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figure. The material of the robe was of a gauzy fabric which accentuated the
rounded beauty of the girlish form.
"There," said the old woman, as she gave a final pat to one of the folds of the
garment, "you are a queen indeed!"
The girl looked down at her naked breasts and but half-concealed limbs in horror.
"They are going to lead me into the presence of men in this half-nude condition!"
she exclaimed.
The old woman smiled her crooked smile. "It is nothing," she said. "You will
become accustomed to it as did I who was brought up in the home of a minister
of the gospel, where it was considered little short of a crime for a woman to
expose her stockinged ankle. By comparison with what you will doubtless see and
the things that you may be called upon to undergo, this is but a trifle."
For what seemed hours to the distraught girl she paced the floor of her
apartment, awaiting the final summons to the presence of the mad king.
Darkness had fallen and the oil flares within the palace had been lighted long
before two messengers appeared with instructions that Herog demanded her
immediate presence and that the old woman, whom they called Xanila, was to
accompany her. The girl felt some slight relief when she discovered that she was
to have at least one friend with her, however powerless to assist her the old
woman might be.
The messengers conducted the two to a small apartment on the floor below.
Xanila explained that this was one of the anterooms off the main throneroom in
which the king was accustomed to hold court with his entire retinue. A number of
yellow-tunicked warriors sat about upon the benches within the room. For the
most part their eyes were bent upon the floor and their attitudes that of moody
dejection. As the two women entered several glanced indifferently at them, but for
the most part no attention was paid to them.
While they were waiting in the anteroom there entered from another apartment a
young man uniformed similarly to the others with the exception that upon his
head was a fillet of gold, in the front of which a single parrot feather rose erectly
above his forehead. As he entered, the other soldiers in the room rose to their
feet.
"That is Metak, one of the king's sons," Xanila whispered to the girl.
The prince was crossing the room toward the audience chamber when his glance
happened to fall upon Bertha Kircher. He halted in his tracks and stood looking
at her for a full minute without speaking. The girl, embarrassed by his bold stare
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