"I solemnly swear it, Highness. Look into her face again carefully."
The duke did so, a hand on either cheek. He scrutinized every contour, the color of the eyes, the low, broad brow, the curve of the chin. Out of the past he conjured up the mother's face. Yes, beyond any doubt, there was a haunting likeness, and he had never noted it before.
"But who will prove it to the world?" he cried hopelessly, still holding Gretchen's wondering face between his hands.
"I shall prove it," said the king.
"You? And how?"
"I shall marry Gretchen; I shall make her a queen. That will be proof enough."
"A fine stroke, nephew; a bold stroke!" Prince Ludwig laid his hand upon the king's shoulder with rare affection.
"If you accept her without further proof, I, her father, can do no less." And the duke kissed Gretchen on the forehead and led her over to the king, gravely joining their hands.
"Gretchen!" murmured the king.
"I do not know how to act like a princess."
"I shall teach you."
Gretchen laid her head on his breast. She was very tired and much bewildered.
The duke paced the length of the cabinet several times. No one interrupted his meditation.
Back and forth, one hand hanging to the opposite shoulder, the other folding over his chin. Then he paused with abruptness.
"Your Majesty, I regret that your father is not alive to accept my apologies for so baselessly misjudging him. Arnsberg, nothing that I can do will restore these wasted years. But I offer you the portfolio."
"I am only a broken man, your Highness; too old."
"It is my will."
Arnsberg bent his head in submission.
"As for you," said the duke to the Gipsy, "go, and if you ever step this side the frontier again you will be shot out of hand." He stopped again in front of Grumbach. "I promised to have you shot in the morning. That promise holds. But a train leaves for Paris a little after midnight. My advice is for you not to miss it."
"And my father, your Highness?" said Hildegarde bravely.
"Herbeck, your estates are confiscated, your name is struck from the civic and military lists. Have you any ready funds?"
"A little, your Highness."
"Enough to take you for ever out of this part of the world?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"You do not ask to be forgiven, and I like that. I have judges in Dreiberg. I could have you tried and condemned for high treason, shot or imprisoned for life. But to-night I shall not use this prerogative. You have, perhaps, three hours to get your things in order. To-morrow you will be judged and condemned. But you, Hildegarde--"