“Ah, he comes in an opportune moment,” cried she. “This is the Minister of the Duke of Massa's household,--the Chevalier Stubber. Yes,” continued she to the servant, “I will receive him.” If there was not any conspicuous gracefulness in the Chevalier's approach, there was an air of quiet self-possession that bespoke a sense of his own worth and importance; and while he turned to pay his respects to the young Count, his unpolished manner was not devoid of a certain dignity. “It is a fortunate chance by which I find you here, Count Wahnsdorf,” said he, “for you will be glad to learn that the young fellow you had that affair with at Massa has just been liberated.” “When, and how?” cried the Princess, hastily. “As to the time, it must be about four days ago, as my letters inform me; as to the how, I fancy the Count can best inform you,--he has interested himself greatly in the matter.” The Count blushed deeply, and turned away to hide his face, but not so quickly as to miss the expression of scornful meaning with which the Princess regarded him. “But I want to hear the details, Chevalier,” said she. “And I can give you none, madam. My despatches simply mention that the act of arrest was discovered in some way to be informal. Sir Horace Upton proved so much. There then arose a question of giving him up to us; but my master declined the honor,--he would have no trouble, he said, with England or Englishmen; and some say that the youth claims an English nationality. The cabinet of Vienna are, perhaps, like-minded in the matter; at all events, he is free, and will be here to-morrow.” “Then I shall invite him to dinner, and beg both of you gentlemen to meet him,” said she, with a voice wherein a tone of malicious drollery mingled. “I am your servant, madam,” said Stubber. “And I am engaged,” said Wahnsdorf, taking up his shako. “You are off to Vienna to-night, Count Wahnsdorf,” whispered the Princess-in his ear. “What do you mean, madam?” said he, in a tone equally low. “Only that I have a letter written for the Archduchess Sophia, which I desire to intrust to your hands. You may as well read ere I seal it.” The Count took the letter from her hand, and retired towards the window to read it. While she conversed eagerly with Stubber, she did not fail from time to time to glance towards the other, and mark the expression of his features as he folded and replaced the letter in its envelope, and, slowly approaching her, said,-- “You are most discreet, madam.” “I hope I am just, sir,” said she, modestly. “This was something of a difficult undertaking, too,” said he, with an equivocal smile. “It was certainly a pleasant and proud one, sir, as it always must be, to write to a mother in commendation of her son. By the way, Chevalier, you have forgotten to make your compliments to the Count on his promotion--” “I have not heard of it, madam; what may it be?” asked Stubber.