America.... He's dead! Inform the archbishop and her
Highness that Madame is nearing the city. The king--"

"Hush!" said von Mitter, with a finger on his lip; "hush! The king died
at six o'clock. God rest his soul!" He crossed himself. "A disgraceful
day! Curse the scheming woman, could she not let us bury him in peace?
Prince Frederick's father refused to send us aid."

"I am dying," said Maurice with a sob. "Let me lie down somewhere; if I
fall I am a dead man." After a pause: "Take me into the throne room. I
shall last till Madame comes. Let her find me there.... The brandy!"

Scharfenstein held the flask to the sufferer's lips.

"The throne room?" repeated von Mitter, surprised at this strange
request. "Well, why not? For what is a throne when there is no king to
sit on it? You will not die, my friend, though the cut is a nasty one.
What is an arm? Life is worth a thousand of them! Quick! help me with
him, Max!" for Maurice was reaching blindly toward him.

The three troopers who had followed Scharfenstein came up, and the five
of them managed to carry Maurice into the throne room, and deposit him
on the cushions at the foot of the dais. There they left him.

"Bad!" said von Mitter, as he came limping out into the corridor. "And
he made such a brave show when he left here this afternoon. I have grown
to love the fellow. A gallant man. I knew that the native troops were up
to something. So did the Colonel. Ach! I would give a year of my life
to have seen him and Beauvais. To kill Beauvais, the best saber in the
kingdom--it must have been a fight worthy of the legends. A bad day!
They will laugh at us. But, patience, the archbishop has something to
say before the curtain falls. Poor young man! He will lose his arm, if
not his life."

"But how comes he into all this?" asked Scharfenstein, perplexedly.

"It is not for me or you to question, Max," said von Mitter, looking
down. He had his own opinion, but he was not minded to disclose it.

"What are you going to do?"

"Perform my duty until the end," sourly. "Go you and help against the
students, who have not manliness enough even to respect the dead. The
cowardly servants are all gone; save the king's valet. There are only
seven of us in all. I will seek the king's physician; the dead are dead,
so let us concern ourselves with the living;" and he limped off toward
the private apartments.

Scharfenstein hurried away to the square.

In the royal bedchamber a