recalled his provocation, anger succeeded afresh. So he was tossed in
spirit; now bewailing his inconsequence and lack of temper, now flaming
up in white-hot indignation and a noble pity for himself.

He paced his apartment like a leopard. There was danger in Otto, for a
flash. Like a pistol, he could kill at one moment, and the next he might
he kicked aside. But just then, as he walked the long floors in his
alternate humours, tearing his handkerchief between his hands, he was
strung to his top note, every nerve attent. The pistol, you might say,
was charged. And when jealousy from time to time fetched him a lash
across the tenderest of his feeling, and sent a string of her
fire-pictures glancing before his mind's eye, the contraction of his face
was even dangerous. He disregarded jealousy's inventions, yet they
stung. In this height of anger, he still preserved his faith in
Seraphina's innocence; but the thought of her possible misconduct was the
bitterest ingredient in his pot of sorrow.

There came a knock at the door, and the chamberlain brought him a note.
He took it and ground it in his hand, continuing his march, continuing
his bewildered thoughts; and some minutes had gone by before the
circumstance came clearly to his mind. Then he paused and opened it. It
was a pencil scratch from Gotthold, thus conceived:

'The council is privately summoned at once.

G. v. H.'

If the council was thus called before the hour, and that privately, it
was plain they feared his interference. Feared: here was a sweet
thought. Gotthold, too--Gotthold, who had always used and regarded him
as a mere peasant lad, had now been at the pains to warn him; Gotthold
looked for something at his hands. Well, none should be disappointed;
the Prince, too long beshadowed by the uxorious lover, should now return
and shine. He summoned his valet, repaired the disorder of his
appearance with elaborate care; and then, curled and scented and adorned,
Prince Charming in every line, but with a twitching nostril, he set forth
unattended for the council.

CHAPTER VII--THE PRINCE DISSOLVES THE COUNCIL

It was as Gotthold wrote. The liberation of Sir John, Greisengesang's
uneasy narrative, last of all, the scene between Seraphina and the
Prince, had decided the conspirators to take a step of bold timidity.
There had been a period of bustle, liveried messengers s