As the girl hastened toward the spot where the two
had disappeared, she was startled to see three troopers
of the palace cavalry headed by an officer break through
the trees at a short distance from where the battle
had waged. The four men ran rapidly toward her.
“What has happened here?” shouted the
officer to Emma von der Tann; and then, as he came
closer: “Gott! Can it be possible that
it is your highness?”
The girl paid no attention to the officer. Instead,
she hurried down the steep embankment toward the underbrush
into which the two men had fallen. There was
no sound from below, and no movement in the bushes
to indicate that a moment before two desperately battling
human beings had dropped among them.
The soldiers were close upon the girl’s heels,
but it was she who first reached the two quiet figures
that lay side by side upon the stony ground halfway
down the hillside.
When the officer stopped beside her she was sitting
on the ground holding the head of one of the combatants
in her lap.
A little stream of blood trickled from a wound in
the forehead. The officer stooped closer.
“He is dead?” he asked.
“The king is dead,” replied the Princess
Emma von der Tann, a little sob in her voice.
“The king!” exclaimed the officer; and
then, as he bent lower over the white face: “Leopold!”
The girl nodded.
“We were searching for him,” said the
officer, “when we heard the shot.”
Then, arising, he removed his cap, saying in a very
low voice: “The king is dead. Long
live the king!”
AN ANGRY KING
The soldiers stood behind their officer. None
of them had ever seen Leopold of Lutha—he
had been but a name to them—they cared nothing
for him; but in the presence of death they were awed
by the majesty of the king they had never known.
The hands of Emma von der Tann were chafing the wrists
of the man whose head rested in her lap.
“Leopold!” she whispered. “Leopold,
come back! Mad king you may have been, but still
you were king of Lutha—my father’s
king—my king.”
The girl nearly cried out in shocked astonishment
as she saw the eyes of the dead king open. But
Emma von der Tann was quick-witted. She knew
for what purpose the soldiers from the palace were
scouring the country.
Had she not thought the king dead she would have cut
out her tongue rather than reveal his identity to
these soldiers of his great enemy. Now she saw
that Leopold lived, and she must undo the harm she
had innocently wrought. She bent lower over Barney’s
face, trying to hide it from the soldiers.
“Go away, please!” she called to them.
“Leave me with my dead king. You are Peter’s
men. You do not care for Leopold, living or dead.
Go back to your new king and tell him that this poor
young man can never more stand between him and the
throne.”
