"And what do you see?"
"I see that the duke knows who we are, even if his police do not. He will keep us here a day or two, and then magnanimously liberate us with profuse apologies. We shall be escorted to the frontier with honors. His highness loves a jest too well to let this chance escape. Besides, I see in the glass the fine Italian hand of Herbeck. I have always heard that he was a great statesman. Swallow your wrath, even if your tongue goes down with it."
"Gretchen, Gretchen!" said the king.
Gretchen could stand it no longer. She wrenched herself free from the grasp of the princess, who, with pitying heart, understood all now. Poor unhappy Gretchen!
"Here I am, Leopold!" the goose-girl cried, pressing her body against the bars and thrusting her hands through them.
"The devil!" murmured the man in the other cell.
"You here, Gretchen?" The king covered her hands with passionate kisses.
"Yes, yes! They have made a dreadful mistake. You are no spy from Jugendheit."
"No, Gretchen," said the voice from the next cell. "He is far worse than that. He is the king, Gretchen, the king."
"Uncle!" in anguish.