It was the forenoon of Whitsun Eve when he arrived at his destination. He spoke genially to the gendarme stationed there. "I am glad, Sauer, that you are on duty again," he said as he went in. In one of the first apartments he entered his eyes fell on his own portrait: a large painting which represented his first landing at Schloss Berg after his accession. How different was that day from this! He was given only two rooms for his use. The windows had been hastily provided with iron bars, and holes had been bored in the doors that he might be under continual observation. He regarded these alterations without saying a word. The doctor ordered him to go early to bed and he obeyed. At two in the morning he awoke, and wished to get up. The keepers would not allow it. They had taken his clothes away from him; despite his earnest prayers they would not give them to him. At last one of them let himself be persuaded into letting him have his socks. Clad only in his night-shirt and in his stockinged feet he walked restlessly hour after hour up and down the room. At six in the morning he asked the keeper to help him with a bath. He allowed the former to assist him to dress, but bade him afterwards fetch his valet and his barber. The keeper answered, what was strictly true, that they had not come with him to his new place of residence. Whitsunday dawned. Ludwig wished to attend divine service in the neighbouring church. Gudden refused to allow this, fearing that the people would not believe the King to be mad if he showed himself. In the course of the morning he asked for an orange. It was brought to him, but without a fruit-knife. He sent it out again without having touched it. At eleven o'clock Dr Gudden accompanied him on a walk. Two keepers who followed them received a sign to increase the distance from the King. Ludwig and the doctor seated themselves on a bench ten or fifteen paces from the banks of the lake of Starnberg. Ludwig's quiet, collected demeanour lulled the physician into a feeling of security, which was destined to be fatal to himself. The King ate his dinner alone at four o'clock. Before seating himself at table he inquired of the keeper who waited upon him whether Gudden had touched his food; he feared that the latter intended to render him unconscious, and that he would show him to the people in this condition to prove that he was mad.