“Why are you not at play with Eigenwillig?” asked the King, so soon as Witikind was ushered into the room.
“The Prince, Sire, prefers playing alone,” replied Witikind.
“But don’t you know that you came here on purpose to be his playfellow?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Why won’t the Prince play with you?”
“I suppose it is, Sire, because he does not like me,” answered the boy.
“Have you quarrelled with him?”
“No, Sire.”
“I am afraid, Witikind, you are not happy here,” said the King kindly. “It is my wish that you should be so. I gave orders that you should be as kindly treated as if you were at home.”
“Your Majesty is very good to me,” replied Witikind, and he meant to have gone on to thank the King for all the favours that had been shown him; but his heart was very full, and that one word “home,” which the King had used, made it overflow. Taubennest and all its dear ones, rose before his eyes, and he began to sob violently. The King saw there was something at which he had not yet arrived; but he thought it more prudent to seek an explanation elsewhere; so, with a few kind words, he dismissed the boy, telling him that he would speak to him again in a day or two.