n trust, to be paid to one
Gretchen Schwarz, who lives in the Krumerweg. She is ambitious to become
a singer. Let nothing stand between her and her desires."

"Granted."

The heart of the king, at the sound of that dear name, suddenly
expanded and stifled him. The stiffness went out of his shoulders.

"Ah, this little world of ours, the mistakes and futile schemes we make
upon it!" The chancellor dallied with his quill pen. "It was a cynical
move of fate that your majesty should see the goose-girl first."

"Enough!" cried the king vehemently. "Let us have no more retrospection,
if you please. Moreover, I shall be obliged to you if you will summon at
once the carriage which is to take us to the frontier. The situation has
been amicably and satisfactorily explained. I see no reason why we
should be detained any longer."

"Nor I," added Prince Ludwig. "I am rather weary of these tatters. I
should even like a bath."

The three of them were immediately attracted by a singular noise outside
in the corridor. The door swung in violently, crashing against the wall
and shivering into atoms the Venetian mirror. The king, the prince, and
the chancellor were instantly upon their feet. The king clutched the
back of his chair with a grip of iron: Gretchen? Her highness? What was
Gretchen doing here? Ah, could he have flown! He muttered a curse at the
chancellor for the delay. But happily Gretchen did not see him.

The duke came in first, and he waited till the others were inside; then
he shut the door with lesser violence and rushed over to the chancellor.

"Herbeck, you villain!"

The chancellor stared at the Gipsy, at Von Arnsberg, at Grumbach.

"Herbeck, you black scoundrel!" cried the duke. "Can you realize how
difficult it is not to take you by the throat and strangle you here and
now?"

"He is mad!" said Herbeck, bracing himself against the desk.

"Yes. I _am_ mad, but it is the sane madness of a terribly wronged man.
Come here, you Gipsy!" The duke seized Herbeck's hand and pressed it
down fiercely on the desk. "Look at that and tell me if it is not the
hand of a Judas!"

"That is the hand, Highness," said the Gipsy, without hesitation.

The duke flung the hand aside. As he did so something snapped in
Herbeck's brain, though at that instant he was not conscious of it.

"It was you, you! It was your hand that wrecked my life, yours! Ah, is
there such villainy? Are such men born and do they live? My wife dead,
m