“Anywhere. Out of the ranks of your own colleagues, who are all ready to step into your shoes. Perhaps Herr Moritz is at this moment meditating a scheme for persuading the King that he will make a more pliable instrument than you.”
The Chancellor frowned, but attempted no reply.
“On the other hand, supposing the King to lose his power, who would replace him as Regent? My son would naturally take the office when he came of age, but until then, on whom would it devolve?”
“On one of two persons,” said Von Sigismark, seeing that she desired him to answer. “On yourself or on the Count von Eisenheim.”
“Von Eisenheim!” exclaimed the Princess in some surprise. “But he is too remote. Surely the Council would not pass over the mother of the King?—I mean of the King-expectant.”
There is an old saying, once familiar in the mouths of statesmen, that deposed monarchs seldom live long. Was it the recollection of this proverb that made the subtle courtier stare so strangely at the Princess when she made her unfortunate slip?
“No doubt you are right,” was all he remarked.
“At all events,” pursued the Princess, “that is a matter in which I shall count on your good offices, if I may.”
The Chancellor bowed low.
“In that case,” she went on, “I need not say that there would be no change in your position. Politics have always been distasteful to me, and I do not think Ernest is likely to take much interest in them for many years to come. You would remain as you were till the other day, the virtual ruler of Franconia, instead of holding office at the caprice of one whose state of mind is becoming only too apparent, and subject to the interference and dictation of an upstart who aims at nothing short of wholesale robbery and murder.”