"It's rest, then?" "Undoubtedly, sir." "But how long do you want him to rest?" "I am not able to fix a date, sir." "How long do you want his marriage postponed?" "Indefinitely, sir." The emperor paced the room; something unusual passed over his powerful features, a look of anguish.... "That's impossible," he muttered, curtly. All were silent. "It's impossible," he, repeated, dully. "Then his highness will marry, sir," said Barzia. The emperor stood still: "What do you mean?" he asked, gruffly. "That nothing can prevail with your majesty in this most important matter ... except your own sense of what is right and reasonable." The emperor's breath came in short gasps between his full, sensual lips; his veins swelled thick on his low, Roman forehead; his strong fists were clenched. No one had ever seen Oscar like this before; nor had any one ever dared so to address him.... "Explain yourself more clearly," he thundered into the professor's rigid face. Barzia did not move a muscle: "If his highness is married next month ... it means his death." The empress remained sitting stiff and upright, but she turned very pale, shuddered and closed her eyes as though she felt giddy. "His death?" echoed the emperor, in consternation. "Or worse," rejoined Barzia. "Worse?" "The extinction of your majesty's posterity." The emperor rapped out a furious oath and struck his fist on the huge writing-table. The bronze ornaments on it rang. Myxila drew a step nearer: "Sir," he said, "there is nothing lost. If I understand Professor Barzia, his highness' illness is only temporary and is curable." "Certainly, excellency," replied Barzia. "So long as it is not forced to become incurable and chronic." Oscar bit his lips convulsively. His glittering eyes stood out small and cruel. It struck Myxila how much, at this moment, he resembled a portrait of Wenceslas the Cruel. "Professor," he hissed, "we thank you. Stay at Lipara till to-morrow, so as to observe his highness once more." "I will obey your majesty's commands," said Barzia. He bowed, the physicians bowed; they withdrew. Left alone with the empress and the imperial chancellor, Oscar no longer restrained his rage. Like a beast foaming at the mouth, he walked fiercely up and down with heavy steps, gurgling as though the breath refused to come through his constricted throat: "Oh!" he gnashed between his teeth, bursting out at last. "That boy, that boy!... He's not even fit to get married! His duchess: he was able to get married to her! And that boy, oh, that boy is to succeed me, _me!_..." A furious laugh of contempt grated from between his large, white teeth, with biting irony. The empress rose: "Count Myxila," she said, trembling, "may I beg your excellency to come with me?" She turned to leave the room. Myxila, hesitating, was already following her to the door. "What for?" roared the emperor. "What's the reason of that? I have something more to say to Myxila."