The revolutionist heard this proposal with feelings of almost ludicrous dismay. He realised that the ground was being cut from under him.
“But it would be impossible,” he objected weakly. “Such an arrangement could never be carried out. Your Court, your Ministers, would all refuse to recognise me. I could accomplish nothing.”
“Not by yourself, I admit. But I did not mean that you should take my place quite literally. What I meant was that you should in effect use my authority, such as it is. You have condemned me, no doubt justly, for not making a good use of my power. I want to see what you can do with it, and I also want you to see for yourself the nature of the obstacles that lie in the way of realising your ideals. If you accept my offer I will provide rooms in the Castle for you; you shall stay here in some nominal capacity—as my private secretary, for instance—or, if you prefer it, simply as my guest. You shall then put your ideas into shape; every suggestion which you make I will lay before my Ministers as if it came from myself; and you shall be present at our consultations, and judge for yourself what are the powers of a king, and how far they can be exercised for the good of the people. At the end of that time, as I have said, we shall return exactly to our former positions, and perhaps you will then understand me better than you do now. What do you say? Will you accept my offer?”
Bernal, who had been a silent but deeply interested listener to this debate, hardly knew whether to regard Maximilian’s scheme as a serious outcome of his idealistic nature, or as a bold and skilful manœuvre to outwit the revolutionist. He looked anxiously at Johann to see what impression had been produced on him by the King’s proposal.
But Johann was himself too much of a Quixote to suspect that he stood in the presence of a Machiavelli. Completely vanquished by the King’s magnanimity, he was about to throw down his weapon, when all at once a fresh thought struck him. He had just remembered the forester’s daughter.
“Wait,” he said sternly, bending an angry look upon Maximilian. “I have another account to settle with you. This time it is not a question of neglecting your subjects, but of taking too much interest in them. We have met once to-day already. I saw you leave Franz Gitten’s lodge.”
Maximilian drew back, mortified at his rebuff. At Johann’s last words an exclamation of annoyance burst from him. So his secret had been discovered, and by this violent man.
Misinterpreting the exclamation as a sign of guilt, the other proceeded to a denunciation.
“Yes; not satisfied with all that your boasted art can do for you, you must stoop to prey on the virtue of an innocent young girl, whose only crime is the poverty which leaves her defenceless to your guilty passions.”
He stopped, astonished at the effect produced by his words. Maximilian, his whole face flushed with righteous anger, silenced him with an imperious gesture, and replied warmly—