Rischenheim came, pale-faced and troubled; and while all came and went, there, immovable, with drawn sword, in military stiffness, old Sapt stood at the head of the bier, his eyes set steadily in front of him, and his body never stirring from hour to hour through the long day.
A distant faint hum of voices reached us.

The queen laid her hand on my arm.
"It is the dream, Fritz," she said.

"Hark! They speak of the king; they speak in low voices and with grief, but they call him king.

It's what I saw in the dream.

But he does not hear nor heed.