Then, with a sigh, she addressed herself to make a toilette by that forest mirror, washed herself pure from all the stains of her adventure, took off her jewels and wrapped them in her handkerchief, re-arranged the tatters of her dress, and took down the folds of her hair. She shook it round her face, and the pool repeated her thus veiled. Her hair had smelt like violets, she remembered Otto saying; and so now she tried to smell it, and then shook her head, and laughed a little, sadly, to herself.
The laugh was returned upon her in a childish echo.
She looked up; and lo! two children looking on, -- a small girl and a yet smaller boy, standing, like playthings, by the pool, below a spreading pine. Seraphina was not fond of children, and now she was startled to the heart.
`Who are you?' she cried hoarsely.
The mites huddled together and drew back; and Seraphina's heart reproached her that she should have frightened things so quaint and little, and yet alive with senses. She thought upon the birds and looked again at her two visitors; so little larger and so far more innocent. On their clear faces, as in a pool, she saw the reflection of their fears. With gracious purpose she arose.
`Come,' she said, `do not be afraid of me,' and took a step towards them.
But alas! at the first moment, the two poor babes in the wood turned and ran helter-skelter from the Princess.
The most desolate pang was struck into the girl's heart. Here she was, twenty-two -- soon twenty-three -- and not a creature loved her; none but Otto; and would even he forgive? If she began weeping in these woods alone, it would mean death or madness. Hastily she trod the thoughts out like a burning paper; hastily rolled up her locks, and with terror dogging her, and her whole bosom sick with grief, resumed her journey.
Past ten in the forenoon, she struck a high-road, marching in that place uphill between two stately groves, a river of sunlight; and here, dead weary, careless of consequences, and taking some courage from the human and civilised neighbourhood of the road, she stretched herself on the green margin in the shadow of a tree. Sleep closed on her, at first with a horror of fainting, but when she ceased to struggle, kindly embracing her. So she was taken home for a little, from all her toils and sorrows, to her Father's arms. And there in the meanwhile her body lay exposed by the highwayside, in tattered finery; and on either hand from the woods the birds came flying by and calling upon others, and debated in their own tongue this strange appearance.
The sun pursued his journey; the shadow flitted from her feet, shrank higher and higher, and was upon the point of leaving her altogether, when the rumble of a coach was signalled to and fro by the birds. The road in that part was very steep; the rumble drew near with great deliberation; and ten minutes passed before a gentleman appeared, walking with a sober elderly gait upon the grassy margin of the highway, and looking pleasantly around him as he walked. From time to time he paused, took out his note-book and made an entry with a pencil; and any spy who had been near enough would have heard him mumbling words as though he were a poet testing verses.
The voice of the wheels was still faint, and it was plain the traveller had far outstripped his carriage.
He had drawn very near to where the Princess lay asleep, before his eye alighted on her; but when it did he started, pocketed his note-book, and approached. There was a milestone close to where she lay; and he sat down on that and coolly studied her. She lay upon one side, all curled and sunken, her brow on one bare arm, the other stretched out, limp and dimpled. Her young body, like a thing thrown down, had scarce a mark of life. Her breathing stirred her not. The deadliest fatigue was thus confessed in every language of the sleeping flesh. The traveller smiled grimly. As though he had looked upon a statue, he made a grudging inventory of her charms: the figure in that touching ******* of forgetfulness surprised him; the flush of slumber became her like a flower.
`Upon my word,' he thought, `I did not think the girl could be so pretty. And to think,' he added, `that I am under obligation not to use one word of this!' He put forth his stick and touched her; and at that she awoke, sat up with a cry, and looked upon him wildly.
`I trust your Highness has slept well,' he said, nodding.
But she only uttered sounds.
`Compose yourself,' said he, giving her certainly a brave example in his own demeanour. `My chaise is close at hand; and I shall have, I trust, the singular entertainment of abducting a sovereign Princess.'
`Sir John!' she said, at last.
`At your Highness's disposal,' he replied.
She sprang to her feet. `O!' she cried, `have you come from Mittwalden?'
`This morning,' he returned, `I left it; and if there is any one less likely to return to it than yourself, behold him!'
`The Baron -- ` she began, and paused.
`Madam,' he answered, `it was well meant, and you are quite a Judith; but after the hours that have elapsed, you will probably be relieved to hear that he is fairly well. I took his news this morning ere I left.
Doing fairly well, they said, but suffering acutely. Hey? -- acutely. They could hear his groans in the next room.'
`And the Prince,' she asked, `is anything known of him?'
`It is reported,' replied Sir John, with the same pleasurable deliberation, `that upon that point your Highness is the best authority.'
`Sir John,' she said eagerly, `you were generous enough to speak about your carriage. Will you, I beseech you, will you take me to the Felsenburg?
I have business there of an extreme importance.'
`I can refuse you nothing,' replied the old gentleman, gravely and seriously enough. `Whatever, madam, it is in my power to do for you, that shall be done with pleasure. As soon as my chaise shall overtake us, it is yours to carry you where you will. But,' added he, reverting to his former manner, `I observe you ask me nothing of the Palace.'
`I do not care,' she said. `I thought I saw it burning.'