"I am king!" said Rodolph, in a whisper, still scanning the priest, as though he would read his soul.
"Not yet!" was the reply.
"Who can prevent it?"
"God!"
"Most humbly would I submit to His gracious interposition," said the duke, bending his head devoutly; "but can any human power prevent it?"
"Yourself!"
Rodolph buried his face in his hands and with rapid, nervous gestures paced up and down the small apartment.
"Hear me!" he exclaimed, suddenly leading Father Omehr to a chair, and taking a seat beside him. "Hear me!" he repeated, bending forward until his lips almost touched his companion's ear, and the veins swelled in his throat and temples:
"I have toiled and sighed and prayed for this! Day after day, night after night, for years, this has been the aim of all my actions, ay, even the limit of my aspirations. Once to be king—oh! ever since I first clutched a lance I panted for it! In love, in sickness, in peace, in war, I never forgot that one surpassing object—the crown! Hear me on! It is now within my reach—I can touch it—and you ask me to resign it?—"
The duke paused a minute, his eagle eye flashing fire; then, with a vehemence almost appalling, he resumed: "You ask me to resign it—and I would, without a pang—gladly, cheerfully—this very instant! Yes—I swear to you—here in presence of my Creator, that I no longer covet the crown I have well-nigh worshipped; that, but for Germany and the Church, I would rather place it on Henry's perjured head than wear it on my own!"