“Is that so?” said Helmer, with mild interest. “Yes,” he added rather to himself, “romances come to a climax here with great rapidity.”
At the very door of his hotel, Prince Victor Adolph met General Orell, who came to him in great haste.
“At last, Your Royal Highness,” he exclaimed; and added reproachfully, “You went out without my escort!”
“I don’t want always to trouble you, dear Orell.”
“A telegram has just come for Your Royal Highness.”
Victor Adolph, surprised, took the dispatch and tore open the envelope. He was evidently startled. The dispatch was from his father:—“Your presence here is imperatively needed in a highly important political emergency, affecting you personally. Come by next train.”
“If possible we must leave this very day. Please, General, find what time the trains start and bring me the information to my room. I will precede you.”
As soon as he reached his room, he threw himself down into his easy-chair, and read the dispatch a second time. Evidently it concerned that eventuality of the throne ... then he must obey. Besides, he would necessarily in any case obey such a peremptory command of his father and king. Yet how inconveniently it came.... That other great eventuality—his relations with Franka—was still in the air—he had not as yet received her answer, and she knew nothing of the difficulties that had to be surmounted. To depart now! Truly, too many complications....
General Orell brought the time-table. The next, being also the last train, left at five o’clock in the afternoon. It was now one,—time enough for making preparations and for a farewell call upon Franka. He felt he must speak with her. He took a hasty luncheon with Orell. Then he returned to his study and put his papers in order. He wrote to Toker, explaining his sudden departure and promised to keep his task in mind. He also addressed a few cordial lines to Helmer.
Now the next thing was to go to Franka. What should he say to her? If she accepted his proposal,—and he really had no doubt that she would,—the engagement could not possibly be made public—certainly not at this time, when the question of the accession to the throne was still undecided: it would be the most unsuitable moment to anger his father. His choice would anger not only his father, but the whole clique. He was well aware of that. What a lunatic world! What a compulsion! Under other circumstances, he would have been more than willing to renounce all the prerogatives of his rank, in order, without further dissimulation, to follow the dictates of his heart as a private citizen. But the question for him did not merely concern an empty title and the insignificant gratifications connected with it; it was perhaps a question of an actual position of power in which he could do immeasurable public service. Even if he did not attain the crown, it would nevertheless be necessary to retain his rank and his influence for the furtherance of the mission entrusted to him by Toker. If he now should fall out with his family and the people of his own class, how could he then carry on a propaganda among them for the objects of the conspiracy? It was a complicated situation—no single direct aim for his duties and desires. But supreme in his heart, his fancy, his very blood, was still the image of the lovely Franka, and there was the hot desire to hold her in his arms.