“Not another word! You insult that noble young girl as much as me by your suspicions. I swear to you that I have never said one evil word, nor harboured one impure thought towards her. I love her as sincerely as you have ever loved—if you ever did love any one. Ask the Herr Bernal there, and he will tell you that this very evening on our way home, I informed him that I contemplated making Dorothea my wife.”
Johann stared at him like one transfixed.
“Dorothea! My cousin!” was all he could utter.
“Your cousin!” came as a simultaneous exclamation from the lips of both the others.
A profound silence succeeded. Maximilian was the first to speak. Turning to his friend, he said mournfully—
“You see, Auguste, my foreboding was true. Now she will know I am the King, and perhaps she will never learn to love me after all.”
Johann hung his head, and let the pistol drop from his passive fingers on to the floor.
Then all at once there was a loud noise, the door of the gallery was thrown open, and a great throng of guards and attendants and members of the Court flocked in, with the Chancellor and Princess Hermengarde among them, and rushed towards the group.
“That must be the man! Seize him!” cried the Chancellor, pointing to Johann.
Johann made a quick movement as if to pick up his fallen weapon, when Maximilian bent forward and whispered to him—