t friends, at his right hand was Madame de
Geyling. Stafforth was seated at this table, Madame de Ruth was there
also, Monseigneur the Duke of Zollern, of course, and Prelate Osiander.
The Geyling discussed the comedy. Lifting her glass she toasted Eberhard
Ludwig: 'I drink to your Highness from la Coupe Enchantee,' she murmured;
but the Duke answered absently, and Madame de Ruth smiled when he asked
Stafforth, 'Where is the goddess of sound? Has she vanished with her
divine song?' He was told that the lady had retired to rerobe herself.
'Robe herself, you mean!' said the Geyling sharply, 'she had, in truth,
little to remove!' She spoke quickly to the Duke in an undertone, but his
Highness turned away and commanded Stafforth to present the singer
directly she appeared.

The Geyling bit her underlip--there was a pause in the talk at the Duke's
table.

At length a door near the platform opened, and Wilhelmine appeared. No
one noticed her at first, and she stood for a moment hesitating in the
doorway; then Madame de Ruth espied her, and, craving the Duke's pardon,
she rose and went to Wilhelmine and, taking her by the hand, led her
towards the Duke. It was necessary to pass the Duchess's table;
Wilhelmine immediately recognised her Highness, and as she passed she
swept Johanna Elizabetha a deep courtesy. It was gracefully done, and the
neglected lady, unaccustomed to be treated with even ordinary
consideration, responded by an amiable smile. As they approached the
Duke, his Highness rose and came forward to meet them. He had seen
Wilhelmine's spontaneous good manners and was gratified thereby. Nothing
gratifies a grand seigneur more than the grand manner, and in return to
Wilhelmine's inclination his Highness bowed as though to a queen.

'Mademoiselle, I am deeply in your debt,' he said; 'it would be banal to
thank you for your divine music, yet permit me to say that I would
willingly keep you for ever as my creditor, if you would but promise to
make my debt the greater by singing to me again--and soon.'

'Monseigneur, you do me too much honour,' she responded, sinking to the
ground in another courtesy.

'To a feast of the gods you would be welcome, Mademoiselle; but as we are
not in Olympus, let me, at least, lead the Goddess of Song to my poor
table for refreshment.' So saying, his Highness offered his hand and led
her to his table. He presented her to Madame de Geyling, who gave her a
bitter-sweet smile and paid he