Such, at least, was my fancy; and I was annoyed to find that
Helga's cousin, Anton von Strofzin, had invited himself to share
our meal and our farewell. He conversed with his usual airy
emptiness on all the topics that were supplying Strelsau with
gossip. There were rumors that the king was ill; that the queen
was angry at being carried off to Zenda; that the archbishop
meant to preach against low dresses; that the chancellor was to
be dismissed; that his daughter was to be married; and so forth.
I heard without listening. But the last bit of his budget caught
my wandering attention.
"They were betting at the club," said Anton, "that Rupert of
Hentzau would be recalled. Have you heard anything about it,
Fritz?"
If I had known anything, it is needless to say that I should not
have confided it to Anton. But the suggested step was so utterly
at variance with the king's intentions that I made no difficulty
about contradicting the report with an authoritative air. Anton
heard me with a judicial wrinkle on his smooth brow.
"That's all very well," said he, "and I dare say you're bound to
say so. All I know is that Rischenheim dropped a hint to Colonel
Markel a day or two ago.
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