Then he said to me: "Is she coming, Fritz ?" "Yes, she's coming, sire," I answered.
He noticed the style of my address; a faint amused gleam shot into his languid eyes.
"Well, for an hour, then," he murmured, and lay back on his pillows.
She came, dry-eyed, calm, and queenly.

We all drew back, and she knelt down by his bed, holding his hand in her two hands.

Presently the hand stirred; she let it go; then, knowing well what he wanted, she raised it herself and placed it on her head, while she bowed her face to the bed.
His hand wandered for the last time over the gleaming hair that he had loved so well.

She rose, passed her arm about his shoulders, and kissed his lips.

Her face rested close to his, and he seemed to speak to her, but we could not have heard the words even if we would.