We cast our eyes up, admiring the
massive beauty of the old walls, and we saw a cortege winding slowly
down the hill. On it came.
"Let us go back," said Sapt.
"I should like to stay," said Flavia; and I reined my horse beside hers.
We could distinguish the approaching party now. There came first two
mounted servants in black uniforms, relieved only by a silver badge.
These were followed by a car drawn by four horses: on it, under a
heavy pall, lay a coffin; behind it rode a man in plain black clothes,
carrying his hat in his hand. Sapt uncovered, and we stood waiting,
Flavia keeping by me and laying her hand on my arm.
"It is one of the gentlemen killed in the quarrel, I expect," she said.
I beckoned to a groom.
"Ride and ask whom they escort," I ordered.
He rode up to the servants, and I saw him pass on to the gentleman who
rode behind.
"It's Rupert of Hentzau," whispered Sapt.
Rupert it was, and directly afterwards, waving to the procession to
stand still, Rupert trotted up to me. He was in a frock-coat, tightly
buttoned, and trousers. He wore an aspect of sadness, and he bowed with
profound respect. Yet suddenly he smiled, and I smiled too, for old
Sapt's hand lay in his left breast-pocket, and Rupert and I both guessed
what lay in the hand inside the pocket.
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