And the voice warned him,--in some strange unaccountable way the voice warned and menaced him.
"I fought, I climbed that wall, I crossed the lawn, I took refuge here for love of a queen.

For love of a queen all my short life I lived.

For love of a queen I died most horribly; and the queen lives, though it would have gone better with her had she died as horribly." Wogan had once seen the lonely castle of Ahlden where that queen was imprisoned; he had once caught a glimpse of her driving in the dusk across the heath surrounded by her guards with their flashing swords.
He sat chilled with apprehensions and forebodings.

They crowded in upon his mind all the more terrible because he could not translate them into definite perils which beyond this and that corner of his life might await him.

He was the victim of illusions, he assured himself, at which to-morrow safe in Schlestadt he would laugh.