Rupert of Hentzau (Dystopian Novel). Anthony Hope

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СКАЧАТЬ Sapt, he’s got a copy of the queen’s letter.”

      Sapt twirled his moustache.

      “I’ve always said as much,” he remarked in tones of satisfaction. He need not have said it; he would have been more than human not to think it.

      “Where can you take me to?” asked Rudolf impatiently.

      “Any room with a door and a lock to it,” answered old Sapt. “I command here, and when I say ‘Stay out’— well, they don’t come in.”

      “Not the king?”

      “The king is in bed. Come along,” and the constable set his toe on the lowest step.

      “Is there nobody about?” asked Rudolf, catching his arm.

      “Bernenstein; but he will keep his back toward us.”

      “Your discipline is still good, then, Colonel?”

      “Pretty well for these days, your Majesty,” grunted Sapt, as he reached the level of the bridge.

      Having crossed, they entered the chateau. The passage was empty, save for Bernenstein, whose broad back barred the way from the royal apartments.

      “In here,” whispered Sapt, laying his hand on the door of the room whence he had come.

      “All right,” answered Rudolf. Bernenstein’s hand twitched, but he did not look round. There was discipline in the castle of Zenda.

      But as Sapt was half-way through the door and Rudolf about to follow him, the other door, that which Bernenstein guarded, was softly yet swiftly opened. Bernenstein’s sword was in rest in an instant. A muttered oath from Sapt and Rudolf’s quick snatch at his breath greeted the interruption. Bernenstein did not look round, but his sword fell to his side. In the doorway stood Queen Flavia, all in white; and now her face turned white as her dress. For her eyes had fallen on Rudolf Rassendyll. For a moment the four stood thus; then Rudolf passed Sapt, thrust Bernenstein’s brawny shoulders (the young man had not looked round) out of the way, and, falling on his knee before the queen, seized her hand and kissed it. Bernenstein could see now without looking round, and if astonishment could kill, he would have been a dead man that instant. He fairly reeled and leant against the wall, his mouth hanging open. For the king was in bed, and had a beard; yet there was the king, fully dressed and clean shaven, and he was kissing the queen’s hand, while she gazed down on him in a struggle between amazement, fright, and joy. A soldier should be prepared for anything, but I cannot be hard on young Bernenstein’s bewilderment.

      Yet there was in truth nothing strange in the queen seeking to see old Sapt that night, nor in her guessing where he would most probably be found. For she had asked him three times whether news had come from Wintenberg and each time he had put her off with excuses. Quick to forbode evil, and conscious of the pledge to fortune that she had given in her letter, she had determined to know from him whether there were really cause for alarm, and had stolen, undetected, from her apartments to seek him. What filled her at once with unbearable apprehension and incredulous joy was to find Rudolf present in actual flesh and blood, no longer in sad longing dreams or visions, and to feel his live lips on her hand.

      Lovers count neither time nor danger; but Sapt counted both, and no more than a moment had passed before, with eager imperative gestures, he beckoned them to enter the room. The queen obeyed, and Rudolf followed her.

      “Let nobody in, and don’t say a word to anybody,” whispered Sapt, as he entered, leaving Bernenstein outside. The young man was half-dazed still, but he had sense to read the expression in the constable’s eyes and to learn from it that he must give his life sooner than let the door be opened. So with drawn sword he stood on guard.

      It was eleven o’clock when the queen came, and midnight had struck from the great clock of the castle before the door opened again and Sapt came out. His sword was not drawn, but he had his revolver in his hand. He shut the door silently after him and began at once to talk in low, earnest, quick tones to Bernenstein. Bernenstein listened intently and without interrupting. Sapt’s story ran on for eight or nine minutes. Then he paused, before asking:

      “You understand now?”

      “Yes, it is wonderful,” said the young man, drawing in his breath.

      “Pooh!” said Sapt. “Nothing is wonderful: some things are unusual.”

      Bernenstein was not convinced, and shrugged his shoulders in protest.

      “Well?” said the constable, with a quick glance at him.

      “I would die for the queen, sir,” he answered, clicking his heels together as though on parade.

      “Good,” said Sapt. “Then listen,” and he began again to talk. Bernenstein nodded from time to time. “You’ll meet him at the gate,” said the constable, “and bring him straight here. He’s not to go anywhere else, you understand me?”

      “Perfectly, Colonel,” smiled young Bernenstein.

      “The king will be in this room — the king. You know who is the king?”

      “Perfectly, Colonel.”

      “And when the interview is ended, and we go to breakfast —”

      “I know who will be the king then. Yes, Colonel.”

      “Good. But we do him no harm unless —”

      “It is necessary.”

      “Precisely.”

      Sapt turned away with a little sigh. Bernenstein was an apt pupil, but the colonel was exhausted by so much explanation. He knocked softly at the door of the room. The queen’s voice bade him enter, and he passed in. Bernenstein was left alone again in the passage, pondering over what he had heard and rehearsing the part that it now fell to him to play. As he thought he may well have raised his head proudly. The service seemed so great and the honor so high, that he almost wished he could die in the performing of his role. It would be a finer death than his soldier’s dreams had dared to picture.

      At one o’clock Colonel Sapt came out. “Go to bed till six,” said he to Bernenstein.

      “I’m not sleepy.”

      “No, but you will be at eight if you don’t sleep now.”

      “Is the queen coming out, Colonel?”

      “In a minute, Lieutenant.”

      “I should like to kiss her hand.”

      “Well, if you think it worth waiting a quarter of an hour for!” said Sapt, with a slight smile.

      “You said a minute, sir.”

      “So did she,” answered the constable.

      Nevertheless it was a quarter of an hour before Rudolf Rassendyll opened the door and the queen appeared on the threshold. She was very pale, and she had been crying, but her eyes were happy and her air firm. The moment he saw her, young Bernenstein fell on his knee and raised her hand to his lips.

      “To the death, madame,” said he, in a trembling СКАЧАТЬ