softly yet swiftly opened. Bernenstein's sword was in rest in an
instant. A muttered oath from Sapt and Rudolf's quick snatch at
his breath greeted the interruption. Bernenstein did not look
round, but his sword fell to his side. In the doorway stood Queen
Flavia, all in white; and now her face turned white as her dress.
For her eyes had fallen on Rudolf Rassendyll. For a moment the
four stood thus; then Rudolf passed Sapt, thrust Bernenstein's
brawny shoulders (the young man had not looked round) out of the
way, and, falling on his knee before the queen, seized her hand
and kissed it. Bernenstein could see now without looking round,
and if astonishment could kill, he would have been a dead man
that instant. He fairly reeled and leant against the wall, his
mouth hanging open. For the king was in bed, and had a beard; yet
there was the king, fully dressed and clean shaven, and he was
kissing the queen's hand, while she gazed down on him in a
struggle between amazement, fright, and joy. A soldier should be
prepared for anything, but I cannot be hard on young
Bernenstein's bewilderment.

Yet there was in truth nothing strange in the queen seeking to
see old Sapt that night, nor in her guessing where he would most
probably be found. For she had asked him three times whether news
had come from Wintenberg and each time he had put her off with
excuses. Quick to forbode evil, and conscious of the pledge to
fortune that she had given in her letter, she had determined to
know from him whether there were really cause for alarm, and had
stolen, undetected, from her apartments to seek him. What filled
her at once with unbearable apprehension and incredulous joy was
to find Rudolf present in actual flesh and blood, no longer in
sad longing dreams or visions, and to feel his live lips on her