“Come on, Hartmut, there’s nothing to be gained from this old ghost of the woods,” said Egon half angry, half laughing.  “First you place me in all sorts of embarrassments, and then you defend yourself by giving me a lecture.”

With that he went off with Rojanow to the carriage.  Stadinger remained standing in a respectful attitude, for he never meant to be rebuked for lack of respect to “his highness.”  It never occurred to him to yield an inch of ground; that was for Prince Egon to do, but not for Peter Stadinger.

Egon was almost of this opinion himself.  He related what had occurred to Hartmut as they drove along, and with a comical despair he concluded: 

“Now can you imagine what kind of a reception that most worshipful aunt of mine will give me?  She evidently suspected that I wanted to keep her away from Rodeck.  Now my morals are saved in her eyes, but at the expense of my love of truth.  Hartmut, you must do me a favor; you must be my lightning rod.  Expend all your power of fascination upon that imperious kinswoman of mine.  Dedicate a poem to her if necessary, but at least shield me from the first fierce flashes of her anger.”

“Well, I should have thought you weather-proof in that particular by now,” said Rojanow smiling.  “You must have had cause for forgiveness before this for such enormities.  The duchess and the other ladies will be on horseback to-day, will they not?”

“Certainly; they could see nothing from the carriages.  By the way, did you know that Frau von Wallmoden was an accomplished horse woman?  I met her day before yesterday returning from a ride with her brother-in-law, the head forester.”

“Ah, then we’ll know where to find Prince Adelsberg to-day.”

Egon, who had been leaning back comfortably, sat erect now, and said, as he gave his friend a searching look: 

“Not so spitefully, I beg of you.  You are not often in the company of the lady in question, I grant that, and you bear yourself as if you were only a looker-on at others, but I know you well enough to understand that you and I are very much of the same opinion concerning her, nevertheless.”

“Well, and if we are—­would you consider it a breach of friendship on my part?”

“Not in this instance.  For the object is unattainable by either of us.”

“Unattainable?” an ironical smile played around Rojanow’s lips.

“Yes, Hartmut,” said the young prince, half in earnest, half in jest, “the lovely, cold northern light, as you have named her, remains true to its nature.  It gleams on the horizon distant and unapproachable, and the icy sea above which it shines is not to be broken through.  The lady has no heart.  She is free from every feeling of passion, and that is what gives her her enviable security.  Here you must acknowledge all your influence, all your boasted powers are frustrated by that icy breath; you are chilled through, and so you keep your distance.”