"Alas! no," was her reply. "Do you?"
I did not answer, for I had already recognized the voices as those of our hostess and the Crown-Prince.
Next moment, however, my companion's quick ears caught that unmistakable squeaky voice.
"Why, it's the Countess!" she exclaimed.
I made no reply, but continued to recall that glorious summer's day beside the blue Baltic, while His Highness and the little old lady-in-waiting seated themselves out of sight a short distance away, and continued a very confidential discussion in an undertone in the language in which, after German, I happened perhaps to be most proficient.
The pair were discussing somebody named Karl Krahl, and the curious discussion was undoubtedly regarding some evil intent.
"I saw the Emperor to-day," declared the old woman in her sibilant Italian, so that no one should understand, for Italian is seldom spoken in Germany. "His Majesty shares my views now, though he did not do so at first. Indeed, I was very near being dismissed in disgrace when I first broached the affair. But, fortunately, he now knows the truth and sees the advantage of—well, you know, eh?"
"Certo, Contessa," replied the Crown-Prince, who speaks Italian extremely well, though not with half the fluency of his hostess. "I quite foresee the peril and the force of your argument."
"How shall we act?" asked the old woman. "It remains for you to devise a plan. At any moment matters may approach a crisis. One can never account for the confidences exchanged by those who love each other. And, remember, Krahl is in love."
The Crown-Prince grunted, but as several couples entered at that moment the pair suddenly broke off their confidential chat, and, rising, went out together.