Uncle Bond made no comment, but plied his knife and fork vigorously. "When you believed me, when you had recovered from your astonishment, and had forgiven my deception--I knew you--and Judith--would forgive me," the King continued, "I was going to make my second speech. You remember our talk, this morning, about the procession? That seems years ago, now, somehow, doesn't it? In my second speech, I was going to take you at your word about--the procession. "'I have stepped out of my place in the procession, and come to join you at your window, here, in the quiet old inn of "Content." I want to forget the fight in the market-place. Help me to forget it! Let us forget the past, avoid looking at the future--what the future will bring, who can say?--and live for the time being in the present!' That is what I was going to say. It seemed to me that you--and Judith--would not be able to resist an appeal like that. Here, in Paradise, we have always lived in the present, haven't we?" Uncle Bond put down his knife and fork. "Very pretty!" he chuckled. "I can understand your disappointment, my boy. There was good stuff in your scene. I am glad we have contrived to work in--both your speeches. They are--illuminating. More chicken? A slice of the breast--now? No. Then advance the sweet. And refill the glasses. You approve the wine? Good! Once again I resume my part of 'Chorus.' "As 'Chorus' allow me to recall your attention to Thomas Carlyle, my boy," he went on, proceeding to serve the sweet. "I am rather proud of that little bit of stage business. 'Cynthia' herself, I flatter myself, could hardly have hit anything neater. How does the quotation run? "'Is it not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has been known to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried it; and they cut the rope.' "It got you--that quotation, my boy,--didn't it? It was meant to get you. I knew your announcement, your confession, would give you trouble. Out of pure good nature--or was it malice?--I anticipated it." "But how did you know I was going to make my confession?" the King exclaimed, suddenly remembering his previous bewilderment on the subject. "Thank you, my boy," Uncle Bond chuckled. "I manœuvred, clumsily I fear, for that very question. There is, perhaps, something inherently clumsy in this device of the 'Chorus.' Hence, no doubt, its banishment from the modern stage. I did not know, I could not know, for certain, that you would make your confession. But your confession seemed to me to be inevitable. Or, if not inevitable, necessary. Perhaps I wished to make sure of, as well as help you to, your confession. I must warn you that I have another little surprise saved up for you, my boy. But I will hurry to the end of my explanations. I do so the more readily as I am eager to demand an explanation from you, in turn.