She was in her hood and cloak, ready for some poor diversion of a ride or walk, a sad, anxious lady beneath her air of princely reserve.
The dreary air of the old palace, which was both dull and unhomelike, pervaded these apartments of the fugitive princess; she looked and felt like an exile as she drew off her gauntlet and gave her bare hand to Count Piper.
She knew that he was her ally and could be of more use to her husband than any man in Sweden, but she was surprised at seeing him now as she had just been with the Queen Dowager and had heard in what condition the King had left the table; therefore she had hoped for nothing to-day, which she had already put aside as another space of wasted time.
“Madame,” said Count Piper, “you have a lady in your service named Viktoria?”
“I do not think that I do,” replied the Count reflectively, “but I want to speak to her, Highness.”
“What do you know about her?” she asked quickly.
“Nothing at all,” smiled Count Piper. “It is you, Madame, who should know what there is to know about this lady.”
“Her father is a great man in Gottorp--I found she had a right to come to court”
“And to come with you here, Highness, to Stockholm?” asked the Count, with a shade of regret in his voice.
“How could I help it?” demanded the Duchess on the defensive. “They were ruined--like ourselves--had lost everything. I could do nothing but offer this shelter to one who had been sacrificed in our cause.”
Count Piper fingered the brown curls of the wig that hung on to the heart of his somber coat and looked reflectively at the floor; the Duchess eyed him, and her fair face was hard in the shadow of her hood and her blue eyes had darkened with emotion.
“It is not pleasant to return to one’s country as I have returned--an exile and a fugitive,” she said, in a heavy voice, “to wait here day by day, like a poor petitioner, to gain my brother’s ear--but it is an added bitterness to think that I have brought with me one who will be a mischief in Sweden.”
“So your Highness thinks of this lady as a mischief?” asked the Count thoughtfully.
“You know, sir,” she replied, disdainful of pretense, “that is what you came to tell me.”
“No,” he said, looking at her straightly. “I think she might be useful.”