"How do you know that?"
"There was absolute proof,—something which refused to burn,—a box of matches made in Jingalo, or some other fire-resistant of a similar kind. The perpetrator got off. Yes—the House of Ganz-Wurst certainly seems at the present moment particularly to attract the attentions of these obscurantists in politics. Who knows whether the hand which threw the bomb at you had not already been dipped in the petrol which had given so flaming an account of my claims to authorship?"
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Reprint, I suppose, as soon as I can afford it, or do you still wish me not to? You hold almost the only copy that is left."
The King shook his head. "As I told you, Max, I think publication would be very unwise; you would be sure to regret it afterwards. Remember that some day you will come to the throne; and what you think you can do now you can't do then. All at once it becomes impossible."
And then the King gave a queer consternated gasp, for he himself remembered something—something he had conditionally promised, believing that the conditions would never be fulfilled; and now fate had brought them about; and if Max so willed it a thing would presently be taking place much more disturbing to the institution of royalty than the publication of a mere book.
To the King's last remark Max merely replied: "At present, sir, it is you who are upon the throne and not I—a circumstance over which I have very particular reasons for being glad. And now, sir, something has just occurred to me: do not think that I am going to anticipate the date you fixed, that is not till next week, but when all is settled, as it so soon will be if I remain of sane mind, then I will present all the preserved copies of my book to the lady whom you so disapprove of, and she shall do with them exactly as she wishes—order a new edition, or put them on the fire to help her make soup for the poor. That is a little device of mine, sir, for bringing her into your good graces; for if I know anything of her mind she will maintain that to publish such a book without a full intention of putting its principles into practice is a mere parade of insincerity and foolishness. And so—from your point of view—she will be saving the monarchy from a danger which no one else can avert; for I am not prepared to surrender my power to do mischief into any hands but hers. A copy of the book, you may be interested to hear, has already gone to her; and her silence about it warns me that the epoch it so strenuously makes for is not the one that she desires."
"You are still talking like a book, Max," said the King sarcastically, wishing to divert discussion for the time being from that which he was referring to.
"Ah, yes," said Max; "as a bird who mourns his mate. Why, for a while, should I not indulge my grief? I shall never write another; all I had it in me to say was said there. In future—though you may hear in my voice an echo of that lost romance—I am going to be a man not of words but of deeds."
The King smiled.