"That, Madame la Princesse, we will also affirm," broke in an austere voice.
Behind them rode the emperor, a dark figure among those bright gowns and golden trappings, the saddle cloth and adornments of his steed somber as his own garments. As he spoke he waved back the cavalcade, and, in obedience to the gesture, the ladies, soldiers and attendants withdrew to a discreet distance. Bitterly the princess surveyed the monarch; overwrought, a torrent of reproaches sprang from her lips.
"Why has your Majesty made war on my lord? Why have you countenanced his enemies and harbored his murderers?" And then, drawing her figure to its full height, her tawny hair falling in a cloud about her shoulders: "Be sure, Sire, my kinsman, the king, will know how to avenge my wrongs."
"He can not, Madam," answered Charles coldly. "They are already avenged."
"Already avenged!" she exclaimed, with her gaze upon the prostrate figure.
"Yes, Madam. For he who hath injured you has paid the extreme penalty."
"He who was my husband has been foully murdered!" she retorted, vehemently. "What had the Duke of Friedwald done to bring upon himself your Majesty's displeasure?"
"Nothing," answered the emperor, more gently.
"Nothing! And yet he lies there—dead!"
"He who lies before you is not the duke, but Louis of Hochfels, the bastard of Pfalz-Urfeld."