the joke you played on me?"

We answered none of us; we three were silent before her. Regardless of
them, she threw her arms round my neck and kissed me. Then Sapt spoke in
a low hoarse whisper:

"It is not the King. Don't kiss him; he's not the King."

She drew back for a moment; then, with an arm still round my neck, she
asked, in superb indignation:

"Do I not know my love? Rudolf my love!"

"It is not the King," said old Sapt again; and a sudden sob broke from
tender-hearted Fritz.

It was the sob that told her no comedy was afoot.

"He is the King!" she cried. "It is the King's face--the King's ring--my
ring! It is my love!"

"Your love, madame," said old Sapt, "but not the King. The King is there
in the Castle. This gentleman--"

"Look at me, Rudolf! look at me!" she cried, taking my face between her
hands. "Why do you let them torment me? Tell me what it means!"

Then I spoke, gazing into her eyes.

"God forgive me, madame!" I said. "I am not the King!"

I felt her hands clutch my cheeks. She gazed at me as never man's face
was scanned yet. And I, silent again, saw wonder born, and doubt grow,
and terror spring to life as she looked. And very gradually the grasp of
her hands slackened; she turned to Sapt, to Fritz, and back to me: then
suddenly she reeled forward and fell in my arms; and with a great cry of
pain I gathered her to me and kissed her lips. Sapt laid his hand on my
arm. I looked up in his face. And I laid her softly on the ground, and
stood up, looking on her, cursing heaven that young Rupert's sword had
spared me for this sharper pang.

CHAPTER 21

If love were all!

It was night, and I was in the cell wherein the King had lain in the
Castle of Zenda. The great pipe that Rupert of Hentzau had nicknamed
"Jacob's Ladder" was gone, and the lights in the room across the moat
twinkled in the darkness. All was still; the din and clash of strife
were gone. I had spent the day hidden in the forest, from the time when
Fritz had led me off, leaving Sapt with the princess. Under cover of
dusk, muffled up, I had been brought to the Castle and lodged where I
now lay. Though three men had died there--two of them by my hand--I was
not troubled by ghosts. I had thrown myself on a pallet by the window,
and was looking out on the black water; Johann, the keeper, still pale
from his wound, but not much hurt besides, had brought me supper. He
told me that the King was doing well, that he had