"How are we ever going to manage after you have gone?" said Costantino thoughtfully.
"You would like to keep me here forever, you rascal?" demanded the other in a rallying tone.
"Heaven forbid! No, indeed; I only wish you might get out to-morrow!"
The King of Spades sighed. His enemies, he declared, were forever devising new and diabolical schemes for keeping him out of the way; he had abandoned all hope now of a pardon. In any case, however, his term would expire before long; then he would go at once to the King, and lay a plain statement of the facts before him. The King would order an instant reversal of the verdict, and he himself, his innocence finally established, would be restored to his post. Who could tell, there might even be another medal conferred, to keep the rest company! But his first care would be to obtain pardons for all his friends, especially for Costantino. "That would be a noble work," he observed, self-approvingly. Indeed, by virtue of making such assurances frequently, he had come actually to believe in them himself.
"To-morrow? Yes, indeed; a pardon might very possibly come to-morrow, and a good thing that would be for every one."
"Good, or bad," said Costantino despondently.
"After all," continued the other, "when I am gone it may be that you will no longer have any use for my services."
The moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted having spoken, but seeing that Costantino merely shook his head, evidently supposing that he alluded to a possible pardon, he regarded him compassionately.
"Are you really and truly innocent?" he asked. "By this time I should think you would be willing to talk to me quite openly. Do you remember that first time when I asked you? You said: 'May I never see my child again, if I am guilty.'"
"Yes, so I did; and now, you mean to say, I am perhaps not going to see him again? Well, God's will be done; but I am innocent, all the same."