“There!  Will you be patient for a moment?”

“You shall die for this insult!” said the king, as quietly as his hard breathing would allow.  He saw flashes of red between his face and the other’s.

“I have heard that before.  But how?” banteringly.

“I will waive my crown; man to man!”

“Sword-sticks, sabers or hop-poles?  Come,” savagely, “what do you mean by the goose-girl?”

So intent on the struggle were they that neither heard the door open and close.

“Yes, my dear nephew; what do you mean by Gretchen?”

Carmichael released the king, and with feline quickness stooped and secured the pistol which had fallen to the floor.  Not sure of the new arrival’s purpose, he backed to the wall.  He knew the voice and he recognized its owner.

“Put it in your pocket, Mr. Carmichael.  And let us finish this discussion in English, since there are many ears about the place.”

“His royal highness?” murmured the king.

“Yes, sire!  True to life!”

Carmichael dropped the pistol into a pocket, and the king smoothed down his crumpled sleeves.

“A fine comedy!” cried Herr Ludwig jovially, folding his arms over his deep chest.  “A rollicking adventure!  Where’s the story-book to match it?  A kingdom, working in the dark, headless; fine reading for these sneaking journalists!  Thunder and blazes!” with an amiability which had behind it a good leaven of despair.  “Well, nephew, you have not as yet answered either Mr. Carmichael’s question or my own.  What do you mean by Gretchen?”

“I love her,” nobly.  “And well for you, my uncle, that you come as you do.  I would have married her!  Wrong her?  What was a crown to me who, till now, have never worn one save in speech? You have been the king.”

“Bodies must have heads, kingdoms must have kings.  I have tried an experiment, and this is the result.  I wanted you to be a man, a human man; I wanted you to grow up unfettered by power; I wanted you to mingle with peoples, here and there, so, when you became their head physician, you could ably minister to their political diseases.  And all this fine ambition tumbles down before the wooden shoes of a pretty goose-girl.  Nothing makes so good a philosopher as a series of blunders and mistakes.  I am beaten; I admit it.  I did my best to save you from this tangle; but it was written that you should put your foot in it.  But on top of this you have made a greater mistake than you dream of, nephew.  The Princess Hildegarde is as fine a woman as ever your Gretchen.  Mr. Carmichael will agree to that,” maliciously.

Carmichael gave no sign that he understood; but there was no mistaking the prince regent’s inference, however.  The recipient of this compliment stubbornly refused to give the prince the satisfaction of seeing how neatly the barb had gone home.

“But, Mr. Carmichael, what is your interest in Gretchen?”