, up to this time, my life had been
centred in Hammerfeldt. I was obeying him or disobeying, accepting his
views or questioning them, docile or rebellious; when I rebelled, I
rebelled for the pleasure of it, for the excitement it gave, the spice
of daring, the air of independence, for curiosity, to see how he would
take it, what saying he would utter, what resource of persuasion or
argument he would invoke. It was strange to think that now if I obeyed I
should not gratify, if I disobeyed I could make him uneasy no more. If I
went right, there was none to reap credit; if I went wrong, none who
should have controlled me better; none to say, "You are wise, sire";
none to smile as he said, "We must all learn wisdom, sire." It was very
strange to be without old Hammerfeldt.

"You're king at last." By Wetter's verdict and by the Prince's own, his
death made me in very truth king. So they said; what did they think?
Wetter's thought was, "Here is a king, a king to be shaped and used." I
read Wetter's thought well enough. But the old man's? His was a plea, a
hope, a prayer. "Be king." A sudden flash of feeling came upon me--too
late! For I had gone to his bedside fresh from signing my abdication. It
mattered nothing at whose bidding or with what eager obedience I had
taken off the crown. My sovereignty was my possession and my trust. I
had laid it down. In those dim hours of the night, when men die (so they
say), passion is cold, the blood chill, and we fall prey to the
cruelties of truth, then I knew to what I had put my hand, why Wetter
exulted, why Hammerfeldt's eyes spoke one unspoken prayer. It was not
that Wetter went Ambassador, but that he went not of my will, by my act,
or out of my mind; he went by another's will, that other on whose head I
had put my crown.

Strange thoughts for a man not yet grown? I am not altogether of that
mind. For then my trust seemed very great, almost holy, armed with
majesty; I had not learned the little real power that lay in it. To-day,
if I threw away my crown, I should not exaggerate the value of my
sacrifice. Then it seemed that I gave a great thing, and great was my
betrayal. Therefore I could not rest for the thought of what I had put
my hand to, chafed at Wetter's words that sounded now like a taunt, and
seemed again to see old Hammerfeldt dying and to flush red in shame
before the utterance of his eyes. The Prince had served his masters, his
country, and the cause that he held right