While thus absorbed in contemplation, a voice suddenly startled her so that she almost fainted: "What does this mean, Countess? You here at early mass, in a court-train! Are you going to write romances--or live them? I have often asked you the question, but never with so much justification as now!" Prince Emil was standing before her. She could almost have shrieked aloud in her delight. "Prince--my dear Prince!"
"Unfortunately, Prince no longer, but Duke of Metten-Barnheim, in which character I again lay myself at your feet and beg for a continuation of your favor!" said the prince with a touch of humor. Raising her from her knees, he led her into the little corridor of the church. "My father," he went on, "feels so well at Cannes that he wants to spend his old age there in peace, and summoned me by telegram to sign the abdication documents and take the burden of government upon my young shoulders. I was just coming from the station and, as I drove by, saw your carriage waiting before this poor temple. I stopped and obtained with difficulty from the half frozen coachman information concerning the place where his mistress was seeking compensation from the ennui of a court entertainment! A romantic episode, indeed! A beautiful woman in court dress, weeping and doing penance at six o'clock in the morning, among beggars and cripples in a little church in the suburbs. A swearing coachman and two horses stiff from the cold waiting outside, and lastly a faithful knight, who comes just at the right time to prevent a moral suicide and save a pair of valuable horses--what more can be desired in our time, in the way of romance?"
"Prince--pardon me, Duke, your mockery hurts me."
"Yes, I suppose so, you are far too wearied, to understand humor. Come, I will take you to the carriage. There, lean on me, you are ill, machère Madeleine, you cannot go on in this way. What--you will take holy water, into which Heaven knows who has dipped his fingers. Well, to the pure all things are pure. Fortunately the doubtful fluid is frozen!"
Talking on in this way he led her out into the open air. A keen morning wind from the mountains was sweeping through the streets and cut the countess' tear-stained face. She involuntarily hid it on the duke's breast. The latter put his arm gently around her and lifted her into the carriage. His own coachman was waiting near, but the duke looked at her beseechingly. "May I go with you? I cannot possibly leave you in this state."
The countess nodded. He motioned to his servant to drive home and entered the Wildenau equipage. "First of all, Madeleine," he said, warming her cold hands in his, "tell me: Are you already a saint--or do you wish to become one? Whence dates this last caprice of my adored friend?"
"No saint, Duke--neither now, nor ever, only a deeply humbled, contrite heart, which would fain fly from this world!"
"But is this world so unlovely that one would fain try Heaven, while there are people who can be relied on under any circumstances!"
"Yes" replied the countess bitterly, but the sweetness of the true warmth of feeling revealed through her friend's humor was reviving and strengthening to her brain and heart. In his society it seemed as if there was neither pain nor woe on earth, as if all gloomy spirits must flee from his unruffled calmness. His apparent coldness produced the effect of champagne frappé, which, ice-cold when drunk, warms the whole frame.
"Oh, thank Heaven, that you are here--I have missed you sorely," she said from the depths of her soul. "Oh, my friend, what is to be done--I am helpless without you!"