Von Sigismark sent in the name of his colleague, and the two were at once admitted to the King’s presence.
After leaving Dorothea on the day before, Maximilian had returned to the palace in a more cheerful frame of mind.
Meeting his young cousin in the grounds of the Castle, he had stopped to have a chat with him. Ernest was engaged in teaching one of his dogs the not very difficult trick of standing on its hind legs and answering a species of catechism. As soon as he saw Maximilian, however, he forgot the dog and ran forward to welcome him.
“Cousin Max! Where have you been? I have not seen you all day.”
“Where have you been?” retorted Maximilian, taking the boy’s head in his hands, and playfully wrestling with him.
Ernest pretended to be angry.
“Leave me alone, will you? I wouldn’t go out riding to-day, for fear my mother would make me take Gertrude von Sigismark with me again. I hate women, don’t you?”
“Certainly. Every well-regulated mind hates women,” responded Maximilian, gravely. “But why should your mother want you to take the Lady Gertrude with you?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I was going to ask you. It isn’t as if she were a clever woman or knew anything. Fancy, she asked me if Wolf had ever caught a fox?”
And he pointed to the dog he had been playing with—a handsome Pomeranian.