"Monseigneur," said the count, as he glanced through the
contents of the document, "has forestalled me. Well, well; I do
not begrudge him his last card. He has played it; let us go."
"Perhaps," faltered Mollendorf, "he has played his first card.
What are you going to do?"
"Remain at home and wait. And I shall not have long to wait. The
end is near."
"Count, I tell you that the archbishop is not a man to play thus
unless something strong were behind him. You do wrong not to
fear him."
Von Wallenstein recalled the warning of the Colonel of the
cuirassiers. "Nevertheless, we are too strong to fear him."
"Monseigneur is in correspondence with Austria," said the
minister of police, quietly.
"You said nothing of this before," was the surprised reply.
"It was only this morning that I learned it."
The count's gaze roamed about the room, and finally rested on
the charred slips of paper in the grate. He shrugged.
"If he corresponds with Austria it is too late," he said. "Come,
let us go." He snapped his fingers in the air, and Mollendorf
followed him from the room.
* * * * * *
The princess still remained on the rustic bench; her head was
bowed, but her tears were dried.
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