The path, bearing it close company, threaded a
wilderness of briar and wild-rose. And presently, a little in
front, the brown top of a mill and the tall mill-wheel, spraying
diamonds, arose in the narrows of the glen; at the same time the
snoring music of the saws broke the silence.
The miller, hearing steps, came forth to his door, and both he and
Otto started.
'Good-morning, miller,' said the Prince. 'You were right, it seems,
and I was wrong. I give you the news, and bid you to Mittwalden.
My throne has fallen - great was the fall of it! - and your good
friends of the Phoenix bear the rule.'
The red-faced miller looked supreme astonishment. 'And your
Highness?' he gasped.
'My Highness is running away,' replied Otto, 'straight for the
frontier.'
'Leaving Grunewald?' cried the man. 'Your father's son? It's not
to be permitted!'
'Do you arrest us, friend?' asked Otto, smiling.
'Arrest you? I?' exclaimed the man. 'For what does your Highness
take me? Why, sir, I make sure there is not a man in Grunewald
would lay hands upon you.'
'O, many, many,' said the Prince; 'but from you, who were bold with
me in my greatness, I should even look for aid in my distress.'
The miller became the colour of beetroot. 'You may say so indeed,'
said he. 'And meanwhile, will you and your lady step into my
house.'
'We have not time for that,' replied the Prince; 'but if you would
oblige us with a cup of wine without here, you will give a pleasure
and a service, both in one.
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