“You mistake!” she said--“As King, you should learn to know your subjects better! We are not murderers. We do not seek your life,--we seek to make you understand the need there is of honesty and justice. We live our lives among the poor; and we see those poor crushed down into the dust by the rich, without hope and without help,--and we endeavour to rouse them to a sense of this Wrong, so that they may, by persistence, obtain Right. We do not want the death of any man! Even to a traitor we give warning and time, ere we punish his treachery. The unhappy wretch who attempted your life to-day was not of our party, or our teaching, thank God!” “I am sure of that!” he said very gently, his face brightening with a kind smile,--then, seeing her swerve, as though about to fall, he caught her on one arm--“You are faint! You must not stand too long. I fear you are suffering from the pain of that cruel wound inflicted on you for my sake!” “A little--” she managed to say, with white lips--“But it is nothing--it will soon pass----” She sank helplessly into the chair he placed for her, and mutely watched him as he walked to the window and threw it open, admitting the sweet, fresh, sea-scented air, and a flood of crimson radiance from the setting sun. “I am informed that you wish to quit the Palace at once,” he said, averting his gaze from hers for a moment;--“Need I say how much I regret this decision of yours? Both I and the Queen had hoped you would have remained with us, under the care of our own physician, till you were quite recovered. But I owe you too great a debt already to make any further claim upon you--and I will not command you to stay, if you desire to go.” She lifted her head;--the faint colour was returning to her cheeks. “I thank you!” she said simply;--“I do indeed desire to go. Every moment spent here is a moment wasted!” “You think so?”--and, turning from the window where he stood, he confronted her again;--“May I venture to suggest that you hardly do justice to me, or to the situation? You have placed me under very great obligations--surely you should endure my company long enough to tell me at least how I can in some measure show my personal recognition of your brave and self-sacrificing action!” She looked at him in musing silence. A strange glow came into her eyes,--a deeper crimson flushed her cheek. “You can do nothing for me!” she said, after a long pause, “You are a King--I, a poor commoner. I would not be indebted to you for all the world! I am prouder of my ‘common’ estate than you are of your royalty! What are ‘royal’ rewards? Jewels, money, place, title! All valueless to me! If you would serve anyone, serve the People;--do something to deserve their trust! If you would show _me_ any personal recognition, as you say, for saving your life, make that life more noble!” He heard her without offence, holding himself mute and motionless. She rose from her seat, and approached him more closely.