word?—I took the Prince your order. He could not credit his senses. “Ah,” he cried “dear Madame von Rosen, it is not possible—it cannot be I must hear it from your lips. My wife is a poor girl misled, she is only silly, she is not cruel.” “Mon Prince,” said I, “a girl—and therefore cruel; youth kills flies.”—He had such pain to understand it!’
‘Madame von Rosen,’ said the Princess, in most steadfast tones, but with a rose of anger in her face, ‘who sent you here, and for what purpose? Tell your errand.’
‘O, madam, I believe you understand me very well,’ returned von Rosen. ‘I have not your philosophy. I wear my heart upon my sleeve, excuse the indecency! It is a very little one,’ she laughed, ‘and I so often change the sleeve!’
‘Am I to understand the Prince has been arrested?’ asked the Princess, rising.
‘While you sat there dining!’ cried the Countess, still nonchalantly seated.
‘You have discharged your errand,’ was the reply; ‘I will not detain you.’
‘O no, madam,’ said the Countess, ‘with your permission, I have not yet done. I have borne much this evening in your service. I have suffered. I was made to suffer in your service.’ She unfolded her fan as she spoke. Quick as her pulses beat, the fan waved languidly. She
