Once again he turned to wave his hand, and then the gloom of thickets
swallowed him and he was lost from our sight. Thus he vanished--reckless
and wary, graceful and graceless, handsome, debonair, vile, and
unconquered. And I flung my sword passionately on the ground and cried
to Fritz to ride after him. But Fritz stopped his horse, and leapt down
and ran to me, and knelt, putting his arm about me. And indeed it was
time, for the wound that Detchard had given me was broken forth afresh,
and my blood was staining the ground.
"Then give me the horse!" I cried, staggering to my feet and throwing
his arms off me. And the strength of my rage carried me so far as where
the horse stood, and then I fell prone beside it. And Fritz knelt by me
again.
"Fritz!" I said.
"Ay, friend--dear friend!" he said, tender as a woman.
"Is the King alive?"
He took his handkerchief and wiped my lips, and bent and kissed me on
the forehead.
"Thanks to the most gallant gentleman that lives," said he softly, "the
King is alive!"
The little farm-girl stood by us, weeping for fright and wide-eyed for
wonder; for she had seen me at Zenda; and was not I, pallid, dripping,
foul, and bloody as I was--yet was not I the King?
And when I heard that the King was alive, I strove to cry "Hurrah!" But
I could not speak, and I laid my head back in Fritz's arms and closed
my eyes, and I groaned; and then, lest Fritz should do me wrong in his
thoughts, I opened my eyes and tried to say "Hurrah!" again.
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