"Seek, for your tale, the ear of some knight-errant who eagerly drinks the water into which a tear of his lady-love has dropped."
"Yes, I seek your knightly help, my liege and Sovereign," cried the Hereditary Prince, beside himself. "I conjure you, do not let me implore you in vain. I call upon you, as the head of our illustrious house, and as a member of the order whose device we both wear, to do a service to me and for her. Do not refuse her your support in her danger."
"We are not attending a mediæval ceremony," replied the Sovereign, coldly, "and your speech does not accord with the tone of practical life. I have not desired your confidence--you have thrust it upon me in too bold a manner. Do not wonder that your father is angry with your presumptuous speech, and that your Sovereign dismisses you with displeasure."
The Hereditary Prince turned pale and stepped back.
"The anger of my father and the displeasure of my Sovereign are misfortunes which I feel deeply; but still more fearful to me is the thought, that here at Court an injury is done to an innocent person--an injury in which I must have a share. However heavily your anger may fall upon me, yet I must tell you that you have exposed the lady to misrepresentation, and as long as I stand before you I will repeat it, and not desist from my request to remove her from here, for the sake of her honor and ours."
"As your words flutter ceaselessly about the same empty phantom," replied the Sovereign, "it is time to put an end to this conversation. You will depart at once, and leave it to time to enable me to forget, if I ever can do so, what I have heard from you to-day. Till then you may reflect in solitude on your folly, in wishing to play the part of guardian to strangers who are quite in a position to take care of themselves."
The Hereditary Prince bowed.
"Has my most Sovereign liege any commands for me?" he asked, with trembling lips.
The Sovereign replied sullenly:
"It only remains to you how to excite the ill-will of the strangers against your father."