“With the taming of wild beasts,” interrupted the princess, maliciously.

“No, with—­with—­reminiscences of my travels, which I recount to Hartmut, while he poetises a little, and composes melancholy odes from them.  He’s writing a little poem now on some reflection he heard your grace make.”

The princess turned with a radiant smile to the young poet as she exclaimed: 

“And have you really been able to use any nonsense which I may have uttered in a poem, Herr Rojanow?”

“Indeed, I have, your grace, and I am very grateful to you for your idea,” replied Hartmut promptly.  He had no idea in the world what the talk was all about, but was ready to second whatever his friend might suggest.

“I am delighted to hear it; I adore poetry, and think it the greatest of literary productions.”

“You two will agree perfectly as to that,” said Egon with admiration.  Having accomplished his object, he escaped, leaving his friend to enter into a discussion with the princess, on the relative merits of poets and their inspirations.

The prince once more approached the duchess’s little circle, where he was sure to find Frau von Wallmoden, and where he was far from the sound of his malicious aunt’s voice.

The breakfast was ended, and the day’s sport was about to begin in earnest.  But since noon the bright, sunny weather had changed; the heavens were overcast, and there was a fear that one of the sudden, heavy storms which were frequent at this season, might come before the day was over.

The duchess, with some of her friends, had taken their stand upon a height, from which they thought they could obtain the best view, but the hunters took a sudden turn, and the lookers on were forced to follow.

It was at this juncture that a slight accident occurred to Frau von Wallmoden; her saddle girth broke, and she would have had a disagreeable fall had she not had the presence of mind to slip at once from her saddle to the ground.  To follow the riders was now an impossibility, for her groom could not have obtained another saddle for her, so she decided to send the servant over to Bucheneck with the horse, and follow on foot, at her leisure.

It was a relief to her that this accident had occurred, it saved her the weary necessity of following the hunt to its close, and permitted her to drop for a time, in this solitude, the mask which she wore before the world, and which was at times becoming almost too heavy for her to carry.

Now that she was alone and unobserved, the cold, proud repose which had been so noticeable since her wedding-day, departed as a shadow, and she was a creature of another world.

Her features, which were an heritage from her father, and betokened a strong and determined nature, had become more rigid in the last few months, but over her face lay a new expression, one of pain and anxiety, as if some secret and hitherto unknown spring had been touched; the blue eyes lost their cold, passionate look, deep shadows lay in them, which told of strife and anguish, and the blonde head sank low, as under some unsupportable burden.