“Madam,” he said, “we are met here in an hour of grave anxiety.  The Emperor, who has been ill for some time, is now upon his death-bed, and the physicians who attend him inform me that at any moment we may be called upon to elect his successor.  That successor has already been chosen; chosen, I may add, in an informal manner, but his selection is not likely to be canceled, unless by some act of his own which would cause us to reconsider our decision.  Our adoption was made very recently in my castle of Ehrenfels, and we are come together again in the Castle of my brother Treves, not in our sacred office as Archbishops, but in our secular capacity as Electors of the Empire, to determine a matter which we consider of almost equal importance.  It is our privilege to bestow upon you the highest honor that may be conferred on any woman in the realm; the position of Empress.

“When you have signified your acceptance of this great elevation, I must put to you several questions concerning your future duties to the State, and these are embodied in a document which you will be asked to sign.”

The Countess did not raise her eyes.  While the Archbishop was speaking the color flamed up in her cheeks, but faded away again, and her guardian, who watched her very intently across the table, saw her face become so pale that he feared she was about to faint.  However, she rallied, and at last looked up, not at her dark-browed questioner, but at the Archbishop of Cologne.

“May I not know,” she said, in a voice scarcely audible, “who is my future husband?”

“Surely, surely,” replied her guardian soothingly, “but the Elector of Mayence is our spokesman here, and you must address your question to his Lordship.”

She now turned her frightened eyes upon Mayence, whose brow had become slightly ruffled at this interruption, and whose lips were more firmly closed.  He sat there imperturbable, refusing the beseechment of her eyes, and thus forced her to repeat her question, though to him it took another form.

“My Lord, who is to be the next Emperor?”

“Countess von Sayn, I fear that in modifying my opening address to accord with the comprehension of a girl but recently emerged from convent life, I have led you into an error.  The Court of Electors is not convened for the purpose of securing your consent, but with the duty of imposing upon you a command.  It is not for you to ask questions, but to answer them.”

“You mean that I am to marry this unknown man, whether I will or no?”

“That is my meaning.”

The girl sat back in her chair, and the moisture that had gathered in her eyes disappeared as if licked up by the little flame that burned in their depths.

“Very well,” she said.  “Ask your questions, and I will answer them.”

“Before I put any question, I must have your consent to my first proposition.”

“That is quite unnecessary, my Lord.  When you hear my answer to your questions, you will very speedily withdraw your first proposition.”