agitation, and without any greeting or notice of the rest she walked quickly across the room to me.
"The dream, Fritz!" she said. "It has come again. Helga persuaded me to lie down, and I was very tired, so at last I fell asleep. Then it came. I saw him, Fritz—I saw him as plainly as I see you. They all called him King, as they did to-day; but they did not cheer. They were quiet, and looked at him with sad faces. I could not hear what they said; they spoke in hushed voices. I heard nothing more than 'The King, the King,' and he seemed to hear not even that. He lay still; he was lying on something, something covered with hanging stuff, I couldn't see what it was; yes, quite still. His face was so pale, and he didn't hear them say ’The King.' Fritz, Fritz, he looked as if he were dead! Where is he? Where have you let him go?"
She turned from me and her eyes flashed over the rest.
"Where is he? Why aren't you with him?" she demanded, with a sudden change of tone. "Why aren't you round him? You should be between him and danger, ready to give your lives for his. Indeed, gentlemen, you take your duty lightly."
It might be that there was little reason in her words. There appeared to be no
