“I do not think,” he said, “that he will ever see the King again.”
CHAPTER XXXVI
Late that night a man stood motionless amongst the shrubs in the garden of the Reist house. His eyes were fixed always upon a certain window where a light was burning. He muttered often to himself, and the things which he said were not pleasant to hear. He was tired and cramped with his long waiting—yet so long as that light burned he dared not approach the house.
There came to him at last a welcome sound, a light footstep and the trailing of a skirt upon the gravel path. He leaned forward.
“Countess, I am here.”
Marie stooped to pluck a flower, and slipped behind the shrub. They were now invisible from the house.
“You received my note?” he asked.
“Yes.”