"Aye, they love one another as men do who want the same place and the same wife!"
The old woman glowered; but the last words pricked my curiosity, and I interposed before she could begin scolding:
"What, the same wife, too! How's that, young lady?"
"All the world knows that Black Michael—well, then, mother, the duke—would give his soul to marry his cousin, the Princess Flavia, and that she is to be the queen."
"Upon my word," said I, "I begin to be sorry for your duke. But if a man will be a younger son, why, he must take what the elder leaves, and be as thankful to God as he can;" and, thinking of myself, I shrugged my shoulders and laughed. And then I thought also of Antoinette de Mauban and her journey to Strelsau.
"It's little dealing Black Michael has with——" began the girl, braving her mother's anger; but as she spoke a heavy step sounded on the floor, and a gruff voice asked in a threatening tone:
