"What worst is there?"
There was yet a chance for me. Controlling myself with a mighty effort, I took my hands off her and stood a yard or two away. I remember now the note of the wind in the elm trees outside.
"If I were not the king," I began; "if I were only a private gentleman——"
Before I could finish her hand was in mine.
"If you were a convict in the prison of Strelsau you would be my king," she said.
And under my breath I groaned, "God forgive me!" and, holding her hand in mine, I said again:
"If I were not the king——"
"Hush, hush!" she whispered. "I don't deserve it—I don't deserve to be doubted. Ah, Rudolf! does a woman who marries without love look on the man as I look on you?"
And she hid her face from me.
For more than a minute we stood there together; and I, even with my arm about her, summoned up what honor and conscience her beauty and the toils that I was in had left me.
