"Against the wish or consent of Parliament."
"Ah, yes," said the King, "that is precisely the difference. Abdications have, like ministerial resignations, been forced upon us—I mean on kings in the past—at very unseasonable times and in most inconsiderate ways; and we kings have had to put up with it. Mr. Prime Minister, it is your turn now; and I only hope that you may find as clean a way out of your difficulty as I had to find when four months ago you threatened me with a resignation which you knew I could not accept."
The Prime Minister's face became drawn with passion; but there was no more to be said after that. "Is that your Majesty's final word?" he inquired.
"I hope so," said the King, rising and making a formal offer of his hand.
And so the interview ended.
Left alone the King felt badly in need of comfort, for now in the hour of triumph depression had begun to enter his soul. He did not like hurting people even when he was not fond of them; and on the Prime Minister's face as he went out he had seen something like tragedy. "Is he going to cut his throat?" he wondered; but, no, it was not the look of a beaten man—rather that of a gambler prepared to make his last throw.
The King had already made his own—he had nothing more to do; and now he wanted companionship, some one to humor him with more understanding and sympathy than his own wife could supply. And it so happened that just then his only two possible comforters were away. Max had gone to the Riviera to recruit before the regular sittings of the Commission began, and Charlotte three days ago had taken that leave of absence which had been promised her; for in less than a month's time the Prince of Schnapps-Wasser would be paying his promised visit.
As he could not have the society he craved he chose solitude, and wandered out into the deepening dusk of the November garden; and there, gazing up through its now thinned foliage at the quiet and misty heavens above him, thought of steeplejacks and the death of kings, and how at the root of every great downfall in history there had probably been some poor human heart like his own, conscious of failure, longing for the kindred touch which pride of place makes so impossible. And yet he knew that he had brought himself to a better end than, with all the defects of his qualities, he could ordinarily have hoped to secure; perhaps this dramatic taking of himself off (which he felt in a way to be so out of character) would help Max to make something out of the situation startling and unexpected. But Max would have to give up the idea of marrying the Archbishop's daughter.
The quiet, dusky paths had led him to a point where high walls carefully shrouded in creepers shut off the royal stables from view. Through circular barred grilles he could hear the noise of horses champing in their stalls; and the comfortable sound drew him round to the entrance. Opening a wicket, he stood in a dimly lighted court, but the buildings surrounding it contained plenty of light, and in the harness rooms a brisk sound of furbishing went on.
Turning to the left he passed into the largest stable of all, a spacious and well-aired chamber of corridor-like proportions divided up into stalls. To right and left of him stood the famous piebald ponies, lazily munching fodder and settling down to their last sleep before the unusual exertions which would be required of them on the morrow.