one levelled a gun at him. He had no weapon, and he started at a run
back towards the house. But one of them fired, and he was hit, and had
much ado to reach here before he fainted. By good luck, they feared to
pursue him nearer the house."

He paused and added:

"Lad, the bullet was meant for you."

"It is very likely," said I, "and it's first blood to brother Michael."

"I wonder which three it was," said Fritz.

"Well, Sapt," I said, "I went out tonight for no idle purpose, as you
shall hear. But there's one thing in my mind."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Why this," I answered. "That I shall ill requite the very great honours
Ruritania has done me if I depart from it leaving one of those Six
alive--neither with the help of God, will I."

And Sapt shook my hand on that.

CHAPTER 13

An Improvement on Jacob's Ladder

In the morning of the day after that on which I swore my oath against
the Six, I gave certain orders, and then rested in greater contentment
than I had known for some time. I was at work; and work, though it
cannot cure love, is yet a narcotic to it; so that Sapt, who grew
feverish, marvelled to see me sprawling in an armchair in the sunshine,
listening to one of my friends who sang me amorous songs in a mellow
voice and induced in me a pleasing melancholy. Thus was I engaged when
young Rupert Hentzau, who feared neither man nor devil, and rode through
the demesne--where every tree might hide a marksman, for all he knew--as
though it had been the park at Strelsau, cantered up to where I lay,
bowing with burlesque deference, and craving private speech with me
in order to deliver a message from the Duke of Strelsau. I made all
withdraw, and then he said, seating himself by me:

"The King is in love, it seems?"

"Not with life, my lord," said I, smiling.

"It is well," he rejoined. "Come, we are alone, Rassendyll--"

I rose to a sitting posture.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I was about to call one of my gentlemen to bring your horse, my lord.
If you do not know how to address the King, my brother must find another
messenger."

"Why keep up the farce?" he asked, negligently dusting his boot with his
glove.

"Because it is not finished yet; and meanwhile I'll choose my own name."

"Oh, so be it! Yet I spoke in love for you; for indeed you are a man
after my own heart."

"Saving my poor honesty," said I, "maybe I am. But that I keep faith
with men, and honour with women