“He misjudges me,” she said to herself very gravely; “therefore it is only right that I should defend myself.”
Then she rang, and in answer to her summons one of the royal footmen appeared.
“I want a special messenger to carry a letter for me to Vienna. Go at once to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and ask the Under-Secretary, Fischer, whether Steinbach may be placed at my service,” she commanded.
“Yes, your Imperial Highness,” answered the clean-shaven, grave-faced man, who bowed and then withdrew.
Allen soon afterwards brought in little Ignatia to show the doll’s perambulator, with which the child was delighted, wheeling it up and down the boudoir. With the little one her mother played for upwards of an hour. The bright little chatterbox caused her to forget the tragedy of her own young life, and Allen’s kindly English ways were to her so much more sympathetic than the stiff formalities of her treacherous lady-in-waiting.
The little one in her pretty speeches told her mother of her adventures in the toy-shops of Treysa, where she was, of course, recognised, and where the shopkeepers often presented her little Royal Highness with dolls and games. In the capital the tiny Ignatia was a very important and popular personage everywhere; certainly more popular with the people than the parrot-faced, hard-hearted old King himself.
Presently, while the Crown Princess was carrying her little one pick-a-pack up and down the room, the child crowing with delight at its mother’s romping and caresses, there came a loud summons at the door, the rap that announced a visitor, and the same grave-faced manservant opened the long white doors, saying,—
“Your Imperial Highness. Will it please you to receive Herr Steinbach of the Department of Foreign Affairs?”
“Bring Herr Steinbach here,” she commanded, and then, kissing the child quickly, dismissed both her and her nurse.
A few moments later the clean-shaven, dark-haired man in sombre black was ushered in, and bending, kissed the Crown Princess’s hand with reverent formality.