"Do so," she answered carelessly. "And when you have delivered the invitation, would you do me the favor to telegraph to my steward?"
"Certainly." He pushed back the plate containing an unpalatable cutlet and drew out his note-book to make a memorandum.
"What shall I write?"
"Steward Geres, Wildenau Palace, Munich.--Day after to-morrow, Monday, Dinner at 6 o'clock, 12 plates, 15 courses," dictated the countess.
"There, that is settled. But, Countess, twelve persons! Whom do you intend to invite?"
"When I return the duchess' visit I will ask the three ladies, then Prince Hohenheim and Her Excellency's two daughters will make twelve."
"But that will be terribly wearisome to the neighbors of Her Excellency's daughters."
"Yes, still it can't be helped, I must give the poor girls a chance to make their fortune! With the exception of Prince Hohenheim, you are all in the market!" she said smiling.
"No one could speak so proudly save a Countess Wildenau, who knows that every other woman only serves as a foil," replied the prince, kissing her hand with a significant smile. She was remarkably gracious that day; she permitted her hand to rest in his, there was a shade of apology in her manner. Apology for what? He had no occasion to ponder long--she was ashamed of having neglected a trusted friend for a chimera, a nightmare, which had assumed the form of a man with mysterious black eyes and floating locks. The ladies' stories of the love affairs of the presumptive owner of these locks had destroyed the dream and broken the spell of the nightmare.
"Admirable, it had happened very opportunely."