“I would humbly beseech your majesty to give me some position in your land worthy of my station, such as your highness promised me.”
“You remember too many of my promises,” said the king, shrugging his shoulders.
“Your majesty will not grant me the promised position?” said Count Weingarten, tremblingly.
“I remember no such promise,” said Frederick. “Men of your stamp are paid, but not rewarded. I have made use of your treachery; but you are, nevertheless, in my eyes a traitor, and I will have none such in my service.”
“Then I am lost!” said Weingarten. “My honor, my good name, my future are annihilated.”
“Your honor has been weighed with gold,” said the king, sternly, “and I think I have already paid more for it than it was worth. Your good name, it is true, will be from now changed into a bad one; and your mother will have to blush when she uses it. Therefore I advise you to let it go; to take another name; to begin a new existence, and to found a new future.”
“A future without honor, without name, without position!” sighed Weingarten, despairingly.
“So are men!” said the king, softly; “insolent and stubborn when they think themselves secure; cowardly and uncertain when they are in danger. So you were rash enough to think that your treacherous deeds would always remain a secret? You did not think of a possible detection, or prepare yourself for it. In treading the road which you have trodden, every step should be considered. This, it seems to me, you have not done. You wish to enjoy the fruits of your treachery in perfect security; but you have not the courage to stand before the world as a traitor. Do away with this name, which will cause you many dangers and insults. Fly from this place, where you and your deeds are known. Under a different name look for an asylum in another part of my land. Money shall not fail you; and if what you have earned from me is not sufficient, turn to me, and I will lend you still more. I will not forget that to me your treachery has been of great use, and therefore I will not desert you, though I shall despise the traitor. And now, farewell! This is our last meeting. Call this afternoon upon my treasurer; he will pay you two hundred louis d’or. And now go.” And with a scornful look at Weingarten’s pale countenance, he turned to the window.
Weingarten hurried past the halls and chambers, and entered Rosa’s room. She read in his pale, sad face that he had no good news to tell her.
“Has it all been in vain?” said she, breathlessly.