Part 49 (1/2)

”Just look, Lena. We must take breakfast here often. What do you think?

It is heavenly. And look over towards the dockyard; they are already at work caulking the boats and the work follows a regular rhythm. Really, the rhythm of any such work is the best kind of music.”

Lena nodded, but she was only half listening, for again to-day her attention was attracted toward the pier. It was not, indeed, the boats that were moored there, and which had so aroused her interest yesterday, but a pretty maid, who was kneeling half way down the pier amongst her kettles and copperware. With a hearty pleasure in her work, which was expressed in every motion of her arms, she polished the cans, kettles, and saucepans, and whenever she had finished one, she let the water run over the highly polished vessel. Then she would hold it up, let it glisten a moment in the sun and then put it in a basket.

Lena was quite carried away by the picture, and pointed to the pretty girl, who seemed to love her work as if she could never do enough.

”Do you know, Botho, it is no mere chance that she is kneeling there.

She is kneeling there for me and I feel plainly, that it is a sign and a token.”

”But what is the matter with you, Lena? You look so different, you have grown quite pale all of a sudden.”

”Oh nothing.”

”Nothing? And yet your eyes are glistening as if you were nearer to tears than to laughter. You certainly must have seen copper kettles before and a cook polis.h.i.+ng them. It seems almost as if you envied the girl kneeling there and working hard enough for three women.”

The appearance of the host interrupted the conversation at this point and Lena recovered her quiet bearing and soon her cheerfulness also.

Then she went upstairs to change her dress.

When she returned she found that a programme proposed by the host had been unconditionally accepted by Botho: the young people were to take a sailboat as far as the next village, Nieder Lohme, which was charmingly situated on the Wendisch Spree. From this village they were to walk as far as Konigs-Wusterhausen, visit the park and the castle, and then return in the same way. This excursion would take half a day. The manner of pa.s.sing the afternoon could be arranged later.

Lena was pleased with the plan and a couple of wraps were just being put in the boat, which had been hastily gotten ready, when voices and hearty laughter were heard from the garden--a sound which seemed to indicate visitors and the probability that their solitude would be disturbed.

”Ah, members of the yacht and rowing club,” said Botho. ”The Lord be praised, we shall escape them, Lena. Let us hurry.”

And they both started off to reach the boat as quickly as possible. But before they could reach the pier they saw that they were already surrounded and caught. The guests' were not only Botho's comrades, but his most intimate friends, Pitt, Serge, and Balafre. All three had ladies with them.

”_Ah, les beaux esprits se rencontrent_,” said Balafre in a rather wild mood, which quickly changed to a more conventional manner, as he observed that he was being watched by the host and hostess from the threshold. ”How fortunate we are to meet here. Allow me, Gaston, to present our ladies to you: Queen Isabeau, Fraulein Johanna, Fraulein Margot.”

Botho saw what sort of names were the order of the day, and adapting himself quickly, he replied, indicating Lena with a little gesture and introducing her: ”Mademoiselle Agnes Sorel.”

All the three men bowed civilly, even to all appearances respectfully, while the two daughters of Thibaut d'Arc made a very slight curtsey, and Queen Isabeau, who was at least fifteen years older, offered a more friendly greeting to Agnes Sorel, who was not only a stranger to her, but apparently embarra.s.sed.

The whole affair was a disturbance, perhaps even an intentional disturbance, but the more successfully the plan worked out, the more needful did it seem to keep a bold front at a losing game. And in this Botho was entirely successful. He asked one question after another, and thus found out that the little group had taken one of the small steamers very early and had left the boat at Schmockwitz, and from there had come to Zeuthen on a sailboat. From Zeuthen they had walked, since it took scarcely twenty minutes; it had been charming: old trees, green fields and red roofs.

While the entire group of new-comers, but especially Queen Isabeau, who was almost more distinguished for her talkativeness than for her stout figure, were narrating these things, they had by chance strolled up to the veranda, where they sat down at one of the long tables.

”Charming,” said Serge. ”Large, free and open and yet so secluded. And the meadow over there seems just made for a moonlight promenade.”

”Yes,” added Balafre, ”a moonlight promenade. That is all very fine.

But it is now barely ten o'clock, and before we can have a moonlight promenade we have about twelve hours to dispose of. I propose a boating trip.”

”No,” said Isabeau, ”a boating trip will not do; we have already had more than enough of that to-day. First the steamer and then the sailboat and now another boat, would be too much. I am against it.

Besides I never can see the good of all this paddling: we might just as well fish or catch some little creatures with our hands and amuse ourselves with the poor little beasts. No, there will be no more paddling to-day. I must earnestly beg you.”

The men, to whom these words were addressed, were evidently amused at the desires of the Queen Mother, and immediately made other proposals, which, however, met with the same fate. Isabeau rejected everything; and at last, when the others, half in jest and half in earnest, began to disapprove of her conduct, she merely begged to be left in peace.

”Gentlemen,” said she, ”Patience. I beg you to give me a chance to speak for at least a moment.” This request was followed by ironical applause, for she had done all the talking thus far. But she went on quite unconcernedly: ”Gentlemen, I beg you, teach me to understand men.

What is an excursion into the country? It is taking breakfast and playing cards. Isn't that so?”

”Isabeau is always right,” laughed Balafre giving her a slap on the shoulder. ”We will play cards. This is a capital place for it; I almost think that everyone must win here. And the ladies can go to walk in the meantime or perhaps take a forenoon nap. That will do them the most good, and an hour and a half will be time enough. And at twelve o'clock we will meet again. And the menu shall be according to the judgment of our Queen. Yes, Queen, life is still sweet. To be sure that is from 'Don Carlos.' But must everything be quoted from the 'Maid of Orleans'?”