“You really gather that?”
“I do indeed. Things were in a commotion when Ursleur left, and decidedly shaping that way. I do beseech your Highness to hurry back as fast as horses can take you. It is madness to linger here.”
“Yes, it is madness,” the new King replied, taking a few agitated steps to and fro. “Madness! and yet——” He paused in perplexity.
“Once proclaimed, Ferdinand will be difficult to dislodge,” Anton pursued. “You know what the mob is, and he has taken care to keep himself popular.”
“How my dear cousin will thank me for having played into his hands,” the King exclaimed with a short laugh of mortification. “Still, I have not been quite the mad fool he must think me; and how could I foresee my uncle’s accident?”
“At least your Highness will not delay your return An hour now may make the difference of a kingdom.”
The King was silent for a moment. “I start to-night.”
“To-night?” Anton de Gayl exclaimed in a tone of remonstrance. “And it is yet hardly noon!”
“Nevertheless, I cannot start earlier.”
“Under pardon, your Highness, it is madness.”