"You wanted him to be King?" she whispered.
"With all my heart, madame," said I.
"He wouldn't, Fritz. No, and I shouldn't dare to do that either."
I fell back on the practical difficulties.
"But how can he go?" I asked.
"I don't know. But he knows: he has a plan."
We fell again into silence; her eyes grew more calm and seemed to look forward in patient hope to the time when her happiness should come to her. I felt like a man suddenly robbed of the exaltation of wine and sunk to dull apathy.
"I don't see how he can go," I said sullenly.
She did not answer me. A moment later the door again opened. Rudolf came in, followed by Bernenstein. Both wore riding boots and cloaks. I saw on Bernenstein's face just such a look of disappointment as I knew must be on mine. Rudolf seemed calm and even happy. He walked straight up to the Queen.
"The horses will be ready in a few minutes," he said gently. Then, turning to me, he asked, "You know what we are going to do, Fritz?"
"Not I, sire," I answered sulkily.
"Not I, sire!" he repeated, in half-merry half-sad mockery. Then he came between
