He had believed in the Belgians and
in the King. And now--the King did not go at once. He went back to the
little house and went through it. And he and one of his generals climbed
to the upper floor, and the King stood looking out silently toward the
land he loved and which for a time was no longer his.
He came down after a time, stooping his tall figure in the low doorway,
and said he would like some tea. So Marie put the kettle on, and Sara
Lee and the King talked. It was all rather dazing. Every now and then
she forgot certain instructions whispered her by the general, and after
a time the King said: "Why do you do that, mademoiselle?"
For Sara Lee, with an intent face and moving lips, had been stepping
backward.
Sara Lee flushed to the eyes.
"Because, sire, I was told to remain at a distance of six feet."
"But we are being informal," said the King, smiling. "And it is a very
little room."
Sara Lee, who had been taught in the schoolroom that kings are usurpers
of the divine rights of the people--Sara Lee lost just a bit of her
staunch democracy that day. She saw the King of the Belgians for what
he really was, a ruler, but a symbol as well.
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