e!" 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 honour and conscience her beauty and the
toils that I was in had left me.

"Flavia," I said, in a strange dry voice that seemed not my own, "I am
not--"

As I spoke--as she raised her eyes to me--there was a heavy step on the
gravel outside, and a man appeared at the window. A little cry burst
from Flavia, as she sprang back from me. My half-finished sentence died
on my lips. Sapt stood there, bowing low, but with a stern frown on his
face.

"A thousand pardons, sire," said he, "but his Eminence the Cardinal has
waited this quarter of an hour to offer his respectful adieu to your
Majesty."

I met his eye full and square; and I read in it an angry warning. How
long he had been a listener I knew not, but he had come in upon us in
the nick of time.

"We must not keep his Eminence waiting," said I.

But Flavia, in whose love there lay no shame, with radiant eyes and
blushing face, held out her hand to Sapt. She said nothing, but no
man could have missed her meaning, who had ever seen a woman in the
exultation of love. A sour, yet sad, smile passed over the old soldier's
face, and there was tenderness in his voice, as bending to kiss her
hand, he said:

"In joy and sorrow, in good times and bad, God save your Royal
Highness!"

He paused and added, glancing at me and drawing himself up to military
erectness:

"But, before all comes the King--God save the King!"

And Flavia caught at my hand and kissed it, murmuring:

"Amen! Good God, Amen!"

We went into the ballroom again. Forced to receive adieus, I was
separated from Flavia: everyone, when they left me, went to her. Sapt
was out and in of the throng, and where he had been, glances, smiles,
and whispers were rife. I doubted not that, true to his relentless
purpose, he was spreading the news that he had learnt. To uphold
the Crown and beat Black Michael--that was his one resolve. Flavia,
myself--ay, and the real King in Zenda, were pieces in his game; and
pawns have no business with passions. Not even at the walls of the
Palace did he stop; for when at last I handed Flavia down the