Even as he spoke they heard the wheels of a carriage driven quickly to the door. By now I had met Anton von Strofzin and heard from him that the king was at my house. As I dashed up the news was confirmed by the comments and jokes of the crowd.
“Ah, he’s in a hurry,” they said. “He’s kept the king waiting. He’ll get a wigging.”
As may be supposed, I paid little heed to them. I sprang out and ran up the steps to the door. I saw my wife’s face at the window: she herself ran to the door and opened it for me.
“Good God,” I whispered, “do all these people know he’s here, and take him for the king?”
“Yes,” she said. “We couldn’t help it. He showed himself at the door.”
It was worse than I dreamt: not two or three people, but all that crowd were victims of the mistake; all of them had heard that the king was in Strelsau--ay, and had seen him.
“Where is he? Where is he?” I asked, and followed her hastily to the room.
The queen and Rudolf were standing side by side. What I have told from Helga’s description had just passed between them. Rudolf ran to meet me.
I forgot the queen’s presence and paid no sign of respect to her. I caught Rudolf by the arm and cried to him: “Do they take you for the king?”
“Yes,” he said. “Heavens, man, don’t look so white! We shall manage it. I can be gone by to-night.”
“Gone? How will that help, since they believe you to be the king?”
“You can keep it from the king,” he urged. “I couldn’t help it. I can settle with Rupert and disappear.”
The three were standing round me, surprised at my great and terrible agitation. Looking back now, I wonder that I could speak to them at all.
Rudolf tried again to reassure me. He little knew the cause of what he saw.
“It won’t take long to settle affairs with Rupert,” said he. “And we must have the letter, or it will get to the king after all.”
“The king will never see the letter,” I blurted out, as I sank back in a chair.
They said nothing. I looked round on their faces. I had a strange feeling of helplessness, and seemed to be able to do nothing but throw the truth at them in blunt plainness. Let them make what they could of it, I could make nothing.
“The king will never see the letter,” I repeated. “Rupert himself has insured that.”