"It is a shocking affair, he is seen everywhere with her; and yet there is no report of a betrothal! What do the men find in her? She captivates them all, young and old, there is no difference."

"And she is no longer even _beautiful_. She has faded, lost all her freshness, it is nothing but coquetry!" answered the baroness hastily, for the d.u.c.h.ess had stopped and was waiting for the ladies to overtake her. So they walked on in the direction of the Pa.s.sion Theatre where, on the morrow, they were to behold the G.o.d of Love, for whose sake they made this pious pilgrimage.

"You were rightly served, Countess Madeleine," said the prince laughing, as they took their seats at the table. "You sent away your true friends and fell into the hands of these false ones."

"The d.u.c.h.ess is not false," answered the countess with a weary look, "she is n.o.ble in thought and act."

"Like all who are in a position where they need envy no one," said the prince, pushing aside with his spoon certain little islands of doubtful composition which were floating in the soup. "But believe me, with these few exceptions, no one save men, deals sincerely with an admired woman. Women of the ordinary stamp cannot repress their envy. I should not like to hear what is being said of us by these friends on their way home."

"What does it matter?" answered his companion, leaving her soup untasted.

"Our poor diplomatic corps, which had antic.i.p.ated so much pleasure in seeing you," the prince began again. "I would almost like to ask you a favor, Countess!"

"What is it?"

"That you will invite us to dine day after to-morrow. The gentlemen have resolved to avenge themselves n.o.bly by offering you an ovation on your return to Munich to-morrow evening."

"Indeed, what is it?"

"I ought not to betray the secret, but I know that you do not like surprises. The Wildenau palace will be transformed into a temple of flowers. Everything is already ordered, it is to be matchless, fairy like!"

The speaker was secretly watching the impression made by his words; he must get her away from this place at any cost! The mysterious figure which had just called to her cheeks a flush for whose sake he would have sacrificed years of his life, then he had noticed--nothing escaped his keen eye and ear--her annoyed, almost jealous expression when the ladies spoke of the "raven-locked" Christ and his love for some high-born dame. She must leave this place ere the whim gained a firm hold. The worthy peasant-performer might not object to the admiration of n.o.ble ladies, a pinchback theatre-saint would hardly resist a Countess Wildenau, if she should choose to make him the object of an eccentric caprice.

"It is very touching in the gentlemen," said the countess; "let us antic.i.p.ate them and invite them to dine the day after to-morrow."

"Ah, there spoke my charming friend, now I am content with you. Will you permit me, at the close of this luxurious meal, to carry the joyous tidings to the gentlemen?"

"Do so," she answered carelessly. "And when you have delivered the invitation, would you do me the favor to telegraph to my steward?"

"Certainly." He pushed back the plate containing an unpalatable cutlet and drew out his note-book to make a memorandum.

"What shall I write?"

"Steward Geres, Wildenau Palace, Munich.--Day after to-morrow, Monday, Dinner at 6 o'clock, 12 plates, 15 courses," dictated the countess.

"There, that is settled. But, Countess, twelve persons! Whom do you intend to invite?"

"When I return the d.u.c.h.ess' visit I will ask the three ladies, then Prince Hohenheim and Her Excellency's two daughters will make twelve."

"But that will be terribly wearisome to the neighbors of Her Excellency's daughters."

"Yes, still it can't be helped, I must give the poor girls a chance to make their fortune! With the exception of Prince Hohenheim, you are all in the market!" she said smiling.

"No one could speak so proudly save a Countess Wildenau, who knows that every other woman only serves as a foil," replied the prince, kissing her hand with a significant smile. She was remarkably gracious that day; she permitted her hand to rest in his, there was a shade of apology in her manner. Apology for what? He had no occasion to ponder long--she was ashamed of having neglected a trusted friend for a chimera, a nightmare, which had a.s.sumed the form of a man with mysterious black eyes and floating locks. The ladies' stories of the love affairs of the presumptive owner of these locks had destroyed the dream and broken the spell of the nightmare.

"Admirable, it had happened very opportunely."

"But, Countess, the gentlemen will be disappointed, if the ladies, also, come. Would it not be much pleasanter without them? You are far more charming and entertaining when you are the only lady present at our little smoking parties."

"We can have one later. The ladies will leave at ten. Then you others can remain."

"And who will be sent away _next_, when you are wearied by this _apres soiree_? Who will be allowed to linger on a few minutes and smoke the last cigarette with you?" he added, coaxingly. He looked very handsome at that moment.

"We shall see," replied the countess, and for the first time her voice thrilled with a warmer emotion. Her hand still rested in his, she had forgotten to withdraw it. Suddenly its warmth roused her, and his blue eyes flashed upon her a light as brilliant as the indiscreet glare which sometimes rouses a sleeper.

She released it, and as the dinner was over, rose from the little table.

"Will you go with me to call on the d.u.c.h.ess later?" she asked. "If so, I will dress now, while you give the invitation to the gentlemen, and you can return afterward."

"As you choose!" replied the prince in an altered tone, for the slight variation in the lady's mood had not escaped his notice. "In half an hour, then. Farewell!"

CHAPTER VI.

THE EVENING BEFORE THE PLAY.

Josepha sat in the countess' room at work on her new dress. She was calm and quiet; the delight in finery which never abandons a woman to her latest hour--the poorest peasant, if still conscious, asks for a nicer cap when the priest comes to bring the last sacrament--had a.s.serted its power in her. The countess noticed it with pleasure.

"Shall you finish it soon, Josepha?"

"In an hour, Your Highness!"

"Very well, I shall return about that time, and then we'll try the dress on."

"Oh, your ladyship, it's a sin for me to put on such a handsome gown, n.o.body will see me."

"Not here, if you don't wish them to do so, but to-morrow evening we shall go to Munich, where you will begin a new life, with no brand upon your brow."

Josepha kissed the countess' hand; a few large tears rolled down on the dress which was to clothe a new creature. Then she helped her mistress to put on a walking toilette, performing her task skillfully and quickly. The latter fixed a long, thoughtful look upon her. "You are somewhat like your cousin, the Christ, are you not?"

"So people say!"

"I suppose he sees a great many ladies?"

"They all run after him, the high as well as the low. And it isn't the strangers only, the village girls are crazy over him, too. He might have _any_ one he wanted, it seems as if he fairly bewitched the women."

"I heard that the reason for his secluded life was that he had a love affair with some n.o.ble lady."

"Indeed?" said Josepha carelessly, "I don't know anything about it. I don't believe it, though he would not tell me, even if it were true.

Oh, people talk about him so much, that's one reason for the envy. But his secluded life isn't on account of any n.o.ble lady! He has had nothing to say to anybody here since they refused to let me take part in the Play and gossiped so much about me. Though he doesn't speak of it, it cuts him to the heart. Alas, I am to blame, and no one else."

Countess Wildenau, obeying a sudden impulse, kissed the girl on the forehead: "Farewell, keep up courage, don't weep, rejoice in your new life; I will soon return."

As she pa.s.sed out, she spoke to the Gross sisters commending Josepha to their special care.

"The gentlemen are delighted, and send you their most grateful homage,"