The countess shrank as though her inmost thoughts were suddenly pointing treacherous fingers at her. "Do you take it so lightly, Duke?"
"That I do not take it lightly is proved by the immense digression which I made to remove any moral and religious scruples. The practical side of the question scarcely requires discussion. But to settle the religious moral one first, tell me, was your marriage a civil or religious one?"
"Religious."
"When and where?"
"At Prankenberg, after the Passion Play. It will be ten years next August."
"How did it all happen?"
"Very simply: My father, who suddenly sought me, as usual when he was in debt, saw that I wanted to marry Freyer and, fearing a public scandal, advised me, in order to save the property--which he needed almost more than I--to marry secretly. Wherever the Tridentine Council ruled, the sole requisite of a valid marriage was that the two persons should state, in the presence of an ordained priest and two witnesses, that they intended to marry. As my father was never very reliable, and might change his opinion any day, I hastened to follow his advice before it occurred to him to put any obstacles in my way, as the pastor at Prankenberg was wholly in his power. So I set off with Freyer and Josepha that very night. An old coachman, Martin, whose fidelity I had known from childhood, lived at Prankenberg. I took him and Josepha for witnesses, and we surprised the old pastor while he was drinking his coffee."
The prince made a gesture of surprise. "What--over his coffee?"
"Yes--before he could push back his cup, we had made our statement--and the deed was done."
The prince started up; his eyes sparkled, his whole manner betrayed the utmost agitation. "And you call that being married? And give me this fright?" He drew a long breath, as if relieved of a burden. "Madeleine, if you had only told me this at once!"