The roaring flood of youth goes by, and the stream of life sinks to a quiet flow.

Sapt is an old man now; soon my sons will be grown up, men enough themselves to serve Queen Flavia.

Yet the memory of Rudolf Rassendyll is fresh to me as on the day he died, and the vision of the death of Rupert of Hentzau dances often before my eyes.

It may be that some day the whole story shall be told, and men shall judge of it for themselves.

To me it seems now as though all had ended well.