When she returned to Vienna for the winter, a note from her invited him to follow her there, and as he had indefinite leave of absence from his regiment, he could obey the commands of his divinity.  As soon as he arrived there he received another note, which forbade him to go to her house, but promised him a speedy meeting in his rooms, and so the young officer had the furniture elegantly renovated, and looked forward to a visit from the beautiful woman with all a lover’s impatience.

At last she came, wrapped in a magnificent cloak of green velvet, trimmed with ermine, but still thickly veiled, and before she came in she made it a condition that the room in which he received her should be quite dark, and after he had put out all the lights she threw off her fur, and her coldness gave way to the most impetuous tenderness.

“What is the reason that you will never allow me to see your dear, beautiful face?” the officer asked.  “It is a whim of mine, and I suppose I have the right to indulge in whims,” she said, hastily.  “But I so long once more to see your splendid figure and your lovely face in full daylight,” the Count continued.  “Very well then, you shall see me at the Opera this evening.”

She left him at six o’clock, after stopping barely an hour with him, and as soon as her carriage had driven off he dressed and went to the opera.  During the overture, he saw the Princess enter her box and looking dazzlingly beautiful; she was wearing the same green velvet cloak, trimmed with ermine, that he had had in his hands a short time before, but almost immediately she let it fall from her shoulders, and showed a bust which was worthy of the Goddess of Love.  She spoke with her husband with much animation, and smiled with her usual cold smile, though she did not give her adorer even a passing look, but, in spite of this, he felt the happiest of mortals.

In Vienna, however, the Count was not as fortunate as he had been at Karlsbad, where he had first met her, for his beautiful mistress only came to see him once a week; often she only stopped a short time with him, and once nearly six weeks passed without her favoring him at all, and she did not even make any excuse for remaining away.  Just then, however, Leonie’s husband accidentally made the young officer’s acquaintance at the Jockey Club, took a fancy to him, and asked him to go and see him at his house.

When he called and found the Princess alone his heart felt as if it would burst with pleasure, and seizing her hand, he pressed it ardently to his lips.  “What are you doing, Count?” she said, drawing back.  “You are behaving very strangely.”  “We are alone,” the young officer whispered, “so why this mask of innocence?  Your cruelty is driving me mad, for it is six weeks since you came to see me last.”  “I certainly think you are out of your mind,” the Princess replied, with every sign of the highest indignation, and hastily left the drawing-room.  Nothing else remained for the Count but to do the same thing, but his mind was in a perfect whirl, and he was quite incapable of explaining to himself the Princess’s enigmatical behavior.  He dined at an hotel with some friends, and when he got home he found a note in which the Princess begged him to pardon her, and promised to justify her conduct, for which purpose she would see him at eight o’clock that evening.