"
"He will never come back," said Herbeck.
"Not if he is wise. He was clever. He sent all his fortune to Paris, so
I found, and what I confiscated was nothing but his estate. But do you
believe me"--putting a hand against his heart--"something here tells me
that some day fate will drag him back and give him into my hands?"
"You are very bitter."
"And have I not cause? Did not my wife die of a broken heart, and did I
not become a broken man? You do not know all, Herbeck, not quite all.
Franz also sought the hand of the Princess Sofia. He, too, loved her,
but I won. Well, his revenge must have been sweet to him."
"But your daughter has been restored to her own."
"Due to your indefatigable efforts alone. Ah, Herbeck, nothing will ever
fill up the gap between, nothing will ever restore the mother." The duke
bowed his head.
Herbeck studied him thoughtfully.
"I love my daughter and she loves me, but I don't know what it is, I
can't explain it," irresolutely.
"What can not your highness explain?"
"Perhaps the gap is too wide, perhaps the separation has been too long."
Herbeck did not press the duke to be more explicit. He opened another
drawer and took forth a long hood envelope, crested and sealed.
"Your Highness, here is a letter from the prince regent of Jugendheit,
formally asking the hand of the Princess Hildegarde for his nephew,
Frederick, who will shortly be crowned.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48