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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"Rupert of Hentzau"

Then he spoke, very low, slowly, and with difficulty.
"Then they can go," he said; and when I spoke of a priest he
shook his head.
I went back to them and asked if anything more could be done. The
answer was nothing; but I could not prevail further than to get
all save one sent into an adjoining room; he who remained seated
himself at a table some way off. Rudolf's eyes had closed again;
old Sapt, who had not once spoken since the shot was fired,
raised a haggard face to mine.
"We'd better fetch her to him," he said hoarsely. I nodded my
head.
Sapt went while I stayed by him. Bernenstein came to him, bent
down, and kissed his hand. The young fellow, who had borne
himself with such reckless courage and dash throughout the
affair, was quite unmanned now, and the tears were rolling down
his face. I could have been much in the same plight, but I would
not before Mr. Rassendyll. He smiled at Bernenstein. Then he said
to me:
"Is she coming, Fritz?"
"Yes, she's coming, sire," I answered.
He noticed the style of my address; a faint amused gleam shot
into his languid eyes.
"Well, for an hour, then," he murmured, and lay back on his
pillows.
She came, dry-eyed, calm, and queenly.


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