There was worse than this.

As time went on, the first impulse of gratitude and admiration that he had felt towards Mr.Rassendyll died away.

He came to brood more and more on what had passed while he was a prisoner; he was possessed not only by a haunting dread of Rupert of Hentzau, at whose hands he had suffered so greatly, but also by a morbid, half mad jealousy of Mr.Rassendyll.Rudolf had played the hero while he lay helpless.

Rudolf's were the exploits for which his own people cheered him in his own capital.

Rudolf's were the laurels that crowned his impatient brow.