. Could you think of forming such an alliance except in secret. If, that is, you must wed? What would the world say when rumor whispered: 'Countess Wildenau has sunk so low that she'--I dare not utter the word, from the fear of offending you."
The countess sat with downcast eyes.
The world--! It suddenly stood before her with its mocking faces. Should she expose her sacred love to its derision? Should she force the noble simple-mannered man who was the salvation of her soul to play a ridiculous part in the eyes of society, as the husband of the Countess Wildenau? Her father was right--though from very different motives. Could this secret which was too beautiful, too holy, to be confided to her own father--endure the contact of the world?
"But how could a secret marriage be arranged?" she asked, with feigned indifference.
Prince von Prankenberg was startled by the earnestness of the question. Had matters gone so far? Caution was requisite here. Energetic opposition could only produce the opposite result, perhaps a public scandal. He reflected a moment while apparently toiling to puff rings of smoke into the air, as if the world contained no task more important. His daughter's eyes rested on him with suspicious keenness. At last he seemed to have formed his plan.
"A secret marriage? Why, that is an easy matter for a woman of your wealth and independent position! Is the person in question a Catholic?"
Madeleine silently nodded assent.
"Well--then the matter is perfectly simple. Follow the example of Manzoni's promessi sposi, with whom we are sufficiently tormented while studying Italian. Go with your chosen husband to the pastor and declare before him, in the presence of two witnesses, who can easily be found among your faithful servants, that you take each other in marriage. According to the rite of the Catholic church, it is sufficient to constitute a valid marriage, if both parties make this declaration, even without the marriage ceremonial, in the presence of an ordained priest--your ordained priest in this case would be our old pastor at Prankenberg. You can play the farce best there. You will thus need no papers, no special license, which might betray you, and if you manage cleverly you will succeed in persuading the decrepit old man not to enter the marriage in the church register. Then let any one come and say that you are married! There will be absolutely no proof--and when the old pastor dies the matter will go down to the grave with him! You will choose witnesses on whom you can depend. What risk can there be?"
"Father! But will that be a marriage?" cried the countess in horror.
"Not according to our ideas," said the prince, laconically: "But the point is merely that he shall consider himself married, and that he shall be bound--not you?"