The king completed his work and arose, whilst Douglas, at his command, was employed in setting the king’s seal to the fatal paper.
From the hall was heard a slight noise, as though some person were cautiously moving about there.
Earl Douglas did not notice it; he was just in the act of pressing the signet hard on the melted sealing-wax.
The king heard it, and supposed that it was Geraldine, and that she was just waking from her swoon and rising.
He stepped to the door of the hall, and looked toward the place where she was lying. But no—she had not yet risen; she still lay stretched at full length on the floor.
“She has come to; but she still pretends to be in a swoon,” thought the king; and he turned to Douglas.
“We are done,” said he; “the warrant for imprisonment is prepared, and the sentence of the adulterous queen is spoken. We have done with her forever; and never shall she again behold our face, or again hear our voice. She is sentenced and damned, and the royal mercy has nothing more to do with this sinner. A curse on the adulteress! A curse on the shameless woman who deceived her husband, and gave herself up to a traitorous paramour! Woe to her, and may shame and disgrace forever mark her name, which—”
Suddenly the king stopped and listened. The noise that he had heard just, before was now repeated louder and quicker; it came nearer and nearer.
And now the door opened and a figure entered—a figure which made the king stare with astonishment and admiration. It came nearer and nearer, light, graceful, and with the freshness of youth; a gold-brocade dress enveloped it; a diadem of diamonds sparkled on the brow; and brighter yet than the diamonds beamed the eyes.
No, the king was not mistaken. It was the queen, She was standing before him—and yet she still lay motionless and stiff upon the floor yonder.