“But Helga writes no letters,” said the queen. “Why, no,” said I, and I smiled a grim smile. Well, Rudolf Rassendyll had never wooed my wife. She rose, saying: “Come, let us go to the palace.” As she rose, Rischenheim made a quick impulsive step towards her. “Well, my lord,” said she, turning towards him, “will you also go with me?” “Lieutenant von Bernenstein will take care--” I began. But I stopped. The slightest gesture of her hand silenced me. “Will you go with me?” she asked Rischenheim again. “Madam,” he stammered, “Madam--” She waited. I waited also, although I had no great patience with him. Suddenly he fell on his knee, but he did not venture to take her hand. Of her own accord she came and stretched it out to him, saying sadly: “Ah, that by forgiving I could win forgiveness!” Rischenheim caught at her hand and kissed it. “It was not I,” I heard him mutter. “Rupert set me on, and I couldn’t stand out against him.” “Will you go with me to the palace?” she asked, drawing her hand away, but smiling. “The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim,” I made bold to observe, “knows some things that most people do not know, madam.” She turned on me with dignity, almost with displeasure. “The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim may be trusted to be silent,” she said. “We ask him to do nothing against his cousin. We ask only his silence.” “Ay,” said I, braving her anger, “but what security shall we have?” “His word of honor, my lord.” I knew that a rebuke to my presumption lay in her calling me “my lord,” for, save on formal occasions, she always used to call me Fritz. “His word of honor!” I grumbled. “In truth, madam--” “He’s right,” said Rischenheim; “he’s right.” “No, he’s wrong,” said the queen, smiling. “The count will keep his word, given to me.” Rischenheim looked at her and seemed about to address her, but then he turned to me, and said in a low tone: “By Heaven, I will, Tarlenheim. I’ll serve her in everything--” “My lord,” said she most graciously, and yet very sadly, “you lighten the burden on me no less by your help than because I no longer feel your honor stained through me. Come, we will go to the palace.” And she went to him, saying, “We will go together.” There was nothing for it but to trust him. I knew that I could not turn her. “Then I’ll see if the carriage is ready,” said I. “Yes, do, Fritz,” said the queen. But as I passed she stopped me for a moment, saying in a whisper, “Show that you trust him.” I went and held out my hand to him. He took and pressed it. “On my honor,” he said. Then I went out and found Bernenstein sitting on a bench in the hall. The lieutenant was a diligent and watchful young man; he appeared to be examining his revolver with sedulous care. “You can put that away,” said I rather peevishly--I had not fancied shaking hands with Rischenheim. “He’s not a prisoner any longer. He’s one of us now.” “The deuce he is!” cried Bernenstein, springing to his feet.