When her soft voice ceased the only sounds were those of water running in the lead basin of a fountain hidden somewhere behind the alleys of wych-elm, and the occasional distant blows of a hammer from the workman engaged on the scaffolding of Kensington House. She spoke again at last, her white fingers tightening over his. "I wonder if you will ever rest—if achievement will ever come—at last, if you will ever think your work done——" "How can I?" he answered. "That is my sole excuse to live—that there is something for me to do—and I am so used to work I think I could not rest——" "It hath been hard—hard and long," said Mary. "You must be so weary of it all—the lying, the treachery, the weakness, the opposition, the delays, the disappointments——" The King smiled faintly. "Yet I have done something——" "So much!" exclaimed Mary proudly. "But I do long for you to have some leisure now ... for both of us ... to be alone, at last——" "When the war is over——" She interrupted gently. "When the war is over! Alas!" She shook her head. "So long still to wait." She smiled. "I would that you had not been a great man, dear—but just a simple citizen." She laughed charmingly. "And we would live at The Hague always and have a great garden where you should grow ’La Solitaire’ for the thousand gulden prize—and I would polish all the furniture myself—and I could call you ’Willem’ then before all the world, and we should have long days together ... and you would read of great events in the _Gazette_ and never want to mix in them, and I should laugh at those unhappy kings and queens——" Her husband looked at her in silence. "So you see I am a good housewife, no more!" she continued, in a kind of wild gaiety. "Alas, I have no brains for business!" "I have thought, too," said William, "that I would like to be a mere gentleman watching events, not guiding them; but these thoughts are beneath us—and idle visions." "Idle visions!" repeated the Queen. "And you must go to the war again—Death’s target—and I must stay behind and keep my countenance! I am such a poor weak fool!" she added, in bitter self-reproach. The King raised her head and pressed it against his heart. "That kind of fool I could never have done without," he said impetuously. "If I have ever achieved anything, the credit is to you, my dearest, my dearest——" He dropped her hand, and abruptly broke his speech. "What more can I want than to hear you say that?" answered Mary. "Only love me and I can bear anything——" The King’s brilliant eyes rested on her pale but smiling face; he spoke slowly, and his tired voice was hoarse and unequal.