"It looks like it," said the princess. "It is at least a disease, yet it is a sorrow which I experience and understand, for if I love an absent person, whom I never shall see, it is really as if I loved one who is dead. But, tell me, is not Prince Henry, my brother, an amiable gentleman?"
"Very fond of the beautiful--a real artist's soul--a hero in war--a figure which, without being beautiful, pleases and strikes--a proud and independent soul--an enemy to despotism--the rebellious and menacing slave of my tyrant brother--and certainly the best of the family. Have I not described him?"
"And do you not wish to look on it as serious?"
"You are hard to please, my dear. What do you charge him with?"
"A great defect, or, at least, an invincible obstacle to my loving him. He is a prince."
"Thank you for the compliment. Then you fainted for nothing at the play a few days since. They say that the king, early in the performance, became jealous at the manner that he looked at you, and placed him in arrest. This, they affirm, made you sick."
"I did not even know that the prince had been arrested, and am certain I am not the cause of it. The reason of my accident is very different. Madame, fancy that amid the music I sang--rather mechanically, it is true, as often is the case here--my eyes wandered over the house, particularly over the first row of boxes. Suddenly, in that occupied by M. Golowkin, I saw a pale face, which leaned slightly forward, as if it would examine me. This face was Albert's, I will swear to it, madame, for I knew it. I cannot tell whether it was an illusion, but, if so, it was terrible and complete!"
"Poor thing! It is certain that you have strange fancies."
"Oh! that is not all. Last week, when I had given you the letter of Trenck, and was retiring. I became lost, and strayed to the museum, where I met Stoss, with whom I paused to talk. Well, there I saw again Albert's face, again menacing, as on the day before it had been indefinite--as I always saw it in my dreams, angry or threatening."
"Very well; and he told me it was a certain Trismegistus, whom your highness sometimes consults as a necromancer."
"Good heavens!" said the Baroness Von Kleist, growing pale, "I was sure he was a real sorcerer. I could never look at him without fear. Though he has a handsome face and a noble air, there is something diabolical in his countenance, and I am sure, like Proteus, he can assume any form he pleases, to terrify us. Besides, he scolds and frowns, as all people of his sort do. I remember once when he calculated my horoscope, he charged me with having asked for a divorce from the Baron Von Kleist because the latter was ruined. This he thought a great offence. I wished to defend myself, and as he assumed a very high tone, I began to get angry. He said that I would marry again, and that my second husband would die, in consequence of my fault, far more miserably than the first had done, and that I would suffer severely, not only from my own conscience, but in public opinion. As he spoke, his face became so terrible, that I fancied that I saw Von Kleist again, and shrieking aloud, I took refuge in her highness's room."