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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"Rupert of Hentzau"

It had come like a cynic's warning across
the scene of mock triumph, and went swiftly as it had come,
leaving behind it a reminder of our peril. I felt suddenly sick
at heart, and almost cried out to the people to have done with
their silly shouting.
At last we got away. The plea of fatigue met all visitors who
made their way to the door and sought to offer their
congratulations; it could not disperse the crowd that hung
persistently and contentedly about, ringing us in the palace with
a living fence. We still heard their jests and cheers when we
were alone in the small saloon that opens on the gardens. My wife
and I had come here at Rudolf's request; Bernenstein had assumed
the duty of guarding the door. Evening was now falling fast, and
it grew dark. The garden was quiet; the distant noise of the
crowd threw its stillness into greater relief. Rudolf told us
there the story of his struggle with Rupert of Hentzau in the
attic of the old house, dwelling on it as lightly as he could.
The queen stood by his chair--she would not let him rise; when he
finished by telling how he had burnt her letter, she stooped
suddenly and kissed him off the brow. Then she looked straight
across at Helga, almost defiantly; but Helga ran to her and
caught her in her arms.


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