The Professor began to explain matters in the usual official tone, but before long perceived that the attention paid to him was merely formal. The King sat depressed, listless, and cold. This renewal of the official routine found him mentally fagged out; it was evident that his thoughts were elsewhere.
Making the matter as short as he could in decency, the Professor folded his memoranda and returned them to his pocket.
Recalled to himself by the ensuing silence the King spoke—
"I really don't know enough about it to say anything," he murmured. "No doubt you have arranged everything for the best." But still he remained seated as though the interview were not ended, and the minister had perforce to remain seated also.
"I fear that to-day we have wearied your Majesty," he said at last to fill up the pause. "The Council is sometimes very trying."
The King lifted forlorn eyes in a sort of gratitude upon this, the least troublesome of all his ministers. "You, at least," he answered, "have not to reproach yourself, for I noticed that you did not speak."
"I was listening," answered the Professor; "I was much struck by your Majesty's line of argument."
"You agreed?"
"I cannot separate myself from my colleagues," returned the minister cautiously; "but I recognized the strength of your Majesty's case. On its own premises, if well put, it becomes unanswerable."
"I hardly thought that I had put it well." The King's voice showed despondency.