ht, now to left. But once, as he turned, his eyes met ours. In spite
of what was behind and what was in front, we all three smiled.

"I wish they'd go a little quicker," said Rudolf in a whisper, as he
conquered his smile and turned again to acknowledge the loyal greetings
of his subjects.

But what did they know of any need for haste? They did not know what
stood on the turn of the next few hours, nor the momentous question that
pressed for instant decision. So far from hurrying, they lengthened our
ride by many pauses; they kept us before the cathedral, while some ran
and got the joy bells set ringing; we were stopped to receive improvised
bouquets from the hands of pretty girls and impetuous hand-shakings from
enthusiastic loyalists. Through it all Rudolf kept his composure, and
seemed to play his part with native kingliness. I heard Bernenstein
whisper, "By God, we must stick to it!"

At last we came in sight of the palace. Here also there was a great
stir. Many officers and soldiers were about. I saw the chancellor's
carriage standing near the portico, and a dozen other handsome equipages
were waiting till they could approach. Our human horses drew us slowly
up to the entrance. Helsing was on the steps, and ran down to the
carriage, greeting the king with passionate fervor. The shouts of the
crowd grew louder still.

But suddenly a stillness fell on them; it lasted but an instant, and
was the prelude to a deafening roar. I was looking at Rudolf and saw his
head turn suddenly and his eyes grow bright. I looked where his eyes
had gone. There, on the top step of the broad marble flight, stood
the queen, pale as the marble itself, stretching out her hands towards
Rudolf. The people had seen her: she it was whom this last rapturous
cheer greeted. My wife stood close behind her, and farther back others
of her ladies. Bernenstein and I sprang out. With a last salute to the
people Rudolf followed us. He walked up to the highest step but one, and
there fell on one knee and kissed the queen's hand. I was by him, and
when he looked up in her face I heard him say:

"All's well. He's dead, and the letter burnt."

She raised him with her hand. Her lips moved, but it seemed as though
she could find no words to speak. She put her arm through his, and thus
they stood for an instant, fronting all Strelsau. Again the cheers rang
out, and young Bernenstein sprang forward, waving his helmet and crying
like a man possessed, "God s