The horse-hoofs came nearer. Now we made out the figures of
three men: they were the king's huntsmen, and they rode along
merrily, singing a hunting chorus. The sound of it brought relief
to us; so far at least there was no disaster. But why was not the
king with them?
"The king is probably tired, and is following more slowly,
madam," suggested Bernenstein.
This explanation seemed very probable, and the lieutenant and I,
as ready to be hopeful on slight grounds as fearful on small
provocation, joyfully accepted it. Sapt, less easily turned to
either mood, said, "Ay, but let us hear," and raising his voice,
called to the huntsmen, who had now arrived in the avenue. One of
them, the king's chief huntsman Simon, gorgeous in his uniform of
green and gold, came swaggering along, and bowed low to the
queen.
"Well, Simon, where is the king?" she asked, trying to smile.
"The king, madam, has sent a message by me to your majesty."
"Pray, deliver it to me, Simon."
"I will, madam. The king has enjoyed fine sport; and, indeed,
madam, if I may say so for myself, a better run.--"
"You may say, friend Simon," interrupted the constable, tapping
him on the shoulder, "anything you like for yourself, but, as a
matter of etiquette, the king's message should come first.
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