. . . It was
not to be; he was dying. She would be the wife of no man; her
father, hovering in spirit above her, would read her heart and
understand. Dead, he would ask no sacrifice of her. Henceforth
only God would be her king, and she would worship him in some
sacred convent.
The old valet, who had served his master from boyhood, stood in
the anteroom and fumbled his lips, his faded eyes red with
weeping. He was losing the only friend he had. Elsewhere the
servants wandered about restlessly, waiting for news from the
front, to learn if they, too, were to join in the mad flight
from the city. Few servants love masters in adversity. Self-
interest is the keynote to their existences.
In the east wing three men were holding a whispered consultation.
The faces of two were pale and deep-lined; the face of the
third expressed a mixture of condolence and triumph. These three
gentlemen were the archbishop, the chancellor and the Austrian
ambassador. History has not taken into account what passed
between these three men, but subsequent events proved that it
signified disaster to one who dreamed of conquest and of power.
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