Mr Davenant had spoken in his curtest tones. He had added,-- 'I shall go to the cathedral this afternoon.' The service in the cathedral annually celebrated the independence of Herakleion. Julian slipped out of the house, meaning to mix with the ill-regulated crowd that began to collect on the _platia_ to watch for the arrival of the notables, but outside the door of the club he was discovered by Alexander Christopoulos who obliged him to follow him upstairs to the Christopoulos drawing-room. 'My father is really too gloomy for me to confront alone,' Alexander said, taking Julian's arm and urging him along; 'also I have spent the morning in the club, which exasperates him. He likes me to sit at home while he stands looking at me and mournfully shaking his head.' They came into the sala together, where old Christopoulos paced up and down in front of the shuttered windows, and a score of other people sat whispering over their cups of tisane. White dresses, dim mirrors, and the dull gilt of furniture gleamed here and there in the shadows of the vast room. 'Any news? any news?' the banker asked of the two young men. 'You know quite well, father, that no results are to be declared until seven o'clock this evening.' Alexander opened a section of a Venetian blind, and as a shaft of sunlight fell startlingly across the floor a blare of music burst equally startlingly upon the silence. 'The _platia_ is crowded already,' said Alexander, looking out. The hum of the crowd became audible, mingled with the music; explosions of laughter, and some unexplained applause. The shrill cry of a seller of iced water rang immediately beneath the window. The band in the centre continued to shriek remorselessly an antiquated air of the Paris boulevards. 'At what time is the procession due?' asked Fru Thyregod over Julian's shoulder. 'At five o'clock; it should arrive at any moment,' Julian said, making room for the Danish Excellency. 'I adore processions,' cried Fru Thyregod, clapping her hands, and looking brightly from Julian to Alexander. Alexander whispered to Julie Lafarge, who had come up,-- 'I am sure Fru Thyregod has gone from house to house and from Legation to Legation, and has had a meal at each to-day.' Somebody suggested,-- 'Let us open the shutters and watch the procession from the balconies.' 'Oh, what a good idea!' cried Fru Thyregod, clapping her hands again and executing a pirouette. Down in the _platia_ an indefinite movement was taking place; the band stopped playing for the first time that day, and began shuffling with all its instruments to one side. Voices were then heard raised in tones of authority. A cleavage appeared in the crowd, which grew in length and width as though a wedge were being gradually driven into that reluctant confusion of humanity.