"Ay, it's done. Perhaps it's done," he answered. "At least he has
given us back our good king."

To lay on the king the full blame for what he was would have been
rank injustice. Sapt was not guilty of it, but his disappointment
was bitter that all our efforts had secured no better ruler for
Ruritania. Sapt could serve, but he liked his master to be a man.

"Ay, I'm afraid the lad's work here is done," he said, as I shook
him by the hand. Then a sudden light came in his eyes. "Perhaps
not," he muttered. "Who knows?"

A man need not, I hope, be deemed uxorious for liking a quiet
dinner alone with his wife before he starts on a long journey.
Such, at least, was my fancy; and I was annoyed to find that
Helga's cousin, Anton von Strofzin, had invited himself to share
our meal and our farewell. He conversed with his usual airy
emptiness on all the topics that were supplying Strelsau with
gossip. There were rumors that the king was ill; that the queen
was angry at being carried off to Zenda; that the archbishop
meant to preach against low dresses; that the chancellor was to
be dismissed; that his daughter was to be married; and so forth.
I heard without listening. But the last bit of his budget caught
my wandering attention.

"They were betting at the club," said Anton, "that Rupert of
Hentzau would be recalled. Have you heard anything about it,
Fritz?"

If I had known anything, it is needless to say that I should not