Bernenstein was left alone again in
the passage, pondering over what he had heard and rehearsing the
part that it now fell to him to play. As he thought he may well
have raised his head proudly. The service seemed so great and the
honor so high, that he almost wished he could die in the
performing of his role. It would be a finer death than his
soldier's dreams had dared to picture.
At one o'clock Colonel Sapt came out. "Go to bed till six," said
he to Bernenstein.
"I'm not sleepy."
"No, but you will be at eight if you don't sleep now."
"Is the queen coming out, Colonel?"
"In a minute, Lieutenant."
"I should like to kiss her hand."
"Well, if you think it worth waiting a quarter of an hour for!"
said Sapt, with a slight smile.
"You said a minute, sir."
"So did she," answered the constable.
Nevertheless it was a quarter of an hour before Rudolf Rassendyll
opened the door and the queen appeared on the threshold. She was
very pale, and she had been crying, but her eyes were happy and
her air firm. The moment he saw her, young Bernenstein fell on
his knee and raised her hand to his lips.
"To the death, madame," said he, in a trembling voice.
"I knew it, sir," she answered graciously.
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