They had made a brave picture, especially the
royal cuirassiers, who numbered three hundred strong, and who
were to fight not only for glory, but for bread. Fifty of them
had been left behind to guard the palaces.
In the royal bedchamber the king lay, all unconscious of the
fate impending. The brain had ceased to live; only a feeble
pulse stirred irregularly. The state physician shook his head,
and, from time to time, laid his fingers on the unfeeling wrist.
To him it was a matter of a few hours.
But to the girl, whose face lay hidden in the counterpane, close
to one of those senseless hands, to her it was a matter of a
breaking heart, of eyes which could be no longer urged to tears,
the wells having dried up. Dear God, she thought, how cruel it
was! Her tried and trusted friend, the one playmate of her
childhood, was silently slipping out of her life forever. Ah,
what to her were crowns and kingdoms, aye, and even war? Her
father dead, what mattered it who reigned? How she prayed that
he might live! They would go away together, and live in peace
and quiet, undisturbed by the storms of intrigue.
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