Not so Gavin and St. Arnaud, both of whom sat up, wide-awake. There was so little chance of awaking the King that they conversed together in whispers.
“What did you see through the telescope?” asked Gavin.
“That the King has no mind to help the Prince of Bevern. I saw it as plainly as I saw the moon.”
“It is strange he did not recognize us.”
At which St. Arnaud made a gesture which indicated that Frederick knew them quite as well as they knew him, but for reasons known only to himself did not choose to admit it.
About two o’clock the storm increased in severity. The sound of the rushing river was distinctly heard over the wild swirl of wind and rain. Presently there was a roar of waters, and looking out of the window into the garden, forty feet below, they saw it was flooded several feet. A culvert had given way, and the swollen river poured itself into the garden.
In the house lights were moving about. The King’s household had determined, in spite of his rigid prohibition, to come to the observatory after him. But it was a question how they could get there, as the water was already four feet deep and rising rapidly.
Just at this moment Frederick stirred in his sleep and waked. Like a true soldier, he had his memory and all his wits about him the instant he opened his eyes. He rose at once, and hearing the noise of the storm, said:
“I must have slept many hours—more than I have slept in a week. I feel much better for it.”
“Look, your Majesty,” said St. Arnaud, opening the window.