“I will,” she earnestly promised, “and I swear to you never to torment and torture you again with my jealousy. I shall always know, and shall hold fast to it, that you will return to me.”
A violent knocking on the house door interrupted the stillness of the night. A voice in loud, commanding tones called to the night-watch.
“Here I am!” answered the porter. “Who calls me? And what is the matter?”
“Open the door,” commanded the voice again.
“It is our house,” whispered Wilhelmine, who had softly opened the window. “It is so dark, I can only see a black shadow before the door.”
“Do you belong to the house?” asked the night-watch. “I dare let no one in who does not belong there.”
“Lift up your lantern, and look at my livery. It is at the king’s order!”
Wilhelmine withdrew from the window, and hastened to the prince, who had retired to the back part of the room.
“It is Kretzschmar, the king’s footman and spy,” she whispered. “Hide yourself, that he does not discover you. Go there to the children.”
“No, Wilhelmine, I will remain here. I—”