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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"The Prisoner of Zenda"


"My darling!" I cried, forgetting everything but her, "did you dream
that I left you to go hunting?"
"What then, Rudolf? Ah! you're not going--?"
"Well, it is hunting. I go to seek Michael in his lair."
She had turned very pale.
"So, you see, sweet, I was not so poor a lover as you thought me. I
shall not be long gone."
"You will write to me, Rudolf?"
I was weak, but I could not say a word to stir suspicion in her.
"I'll send you all my heart every day," said I.
"And you'll run no danger?"
"None that I need not."
"And when will you be back? Ah, how long will it be!"
"When shall I be back?" I repeated.
"Yes, yes! Don't be long, dear, don't be long. I shan't sleep while
you're away."
"I don't know when I shall be back," said I.
"Soon, Rudolf, soon?"
"God knows, my darling. But, if never--"
"Hush, hush!" and she pressed her lips to mine.
"If never," I whispered, "you must take my place; you'll be the only one
of the House then. You must reign, and not weep for me."
For a moment she drew herself up like a very queen.
"Yes, I will!" she said. "I will reign. I will do my part though all my
life will be empty and my heart dead; yet I'll do it!"
She paused, and sinking against me again, wailed softly.
"Come soon! come soon!"
Carried away, I cried loudly:
"As God lives, I--yes, I myself--will see you once more before I die!"
"What do you mean?" she exclaimed, with wondering eyes; but I had no
answer for her, and she gazed at me with her wondering eyes.


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