SOPHY OF KRAVONIA
could bear no more. I went outside while they shrived him. But I was called back hurriedly. Then the end came very soon—in less than half an hour. He sent everybody away except her and me, and when I had done all that was possible, I went as far off as I could—into the corner of the room. I came back at a call from her just before he died. The man was looking extraordinarily happy, Dunstanbury."
"They were married?"
"Oh yes. It's all right, I suppose—not that it seems to matter much now, does it? Put on your coat and come to the window. You'll see a sight you'll remember, I think."
Together they went to the window. The sun had risen from behind the mountains and flooded the city with light; the morning air was crisp and fragrant. The market-place was thronged with people —men in line in front, women, girls, and boys in a mass behind. They were all absolutely quiet and silent. Opposite where they were was a raised platform of wood, reached by steps from the ground; it was a rostrum for the use of those who sold goods by auction in the market. A board on trestles had been laid on this, and on the board was stretched the body of the King. At his feet stood Lukovitch; behind were Max von Hollbrandt, Zerkovitch, and Marie. At the King's head stood Sophy, and Peter Vassip knelt on the ground beside her. She stood like a statue, white and still; but Dunstanbury could see the Red Star glowing.
Lukovitch seemed to have been speaking, although the sound of his voice had not reached them through the closed window of the topmost room in the inn. He spoke again now—not loudly, but in a very clear voice.
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