"Not now--not here," exclaimed the Sovereign, beside himself. "In the presence of the Hereditary Prince I will take counsel and come to a decision."
"The presence and signature of your ministers are necessary for the document, not the presence of the Hereditary Prince. But as your Highness prefers signing in the presence of the Prince, I will do my self the honor of following your Highness to Rossau, and beg one of the ministers to accompany me for this object."
The Sovereign looked reflectively down.
"I am still a ruler," he exclaimed, springing up; and seizing the signed resignation of the High Steward, he tore it up. "High Steward von Ottenburg, you will accompany me in my carriage to Rossau."
"Then the minister will follow your Highness in my carriage," said the old lord, calmly. "I hasten to inform him."
CHAPTER XL.
ON THE ROAD TO THE ROCK.
Towards the quiet country town which pious colonists had once built about the monastery walls of praying monks, and towards the rock on which the heathen maiden had once whispered oracles to her race, were now hastening along different roads horses and wheels, together with living men who were seeking the decision of their fate; here joyful, rising hopes--there downward, declining powers; here the pure dream of enthusiastic youth--there the destructive dream of a gloomy spirit. In the valley and over the rock hovered the spirits of the country; they prepared themselves to receive the flying strangers with the hospitality of home.
The early dawn sent its pale glimmer into Laura's study; she stood by her writing-table, and cast a lingering look on the familiar book in which, with rapid hand, she had written the concluding words. She fastened the book and the Doctor's poems together, and concealed them under the cover of her trunk. She cast another look on the sanctuary of her maiden life, and then flew down the stairs into the arms of her anxious mother. It was a wonderful elopement--a quiet Sunday morning, a mysterious light, gloomy rainclouds, contrasting strongly with the deep red glow of morning. Laura lay long in the arms of her weeping mother, till Susan urged her departure; then she passed into the street, where the Doctor awaited her, and hastened with him into the carriage; for the carriage was ordered to wait in a deserted place around the corner, and not before the house; upon this Laura had insisted. It was a wonderful elopement--a modest, sedate traveling-companion, the object of the journey the house of a loved friend, and, lastly, a large leather bag containing cold meat and other victuals, which Mrs. Hahn herself carried to the carriage, in order that she might once more kiss her son and Laura, and bless them amid tears.
Spitehahn had for several days found it difficult to bear his lonely existence; since the departure of the learned lodgers he had been much disturbed, but when the master of the house also disappeared, there was no one to recognize him. This morning he cast cold glances on Laura as she hovered round her sorrowing mother, and looked askance at Susan when she carried the great traveling-trunk to the carriage; then he sneaked out into the street in order to give expression to his hatred of the neighboring house. But when Mrs. Hahn hastened to the carriage with the leather bag, he saw that something was wrong and he crept after his neighbor from across the way; and whilst she mounted on the step of the carriage to warn her Fritz of the sharp morning air, and to kiss Laura once more, he sprang upon the footboard and ensconced himself under the leather apron of the coachbox, determined to abide his time. The coachman seated himself, and supposing the dog belonged to the travelers, cracked his whip and started off. Another look and call to the mother, and the adventurous journey began.