“But I ought not,” said he, his resolute eyes suddenly softening in a marvelous fashion.
“You will?”
“Yes, my queen.”
Then I sprang up, for a sudden dread laid hold on me.
“Heavens, man,” I cried, “what if he kills you—there in the Konigstrasse?”
Rudolf turned to me; there was a look of surprise on his face. “He won’t kill me,” he answered.
The queen, looking still in Rudolf’s face, and forgetful now, as it seemed, of the dream that had so terrified her, took no notice of what I said, but urged again: “You’ll come, Rudolf?”
“Yes, once, my queen,” and with a last kiss of her hand he was gone.
The queen stood for yet another moment where she was, still and almost rigid. Then suddenly she walked or stumbled to where my wife sat, and, flinging herself on her knees, hid her face in Helga’s lap; I heard her sobs break out fast and tumultuously. Helga looked up at me, the tears streaming down her cheeks. I turned and went out. Perhaps Helga could comfort her; I prayed that God in His pity might send her comfort, although she for her sin’s sake dared not ask it of Him. Poor soul! I hope there may be nothing worse scored to my account.