CHAPTER XVII.
YOUNG RUPERT AND THE PLAY-ACTOR.
THERE rises often before my mind the picture of young Rupert, standing where Rischenheim left him, awaiting the return of his messenger and watching for some sign that should declare to Strelsau the death of its King which his own hand had wrought. His image is one that memory holds clear and distinct, though time may blur the shape of greater and better men; and the position in which he was that morning gives play enough to the imagination. Save for Rischenheim—a broken reed—and Bauer, who was gone none knew where, he stood alone against a kingdom which he had robbed of its head and a band of resolute men who would know no rest and no security so long as he lived. For protection he had only a quick brain, his courage, and his secret. Yet he could not fly—he was without resources till his cousin furnished them—and at any moment his opponents might find themselves able to declare the King's death and raise the city in hue and cry after him. Such men do not repent; but it may be that he
