He recognized the King.
Faintly he smiled.
Then his lips moved as if in speech.
The King bent down over him.
"God—save—the King," the Duke muttered.
No doubt, the singing of the crowd outside the palace had reached the dying man's ears—
The King did not speak. It seemed to him that there was no need for words. He felt that the Duke knew all his thoughts. He knew that the Duke was glad to have him, now, at the last, at his side.
It was a strange moment of deep, and intimate communion between them—
Strangest of all, there was no sadness in it, now, for the King.
This man had done his work. This man had rounded off his life's work, with a completeness, which it is given to few men to achieve.