question
which is the older! He is outside now."

"Bring him in. I'll have a look at him."

Nikky, summoned by a chamberlain, stopped inside the doorway and bowed
deeply.

"Come here," said the King.

He advanced.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three, sire."

"In the Grenadiers, I believe."

Nikky bowed.

"Like horses?" said the King suddenly.

"Very much, sire."

"And boys?"

"I--some boys, sire."

"Humph! Quite right, too. Little devils, most of them." He drew himself
tap in his chair. "Lieutenant Larisch," he said, "His Royal Highness the
Crown Prince has taken a liking to you. I believe it is to you that our
fright to-day is due."

Nikky's heart thumped. He went rather pale.

"It is my intention, Lieutenant Larisch, to place the Crown Prince in
your personal charge. For reasons I need not go into, it is imperative
that he take no more excursions alone. These are strange times, when
sedition struts in Court garments, and kings may trust neither their
armies nor their subjects. I want," he said, his tone losing its
bitterness, "a real friend for the little Crown Prince. One who is both
brave and loyal."

Afterward, in his small room, Nikky composed a neat, well-rounded
speech, in which he expressed his loyalty, gratitude, and undying
devotion to the Crown Prince. It was an elegant little speech.
Unluckily, the occasion for it had gone by two hours.

"I--I am grateful, sire," was what he said. "I--" And there he stopped
and choked up. It was rather dreadful.

"I depend on you, Captain Larisch," said the King gravely, and nodded
his head in a gesture of dismissal. Nikky backed toward the door, struck
a hassock, all but went down, bowed again at the door, and fled.

"A fine lad," said General Mettlich, "but no talker."

"All the better," replied His Majesty. "I am tired of men who talk well.
And"--he smiled faintly--"I am tired of you. You talk too well. You make
me think. I don't want to think. I've been thinking all my life. It is
time to rest, my friend."

CHAPTER V. AT THE RIDING-SCHOOL

His Royal Highness the Crown Prince Ferdinand William Otto was in
disgrace.

He had risen at six, bathed, dressed, and gone to Mass, in disgrace.
He had breakfasted at seven-thirty on fruit, cereal, and one egg, in
disgrace. He had gone to his study at eight o'clock for lessons, in
disgrace. A long line of tutors came and went all morning, and he worked
diligently, but he was still in disgrace.