to the Palace, whence they had fled in the early gleams of the morning's light.
It was evening and the moon rose, fair and clear, over Strelsau. In the streets there were sounds of merriment and rejoicing; every house was bright with light; the King had sent out meat and wine for every soul in the city that none might be sad or hungry or thirsty in all the city that night; so that there was no small uproar. The King himself sat in his arm-chair, toasting the bride and bridegroom in company with Count Sergius of Antheim, whose dignity, somewhat wounded by the trick his master had played on him, was healing quickly under the balm of King Rudolf's graciousness. And the King said to Count Sergius:
"My lord, were you ever in love?"
"I was, sire," said the Count.
"So was I," said the King. "Was it with the Countess, my lord?"
Count Sergius's eyes twinkled demurely, but he answered:
"I take it, sire, that it must have been with the Countess."
"And I take it," said the King, "that it must have been with the Queen."
Then they both laughed; and then they
