But he was a moment too late. My hands were around the throat of
Prince Ernst of Wortumborg, and I was shaking him till his teeth
chattered on each other like castanets. Surely I would have throttled
him but for the intervention of the Count and the cavalrymen. The
Count swung his arm around my neck, while the cavalrymen, their sabre
points at Hillars' breast, wrenched loose my hands. I stood glaring at
him, panting and furious. He leaned against the table, gasping and
coughing. Finally he recovered his composure.
"Count, I was wrong; you were right. These fellows are dangerous."
"I will fight you on any terms!" I fired back at him.
"I shall send you one of my lackeys," he replied. "Take them away, and
shoot them if they resist."
"Liberate the gentlemen," said Gretchen.
The Count gazed at her in amazement.
"Liberate them?" he cried.
"I command it."
"You?" said the Prince.
"Yes. This is my principality; these are my soldiers; I command here."
This was a coup indeed.
"But we represent his Majesty!" cried the Count, still holding me by
the throat.
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