“You wretched, shameless—bah! I am ashamed to bandy words with you. You may thank your stars that Dorothea’s simple innocence has done more for her than all your hateful scheming. If you will only leave well alone, if you would only go and bury yourself for the next six months, there would be a chance of her becoming something higher than a countess.”
The old forester drew back astonished. He hardly grasped the full import of his nephew’s words, but he gathered enough to feel his hopes rapidly reviving within him.
“How? What do you mean? Why do you say that?” he asked eagerly.
“I say it because I have had the honour of talking on the subject with King Maximilian himself.”
“You! With King Maximilian!” The forester’s manner suddenly became deferential.
“Yes. Since yesterday I have been staying in the Castle as the King’s guest. He has taken me into his confidence, and as it will be impossible to keep you in ignorance, I may as well tell you—but beware how you repeat it—that it is possible that he may make Dorothea his Queen.”
Franz lifted his hands in utter bewilderment.
“God in heaven! I always thought he was queer in the head; but I never thought he was so mad as that!”
Johann started. He heard the voice of public opinion, coming from the mouth of a knave.
“Remember,” he said sternly, “on your life you are not to say a word about this.”