Bruno did as he was ordered, but ground his teeth as he walked toward the door. When he returned again, his manner was as polite and attentive as before.

"Proceed," said he, "no one hears us; a mourner listens to you patiently."

"A mourner! We have greater cause to mourn than you have. We thought we had allied ourselves with one of the best families in the land." Bruno started as if angry.

"Pray drop your acting for the present," continued the Baroness, whose voice and appearance had changed. "We are alone now, and unmasked. In spite of the outward show of politeness, you have never treated me with the respect which I have a right to demand. Don't contradict me; please let me finish what I am about to say: When I calmly reflected on the matter, I was not angry with you on that account. I knew my position.

But now, my dear son-in-law, matters have changed. I was what your sister was, but I never feigned virtue. The world esteemed me at my true value--"

Bruno heaved a deep sigh.

The Baroness continued, grinding her teeth with anger as she spoke:

"When your sister was so kind to us, I could have knelt to her in humility. She must give me back my humility, though she be in h.e.l.l! It was not she who was the better; it was I--But now, my son-in-law, your disdainful behavior must cease. Let me tell you, you ought to feel glad that we've allied ourselves with you. But we shall never let you feel it; that is, if you conduct yourself in a becoming manner."

"And am I not doing so?" asked Bruno, who, during this attack, had entirely lost his self-command.

"We will see; but, first of all, let me tell you that, after this, I shall reside with Arabella as often and as long as I choose to. This insipidly moral queen has been taught a lesson, too. At present, however, I have no desire to appear at court. But the social circle is open to me--I shall enter it, arm in arm with you, my amiable, my gallant son."

The old woman rose and, bowing gracefully, offered her arm to Bruno.

The latter took his mother-in-law's hand in his own and held it to his lips.

"Fie! you've been drinking wine, in your grief!" cried the old danseuse, hurriedly putting her fine and strongly perfumed handkerchief to her lips.

"Miss Mother-in-law--" the words were on the end of Bruno's tongue; he would like to have hurled them at her. Steps were heard. A moment afterward the intendant entered, his presence serving as a great relief to Bruno.

"I beg pardon! don't let me disturb you," said he, when he saw Bruno's mother-in-law.

"You're not disturbing us," replied Bruno quickly. "In spite of a violent attack of fever, our dear mother, now our grandmother, has hastened to console us. I am fortunate in still having a few faithful relatives, and a friend like yourself. I shall now live entirely for the family still left me."

The Baroness nodded a pleased a.s.sent. She was thoroughly satisfied with Bruno's first rehearsal of his new _role_.

"We shan't leave to-day?" inquired the intendant.

"Yes, yes. We must not lose another minute."

The mother-in-law undertook to tell Arabella of Bruno's departure, and to inform her that he had been sent away on public business.

While slowly drawing on his black gloves, Bruno thanked his mother-in-law. He thanked her sincerely, for while he well knew that he was about to enter upon a state of dependence, and that her presence in his house would prove distasteful to him in many ways, he, at the same time, consoled himself with the hope that she would prove a companion to his wife, and that he could thus absent himself from home more frequently, and for longer periods, than he had before done; for he felt it not a little irksome to be obliged to spend so much of his time with his wife. The leave-taking was short, but hearty. Bruno was permitted to kiss his mother-in-law's cheek. After he got into the carriage, he rubbed his lips till they were almost sore, in order to wipe the rouge off of them.

It was already evening when they drove off, and they pa.s.sed the night at the first posting-house. Bruno lay down on the bed to rest himself "for a little while," but he did not awake until late the following morning.

CHAPTER X.

The queen, overcome with grief, lay sleeping in her apartment.

The court ladies were gathered together on the terrace under the weeping ash, and did not care to leave one another. It seemed as if a fear of ghosts oppressed them all. It was but a few days since Irma had been in their midst. She had been sitting in the chair without a back--she never leaned against anything. The seat she had occupied remained empty, and if the paths were not freshly raked every morning, her footprint would still be there. And now she had vanished from the world. Her light had been extinguished, and in so terrible a manner.

Who could tell how long her ghost might haunt the palace and what mischief it might do. The world, at last, knew what had been going on.

The ladies were busily engaged at their embroidery. At other times, they would take turns in reading aloud; but to-day their book--it was a French novel, of course--remained untouched. They were intensely interested in the story, but no one ventured to propose that the reading should be gone on with, nor did sustained conversation seem possible. Now and then a voice was heard: "Dear Clotilde,"

"Dearest Hannah, can you lend me some violet, or some pale green?"

"Oh, I tremble so, that I cannot thread my needle; have you a needle-threader?"

It was, fortunately, at hand. They were, none of them, willing to appear so little moved as to be able to thread a needle.

They deplored Irma's fate, and it did them good to be able to show how kind and merciful they were. They felt happy in being able to accord their pious forgiveness to the unhappy one, and, since they had been so gentle and forgiving, they felt it their right to denounce her crime the more severely. It was thus they avenged themselves for the self-humiliation they had endured; for, while Irma was the prime favorite, they had paid greater homage to her than to the queen.

They never mentioned the royal couple except in terms of respect--with all their apparent confidence, they distrusted each other. They felt that there was trouble ahead, but that it was best for them to appear unconscious of it.

Countess Brinkenstein was the only one Who had a good word to say for Irma.

"Her father was greatly to blame," said she; "it was he who instilled this belief in Irma."

"And yet he had her educated at the convent."

"But she inherited from him a contempt for all forms and traditions, and that was her misfortune. She had a lovely disposition, was richly endowed by nature, and her heart was free from the slightest trace of envy or ill-nature."

No one ventured to contradict Countess Brinkenstein; Perhaps, thought they, etiquette requires us to speak well of Irma and to forget her terrible deed.

"Who knows whether her brother would have married the Steigeneck, if he had known that he was to inherit everything!" softly whispered a delicate and languishing little lady to her neighbor, while she bent over her wool-basket.

The one whom she had addressed looked at her with a sad, yet grateful expression. She had once loved Count Bruno, and still loved him.

"I have a book of hers."

"And I have one of her drawings."

"And I have some of her music."

They shuddered at the thought of possessing articles which had once been hers, and determined that everything should be sent to her brother.

"I pa.s.sed her rooms, early this morning," said Princess Angelica's maid of honor--she always seemed as if half-frozen, and rubbed her hands and breathed on her fingertips while she spoke--"the windows were open. I saw the lonely parrot in his cage, and he kept calling out, 'G.o.d keep you, Irma.' It was dreadful."

They all shuddered, and yet they felt a secret satisfaction in dwelling on the subject. The pious court lady joined the circle, and mentioned that Doctor Sixtus had just taken leave of her, that he had started for the Highlands, that Fein, the notary, had accompanied him, that he had also taken Baum along, and that they meant to search for the body of Countess Irma.

"Will he bring her here, or to Wildenort castle?"

"How terrible, to be gaped at in death by common people!"

"Horrible! it makes me shudder."

"Pray let me have your vinaigrette."

A bottle of English smelling-salts was pa.s.sed round the circle.