Johann rose to his feet, his eyes flashing indignantly.
“I do not believe it, Sire! You are not mad, or if you are, then so am I too, and I will share your fate.”
Maximilian also rose, and touched Johann with his finger, as if to assure himself that he was there in flesh and blood. Then he smiled mirthlessly.
“Why, no, my friend, you are right, I am not really mad. But you see that they all think so. The Chancellor thinks so, and so does Auguste—he was my greatest friend, you know, and I could not expect strangers to think better of me than he does. He was a great musician. Did you ever hear his opera, The Vikings?”
Johann did not know how to answer. His breast heaved with painful emotion. Maximilian thrust an arm through his, in the old familiar way, and led him to the window. The chamber was situated on the side of the Castle which overlooked the lake, and the dark waters, glittering with reflected stars, rolled up to the very foot of the wall.
“Look,” said the King, in a tone of restrained exultation. “There is my refuge. I can escape when I like, you see.”
“But there is no boat there,” said Johann, trying to give the best meaning to his master’s words.
“I do not want a boat, Johann,” was the reply. “They would see me if I escaped from them in a boat, and follow after and bring me back again. When I escape it will be by a way so secret that all their spies will not be able to track me, and all their guards will not be able to bring me back.”
A long silence followed. Johann began to try and form some fresh plan by which to aid his unhappy master. Presently the King’s manner changed, his form seemed to collapse, he withdrew his arm and crept back to the chair on which he had been sitting before.
Johann followed him respectfully.