Yet much cannot have passed, for almost close on their talk about the dream came Colonel Sapt, saying that the guards were in line, and all the women streamed out to watch them, while the men followed, lest the gay uniforms should make them forgotten. Certainly a quiet fell over the old castle, that only the constable’s curt tones broke, as he bade Rudolf come by the back way to the stables and mount his horse. “There’s no time to lose,” said Sapt, and his eye seemed to grudge the queen even one more word with the man she loved. But Rudolf was not to be hurried into leaving her in such a fashion. He clapped the constable on the shoulder, laughing, and bidding him think of what he would for a moment; then he went again to the queen and would have knelt before her, but that she would not suffer, and they stood with hands locked. Then suddenly she drew him to her and kissed his forehead, saying: “God go with you, Rudolf my knight.” Thus she turned away, letting him go. He walked towards the door; but a sound arrested his steps, and he waited in the middle of the room, his eyes on the door. Old Sapt flew to the threshold, his sword half-way out of its sheath. There was a step coming down the passage, and the feet stopped outside the door. “Is it the king?” whispered Rudolf. “I don’t know,” said Sapt. “No, it’s not the king,” came in unhesitating certainty from Queen Flavia. They waited: a low knock sounded on the door. Still for a moment they waited. The knock was repeated urgently. “We must open,” said Sapt. “Behind the curtain with you, Rudolf.” The queen sat down, and Sapt piled a heap of papers before her, that it might seem as though he and she transacted business. But his precautions were interrupted by a hoarse, eager, low cry from outside, “Quick! in God’s name, quick!” They knew the voice for Bernenstein’s. The queen sprang up, Rudolf came out, Sapt turned the key. The lieutenant entered, hurried, breathless, pale. “Well?” asked Sapt. “He has got away?” cried Rudolf, guessing in a moment the misfortune that had brought Bernenstein back. “Yes, he’s got away. Just as we left the town and reached the open road towards Tarlenheim, he said, ‘Are we going to walk all the way? I was not loath to go quicker, and we broke into a trot. But I--ah, what a pestilent fool I am!” “Never mind that--go on.” “Why, I was thinking of him and my task, and having a bullet ready for him, and--” “Of everything except your horse?” guessed Sapt, with a grim smile. “Yes; and the horse pecked and stumbled, and I fell forward on his neck. I put out my arm to recover myself, and--I jerked my revolver on to the ground.” “And he saw?” “He saw, curse him. For a second he waited; then he smiled, and turned, and dug his spurs in and was off, straight across country towards Strelsau. Well, I was off my horse in a moment, and I fired three times after him.” “You hit?” asked Rudolf.