"Go!" continued Bernhardt, pointing to the door. "Go, and hold your peace! Tell nobody this tale of Karl's escape and who contrived it. Tell no one this tale of the secret marriage in the Chapel Royal. I forbid you to speak. The nation's destinies are in my keeping, not yours."
Von Hügelweiler went to the door, smarting under the lash of the tongue.
"Has the American bewitched you, as he has bewitched Gloria von Schattenberg?" he asked, summoning up a spark of courage before quitting the room.
"Aye," retorted Bernhardt, "he has certain very fascinating qualities. He is a man, Von Hügelweiler. Pray to your God, if you believe in Him, to make you one."
And with an oath on his lips, and wrath and rebellion in his heart, Von Hügelweiler flung himself from the ex-priest's chamber.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DREAMS
The following morning George Trafford awoke from sweet dreams to the pleasant consciousness of hot coffee and crisp rolls. He was still occupying apartments in the Hôtel Concordia, and it was a waiter in that excellent establishment who roused him from the glories of slumberland at the hour of 8.30.
"Good-morning, Rudolf," said Trafford, opening a reluctant eye. "I trust you have not forgotten my honey this morning."
"I have brought the honey, your Excellency; also a letter." Trafford glanced at the handwriting on the envelope.