Steve swore another oath. 'Those are curs. But our man--why don't we go to the King of Sweden? I suppose he is a sort of cousin to my lady?'
'We have as good as gone to him,' I answered. At another time I might have smiled at Steve's notion of my lady's importance. 'We have been to one equally able to help us. And he has done us no good. And for the matter of that, there is not time to go to the camp and back.'
Steve began to fume and fret. The minutes went like lead. We were all miserable together. Outside, the kennel simmered in the sun, the low rumble of the cannon filled the air. I hated Nuremberg, the streets, the people, the heat. I wished that I had never seen a stone of it.
Presently one of the women came down stairs to us. 'Do you know if there has been any fighting in the trenches to-day?' she asked.
'Nothing to speak of,' I answered. 'As far as I have heard. Why?'
'The Countess wishes to know,' she said. 'You have not heard of any one being killed?'
'No.'
'Nor wounded?'
'No.'
She nodded and turned away. I called after her to know the reason of her questions, but she flitted upstairs without giving me an answer, and left us looking at one another. In a second, however, she was down again.