The Herr Konrektor had in the meantime taken a look at the weather, and now he was quite sure there was a storm coming up; his pupils had taken a look at his face, and they also knew for sure that there was a storm brewing; they were only doubtful where the lightning would strike. This question was about to be solved in a drastic manner when his Serenity sent the lackey once more: “Herr Konrektor, his Highness wants you to come to him at once. The storm is coming mighty fast.” “Tell his Highness,” cried the Konrektor in a rage, and was about to add, “to remember me to his grandmother,” but he recalled himself and said: “First I must be through school, then I’ll come.” At the palace things had gone on queerly enough for a while; his most Serene Highness walked up and down in his apartments with pale cheeks, as if he were the walking ghost of the deceased Henry of the Three Oaks; the footmen stood in the corners and along the walls silent and fearful like the stage mimes when Dame Macbeth walks about washing her hands; the gentleman of the bed-chamber, Von Knüppelsdörp, carefully bolted all the windows and doors, and looked as if he were gagged. “Rand,” called his Highness in an undertone, “smoke is a good conductor. Are all the fires put out?” “Yes, your Highness, all except the kitchen--you know the dinner has to be cooked.” “We shall not dine to-day. Tell them to throw water on the fire.” “Dear me, your Highness,” Rand began, for fast-days were not much to his taste, not even when there was a thunder-storm. “Do you hear what I say?” cried his Highness with such alacrity that he frightened himself. “And there shall be no bells pulled; the sound is a good conductor,” he added in a lower tone. “The sound, your Highness?” “Confound you, fool! I--I say! It _might_ draw, you know!” whispered his Highness snappishly. “Humph,” said Rand to himself, looking out of the window with one eye, “we can afford to be cross; the storm isn’t high yet; later on we’ll be more polite.” “Goodness me,” said his Highness nervously, “why doesn’t the Konrektor come?” “Good gracious! what good is the Konrektor? He’s no more able to----” “He _must_ be able to, he _must_! Here, get these buckles off from my shoes; metal is a good conductor. Is all in order in my cabinet?” “Yes,” growled Rand, looking at the floor while trying to take the buckles off, “we’ve put up all the mummery, and the carpenter says it looks for all the world like a birdcage.” “Gracious goodness! Did you hear that? Did you hear it, I say? It’s here already! Where can the Konrektor be? I am going into my cabinet. Send for the Konrektor. Don’t go so fast! Don’t go so fast! The lightning will catch. Oh, goodness me!” he said quite tremulously; “and here I am calling so loud!”