The black draperies, the dissevered head, the drops of blood which had stained the dais—all had vanished with the phantoms; only upon Charles's slipper was there a bloodstain. This was the sole witness left by which to recall the scene of that night, had it not been sufficiently engraved upon his memory.
When the King returned to his chamber he had an account written of what he had seen, signed it himself, and caused it to be signed by his fellow-witnesses. In spite of the precautions taken to keep the contents of this document secret it was soon known, even during the lifetime of Charles XI. It still exists, and up to the present time no one has thought fit to throw doubts upon its authenticity. In it the King concludes with these remarkable words:—
"And if that which I herein relate is not the simple truth, I renounce all my hope in the life to come, the which I may have merited for some good deeds done, and, above all, for my zeal in working for the welfare of my people, and in preserving the faith of my forefathers."
Now, when the reader recollects the death of Gustavus III., and the doom of Ankarstrœm, his assassin, they will find more than a mere coincidence between that event and the circumstances of this extraordinary prophecy.
The young man beheaded before the States Assembly should be called Ankarstrœm.
The crowned corpse should be Gustavus III.
The child, his son and successor, Gustavus Adolphus IV.
Finally, the old man was the Duke of Sudermania, uncle of Gustavus IV., regent of the Crown, and, in the end, King, after the deposition of his nephew.