objection. Princess
Heinrich observed that I should be glad to see Victoria again, and
should enjoy the companionship of William Adolphus. In my mind I
translated her speech into a declaration that Victoria might have some
influence over me although my mother had none, and that William Adolphus
would be more wholesome company than my countesses and Wetters and such
riff-raff. I was unable to regard William Adolphus as an intellectual
resource, and did not associate Victoria with the exercise of influence.
The weakness of the Princess's new move revealed the straits to which
she felt herself reduced. The result of the position which I have
described was almost open strife between her and me; Hammerfeldt's
powerful bridle alone held her back from declared rupture. His method of
facing the danger was very different. He sought to exercise no veto, but
he kept watch; he knew where I went, but made no objection to my going;
any liberal notions which I betrayed in conversation with him he
received with courteous attention, and affected to consider the result
of my own meditations. Had my feelings been less deeply involved I
think his method would have succeeded; even as it was he checked and
retarded what he could not stop. The cordiality of our personal
relations remained unbroken and so warm that he felt himself able to
speak to me in a half-serious, half-jesting way about the Countess von
Sempach.

"A most charming woman indeed," said he. "In fact, too charming a
woman."

I understood him, and began to defend myself.

"I'm not in love with the Countess," I said; "but I give her my
confidence, Prince."

He shook his head, smiled, and took a pinch of snuff, glancing at me
humorously.

"Reverse it," he suggested. "Be in love with her, but don't give her
your confidence. You'll find it safer and also more pleasant that way."

My confidence might affect high matters, my love he regarded as a
passing fever. He did not belong to an age of strict morality in private
life, and his bent of mind was utterly opposed to considering an
intrigue with a woman of the Countess's attractions as a serious crime
in a young man of my position. "Hate her," was my mother's impossible
exhortation. "Love her, but don't trust her," was the Prince's subtle
counsel. He passed at once from the subject, content with the seed that
he had sown. There was much in him and in his teaching which one would
defend to-day at some cost of reputation; but I