"Still it's strange that he doesn't come," murmured the Queen, shading her eyes with her hand, and looking along the road to where the dark masses of the forest trees bounded our view. It was already dusk, but not so dark but that we could have seen the King's party as soon as it came into the open.
If the King's delay seemed strange at six, it was stranger at seven, and by eight most strange. We had long since ceased to talk lightly; by now we had lapsed into silence. Sapt's scoldings had died away. The Queen, wrapped in her furs (for it was very cold), sat sometimes on a seat, but oftener paced restlessly to and fro. Evening had fallen. We did not know what to do, nor even whether we ought to do anything. Sapt would not own to sharing our worst apprehensions, but his gloomy silence in face of our surmises witnessed that he was in his heart as disturbed as we were. For my part I had come to the end of my endurance, and I cried:
"For God's sake let's act! Shall I go and seek him?"
"A needle in a bundle of hay!" said Sapt with a shrug.
But at this moment my ear caught the sound of horses cantering on the road from the forest; at the same instant Bernenstein cried, "Here they come!" The Queen
