Iron Butterflies by Andre Norton Page A

now it opened with some force.
    A lackey stood nimbly aside when there swept into the room, irritation expressed in her moon-round face, in the flurry of her veil and the swing of her ground-length gray skirt, a woman who carried herself with all the arrogance of one who has had to defer to very few during a long and well-provisioned life. She looked about now, not even giving a glance to the sick man, and demanded in a strident voice:
    “Where is Krantz, where is Sister Katherine? And where is Luc? They were not to leave His Highness for any reason!”
    I felt the pressure of the Colonel's hand which hehad not lifted from my shoulder even after we had gained this place of temporary concealment. However, I did not need that warning, for such I was sure he was attempting to convey. My heart was beating fast, but not with any fear, just excitement. That this was my half-aunt, the Abbess Adelaide, I had already guessed.
    “Your Reverence.” The man at the bed placed the Elector's hand on the furred coverlet. He bowed with deference, but his jaw had a stubborn cast. “His Highness is not to be so disturbed for any reason. He himself issued orders that he wished to be alone—”
    “ He issued orders? How? Since the good God has seen fit to strike silent his tongue. And one can read anything in the scrawls which someone can urge him into writing! I demand—”
    Her voice arose steadily, it was an unpleasant rasping voice and I conjectured that in the past she had often gotten her own way by a judicious use of it. Perhaps it was an inheritance from her mother, that much disliked Electress of uncertain temper and overwhelming arrogance.
    For the first time there was a sound from the bed. Though he had struggled to speak to me, he had not uttered this croak which he now brought by some effort from his throat. The Abbess was silenced, she stared in amazement, then something which might have been a shadow of fear crossed her face. He mouthed that sound again, his hand was up—his finger pointed to the door behind her.
    There issued a silent battle of wills, for the Elector did not try to speak again. However, it was manifest that he was in full control of his mind, if not his body, and that he was giving an order now—one which he determined she would obey. Perhaps she wished in turn to prove that she was at least able to stand up to him, for she did not move to withdraw. Then the man spoke sharply:
    “Your Reverence, it is not well to excite His Highness. Your presence here is obviously not beneficial to him.”

    Her mouth opened as if she would shout him into oblivion, then slowly closed again. The look with which she favored him was truly venomous. Without another word, nor a glance toward the man in the bed, she turned her back on the two of them and stumped heavily out of the room. In a flash that man was across the chamber in her wake and had closed the door firmly, standing with his back against it as if he half expected the Elector's daughter to think better of her retreat and strive to enter again.
    The Colonel was also on the move, bringing me with him out of hiding. For the last time I heard that guttural sound from the bed. The Elector's hand was again pointing, not toward the door through which the Abbess bad gone, but to the left.
    Colonel Fenwick nodded, stopped long enough to catch up the bundle of my cloak—which luckily the Abbess had not chanced to notice. I waited for a moment, longing for a little more time—maybe to touch again that cold hand. There was a need still in me to speak some reassuring word, to let him know—what—? I was not sure, but I felt that there was something which I might do to ease him if I could only be given a chance. But the Elector's eye was closed, his hand was again being held by his attendant, who did not even glance in our direction, while the Colonel had me again by the arm.
    We passed behind another screen which matched its fellow across the room and my companion opened