ith his hands crossed
as usual over the porcelain handle of his stick. He had grown terribly
old in spite of his straight and dapper figure, and his face was like
ancient parchment; only the bright, restless eyes seemed eagerly alive.

He told the Landhofmeisterin that the news of her misfortune had reached
him, and that he had come to counsel her immediate retreat. He argued
with her gently, but she was obdurate; go she would not. Then the old man
begged her to depart; he prayed her, by Madame de Ruth's memory, to be
reasonable.

'Consider, Madame,' he said, 'I am a very old man--yes, yes, old and
broken--and I have travelled far to save you from your own obstinacy, for
you are dear to me; you are my one remaining link with the past, with my
past youth. You were Madame de Ruth's friend, and I cherish you as that.
Yes; she was the love of my life--I may say it now, for it is ancient
history--and she loved you. Would she not have counselled prudence? Fly
now, that you may return later.'

At this moment a lackey brought a folded paper to the Graevenitz.

'Unknown to me, General Pruckdorff had received orders from my father to
expel you by force from Favorite and Ludwigsburg if you have not left by
six of the clock this evening. I pray you, Madame, fly! I shall never
forget you.--FRIEDRICH LUDWIG, Erbprinz.'

Without a word the Landhofmeisterin handed the paper to Zollern.

'Ah! a charming invitation!' he said loudly, so that the lackey who stood
waiting could not fail to hear. 'I should advise you to accept. A most
entertaining fete. Order your carosse, dear Madame.'

Calmly the Landhofmeisterin gave the necessary commands for her coach and
outriders, and summoning Maria she bade her collect some few objects of
value and various papers. Then she took leave of Zollern.

'Au revoir, Monseigneur,' she said.

'Adieu, Madame; this is the last act of the comedy called the Great
Intrigue,' he answered.

* * * * *

Yet she tarried till the last moment at La Favorite. It was a terrible
leave-taking. She wandered round her pretty rooms, looking her last at
the graceful devices, the slender traceries on wall and ceiling, at the
things she had loved--the beautiful porcelains, the delicate, brocaded
hangings. Then she passed out on to the terrace. What a wondrous summer
evening it was! The sun was sinking low in the west--when the last ray
had vanished the soldiers would come to drag her away