“I would have you know, my Lord,” said Wilhelm, “that I am appointed commander of the imperial forces, and that I obey none but his Majesty the Emperor.”
“I understood that the Emperor depended upon the Heavenly Hosts,” said the Archbishop, with the suspicion of a smile on his grim lips.
“It does not become a prince of the Church to sneer at Heaven or its power,” said the Empress, severely.
“Nothing was further from my intention, madame, but you must excuse me if I did not expect to see the Heavenly Hosts commanded by a young man so palpably German. Still all this is aside from the point. Will you retire, or must I reluctantly use force?”
“I advise your lordship not to appeal to force.”
The old man of Treves rose slowly to his feet, an ominous glitter in his eyes. He stood for some minutes regarding angrily the woman before him, as if to give her time to reconsider her stubborn resolve to hold her ground. Then raising his voice the Elector cried:
“Men of Treves! enter!”
While one might count ten, dense silence followed this outcry, the seated Electors for the first time glancing at their leader with looks of apprehension.
“Treves! Treves! Treves!”
That potent name reverberated from the lips of its master, who had never known its magic to fail in calling round him stout defenders, and who could not yet believe that its power should desert him at this juncture. Again there was no response.