The Princess, white as death and as motionless, sat bolt upright in her royal seat.
“Oh!” she moaned, piteously, and, clenching her hands, she carried them to her eyes as if to shut out the sight. The Countess Halfont and Dagmar ran to her side, the latter frantic with alarm. She knew more than the others.
“Are you the fugitive?” cried Bolaroz.
I am Grenfall Lorry. Are you Bolaroz?'
“The father of the man you murdered. Ah, this is rapture!”
“I have only to say to your Highness, I did not kill your son. I swear it, so help me God!”
“Your Highness,” cried Bolaroz, stepping to the throne, “destroy that decree. This brave soldier has saved Graustark. In an hour your ministers and mine will have drawn up a ten Tears' extension of time, in proper form, to which my signature shall be gladly attached. I have not forgotten my promise.”
Yetive straightened suddenly, seized the pen and fiercely began to sign the decree, in spite of all and before those about her fairly realized her intention. Lorry understood, and was the first to snatch the document from her hands. A half-written Yetive, a blot and a long, spluttering scratch of the pen told how near she had come to signing away the lands of Graustark, forgetful of the fact that it could be of no benefit to the prisoner she loved.
“Yetive!” gasped her uncle, in horror.
“She would have signed,” cried Gaspon, in wonder and alarm.