"God," she said, "do you believe then in God?"
"Surely, madame."
"Is that why you came in to me here?"
"I had not thought of it, but probably it was His doing, for I think that all kind thoughts are His, and all the pity within me woke at the sound of your weeping."
"Then may He be praised," she said, "that Rudarlia will once more have a merciful King."
"You love Rudarlia, madame?"
"Ah yes, so much, perhaps my sorrow to-night is more self-pity at thought of leaving than sorrow for my dead husband, for I had wept all my tears for him years ago." She spoke with a little dry huskiness that sounded strangely pathetic.
"Leave Rudarlia, that would be your wish, would it not, to return to your own country, away from sorrowful sights and remembrances?"
There was tragedy in her reply:
"My own country, where is it? My father is dead. I had no friends before I married, I was too young; and the few of my countryfolk who accompanied, and remained with me, are gone."