either Hammerfeldt's mockery or her understanding of it.
"Complimenting me? Yes, I suppose he was—on not having done you any harm. Why? Because I couldn't!"
"You wouldn't wish to, Countess?"
"No; but I might wish to be able to, Cæsar."
She stood there the embodiment of a power the greater because it feigned distrust of its own might.
"No, I don't mean that," she continued a moment later. "But I should" She drew near to me and, catching up a little chair, sat down on it, close to my elbow. "Ah, how I should like the Prince to think I had a little power!" Then in a low coaxing whisper she added, "You need only to pretend—pretend a little just to please me, Cæsar."
"And what will you do just to please me, Countess?" My whisper was low also, but full where hers had been delicate; rough, not gentle, urging rather than imploring. I was no match for her in the science of which she was mistress, but I did not despair. She seemed nervous, as though she distrusted even her keen thrusts and ready parries. I was but a boy still, but sometimes nature betrays the secrets of experience. Suddenly she broke out in a new attack, or a new line of the general attack.
"Wouldn't you like to show a little independence?" she asked. "The Prince would like you all the better for it." She looked in my face. "And people would think more of you. They say that Hammerfeldt is the real king now or he and Princess Heinrich between them."
"I thought they said that you"
"I! Do they? Perhaps! They know so little. If they knew anything they couldn't say that."
