In this excellent frame he bade adieu to the old gentleman, whose voice had proved so musical, and set forth for the drawing-room. Already on the stair, he was seized with some compunction; but when he entered the great gallery and beheld his wife, the Chancellor’s abstract flatteries fell from him like rain, and he re-awoke to the poetic facts of life. She stood a good way off below a shining lustre, her back turned. The bend of her waist overcame him with physical weakness. This was the girl-wife who had lain in his arms and whom he had sworn to cherish; there was she, who was better than success.
It was Seraphina who restored him from the blow. She swam forward and smiled upon her husband with a sweetness that was insultingly artificial. “Frédéric,” she lisped, “you are late.” It was a scene of high comedy, such as is proper to unhappy marriages; and her aplomb disgusted him.
There was no etiquette at these small drawing-rooms. People came and went at pleasure. The window embrasures became the roost of happy couples; at the great chimney the talkers mostly congregated, each full-charged with scandal; and down at the farther end the gamblers gambled. It was towards this point that Otto moved, not ostentatiously, but with a gentle insistence, and scattering attentions as he went. Once abreast of the card-table, he placed himself opposite to Madame von Rosen, and, as soon as he had caught her eye, withdrew to the embrasure of a window. There she had speedily joined him.
“You did well to call me,” she said, a little wildly. “These cards will be my ruin.”
“Leave them,” said Otto.
“I!” she cried, and laughed; “they are my destiny. My only chance was to die of a consumption; now I must die in a garret.”
“You are bitter tonight,” said Otto.
“I have been losing,” she replied. “You do not know what greed is.”
“I have come, then, in an evil hour,” said he.
“Ah, you wish a favour!” she cried, brightening beautifully.
“Madam,” said he, “I am about to found my party, and I come to you for a recruit.”
“Done,” said the Countess. “I am a man again.”
“I may be wrong,” continued Otto, “but I believe upon my heart you wish me no ill.”
“I wish you so well,” she said, “that I dare not tell it you.”
“Then if I ask my favour?” quoth the Prince.
“Ask it, mon Prince,” she answered. “Whatever it is, it is granted.”
“I wish you,” he returned, “this very night to make the farmer of our talk.”
“Heaven knows your meaning!” she exclaimed. “I know not, neither care; there are no bounds to my desire to please you. Call him made.”
“I will put it in another way,” returned Otto. “Did you ever steal?”
“Often!” cried the Countess. “I have broken all the ten commandments; and if there were more tomorrow, I should not sleep till I had broken these.”
“This is a case of burglary: to say the truth, I thought it would amuse you,” said the Prince.
“I have no practical experience,” she replied, “but oh! the goodwill! I have broken a work-box in my time, and several hearts, my own included. Never a house! But it cannot be difficult; sins are so unromantically easy! What are we to break?”
“Madam, we are to break the treasury,” said Otto and he sketched to her briefly, wittily, with here and there a touch of pathos, the story of his visit to the farm, of his promise to buy it, and of the refusal with which his demand for money had been met that morning at the council; concluding with a few practical words as to the treasury windows, and the helps and hindrances of the proposed exploit.
“They refused you the money,” she said when he had done. “And you accepted the refusal? Well!”
“They gave their reasons,” replied Otto, colouring. “They were not such as I could combat; and I am driven to dilapidate the funds of my own country by a theft. It is not dignified; but it is fun.”
“Fun,” she said; “yes.” And then she remained silently plunged in thought for an appreciable time. “How much do you require?” she asked at length.
“Three thousand crowns will do,” he answered, “for I have still some money of my own.”
“Excellent,” she said, regaining her levity. “I am your true accomplice. And where are we to meet?”
“You know the Flying Mercury,” he answered, “in the Park? Three pathways intersect; there they have made a seat and raised the statue. The spot is handy and the deity congenial.”
“Child,” she said, and tapped him with her fan. “But do you know, my Prince, you are an egoist—your handy trysting-place is miles from me. You must give me ample time; I cannot, I think, possibly be there before two. But as the bell beats two, your helper shall arrive: welcome, I trust. Stay—do you bring anyone?” she added. “Oh, it is not for a chaperon—I am not a prude!”
“I shall bring a groom of mine,” said Otto. “I caught him stealing corn.”
“His name?” she asked.
“I profess I know not. I am not yet intimate with my corn-stealer,” returned the Prince. “It was in a professional capacity—”
“Like me! Flatterer!” she cried. “But oblige me in one thing. Let me find you waiting at the seat—yes, you shall await me; for on this expedition it shall be no longer Prince and Countess, it shall be the lady and the squire—and your friend the thief shall be no nearer than the fountain. Do you promise?”
“Madam, in everything you are to command; you shall be captain, I am but supercargo,” answered Otto.
“Well, Heaven bring all safe to port!” she said. “It is not Friday!”
Something in her manner had puzzled Otto, had possibly touched him with suspicion.
“Is it not strange,” he remarked, “that I should choose my accomplice from the other camp?”
“Fool!” she said. “But it is your only wisdom that you know your friends.” And suddenly, in the vantage
