The old King’s voice was stern. “Some day you will be the King. You are being trained for that high office now. And yet you would set the example of insubordination, disobedience, and reckless disregard of the feelings of others.”
“Yes, sir,” said prince Ferdinand William Otto, feeling very small and ashamed.
“Not only that. You slipped away. You did not go openly. You sneaked off, like a thief. Are you proud of it?”
“No, sir.”
“I shall,” said the King, “require no promise from you. Promises are poor things to hold to. I leave this matter in your own hands, Otto. You will be punished by Miss Braithwaite, and for the next ten days you will not visit me. You may go now.”
Otto got off his chair. He was feeling exceedingly crushed. “Good-night, sir,” he said. And waited for his grandfather to extend his hand. But the old King lay looking straight ahead, with his mouth set in grim lines, and his hands folded over his breast.
At the door the Crown Prince turned and bowed. His grandfather’s eyes were fixed on the two gold eagles over the door, but the photograph on the table appeared to be smiling at him.
CHAPTER IV. THE TERROR
Until late that night General Mettlich and the King talked together. The King had been lifted from his bed and sat propped in a great chair. Above his shabby dressing-gown his face showed gaunt and old. In a straight chair facing him sat his old friend and Chancellor.