At the house in Belgrave Square at present tenanted by the Baron and Baroness von Blitzenberg, an event of considerable importance had occurred. This was nothing less than the arrival of the Countess of Grillyer upon a visit both of affection and state. So important was she, and so great the attachment of her daughter, that the preparations for her reception would have served for a reigning sovereign. But the Countess had an eye as quick and an appetite for respect as exacting as Queen Elizabeth, and she had no sooner embraced the Baroness and kissed her ceremoniously upon either cheek, than her glance appeared to seek something that she deemed should have been there also.
"And where is Rudolph?" she demanded. "Is he so very busy that he cannot spare a moment even to welcome me?"
The Baroness changed color, but with as easy an air as she could assume she answered that Rudolph had most unfortunately been summoned from England.
"Indeed?" observed the Countess, and the observation was made in a tone that suggested the advisability of a satisfactory explanation.
This paragon among mothers and peeresses was a lady of majestic port, whose ascendant expression and commanding voice were commonly held to typify all that is best in the feudal system; or, in other words, to indicate that her opinions had never been contradicted in her life. When one of these is a firm belief in the holder's divine rights and semi-divine origin, the effect is undoubtedly impressive. And the Countess impressed.
"My dear Alicia," said she, when they had settled down to tea and confidential talk, "you have not yet told me what has taken Rudolph abroad again so soon."
On nothing had the Baron laid more stress than on the necessity of maintaining the most profound secrecy respecting his mission. "No, not even to your mozzer most you say. My love, you vill remember?" had been almost his very last words before departing for St.
Petersburg. His devoted wife had promised this not once, but many times, while his finger was being shaken at her, and would have scorned herself had she thought it possible to break her vows.
"That is a secret, mamma," she declared.
Her mother opened her eyes.
"A secret from me, Alicia?"
"Rudolph made me promise."
"Not to tell your friends--but that hardly was intended to include your mother."
The Baroness looked uncomfortable.
"I--I'm afraid----" she began, and stopped in hesitation.
"Did he specifically include me?" demanded the Countess in an altered tone.
"I think, mamma, he did," her daughter faltered.
"Ah!"
And there was a world of meaning in that comment.
"Believe me, mamma, it is something very, very important, or Rudolph would certainly have let me tell you all about it."
Lady Grillyer opened her eyes still wider.
"Then I am to understand that he wishes to conceal from me anything that he considers of importance?"
"Oh, no! Not that! I only mean that this thing is very secret."
"Alicia," pronounced the Countess, "when a man specifically conceals anything from his mother-in-law, you may be quite certain that she ought to be informed of it at once."
"I--I can't, mamma!"
"A trip to Germany--for it is there, I presume, he has gone--back to the scenes of his bachelorhood, unprotected by the influence of his wife! Do you call that a becoming procedure?"
"But he hasn't gone to Germany."
"He has no business anywhere else!"
"You forget his diplomatic duties."
"Ah! He professes to have gone on diplomatic business?"
"Professes, mamma?" exclaimed the poor Baroness.
"How can you say such a thing! He certainly has gone on a diplomatic mission!"
"To Paris, no doubt?" suggested Lady Grillyer, with an intonation that made it quite impossible not to contradict her.
"Certainly not! He has gone to Russia."
The more the Countess learned, the more anxious she appeared to grow.
"To Russia, on a diplomatic mission? This is incredible, Alicia!"
"Why should it be incredible?" demanded Alicia, flushing.
"Because he is a mere tyro in diplomacy. Because there is a German embassy at Petersburg, and they would not send a man from London on a mission--at least, it is most unlikely."
"It seems to me quite natural," declared the Baroness.
