“If it could only be arranged safely—a little freedom—” The King lay still with closed eyes.
Prince Ferdinand William Otto felt uneasy. “But I am very comfortable, and—and happy,” he hastened to say. “You are, please, not to worry about me, sir. And about the paper I threw at Monsieur Puaux the other day, I am sorry about that too. I don’t know exactly why I did it.”
The King still held his hand, but he said nothing. There were many things he wanted to say. He had gone crooked where this boy must go straight. He had erred, and the boy must avoid his errors. He had cherished enmities, and in his age they cherished him. And now— “May I ask you a question, sir?”
“What is it?”
“Will you tell me about Abraham Lincoln?”
“Why?” The King was awake enough now. He fixed the Crown Prince with keen eyes.
“Well, Miss Braithwaite does not care for him. She says he was not a great man, not as great as Mr. Gladstone, anyhow. But Bobby—that’s the boy I met; I told you about him—he says he was the greatest man who ever lived.”
“And who,” asked the King, “do you regard as the greatest man?”
Prince Ferdinand William Otto fidgeted, but he answered bravely, “You, sir.”
“Humph!” The King lay still, smiling slightly. “Well,” he observed, “there are, of course, other opinions as to that. However—Abraham Lincoln was a very great man. A dreamer, a visionary, but a great man. You might ask Miss Braithwaite to teach you his ‘Gettysburg Address.’ It is rather a model as to speech-making, although it contains doctrines that—well, you’d better learn it.”