"Good Heavens!" The countess seemed paralyzed.
Martin laughed. "But I didn't let myself be caught--I looked as stupid as if I couldn't bridle a horse, and had never heard of any wedding in all my days except our Princess' marriage to the late Count. Of course I was at the church then, with all the other servants. Then the gentlemen muttered something in French--and asked what wages I had, and when I told them, they said they were too low for such rich employers, and began to make me offers till they reached fifty thousand marks, if I would state what they wanted. Yes, and then they told me you were capable of marrying two men and meant to take the duke as well as the steward, and they didn't want to have such a crime in the family--so I must help them prevent it. But this didn't move me at all, and I said: 'That's no concern of mine; my mistress knows what to do!' So off I went, and left the gentlemen staring like balky horses when they don't want to pass anything. Then I went to the Prince, and as I could learn nothing there, I knew of no other way than to write to Your Highness. I hope you'll pardon the liberty."
"Oh, Martin, you trusty old servant! Your simple loyalty shames me; but I fear that your sacrifice is useless--they know all, Martin, nothing can save me."
Martin smiled craftily into the bottom of his hat, as if it was the source of his wisdom, "I think just this: If the gentlemen do know everything, they have got to prove it, for Josepha is dead, and if they had found the information they wanted at Prankenberg, they needn't offer so much money for my testimony!"
The countess pressed her hand upon her head: "I don't know, I can't think any more. Oh, Martin, how shall I thank you? If the stroke of the pen which will give you the fifty thousand marks you scorned to receive from the Wildenaus can repay you--take it, but I shall still be your debtor." She hurriedly wrote a few words. "There is a check for fifty thousand marks, cash it early to-morrow morning. Don't delay an hour, any day may be the last that I shall have anything to give. Take it quickly."
But Martin shook his head. "Why, what is Your Highness thinking of? I don't want to be paid, like a bribed witness, for doing only my duty. There would have been no credit in refusing the money, if I took it afterward from Your Highness. No, I thank you most humbly--but I can't do it."
The countess was deeply ashamed. "But if I lose my property, Martin, if they begin a law-suit--I can no longer reward your fidelity. Have you considered that everything can be taken from me if they succeed in proving that I am married?"
Martin nodded: "Yes, yes, I know our late master's will. I believe he was jealous and wanted to prevent the countess from marrying again. But you needn't be troubled about me, I've saved enough to buy a little home which, in case of need, might shelter the countess and Herr Freyer, too. I have had it all from you!" Martin's broad face beamed with joy at the thought.
"Martin!"--she could say no more. Martin did not know what had happened--surely the skies would fall--the countess had sunk upon his breast, the broad old breast in which throbbed such a stupid, honest heart! He stood as motionless as a post or the pile of a bridge, to which a drowning person clings. But, during all the sixty-five years his honest heart had beat under the Prankenberg livery, it had never throbbed so violently as at this moment. His little princess! She was in his arms again as in the days when he placed her in the saddle for the first time. Then she wept and clung to him whenever the horse made a spring, but he held her firmly and she felt safe in his care--now she again wept and clung to him in helpless terror--but now she was a stately woman who had outgrown his protection!
"There--there, Countess," he said, soothingly. "God will help you. Go to rest. You are wearied by the long journey. To-morrow you will see everything with very different eyes. And, as I said before, if all the ropes break--then you will find lodging with old Martin. You always liked peasants' fare. Don't you remember how you used to slip in to the coachman's little room and shared my bread and cheese till the governess found it out and spoiled our fun? Yes, yes, bread and cheese were forbidden dainties, and yet they were God's gift which even the poorest might enjoy. You must remember the coachman's little room and how they tasted! Well, we haven't gone so far yet, and Your Highness' friends will not suffer it. Yet, if matters ever did come to that, I believe Your Highness would rather accept a home from me than from any of these noblemen."