"Ah, that is sad," exclaimed Ilse, with deep sympathy; "but I entreat of your Highness not to lose courage. It is impossible that the life here, among so many men of the highest capacity and worth, should not be beneficial to you."
The Prince shook his head.
"Think what a future lies before your Highness," continued Ilse. "Ah, you have every reason to be brave and confident. Your office is the highest on earth. We others work, and are happy if we can only preserve one human being from evil; but you will have the welfare and lives of thousands in your power. What you do for schools and learning through the selection of good or bad teachers, and your decisions as to peace or war, may ruin or make the whole country happy. When I think of this exalted vocation, I feel a deep respect for you, and I would implore you on my knees to do your utmost to make yourself a worthy prince. Therefore, the best advice for you is, that you should be willing to learn even what is wearisome to you. For the rest, have confidence in the future: you will yet have pleasure in life, and a feeling of worth and capacity."
The Prince was silent; for every allusion to his future position as Sovereign was forbidden at Court, and even less than others was the heir to the throne allowed to indulge in such a thought or cherish such a hope.
"I hear lectures enough," said the Prince, at last; "but I wish that I might have been brought up by a country gentleman, as you have been."
They returned to the gentlemen, and the Prince paid much attention to their conversation during the rest of the evening. When he went away, Ilse said to her husband: "There is one who has what would make thousands happy, yet he is unhappy, for they have bound up his honest heart in leather like an automaton. Oh, be kind to him, Felix; open your soul to him, that he may gain some of your confidence and power."
Her husband kissed her, and said, "That will be easier for you to do than for me. But he has himself suggested the right thing; three years with your father would be the best training for him and his country."
At breakfast the following morning the Chamberlain took the newspapers from the hand of the lackey; the Prince was sitting silently at table, playing with a tea-spoon, and watching a fly which was disrespectfully trying to make its way from the edge of the cream-jug into the princely cream. As the written instructions imposed upon the Chamberlain the duty of guarding the Prince from all dangerous reading--by that was meant all discontented newspapers and improper novels--he thought it best to give him the inoffensive "Daily Gazette," whilst he himself took up a loyal paper, in order to examine the court news and accounts of promotions and the bestowal of decorations. He had long finished his reading, but the Prince was still engaged with his shellfish and oysters. The Chamberlain observed with regret how little interest his young Highness took in the course of the world. An acquaintance of the Chamberlain had been promoted to be master of the horse, another announced his betrothal, and he did not fail to draw the attention of the Prince to this news; but the latter only smiled in his absent-minded way.
The Chamberlain then entered upon his next duty: he reflected upon the programme of the day. As it was incumbent upon him to make the Prince acquainted with the novelties in art and literature in the city, he waited impatiently till the Prince had done with the "Daily Gazette," in order to obtain information from it on these points. At last the Prince interrupted his cogitations by saying to him, "Mention is made here of a permanent exhibition of agricultural implements; what is there to see in such exhibitions?"
The Chamberlain tried to explain, and was delighted to make a proposal to visit this exhibition. The Prince expressed his assent by a slight nod, looked at his watch, and went up to his room to go through his three hours' morning course: one for the science of politics, one for mythology and æsthetics, and one for tactics and strategy; then he accompanied his attendant to the exhibition.