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Princess Heinrich's ignorance may seem strange, but I have often observed that persons of a masterful temper are rather easy to delude; they have such difficulty in conceiving that they can be disobeyed as to become ready subjects for hoodwinking; I recollect old Hammerfeldt saying to me, "In public affairs, sire, always expect disobedience, but be chary of rewarding obedience."
If I were making an automaton king, I would model my machine on the lines of Hammerfeldt. He played billiards extremely well, and excused his skill on the ground that he was compelled to pass the time while foreign diplomatists and his own colleagues were making up their mind. I do not think that he ever hesitated as to what he had best do. He was of an extremely placid and happy temper.
"The Prince would like you all the better for it." She looked in my face. "And people would think more of you. They say that Hammerfeldt is the real king now or he and Princess Heinrich between them." "I thought they said that you " "I! Do they? Perhaps! They know so little. If they knew anything they couldn't say that."
The love-lorn Baron had returned to Waldenweiter; he wrote to Hammerfeldt for permission; the Prince refused it; the Baron rejoined that he was about to be married; I can imagine the grim smile with which the old man withdrew his objection. The Baron came home with his wife.
"I see no signs of it," replied Hammerfeldt with a pinch of snuff, "unless it be progress to teach rogues who aren't worth a snap to prate of their worth. Well, it is pretty enough in you to think as you think. What says the King to it?" He turned to me with a courteous smile, but with an unceremoniously intent gaze in his eyes. I had no answer ready; I was still excited.
"You are convinced of the Prince's wisdom and devotion in everything, aren't you, Augustin?" she said. "Yes," said I. "Will Mr. Owen write to me?" "When your Majesty is older, your Majesty will, of course, use your own pleasure as to your correspondence," returned Hammerfeldt. He waited for a moment longer, and then drew back further to the door. "Speak to the Prince, Augustin," said my mother.
Unquestionably his late adviser, Hammerfeldt, had imbued him with some notions as to his position which it is hardly unjust to call mediæval. A wit, or would-be wit, said of him that he postulated God in order to legitimize the powers of Augustin, his deputy. Usually he was reserved and even secretive, cautious, cold, and free from enthusiasms and follies alike.
Doubtless all this will find an accomplished, and possibly an impartial, historian. Its significance for these personal memoirs is due chiefly to the accidental fact that, whereas my mother was the social centre of the orthodox party and in that capacity gave solid aid to Hammerfeldt, the unorthodox gathered round the Countess von Sempach.
I told them what I had to tell about Hammerfeldt's death. Victoria broke into compassionate comments, my mother listened in silence. "Poor old Hammerfeldt!" I ended reflectively. "Where were you when you got the news?" asked Victoria. I looked at her. Then I answered quietly: "I was calling on the Countess von Sempach. I lunched with Wetter and went on there." There was a pause.
"I have tried to interest the King in these lines of thought," said Owen. "Ah, yes, very proper," assented Hammerfeldt, his eyes still set on my face. "We must have more talk about the matter. Princess Heinrich awaits me now." Owen and I were left together.
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