, reverentially conducted by her
attendants, the queen, like a thunder cloud which had ignited and
exploded with wide spread desolation, proudly moved through the
ante-chamber.

'_Stat pro ratione voluntas!_' cried Arwed with suppressed rage. 'Wo to
the country where the holy halls of justice can be profaned by such a
sentence!'

CHAPTER XXIV.

On the 12th March, all Stockholm was stirring with unusual commotion.
The streets leading to the place of execution were thronged with people
impelled by strongly excited curiosity. Cavalry and infantry were drawn
up before the council house on the Suedermalm, before the principal
door of which stood the carriage destined for the conveyance of the
baron von Goertz.

Arwed entered Goertz' prison, supporting the faltering steps of
Georgina with one arm, whilst with the other hand he led the wailing
Magdalena. Lieutenant general Rank was sitting alone in the room,
reading a paper which he had taken from among others which lay upon the
table.

'Is it you, my good captain?' exclaimed he, taking Arwed's hand. Then,
looking at his companions, he sighed, 'Alas! poor, poor, children!'

'Where is my father?' asked Georgina in an almost inaudible tone,
sinking down upon a stool.

'In the next room,' answered Rank. 'Conradi is with him.'

'What are you reading there, general?' asked Arwed without interest,
merely to break the painful silence.

'The epitaph of our friend,' answered Rank, handing the paper to him.
'He sketched it himself.'

Georgina had sprung from her seat, and hanging upon Arwed's arm, looked
with him upon the manuscript.

'Read aloud,' said she. 'Something like a dense cloud waves before my
eyes. I cannot see the letters.'

'Will it not prove too great a trial for you?' asked Arwed with tender
care.

'I am here,' she answered, 'to take a last leave of my father, before
his death by the sword of the executioner. What else can shake me?'

Struggling to suppress his tears, Arwed proceeded to read:

'A la veille de conclure un grand traite de paix, mon heros perit, la
royaute avec lui. Dieu veuille qu'il n'arrive pis! Je meurs aussi.
C'est toujours mourir en magnifique compagnie, quand on meurt avec son
roi et la royaute.'

'Very true!' exclaimed Georgina. 'The ruins of royalty are a worthy
mausoleum for the great man; but his children despair.'

Arwed continued:

'Mors regis, fidesque in regem et ducem, mors mea.'