ERT AND THE PLAY-ACTOR

There rises often before my mind the picture of young Rupert, standing
where Rischenheim left him, awaiting the return of his messenger and
watching for some sign that should declare to Strelsau the death of its
king which his own hand had wrought. His image is one that memory holds
clear and distinct, though time may blur the shape of greater and better
men, and the position in which he was that morning gives play enough to
the imagination. Save for Rischenheim, a broken reed, and Bauer, who
was gone, none knew where, he stood alone against a kingdom which he had
robbed of its head, and a band of resolute men who would know no rest
and no security so long as he lived. For protection he had only a quick
brain, his courage, and his secret. Yet he could not fly--he was
without resources till his cousin furnished them--and at any moment his
opponents might find themselves able to declare the king's death and
raise the city in hue and cry after him. Such men do not repent; but it
may be that he regretted the enterprise which had led him on so far and
forced on him a deed so momentous; yet to those who knew him it seems
more likely that the smile broadened on his firm full lips as he looked
down on the unconscious city. Well, I daresay he would have been too
much for me, but I wish I had been the man to find him there. He would
not have had it so; for I believe that he asked no better than to cross
swords again with Rudolf Rassendyll and set his fortunes on the issue.

Down below, the old woman was cooking a stew for her dinner, now and
then grumbling to herself that the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim was so
long away, and Bauer, the rascal, drunk in some pot-house. The kitchen
door stood open, and through it could be seen the girl Rosa, busily
scrubbing the tiled floor; her color was high and her eyes bright; from
time to time she paused in her task, and, raising her head, seemed to
listen. The time at which the king needed her was past, but the king had
not come. How little the old woman knew for whom she listened! All
her talk had been of Bauer--why Bauer did not come and what could have
befallen him. It was grand to hold the king's secret for him, and she
would hold it with her life; for he had been kind and gracious to
her, and he was her man of all the men in Strelsau. Bauer was a stumpy
fellow; the Count of Hentzau was handsome, handsome as the devil; but
the king was her man. And the king had trus