"I was told that her Highness was here," he said.
"Plainly," said Koenigsmark, with perfect calm, "you have been
misinformed." And his quiet glance and gesture invited the
Elector to look round for himself.
"How long have you been here yourself?" Feeling at a
disadvantage, the Elector avoided the direct question that was in
his mind.
"Half an hour at least."
"And in that time you have not seen the Princess?"
"Seen the Princess?" Koenigsmark's brows were knit perplexedly. "I
scarcely understand your Highness."
The Elector moved a step and trod on a soft substance. He looked
down, then stooped, and rose again, holding in his hand a woman's
glove.
"What's this?" quoth he. "Whose glove is this?"
If Koenigsmark's heart missed a beat--as well it may have done--
he did not betray it outwardly. He smiled; indeed he almost
laughed.
"Your Highness is amusing himself at my expense by asking me
questions that only a seer could answer."
The Elector was still considering him with his ponderously
suspicious glance, when quick steps approached. A serving-maid,
one of Sophia's women, appeared in the doorway of the pavilion.
"What do you want?" the Elector snapped at her.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305