“Cousin Johann, I have something very serious to tell you about the King. He is in danger.”
Johann had assumed an air of some severity on the first appearance of his cousin, which he altered into condescension on her coming up, as he thought, to make friends with him. But directly he heard what she had to say, all thoughts of their quarrel were forgotten.
“What is it?” he cried anxiously. “Do you mean the Socialist demonstrations?”
“No. I have not heard anything about Socialists. It is something far worse than that. Johann,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “tell me, have you ever heard it rumoured that the King was going mad?”
He started back in alarm. The very suggestion which had been made to him a short time before by Maximilian’s most intimate friend and favourite! Was it possible that Dorothea, too, had been infected by the base fear?
“Certainly not!” he exclaimed indignantly. “He is as sane as any man in Germany. Do you mean to say that you have dared to suspect such a thing?”
“Oh, no!” protested Dorothea, earnestly. “Never for one instant have I thought of it. But—and that is why I wanted to consult you—I am afraid the King has enemies who think that his mind is giving way, and who reckon on his not being allowed to reign much longer.”
Johann smote his breast
“Infamous, infamous!” was all he could say at first. “But who are these enemies?” he added, turning quickly to his cousin.
“I do not know. I know nothing beyond the fact that some one spoke to me this morning, almost threatening me with what I have said, as if it were certain to come to pass.”