To offset violence and anarchy itself, only that one small figure on the balcony!
Late in the afternoon the King sent for Prince Ferdinand William Otto. He had not left his bed since the day he had placed the matter of Hedwig’s marriage before the Council, and now he knew he would never leave it. There were times between sleeping and waking when he fancied he had already gone, and that only his weary body on the bed remained. At such times he saw Hubert, only, strangely enough, not as a man grown, but as a small boy again; and his Queen, but as she had looked many years before, when he married her, and when at last, after months of married wooing, she had crept willing into his arms.
So, awakening from a doze, he saw the boy there, and called him Hubert. Prince Ferdinand William Otto, feeling rather worried, did the only thing he could think of. He thrust his warm hand into his grandfather’s groping one, and the touch of his soft flesh roused the King.
The Sister left them together, and in her small room dropped on her knees before the holy image. There, until he left, she prayed for the King’s soul, for the safety and heavenly guidance of the boy. The wind stirred her black habit and touched gently her white coif. She prayed, her pale lips moving silently.
In the King’s bedchamber Prince Ferdinand William Otto sat on a high chair, and talked. He was extremely relieved that his exile was over, but he viewed his grandfather, with alarm. His aunt had certainly intimated that his running away had made the King worse. And he looked very ill.
“I’m awfully sorry, grandfather,” he said.
“For what?”
“That I went away the other day, sir.”
“It was, after all, a natural thing to do.”
The Crown Prince could hardly believe his ears.