“Really, cardinal, you are making me play but a sorry part,” said she, withdrawing her arm angrily.
He did not even seem to notice it, so great was his preoccupation with the German lady.
“Madame,” said he to her, “these words that your companion has repeated to me in your name are some German lines which I read in a house which is perhaps known to you.”
The blue domino pressed Oliva’s arm, who thereupon bowed an assent.
“That house,” said the cardinal, hesitatingly, “is it not called Schoenbrunn?”
“They were written on a table of cherry-wood, with a gold bodkin, by an august hand.”
The cardinal stopped, he tottered, and leaned against a pillar for support. Madame de la Motte stood by, watching this strange scene. Then the cardinal, touching the blue domino, said: “This is the conclusion of the quotation—‘But he who sees everywhere the loved object, who recognizes her by a flower, by a perfume, through the thickest veils, he can still be silent—his voice is in his heart—and if one other understands him, he is happy.’”
“Oh, they are speaking German here,” said a young voice from an approaching group; “let us listen. Do you speak German, marshal?”
“Here is M. le Comte d’Artois,” said Oliva softly to her companion.
A crowd followed them, and many were passing round.
“Take care, gentlemen!” said the blue domino.
“Monsieur,” replied the prince, “the people are pushing us.”
At this moment some invisible hand pulled Oliva’s hood from behind, and her mask fell. She replaced it as quickly as possible, with a half-terrified cry, which was echoed by one of affected disquiet from her companion.
Several others around looked no little bewildered.
The cardinal nearly fainted, and Madame de la Motte supported him. The pressure of the crowd separated the Comte d’Artois and his party from them. Then the blue domino approached the cardinal, and said:
“This is indeed an irreparable misfortune; this lady’s honor is at your mercy.”
“Oh, monsieur!” murmured the cardinal, who was much agitated.
“Let us go quickly,” said the blue domino to Oliva; and they moved away.
“Now I know,” said Madame de la Motte to herself, “what the cardinal meant was impossible: he took this woman for the queen. But what an effect it has had on him?”