I think that if there be indeed any consciousness among the dead, or any knowledge of what passes in the world they have left, they should be proud to call him brother.

There rises in memory of him a stately monument, and people point it out to one another as the memorial of King Rudolf.

I go often to the spot, and recall in thought all that passed when he came the first time to Zenda, and again on his second coming.

For I mourn him as a man mourns a trusted leader and a loved comrade, and I should have asked no better than to be allowed to serve him all my days.

Yet I serve the queen, and in that I do most truly serve her lover.
Times change for all of us.