Part 40 (1/2)

”By the way, Cousin,” cried a sharp, high voice, over Prince Emil's shoulder, a voice issuing from a pair of very thin lips shaded by a reddish moustache, ”do you know that you have the very model of this picture on your own estates?”

The Countess, with a strangely abrupt, nervous movement, pushed the copy aside and hastily turned to replace her own portrait on the wall.

The gentlemen tried to aid her, but she rejected all help, though she was not very skillful in her task, and consequently was compelled to keep her back turned to the group a long time.

”It is possible--I cannot remember,” she replied, while still in this position. ”I cannot know the children of all my tenants.”

”Yes,” the jarring voice persisted, ”it is a boy who is roaming about near your little hunting-castle.”

Madeleine von Wildenau grew ghastly pale.

”Apropos of that hunting box,” the gentleman added--he was one of the disinherited Wildenaus--”you might let me have it, Cousin. I'll confess that I've recently been looking up the old rat's nest. Schlierheim will lease his preserves beyond the government forests, but only as far as your boundaries, and there is no house. My brother and I would hire them if we could have the old Wildenau hunting-box. We are ready to pay you the largest sum the thing is worth. You know it formerly belonged to our branch of the family, and your husband obtained it only forty years ago. At that time it was valueless to us, but now we should like to buy it again.”

The Countess s.h.i.+vered and ordered more wood to be piled on the fire.

She had unconsciously drawn nearer to Prince Emily as if seeking his protection. Her shoulder touched his. She was startlingly pale.

”The recollection of her husband always affects her in this way,” the prince remarked.

”Well, we will discuss the matter some other time, _belle cousine_!”

said Herr Wildenau, sipping a gla.s.s of Chartreuse which the servant offered.

Prince Emil's watchful gaze followed the little scene with the closest attention.

”Did you not intend to have the little castle put in order for your father's residence, as the city air does not agree with him in his present condition?” he said, with marked emphasis.

”Yes, certainly--I--we were speaking of it a short time ago,” stammered the Countess. ”Besides, I am fond of the little castle. I should not wish to sell it.”

”Ah, you are _fond_ of it. Pardon me--that is difficult to understand!

I thought you set no value upon it--the whole place is so neglected.”

”That is exactly what pleases me--I like to have it so,” replied the Countess in an irritated tone. ”It does not need to have everything in perfect order. It is a genuine forest idyl!”

”A forest idyl?” repeated the cousin. ”H'm, Ah, yes! That's a different matter. Pardon me. Had I known it, I would not have alluded to the subject!” His keen gray eyes glittered with a peculiar light as he kissed her hand and took his leave.

The others thought they must now withdraw also, and the Countess detained no one--she was evidently very weary.

The prince also took leave--for the sake of etiquette--but he whispered, with an expression of friendly anxiety, ”I will come back soon.” And he kept his promise.

An hour had pa.s.sed. Madeleine von Wildenau, her face still colorless, was reclining on a divan in a simple home costume.

Prince Emil's first glance sought the little table on which stood the crayon picture of the infant Christ--it had vanished.

The Countess followed his look and saw that he missed it--their eyes met. The prince took a chair and sat down by her side, as if she were an invalid who had just sustained a severe operation and required the utmost care. He himself was very pale. Gently arranging the pillows behind her, he gazed sympathizingly into her face.

”Why did you not tell me this before?” he murmured, almost inaudibly, after a pause. ”All this should have been very differently managed!”

”Prince, how could I suppose that you were so generous--so n.o.ble”--she could not finish the sentence, her eyes fell, the beautiful woman's face crimsoned with shame.

He gazed earnestly at her, feeling at this moment the first great sorrow of his life, but also perceiving that he could not judge the exquisite creature who lay before him like a statue of the Magdalene carved by the most finished artist--because he could not help loving her in her sweet embarra.s.sment more tenderly than ever.

”Madeleine,” he said, softly, and his breath fanned her brow like a cooling breeze, ”will you trust me? It will be easier for you.”