Adalbert, or Ernest, bowed most admiringly it is true, but without the slightest token of recognition. Faint, breathless, Theresa sought in vain to speak.
"You look pale, my child," said her father; "the heat is too much for you. Do, Ernest, try to make your way with her to the window, and I will get a glass of water."
Theresa felt her hand drawn lightly through the arm to which she had so often clung, and the Prince with some difficulty conveyed her to the window. There they stood alone for some minutes, before the Baron could rejoin them; yet not by word or sign did her companion imply a previous knowledge. His manner was most gentle, most attentive; but it was that of a perfect stranger.
Theresa drank the glass of water, and, by a strong effort, recalled her presence of mind. She looked in Prince Ernest's face—it was no mistake; every feature of that noble and striking countenance was too deeply treasured for forgetfulness. Her father, by continually addressing her, shewed how anxious he was for her to join in the conversation. At last she trusted her voice with a few brief words; the Prince listened to them eagerly, but, it was evident, only with present admiration.
They remained together the rest of the evening, and the Prince von Hermanstadt handed her to the Baron's carriage.
"What do you think of my young favourite?"
