He bowed over the hand which she held half-shyly out. It was not a form of greeting in which she often indulged.
“I will surely come,” he answered.
He left her at the Reist house and rode slowly towards his own quarters. Already the streets were lined with people awaiting the return of the King and the troops. Torches were waved hither and thither. In the open space in front of the palace a huge bonfire had been lit. Everywhere was the pleasant murmur of cheerful voices. Further down the street they were singing in a low rhythmical chant the National Anthem. Now the King was in sight, and a roar of voices welcomed him. The front of the palace blazed out in a fire of illuminations, a shower of rockets shrieked upwards from the park. The King was coming. Long live the King!
CHAPTER XXII
Sara Van Decht leaned back in her basket-chair and looked across the cobbled street, across the trim square where the miniature fountain was playing, to where a cluster of red-roofed, white-fronted houses were huddled together in picturesque confusion.
“Well, I think it’s delightful!” she exclaimed. “I never could have imagined anything so picturesque—or so restful.”
Mr. Van Decht scratched his chin thoughtfully and selected a cigar from his case.
“It is restful,” he admitted. “I can’t say that I’m quite accustomed to taking my meals upon the pavement, even under an awning, and there is an odour of garlic about the hotel which I don’t altogether relish. I grant you that it is restful, though! There’s no denying that!”