At the Castle the deepest gloom prevailed. It was like a nightmare to the beleaguered household, a dream from which there seemed to be no awakening. Colonel Quinnox's first act after posting his forces in position to repel attacks from the now well-recognised enemy, was to make sure of the safety of his royal master. Inside the walls of the Castle grounds he, as commander of the Royal Guard, ruled supreme. General Braze tore off his own epaulets and presented himself to Quinnox as a soldier of the file; lords and dukes, pages and ministers, followed the example of the head of the War Department. No one stood on the dignity of his position; no one does, as a rule, with the executioner staring him in the face. Every man took up arms for the defence of the Castle, its Prince and its lovely women.
Prince Robin, quite recovered from his fright, donned the uniform of a Colonel of the Royal Dragoons, buckled on his jewelled sword, and, with boyish zeal, demanded Colonel Quinnox's reasons for not going forth to slay the rioters.
"What is the army for, Colonel Quinnox?" he asked with impatient wonder.
It was late in the afternoon and the Prince was seated in the chair of state, presiding over the hurriedly called Council meeting. Notably absent were Baron Dangloss and the Duke of Perse. Chief officers of the Guard and the commissioned men of the army were present--that is, all of them who had not gone down under the treacherous fire.
"Your Highness," said the Colonel bitterly, "the real army is outside the walls, not inside. We are a pitiful handful-less than three hundred men, all told, counting the wounded. Count Marlanx heads an army of several thousand. He--"
"He wants to get in here so's he can kill me? Is that so, Colonel Quinnox?" The Prince was very pale, but quite calm.
"Oh, I wouldn't put it just that way, your--"
"Oh, I know. You can't fool me. I've always known that he wants to kill me. But how can he? That's the question; how can he when I've got the Royal Guard to keep him from doing it? He can't whip the Royal Guard. Nobody can. He ought to know that. He must be awful stupid."
His perfect, unwavering faith in the Guard was the same that had grown up with every prince of Graustark and would not be gainsaid. A score of hearts swelled with righteous pride and as many scabbards rattled as heels clicked and hands went up in salute.
"Your Highness," said Quinnox, with a glance at his fellow-officers, "you may rely upon it, Count Marlanx will never reach you until he has slain every man in the Royal Guard."