Part 36 (1/2)
A slight warmth came into my cheeks.
”Your Excellency understands that a journalist always takes great interest in affairs of this sort,” was my rejoinder.
”Yes, yes!” pleasantly. ”But this so-called sister; has she not lived most of her life in America, your own country?”
”Your Excellency,” said I, honestly, ”whether she regains her own or not is immaterial to me, from a personal standpoint.”
”Well, one way or the other, I shall decide what to do to-night. But, mind you, there must be proofs. Though they may look enough alike to be two peas in a pod, that will give your friend nothing you claim for her. The fate of your Princess rests in the hands of Herr Wentworth.
Have the two met?”
”No; but during the short time they have been in the city they have been mistaken for each other. And why do you call her my Princess?”
”She is not ours yet. It was a strange story, as I remember it. In those days we had our doubts, as we still have, of another child. By the way, who suggested the matter to you?”
I recounted my interview with the Prince.
”Ah,” said the Chancellor; ”so it was he? He is a greedy fellow and careful. I can readily understand his object. He wants all or nothing. I shall help you all I can,” he concluded, as I reached for my hat.
”I ask nothing more,” I replied; and then I pa.s.sed from the cabinet into the crowded anteroom. It was filled with diplomats and soldiers, each waiting for an audience. They eyed me curiously and perhaps enviously as I made my way to the street. ”Yes, indeed, what will the King say?” I mused on the way back to my rooms. What could he say?
That night Pembroke and I arrived at the ministry a little after ten.
I was in a state of extreme nervousness.
”I'm in a regular funk,” said Pembroke. ”Supposing your Princess does not come?”
”It is written that she will come.”
”Well, I'm glad that I looked you up in London. I would not have missed this adventure.”
We found Phyllis in a nook under the grand staircase. I gave a slight exclamation as I saw her. I had never seen her looking so beautiful.
”Come and sit down,” said she, making room for us. ”I have had a curious adventure.”
”Tell us all about it,” said Pembroke.
”I have had the honor of being mistaken for a Princess,” triumphantly.
”Who could doubt it!” said I, with a glance I could not help, which made her lower her eyes.
”Moreover,” she continued, this time looking at Pembroke, ”the gentleman who committed the error was the Austrian Amba.s.sador. What a compliment to take home!”
”And who was the Princess?” I felt compelled to ask, though I knew perfectly well.
”The Princess Hildegarde. Do you recall the night in London,” to me, ”when the same thing occurred? I am very anxious to meet this Princess who looks so like me.”
”You will have that pleasure immediately after the opera,” said I.
Pembroke's eyes said something to me then, and I rose.