"A lucky thing I met him," said Rupert cheerily. "The waggon hid me very well; and handsome as my face is, I can't let Strelsau enjoy too much of it just now. Well, mother, what cheer? And you, my pretty, how goes it with you?" He carelessly brushed the girl's cheek with the glove that he had drawn off. "Faith, though, I beg your pardon," he added a moment later: "the glove's not clean enough for that," and he looked at his buff glove, which was stained with patches of dull rusty brown.
"It's all as when you left. Count Rupert," said Mother Holf, "except that that rascal Bauer went out last night"
"That's right enough. But hasn't he come back?"
"No, not yet."
"Hum. No signs of—anybody else?" His look defined the vague question.
The old woman shook her head. The girl turned away to hide a smile. "Anybody else" meant the King, so she suspected. Well, they should hear nothing from her. The King himself had charged her to be silent.
"But Rischenheim has come, I suppose?" pursued Rupert.
"Oh yes; he came, my lord, soon after you went. He wears his arm in a sling."
"Ah!" cried Rupert in sudden excite-
