“She may make a man soft as a sponge,” reflected Sapt, starting again, “or hard as a bar of steel. I should feel safer if the night were dark. I’ve looked at her often from my tent and from bare ground, and I know her. She got me a decoration, and once she came near to making me turn tail. Have nothing to do with her, young Bernenstein.” “I’ll keep my eyes for beauties nearer at hand,” said Bernenstein, whose volatile temper soon threw off a serious mood. “There’s a chance for you, now Rupert of Hentzau’s gone,” said Sapt grimly. As he spoke there was a knock at the door. When it opened James entered. “The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim begs to be allowed to speak with the king,” said James. “We expect his Majesty every moment. Beg the count to enter,” Sapt answered; and, when Rischenheim came in, he went on, motioning the count to a chair: “We are talking, my lord, of the influence of the moon on the careers of men.” “What are you going to do? What have you decided?” burst out Rischenheim impatiently. “We decide nothing,” answered Sapt. “Then what has Mr.--what has the king decided?” “The king decides nothing, my lord. She decides,” and the old fellow pointed again through the window towards the moon. “At this moment she makes or unmakes a king; but I can’t tell you which. What of your cousin?” “You know that my cousin’s dead.” “Yes, I know that. What of him, though?” “Sir,” said Rischenheim with some dignity, “since he is dead, let him rest in peace. It is not for us to judge him.” “He may well wish it were. For, by Heaven, I believe I should let the rogue off,” said Colonel Sapt, “and I don’t think his Judge will.” “God forgive him, I loved him,” said Rischenheim. “Yes, and many have loved him. His servants loved him, sir.” “Friend Bauer, for example?” “Yes, Bauer loved him. Where is Bauer?” “I hope he’s gone to hell with his loved master,” grunted Sapt, but he had the grace to lower his voice and shield his mouth with his hand, so that Rischenheim did not hear. “We don’t know where he is,” I answered. “I am come,” said Rischenheim, “to put my services in all respects at the queen’s disposal.” “And at the king’s?” asked Sapt. “At the king’s? But the king is dead.” “Therefore ‘Long live the king!’” struck in young Bernenstein. “If there should be a king--” began Sapt. “You’ll do that?” interrupted Rischenheim in breathless agitation. “She is deciding,” said Colonel Sapt, and again he pointed to the moon. “But she’s a plaguey long time about it,” remarked Lieutenant von Bernenstein. Rischenheim sat silent for a moment. His face was pale, and when he spoke his voice trembled. But his words were resolute enough. “I gave my honor to the queen, and even in that I will serve her if she commands me.”