“He seemed very well satisfied with our choice.”

Treves had his elbows on the table, leaning forward with open palms supporting his chin.  He had spoken throughout in the most ingratiating manner, his tones soft and honeyed.  He was so evidently pleased with his own diplomacy that even the eye of the stern Mayence twinkled maliciously when the girl turned impulsively toward the other end of the table, and cried: 

“Guardian, tell me the truth!  I know this young man accepted me as if I were a sack of grain, his whole mind intent on one thing only:  to secure for himself the position of Emperor.  Is it not so?”

“It is not so, Countess,” said Cologne solemnly.

“Prince Roland, it is true, made no stipulation regarding you.”

“I was sure of it.  Any Gretchen in Germany would have done just as well.  I was merely part of the bargain he was compelled to make with you, and now I announce to the Court that no power on earth will induce me to marry Prince Roland.  I claim the right of my womanhood to wed only the man whom I love, and who loves me!”

Mayence gave utterance to an exclamation that might be coarsely described as a snort of contempt.  The Elector of Treves was leaning back in his chair discomfited by her abrupt desertion of him.  The Elector of Cologne now leaned forward, dismayed at the turn affairs had taken, deep anxiety visible on his brow.

“Countess von Sayn,” he began, and thus his ward realized how deeply she had offended, “in all my life I never met any young man who impressed me so favorably as Prince Roland of Germany.  If I possessed a daughter whom I dearly loved, I could wish her no better fortune than to marry so honest a youth as he.  The very point you make against him should have told most strongly in his favor with a young girl.  My reading of his character is that so far as concerns the love you spoke of, he knows as little of it as yourself, and thus he agreed to our proposal with a seeming indifference which you entirely misjudge.  If you, then, have any belief in my goodwill towards you, in my deep anxiety for your welfare and happiness, I implore you to agree to the suggestion my Lord of Mayence has made.  You speak of love knowing nothing concerning it.  I call to your remembrance the fact that one noble lady of your race may have foregone the happiness that love perhaps brings, in her desire for the advancement of one whom she loved so truly that she chose for her guide the more subdued but steadier star of duty.  The case is presented to you, my dear, in different form, and I feel assured that duty and love will shine together.”

As the venerable Archbishop spoke with such deep earnestness, in a voice she loved so well, the girl buried her face in her hands, and he could see the tears trickle between her fingers.  A silence followed her guardian’s appeal, disturbed only by the agitated breathing of Hildegunde.

The cold voice of the Elector of Mayence broke the stillness, like a breath from a glazier: