The Countess, with a strangely abrupt, nervous movement, pushed the copy aside and hastily turned to replace her own portrait on the wall. The gentlemen tried to aid her, but she rejected all help, though she was not very skillful in her task, and consequently was compelled to keep her back turned to the group a long time.
"It is possible--I cannot remember," she replied, while still in this position. "I cannot know the children of all my tenants."
"Yes," the jarring voice persisted, "it is a boy who is roaming about near your little hunting-castle."
Madeleine von Wildenau grew ghastly pale.
"Apropos of that hunting box," the gentleman added--he was one of the disinherited Wildenaus--"you might let me have it, Cousin. I'll confess that I've recently been looking up the old rat's nest. Schlierheim will lease his preserves beyond the government forests, but only as far as your boundaries, and there is no house. My brother and I would hire them if we could have the old Wildenau hunting-box. We are ready to pay you the largest sum the thing is worth. You know it formerly belonged to our branch of the family, and your husband obtained it only forty years ago. At that time it was valueless to us, but now we should like to buy it again."
The Countess shivered and ordered more wood to be piled on the fire. She had unconsciously drawn nearer to Prince Emily as if seeking his protection. Her shoulder touched his. She was startlingly pale.
"The recollection of her husband always affects her in this way," the prince remarked.
"Well, we will discuss the matter some other time, belle cousine!" said Herr Wildenau, sipping a glass of Chartreuse which the servant offered.
Prince Emil's watchful gaze followed the little scene with the closest attention.
"Did you not intend to have the little castle put in order for your father's residence, as the city air does not agree with him in his present condition?" he said, with marked emphasis.