By his side sat his wife, who continued her complaints against the newly-found brother, and urged her husband to make investigations as to whether or not this architect were a true Greylock, “To be sure, both he and his son have the grey lock,” she said, “but then they both have light hair, and the barber’s craft has made great strides lately; and certainly that fat-cheeked baby looks as if it belonged in the cradle of a peasant rather than in that of a prince.”  Wendelin XVI did not listen to what she said; his heart was very heavy, and every time one of the bells rang out above the others, or the chorus sang, “lucky Wendelin, our king,” particularly distinctly and enthusiastically, he felt as if he were being jeered at and ridiculed.  He longed to cry aloud in his shame and pain, and to fly for comfort to his sympathetic mother and strong brother in the other boat.  When he stared into the water it seemed as if the fish made fun of him, and if he looked at the sky he imagined the moon made a mocking grimace at him, and looked down scornfully at the wretched man whom they called “fortunate.”  He knew not where to gaze, he withdrew within himself, and tried to shut his ears, while he wished to Heaven that he could change places with the active sailor opposite who was setting the purple sail with his brawny arms.

A light breeze wafted the royal gondola towards the island where the fireworks were to be displayed.  The second boat followed at a short distance.  George held his mother’s hand and his wife’s in his own, few words were spoken, but their very silence betrayed the great treasure of their love and happiness, and spoke more plainly than long discourses how dear these three persons were to one another.

The royal gondola floated quietly past the cliff that separated the southern from the northern part of the lake; no sooner had the second boat approached it, however, than an unexpected and fearful gust of wind blew suddenly from the clefts of the rocks and struck the boat, and before the sailors had time to lower the sail threw it onto its beam ends.  George sprang forward instantly to help the sailors right her, but a second gust tore away the flapping sail, and capsized the gondola, which was caught and carried to the bottom by a rushing eddy.  Both of the women rose from the waves at George’s side.  He grasped his mother, and struggled bravely against the wind and current until he laid her on the beach at the foot of the cliff.  Then he swam back as rapidly as he could to the place of the accident.  His mother was safe, but his wife, his beloved, his all?  To rescue her, or to drown with her was his sole idea.