I reminded him that she might have met with a dull number of the newspaper. He took no notice of this unanswerable reply.
'You were talking the other day of her warmth of feeling,' he proceeded. 'She has plenty of sentiment (German sentiment), I grant you, but no true feeling. What happened only this morning, when the Prince was in the breakfast-room, and when the Princess and her ladies were dressed to go out riding? Even she noticed the wretchedly depressed state of her father's spirits. A man of that hypochondriacal temperament suffers acutely, though he may only fancy himself to be ill. The Princess overflowed with sympathy, but she never proposed to stay at home, and try to cheer the old man. Her filial duty was performed to her own entire satisfaction when she had kissed her hand to the Prince. The moment after, she was out of the room—eager to enjoy her ride. We all heard her laughing gayly among the ladies in the hall.'
I could have answered this also, if our discussion had not been interrupted at the moment. The Doctor came into the library in search of a book. When he had left us, my colleague's strong prejudice against him instantly declared itself.
'Be on your guard with that man,' he said.
'Why?' I asked.
'Haven't you noticed,' he replied, 'that when the Princess is talking to you, the Doctor always happens to be in that part of the room?'
'What does it matter where the Doctor is?'
My friend looked at me with an oddly mingled expression of doubt and surprise. 'Do you really not understand me?' he said.
'I don't indeed.'
'My dear Ernest, you are a rare and admirable example to the rest of us—you are a truly modest man.'
What did he mean?
V.
EVENTS followed, on the next day, which (as will presently be seen) I have a personal interest in relating.
The Baroness left us suddenly, on leave of absence. The Prince wearied of his residence in the country; and the Court returned to the capital. The charming Princess was reported to be 'indisposed,' and retired to the seclusion of her own apartments.
A week later, I received a note f rom the Baroness, marked 'private and confidential.' It informed me that she had resumed her duties as lady-in-waiting, and that she wished to see me at my earliest convenience. I obeyed at once; and naturally asked if there were better accounts of her Highness's health.
The Baroness's reply a little surprised me. She said, 'The Princess is perfectly well.'
'Recovered already!' I exclaimed.
'She has never been ill,' the Baroness answered. 'Her indisposition was a sham; forced on her by me, in her own interests. Her reputation is in peril; and you—you hateful Englishman—are the cause of it.'
Not feeling disposed to put up with such language as this, even when it was used by a lady, I requested that she would explain herself. She complied without hesitation. In another minute my eyes were opened to the truth. I knew—no; that is too positive—let me say I had reason to believe that the Princess loved me!
It is simply impossible to convey to the minds of others any idea of the emotions that overwhelmed me at that critical moment of my life. I was in a state of confusion at the time; and, when my memory tries to realize it, I am in a state of confusion now. The one thing I can do is to repeat what the Baroness said to me when I had in some degree recovered my composure.
'I suppose you are aware,' she began, 'of the disgrace to which the Princess's infatuation exposes her, if it is discovered? On my own responsibility I repeat what I said to you a short time since. Do you refuse to leave this place immediately?'
Does the man live, honored as I was, who would have hesitated to refuse? Find him if you can!
'Very well,' she resumed. 'As the friend of the Princess, I have no choice now but to take things as they are, and to make the best of them. Let us realize your position to begin with. If you were (like your elder brother) a nobleman possessed of vast estates, my royal mistress might be excused. As it is, whatever you may be in the future, you are nothing now but an obscure young man, without fortune or title. Do you see your duty to the Princess? or must I explain it to you?'
I saw my duty as plainly as she did. 'Her Highness's secret is a sacred secret,' I said. 'I am bound to shrink from no sacrifice which may preserve it.'
The Baroness smiled maliciously. 'I may have occasion,' she answered, 'to remind you of what you have just said. In the meanwhile the Princess's secret is in danger of discovery.'
'By her father?'
'No. By the Doctor.'
At first, I doubted whether she was in jest or in earnest. The next instant, I remembered that the secretary had expressly cautioned me against that man.
'It is evidently one of your virtues,' the Baroness proceeded, 'to be slow to suspect. Prepare yourself for a disagreeable surprise. The Doctor has been watching the Princess, on every occasion when she speaks to you, with some object of his own in view. During my absence, young sir, I have been engaged in discovering what that object is. My excellent mother lives at the Court of the Grand Duke, and enjoys the confidence of his Ministers. He is still a bachelor; and, in the interests of the succession to the throne, the time has arrived when he must marry. With my mother's assistance, I have found out that the Doctor's medical errand here is a pretense. Influenced by the Princess's beauty the Grand Duke has thought of her first as his future duchess. Whether he has heard slanderous stories, or whether he is only a cautious man, I can't tell you. But this I know: he has instructed his physician—if he had employed a professed diplomatist his motive might have been suspected—to observe her Highness privately, and to communicate the result. The object of the report is to satisfy the Duke that the Princess's reputation is above the reach of scandal; that she is free from entanglements of a certain kind; and that she is in every respect a
