The prince related his interviews with the master of the house, the news which he had got from the letters and papers and the plans that Toker had developed. Helmer manifested the liveliest interest. The observations that he interpolated, the opinions that he expressed, the warmth and readiness of enthusiasm which accompanied all his words and gestures, were so sympathetic to the prince that he felt mightily drawn to the poet. It did him good to be free to talk with an intelligent mind about the mission with which Toker had entrusted him. His burden of care already began to seem lighter. Here he could find counsel and stimulus and support. His heart began to glow.
“It is a perfect delight, Helmer,” said he, bending over the table and laying his hand on the other’s arm, “to speak about these things with you. You have experience and a keen insight, and you have—what shall I call it?—Schwingen—pinions—the upsoaring spirit.... I wish you were my friend.... Be my friend!”
“I am, as far as I may, my prince.”
The two men shook hands.
“Truly, I have never had a friend; always nothing but flatterers, time-servers, or else highly respectable jailors, eager maîtres de plaisir; here and there, among those of my own rank and relationship, a good fellow all too ready for sport and the like—but a friend? Not one! Not one whom one may trust if one is in trouble or is experiencing a great happiness—not one to ask advice of in a difficulty.”
“Is that your case, Your Highness?” asked Helmer sympathetically.
“That is my case.”
“Will you honor me with your confidence?”
The prince stood up and walked in some agitation back and forth a few times; then he went to the window and gazed out for a while. He was evidently having a struggle with himself. Then he suddenly turned round:—“Well, then, listen!”
Helmer had also risen and was leaning on his writing-table which stood near the window. He bent his head. “I am listening.” And at the same time a suspicion flashed through his mind that he was about to hear something unpleasant.