"Nay, Tuko," replied the duke; "but watchful spirits are near us. It is not the dead bishop alone who speaks to me from these walls: living beings also take an interest in my fate, and would control my will ere I know it myself. See what I found in this flower." He handed him the flower and the scrap of parchment.
"A summer-fool! That you must beware of, noble sir, if it comes not from a pretty little hand, who will only joke in disguise, to make its winter-fool happy in earnest. Subscribe! Short and good advice, i'faith, in the tone of a dominant mistress. Had it been in German, I know whom I should have guessed."
"So, so! think you my unseen protecting spirit is German? Say, whom mean you?"
"Eh! whom other should I mean than the Duke of Saxony's little saintly daughter, who was more concerned about your faith and salvation than your ducal crown and all your proud expectations. You still wear, in secret, her invisible chains."
"Sophia--the good, pious child?" exclaimed the duke, raising his hands to his brow. "Do you believe she still thinks of me and my fate? Nay, Tuko; that I cannot desire: it would unpleasantly vex me. The last half year has erased that wonderful image from my heart: I have had more important matter to think of than the little daughter of a duke, and her pious, circumscribed religion. I have, happily, torn myself from that foolishness. I cannot now suffer myself to be dazzled or impeded by a pair of loving saintly eyes, that have their home in a convent or on an altar-table. Speak no more of her, Tuko. You know it only serves to grieve me; and, truth to say, since our plans drew us to the high Dane-court, I have blushed for myself when I thought of her. But you are right," he continued, with emotion: "these chaste and lovely flowers, that for almost an entire year have so kindly and gently reminded us of spring and summer, and of life's calm joys, in our prison--they might well have reminded me of her; and this white and innocent spring-flower, that has now found a voice, and begs of me to accede and subscribe----Ha! subscribe an agreement that may perhaps render me a pious slave to my own conscience, to the day of my death--and then----There was a time when such thraldom appeared to me real liberty." He was silent, and again relapsed into deep thought.
"That was a sad time, sir," resumed Tuko, hastily: "they had nearly converted you into a hang-the-head. I also say, subscribe, whatever the deuce it may be. Freedom cannot be purchased too dearly. But be not therefore the slave of a pen's stroke. The pretty little enthusiast will, at last, transform you into a quiet complaisant duke of South Jutland, who, in this life, will never think of being anything more, but, renouncing all his daring schemes, take to himself a quiet and pious wife, say good-night to this world's fleeting dreams of sovereignty, and sleep soundly in a Sleswick castle, like a true and loyal Danish vassal. That must be a charming life, sir! What we have here suffered, we shall not think of taking revenge for. Fie! that were ignoble and unchristian: we must kiss the rod like good children, and be gentle and amiable. And what a beautifully peaceful life! Your highest office will be to protect the goslings from the fox, or to strike down, with your own illustrious hand, a savoury roe for the frugal ducal table, where the pious house-mother sits, with folded hands, while the well-behaved amiable children say grace."
"Ha, nay, Tuko!" exclaimed the duke, vehemently, waking up as from a dream: "I shall show thee that Waldemar Seier was mine ancestor. He, too, sat once in prison; but he forgot not vengeance until he was old and gray; and, in misfortune, he forgot not his crown and his royal dignity!"
At that instant, a knocking was heard at the prison-door, and the conversation was broken off. In obedience to their request, the polite castellan now entered, and inquired whether it was convenient for the illustrious duke to receive Drost Hessel?
"Drost Hessel?" repeated the duke, with bitter indignation--"well, let him enter;" and he seated himself, proudly and calmly, by the table, whilst Sir Abildgaard took upon himself the office of a respectful servant, and stationed himself, with a cunning smile, behind the chair of his princely master.
The castellan bowed respectfully, and retired; and immediately after, Drost Peter entered. He made his salutation courteously and gravely.