Rupert of Hentzau [19]
midnight had struck from the great clock of the castle before the door opened again and Sapt came out. His sword was not drawn, but he had his revolver in his hand. He shut the door silently after him and began at once to talk in low, earnest, quick tones to Bernenstein. Bernenstein listened intently and without interrupting. Sapt's story ran on for eight or nine minutes. Then he paused, before asking:
"You understand now?"
"Yes, it is wonderful," said the young man, drawing in his breath.
"Pooh!" said Sapt. "Nothing is wonderful: some things are unusual."
Bernenstein was not convinced, and shrugged his shoulders in protest.
"Well?" said the constable, with a quick glance at him.
"I would die for the queen, sir," he answered, clicking his heels together as though on parade.
"Good," said Sapt. "Then listen," and he began again to talk. Bernenstein nodded from time to time. "You'll meet him at the gate," said the constable, "and bring him straight here. He's not to go anywhere else, you understand me?"
"Perfectly, Colonel," smiled young Bernenstein.
"The king will be in this room--the king. You know who is the king?"
"Perfectly, Colonel."
"And when the interview is ended, and we go to breakfast--"
"I know who will be the king then. Yes, Colonel."
"Good. But we do him no harm unless--"
"It is necessary."
"Precisely."
Sapt turned away with a little sigh. Bernenstein was an apt pupil, but the colonel was exhausted by so much explanation. He knocked softly at the door of the room. The queen's voice bade him enter, and he passed in. Bernenstein was left alone again in the passage, pondering over what he had heard and rehearsing the part that it now fell to him to play. As he thought he may well have raised his head proudly. The service seemed so great and the honor so high, that he almost wished he could die in the performing of his role. It would be a finer death than his soldier's dreams had dared to picture.
At one o'clock Colonel Sapt came out. "Go to bed till six," said he to Bernenstein.
"I'm not sleepy."
"No, but you will be at eight if you don't sleep now."
"Is the queen coming out, Colonel?"
"In a minute, Lieutenant."
"I should like to kiss her hand."
"Well, if you think it worth waiting a quarter of an hour for!" said Sapt, with a slight smile.
"You said a minute, sir."
"So did she," answered the constable.
Nevertheless it was a quarter of an hour before Rudolf Rassendyll opened the door and the queen appeared on the threshold. She was very pale, and she had been crying, but her eyes were happy and her air firm. The moment he saw her, young Bernenstein fell on his knee and raised her hand to his lips.
"To the death, madame," said he, in a trembling voice.
"I knew it, sir," she answered graciously. Then she looked round on the three of them. "Gentlemen," said she, "my servants and dear friends, with you, and with Fritz who lies wounded in Wintenberg, rest my honor and my life; for I will not live if the letter reaches the king."
"The king shall not have it, madame," said Colonel Sapt. He took her hand in his and patted it with a clumsy gentleness; smiling, she extended it again to young Bernenstein, in mark of her favor. They two then stood at the salute, while Rudolf walked with her to the end of the passage. There for a moment she and he stood together; the others turned their eyes away and thus did not see her suddenly stoop and cover his hand with her kisses. He tried to draw it away, not thinking it fit that she should kiss his hand, but she seemed as though she could not let it go. Yet at last, still with her eyes on his, she passed backwards through the door, and he shut it after her.
"Now to business," said Colonel Sapt dryly; and Rudolf laughed a little.
Rudolf passed into the room. Sapt went to the king's apartments, and asked the physician whether his Majesty were sleeping well. Receiving reassuring news of the royal slumbers, he proceeded to the quarters of the king's body-servant, knocked up the sleepy wretch, and
"You understand now?"
"Yes, it is wonderful," said the young man, drawing in his breath.
"Pooh!" said Sapt. "Nothing is wonderful: some things are unusual."
Bernenstein was not convinced, and shrugged his shoulders in protest.
"Well?" said the constable, with a quick glance at him.
"I would die for the queen, sir," he answered, clicking his heels together as though on parade.
"Good," said Sapt. "Then listen," and he began again to talk. Bernenstein nodded from time to time. "You'll meet him at the gate," said the constable, "and bring him straight here. He's not to go anywhere else, you understand me?"
"Perfectly, Colonel," smiled young Bernenstein.
"The king will be in this room--the king. You know who is the king?"
"Perfectly, Colonel."
"And when the interview is ended, and we go to breakfast--"
"I know who will be the king then. Yes, Colonel."
"Good. But we do him no harm unless--"
"It is necessary."
"Precisely."
Sapt turned away with a little sigh. Bernenstein was an apt pupil, but the colonel was exhausted by so much explanation. He knocked softly at the door of the room. The queen's voice bade him enter, and he passed in. Bernenstein was left alone again in the passage, pondering over what he had heard and rehearsing the part that it now fell to him to play. As he thought he may well have raised his head proudly. The service seemed so great and the honor so high, that he almost wished he could die in the performing of his role. It would be a finer death than his soldier's dreams had dared to picture.
At one o'clock Colonel Sapt came out. "Go to bed till six," said he to Bernenstein.
"I'm not sleepy."
"No, but you will be at eight if you don't sleep now."
"Is the queen coming out, Colonel?"
"In a minute, Lieutenant."
"I should like to kiss her hand."
"Well, if you think it worth waiting a quarter of an hour for!" said Sapt, with a slight smile.
"You said a minute, sir."
"So did she," answered the constable.
Nevertheless it was a quarter of an hour before Rudolf Rassendyll opened the door and the queen appeared on the threshold. She was very pale, and she had been crying, but her eyes were happy and her air firm. The moment he saw her, young Bernenstein fell on his knee and raised her hand to his lips.
"To the death, madame," said he, in a trembling voice.
"I knew it, sir," she answered graciously. Then she looked round on the three of them. "Gentlemen," said she, "my servants and dear friends, with you, and with Fritz who lies wounded in Wintenberg, rest my honor and my life; for I will not live if the letter reaches the king."
"The king shall not have it, madame," said Colonel Sapt. He took her hand in his and patted it with a clumsy gentleness; smiling, she extended it again to young Bernenstein, in mark of her favor. They two then stood at the salute, while Rudolf walked with her to the end of the passage. There for a moment she and he stood together; the others turned their eyes away and thus did not see her suddenly stoop and cover his hand with her kisses. He tried to draw it away, not thinking it fit that she should kiss his hand, but she seemed as though she could not let it go. Yet at last, still with her eyes on his, she passed backwards through the door, and he shut it after her.
"Now to business," said Colonel Sapt dryly; and Rudolf laughed a little.
Rudolf passed into the room. Sapt went to the king's apartments, and asked the physician whether his Majesty were sleeping well. Receiving reassuring news of the royal slumbers, he proceeded to the quarters of the king's body-servant, knocked up the sleepy wretch, and