“Stand my ground?” she repeated, in a low voice.  “That I shall ever do, but I hoped you would be at my side.”

“That is, for the moment, not possible, as you see.  As for the rest, you have shown to-day that you know how to defend yourself.  And I have no doubt that the hint which I found it necessary to give you, will bear fruit, and that you will, in future, be guarded in your answers.  At any rate, you must stay here until I return.”

Adelheid was silent.  She saw that nothing was to be gained by further speech.  Wallmoden stepped back to the writing-table and put aside his papers, and locked his drawers with his usual precision; then he took up the two letters, with their red checks, and folded them together.

“One thing more, Adelheid,” he said, casually, “Prince Adelsberg was most noticeable in his attentions to you to-day; he was always near you.”

“Do you wish me to keep him at a distance?” she asked, indifferently.

“No, indeed, only keep him within bounds, so that there will be no unnecessary talk.  No harm will come to you from being in his company.  We do not stand on the same plane as the burgers, and it would be ludicrous for me, in my position, to enact the jealous husband toward every man who pays my wife attention.  I leave all that to your discretion; I have unbounded faith in your tact.”

This sounded very reasonable, very temperate, and above all, very indifferent.  No one could accuse Herr von Wallmoden of jealousy towards the young prince, whose undisguised admiration caused him no second thought; and, as he had just said, he had unbounded faith in his wife’s tact.

“I will send these telegrams myself,” he said.  “Since the duke’s arrival there’s a telegraph office in the castle.  You should ring for your maid, my child; you look tired and worn—­good-night.”

With that he left her, but Adelheid did not follow his advice.  She returned once more to the window, and a bitter, pained expression lay on her face.  She had never before felt so keenly that she was to her husband nothing more than a glittering bauble, to be exhibited by him to prove how wisely he had chosen a wife; she was to be treated with the greatest courtesy and politeness, because a princely fortune had been received from her hand; but as a woman she was to be refused the most trifling request with equal courtesy, because it did not suit his pleasure.

The night was dark, and the low clouds which surrounded the forest heights were black and heavy; only here and there, where a break occurred, was a star to be seen glimmering far and faint in the distant heavens.  The face which peered out into the darkness had not the proud, cold look which the world knew, but a disturbed, anxious expression, lacking altogether that repose which was its chief characteristic at most times.

The wife had both hands pressed against her breast, as if in pain.  She would have flown from that dark power which she felt was upon her.  She had sought her husband’s protection, had plead for it—­in vain.  He went and left her alone, and the other remained, with his dark, demoniacal eyes, with his voice and tones, which exercised such a singular, irresistible influence over her.