matters, believing that we ourselves make our dreams, fashioning out of the fears and hopes of to-day what seems to come by night in the guise of a mysterious revelation. Yet there are some things that a man cannot understand, and I do not profess to measure with my mind the ways of God.
However, not why the Queen went, but that she had gone, concerned us. We had returned to the house now, and James, remembering that men must eat though kings die, was getting us some breakfast. In fact I had great need of food, being utterly worn out; and they, after their labours, were hardly less weary. As we ate, we talked; and it was plain to us that I also must go to Strelsau. There, in the city, the drama must be played out. There was Rudolf, there Rischenheim, there in all likelihood Rupert of Hentzau, there now the Queen. And of these Rupert alone, or perhaps Rischenheim also, knew that the King was dead, and how the issue of last night had shaped itself under the compelling hand of wayward fortune. The King lay in peace on his bed, his grave was dug; Sapt and James held the secret with solemn faith and ready lives. To Strelsau I must go, to tell the Queen that she was widowed, and to aim the stroke at young Rupert's heart.
At nine in the morning I started from
