matter—the occasion escapes my memory— speaking to her before others words that even alone she could not have listened to with dignity. I was there, and Sapt; the Colonel's small eyes had gleamed in anger. "I should like to shut his mouth for him," I heard him mutter, for the King's waywardness had well-nigh worn out even his devotion.
The thing, of which I will say no more, happened a day or two before I was to set out to meet Mr. Rassendyll. I was to seek him this time at Wintenberg, for I had been recognised the year before, at Dresden, and Wintenberg, being a smaller place and less in the way of chance visitors, was deemed safer. I remember well how she was when she called me into her own room a few hours after she had left the King. She stood by the table; the box was on it, and I knew well that the red rose and the message were within. But there was more to-day. Without preface she broke into the subject of my errand.
"I must write to him," she said. "I can't bear it, I must write. My dear friend Fritz, you will carry it safely for me, won't you? And he must write to me. And you’ll bring that safely, won't you? Ah, Fritz, I know I'm wrong, but I’m starved, starved, starved! And it's for the last time. For I know now that if I send anything, I must send more.
