We three shared the queen's feelings, and forgetting the many chances of the chase, any one of which would amply account for the king's delay, fell to speculating on remote possibilities of disaster.

He might have met Rischenheim--though they had ridden in opposite directions; Rupert might have intercepted him--though no means could have brought Rupert to the forest so early.
Our fears defeated common sense, and our conjectures outran possibility.
Sapt was the first to recover from this foolish mood, and he rated us soundly, not sparing even the queen herself.

With a laugh we regained some of our equanimity, and felt rather ashamed of our weakness.
"Still it's strange that he doesn't come," murmured the queen, shading her eyes with her hand, and looking along the road to where the dark masses of the forest trees bounded our view.

It was already dusk, but not so dark but that we could have seen the king's party as soon as it came into the open.
If the king's delay seemed strange at six, it was stranger at seven, and by eight most strange.

We had long since ceased to talk lightly; by now we had lapsed into silence.