“I have no brothers and sisters,” I replied, my courage coming back again by degrees. “I have no one but Papa, and Monsieur Maurice, and Aunt Martha Baur—and I love Monsieur Maurice a thousand, thousand times more than Aunt Martha Baur!”
There came a merry sparkle into the King's eyes, and my father turned his face away to conceal a smile.
“But if Monsieur Maurice was free, he would go away and you would never see him again. What would you do then?”
“I—should be very sorry,” I faltered; “but”....
“But what?”
“I would rather he went away, and was happy.”
The King stooped down and kissed me on the brow.
“That, my little Mädchen, is the answer of a true friend,” he said, gravely and kindly. “If your Monsieur Maurice deserves to go free, he shall have his liberty. You have our royal word for it. Colonel Bernhard, we will investigate this matter without the delay of an hour.”
Saying thus, he turned from me to my father, and, followed by his officers, passed on in the direction of the Château.
I stood there speechless, his gracious words yet ringing in my ears. He had left me no time for thanks, if even I could have framed any. But he had kissed me—he had promised me that Monsieur Maurice should go free, “if he deserved it!” and who better than I knew how impossible it was that he should not deserve it? It was all true. It was not a dream. I had the King's royal word for it.