HIS MAJESTY DIES—TO-MORROW
dition to her soul. Her voice was forced and harsh when at last she broke silence.
"As I shall answer in that day—"
"As you shall answer to God for your soul in that day—" the King repeated.
She gave a wild glance at Stenovics, seeking succor, finding no refuge. Her eyes came back to the King's face. "As I shall answer—" Every word came forth by its own self, with its separate birth-pang—" As I shall answer to God for my soul—"
She stopped. There was silence while a man might count ten. She threw her hands above her head and broke into a violent torrent of sobs. "I can't! I can't!" they heard her say through her tumultuous weeping.
The King suddenly started back in his chair as though somebody had offered to strike him. "You—you—you, my wife! You, Stenovics! You, whom I trusted—trusted—trusted—like—! Ah, is that you, Lepage? Did I hear rightly—wouldn't she swear?"
"With the utmost respect to Madame la Comtesse, she could not swear, sir."
The King sprang to his feet. "Go!" he cried.
They all rose—the Countess shaken with unconquerable sobs. But the next moment the King made a quick in -drawing of the breath, like a man suddenly pricked by some sharp thing. He dropped back in his chair; his head fell to meet his hands on the table in front. The hands were palms downward, and his forehead rested on his knuckles.
There was a moment's pause. Then Lepage darted from the room, crying: "Dr. Natcheff! Dr. Natcheff!" Stenovics wiped his brow. Stafnitz raised his head with a queer look at the King, and his mouth shaped for a whistle. The Countess's sobs
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