of the Red Rose was across his breast. His hand held a true red rose, fresh and fragrant; Flavia herself had set it there, that even in death he might not miss the chosen token of her love. I had not spoken to her, nor she to me, since we came there. We watched the pomp round him, and the rows of people that came to bring a wreath for him or to look upon his face. I saw a girl come and kneel long at the bier's foot. She rose and went away sobbing, leaving a little circlet of flowers. It was Rosa Holf. I saw women come and go weeping, and men bite their lips as they passed by. Rischenheim came, pale-faced and troubled; and while all came and went, there, immovable, with drawn sword, in military stiffness, old Sapt stood at the head of the bier, his eyes set steadily in front of him, and his body never stirring from hour to hour through the long day.
A distant faint hum of voices reached us. The Queen laid her hand on my arm.
"It is the dream, Fritz," she said. "Hark! They speak of the King; they speak in low voices and with grief, but they call him King. It's what I saw in the dream. But he does not hear nor heed. No, he can't hear nor heed even when I call him my King."
A sudden impulse came on me, and I turned to her, asking:
