“For us?” she asked.
“For your people.”
“You say that that is my duty, Paul?”
“Yes.”
“And you love me?”
“And I love you,” I answered. The lanterns were swinging madly now. Over their light was a new mist growing, growing. I bit my lip—but the throb of the wound was agony.
“I believe you, dear,” she said simply. “It—it seems hard that—that so much should rest upon one poor girl. I think I know what—you mean. The people shall be happy though the Queen’s heart break.” She rose and came toward me. She caught me by my wounded shoulder and kissed me. And with all the agony of it that kiss I hold in my heart always as a dear memory.
When she went the lanterns whirled, the mist shut down on my eyes, and I fell. General Hartzel found me.
The next morning early, recovered of my swoon, I rode out of Tsalburg. General Hartzel rode with me a little way.
“If you had only been the real King,” he said, with more feeling than I thought possible, “and not——”