I confess that I was moved. This King, whatever his faults, made people
love him. For a moment I could not bear to speak or break the poor
fellow's illusion. But tough old Sapt had no such feeling. He slapped
his hand on his thigh delightedly.

"Bravo, lad!" cried he. "We shall do!"

Fritz looked up in bewilderment. I held out my hand.

"You're wounded, sire!" he exclaimed.

"It's only a scratch," said I, "but--" I paused.

He rose to his feet with a bewildered air. Holding my hand, he looked
me up and down, and down and up. Then suddenly he dropped my hand and
reeled back.

"Where's the King? Where's the King?" he cried.

"Hush, you fool!" hissed Sapt. "Not so loud! Here's the King!"

A knock sounded on the door. Sapt seized me by the hand.

"Here, quick, to the bedroom! Off with your cap and boots. Get into bed.
Cover everything up."

I did as I was bid. A moment later Sapt looked in, nodded, grinned, and
introduced an extremely smart and deferential young gentleman, who came
up to my bedside, bowing again and again, and informed me that he was
of the household of the Princess Flavia, and that her Royal Highness