“It is too late for that, I fear, my dearest lady,” said the King. “What we have anticipated for so many days hath come to pass.”
“No, Sire!” said the woman, wildly. “At all costs, you must get away. Flee, Sire; flee anywhere! They must not, they shall not find you here!”
“They are already arrived,” said the King, still in the complete possession of his composure. “They have ridden very fast; they are dismounting beneath the window even now. Do you not hear their harsh, loud voices? One can even catch the words they utter.”
All listened with wildly-beating hearts.
“See! that is the chamber,” they heard the loudest voice of all exclaim, “with the light coming through the shutters. Now, do you watch back and front; spread out all round the house. D’ye hear me? Do you watch that window; ay, and do you watch the roof, too.”
The speaker was plainly the leader, and just as plainly was labouring under a great excitement. The King smiled his charming, melancholy smile.
“I would have you dry your tears, dear lady,” he said. “I think we can all suffer this event with fortitude. It is hardly so terrible as it seems.”
“Sire,” cried the woman, “you must not, you shall not be ta’en!”
“One man, and another one disabled and bedridden, cannot avail against a multitude,” said the King. “Besides, violence should never be resorted to in a lady’s presence, madam.”
The woman gazed distraught this way and that about the chamber. Again and yet again she cried out that the King should not be taken. The King laughed.