It was long past midnight when I went to my room to sleep; and even then I did not go direct, for I was obliged to pass the door of the room where Ivan's body lay. A trooper of my body-guard had been placed on guard there, and I stopped to say a word to him; as I did so, the sound of weeping reached my ears.
I looked inquiringly at Mr. Smith, who accompanied me.
"It is Ivan's wife, your Majesty."
"Alone," I asked, "and at this hour?"
The guard answered that she had been within for some two hours, by herself.
"I would speak to her, Count; do not wait, you need repose. Goodnight."
He looked at me for a moment, and then bowed.
"Good night, your Majesty," he said and left me.
I do not know what impulse urged me to push the door quietly open, and enter; not curiosity, God knows. I think it was just the desire to try and comfort this poor lady.
She was kneeling beside the bed on which the body lay, a fragile figure in black, her head buried in her arms, sobbing as though indeed her heart was broken.