"Rupert himself
has insured that."
"What do you mean? You've not met Rupert? You've not got the
letter?"
"No, no; but the king can never read it."
Then Rudolf seized me by the shoulder and fairly shook me; indeed
I must have seemed like a man in a dream or a torpor.
"Why not, man; why not?" he asked in urgent low tones. Again I
looked at them, but somehow this time my eyes were attracted and
held by the queen's face. I believe that she was the first to
catch a hint of the tidings I brought. Her lips were parted, and
her gaze eagerly strained upon me. I rubbed my hand across my
forehead, and, looking up stupidly at her, I said:
"He never can see the letter. He's dead."
There was a little scream from Helga; Rudolf neither spoke nor
moved; the queen continued to gaze at me in motionless wonder and
horror.
"Rupert killed him," said I. "The boar-hound attacked Rupert;
then Herbert and the king attacked him; and he killed them all.
Yes, the king is dead. He's dead."
Now none spoke. The queen's eyes never left my face. "Yes, he's
dead." said I; and I watched her eyes still. For a long while (or
long it seemed) they were on my face; at last, as though drawn by
some irresistible force, they turned away.
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