The enigmatical remark was received by me decorously
as a piece of merited chastisement. Nodding with
gravity, I expressed regrets that the sea did not
please her, otherwise I could have offered her a yacht
for a cruise. She nodded stiffly. Her mouth
shut up a smile, showing more of the door than the
ray. The dinner, virtually a German supper, ended
in general conversation on political affairs, preceded
and supported by a discussion between the Prussian-hearted
General and the Austrian-hearted margravine.
Prince Ernest, true to his view that diplomacy was
the weapon of minor sovereigns, held the balance,
with now a foot in one scale, now in the other; a
politic proceeding, so long as the rival powers passively
consent to be weighed.
We trifled with music, made our bow to the ladies,
and changed garments for the smoking-room. Prince
Ernest smoked his one cigar among guests. The
General, the Chancellor, and the doctor, knew the signal
for retirement, and rose simultaneously with the discharge
of his cigar-end in sparks on the unlit logwood pile.
My father and Mr. Peterborough kept their chairs.
There was, I felt with relief, no plot, for nothing
had been definitely assented to by me. I received
Prince Ernest’s proffer of his hand, on making
my adieux to him, with a passably clear conscience.
I went out to the library. A man came in for
orders; I had none to give. He saw that the shutters
were fixed and the curtains down, examined my hand-lamp,
and placed lamps on the reading-desk and mantel-piece.
Bronze busts of sages became my solitary companions.
The room was long, low and dusky, voluminously and
richly hung with draperies at the farther end, where
a table stood for the prince to jot down memoranda,
and a sofa to incline him to the relaxation of romance-reading.
A door at this end led to the sleeping apartments
of the West wing of the palace. Where I sat the
student had ranges of classical volumes in prospect
and classic heads; no other decoration to the walls.
I paced to and fro and should have flung myself on
the sofa but for a heap of books there covered from
dust, perhaps concealed, that the yellow Parisian volumes,
of which I caught sight of some new dozen, might not
be an attraction to the eyes of chance-comers.
At the lake-palace the prince frequently gave audience
here. He had said to me, when I stated my wish
to read in the library, ‘You keep to the classical
department?’ I thought it possible he might
not like the coloured volumes to be inspected; I had
no taste for a perusal of them. I picked up one
that fell during my walk, and flung it back, and disturbed
a heap under cover, for more fell, and there I let
them lie.
Ottilia did not keep me waiting.
CHAPTER XXXV
THE SCENE IN THE LAKE-PALACE LIBRARY
I was humming the burden of Gothe’s Zigeunerlied,
a favourite one with me whenever I had too much to
think of, or nothing. A low rush of sound from
the hall-doorway swung me on my heel, and I saw her
standing with a silver lamp raised in her right hand
to the level of her head, as if she expected to meet
obscurity. A thin blue Indian scarf mufed her
throat and shoulders. Her hair was loosely knotted.
The lamp’s full glow illumined and shadowed
her. She was like a statue of Twilight.
Copyrights
The Adventures Harry Richmond — Complete from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
