Backward step by step he
seemed to be driven, coming nearer and nearer to the door. At
last there was no more than a foot between him and her; only the
crazy panel prevented her putting out her hand to touch him.
Again the voice of Rupert rang out in rich exultation, "I have
you now! Say your prayers, King Rudolf!"
"Say your prayers!" Then they fought. It was earnest, not play.
And it was the king--her king--her dear king, who was in great
peril of his life. For an instant she knelt, still watching. Then
with a low cry of terror she turned and ran headlong down the
steep stairs. Her mind could not tell what to do, but her heart
cried out that she must do something for her king. Reaching the
ground floor, she ran with wide-open eyes into the kitchen. The
stew was on the hob, the old woman still held the spoon, but she
had ceased to stir and fallen into a chair.
"He's killing the king! He's killing the king!" cried Rosa,
seizing her mother by the arm. "Mother, what shall we do? He's
killing the king!"
The old woman looked up with dull eyes and a stupid, cunning
smile.
"Let them alone," she said. "There's no king here."
"Yes, yes. He's upstairs in the count's room.
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