"Captain, all here are prisoners of war," she said. "Do not forget that
soon there will be benefits for those who serve me."

He laughed rudely. "I ask no benefits from your hands, Madame. I would
rather stand on the corner and beg." He sent an insolent, contemptuous
glance at Kronau, who could not support it. "And now that you have
gratified your curiosity, I beg you to withdraw to the street. To-night
this palace is a tomb, and woe to those who commit sacrilege."

"The king?" she said, struck by a thought which caused a red spot to
appear on each cheek.

"Is dead. Go and leave us in peace."

The wine which had tasted so sweet was full of lees, and the cup
wormwood. Madame looked down, while her officers moved uneasily and
glanced over their shoulders. Kronau brushed his forehead, to find it
wet. Madame regretted the surrendering to the impulse. Her haste to
triumph was lacking both in dignity and judgment. She had given the king
so little place in her thoughts that the shock of his death confused
her. And there was something in the calm, fearless contempt of the young
soldier which embarrassed her.

"In that case, Captain," she said, her voice uncertain and constrained,
"bid Monseigneur to wait on me at the Continental."

"Whenever that becomes convenient, Madame, Monseigneur will certainly
confer with you and your rascally pack of officers." He longed for some
one to spring at him; he longed to strike a blow in earnest.

As he leaned against the door he felt it move. He stepped aside.
The door rolled back, and her Royal Highness, the archbishop and the
chancellor passed in. The princess's eyes were like dim stars, but
her fine nostrils palpitated, and her mouth was rigid in disdain. The
chancellor looked haggard and dispirited, and he eyed all with the
listlessness of a man who has given up hope. The prelate's face was as
finely drawn as an ancient cameo, and as immobile. He gazed at Madame
with one of those looks which penetrate like acid; and, brave as she
was, she found it insupportable. There was a tableau of short duration.

"Madame," said her Royal Highness, with a noble scorn, "what would you
say if one desecrated your father's tomb while you were kneeling beside
it? What would you say? In yonder room my father lies dead, and your
presence here, in whatever role, is an insult. Are you, indeed, a woman?
Have you no respect for death and sorrow? Was the bauble so precious to
your sight that you could n