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Updated: May 11, 2025
There, in the bright moonlight, on the far side of the broad terrace, close by the line of tall trees that fringed its edge, we saw Rudolf Rassendyll pacing slowly up and down, with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the arbiter of his fate, on her who was to make him a king or send him a fugitive from Strelsau. "There he is, madam," said Sapt. "Safe enough!"
"For I and all of mine ask no better than to die for your Majesty." "She knows, and yet she loves me," repeated the queen. I loved to see that she seemed to find comfort in Helga's love. It is women to whom women turn, and women whom women fear. "But Helga writes no letters," said the queen. "Why, no," said I, and I smiled a grim smile. Well, Rudolf Rassendyll had never wooed my wife.
It was the same that he had worn at the hunting-lodge, and was ragged and torn from the boar-hound's teeth. Rudolf tore it further open, and his hand dashed in. "God's curse on you!" snarled Rupert of Hentzau. But Mr. Rassendyll still smiled. Then he drew out a letter. A glance at it showed him the queen's seal. As he glanced Rupert made another effort. The one hand, wearied out, gave way, and Mr.
I don't wonder Black Michael looked blacker than ever you and the princess had so much to say to one another." "How beautiful she is!" I exclaimed. "Never mind the woman," growled Sapt. "Are you ready to start?" "Yes," said I, with a sigh. It was five o'clock, and at twelve I should be no more than Rudolf Rassendyll. I remarked on it in a joking tone.
Secondly, the lieutenant governor of the state, who is the Rudolf Rassendyll of the production, does not enter the story soon enough, and is too James K. Hacketty all at once. We are jerked into admiration of him, rather than ensnared. But after that the gentleman behaves more handsomely than any of the distinguished lieutenant governors in real life the present writer happens to remember.
The roaring flood of youth goes by, and the stream of life sinks to a quiet flow. Sapt is an old man now; soon my sons will be grown up, men enough themselves to serve Queen Flavia. Yet the memory of Rudolf Rassendyll is fresh to me as on the day he died, and the vision of the death of Rupert of Hentzau dances often before my eyes.
Then his sense of amusement conquered everything else, and he sat down in a chair, laughing. "I'd give my life," said he, "to hear the story that the chancellor will be waked up to hear in a minute or two from now!" But a moment's thought made him grave again. For whether he were the king or Rudolf Rassendyll, he knew that my wife's name was in equal peril.
So he did not pull his trigger, but, maintaining his aim the while, said: "I'm not a street bully, and I don't excel in a rough-and-tumble. Will you fight now like a gentleman? There's a pair of blades in the case yonder." Mr. Rassendyll, in his turn, was keenly alive to the peril that still hung over the queen.
She leant against the door post, her broad bosom heaving under her scanty stuff gown. Yet still was it not the king? "God help us!" she muttered in fear and bewilderment. "He helps us, never fear," said Rudolf Rassendyll. "Where is Count Rupert?" The girl had caught alarm from her mother's agitation.
Then speaking in a low voice, lest the queen should hear and be distressed, he went on: "You must prepare it, you know. Bring it here in a shell; only a few officials need see the face." Sapt rose to his feet and stood facing Mr. Rassendyll. "The plan's a pretty one, but it breaks down at one point," said he in a strange voice, even harsher than his was wont to be.
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