It was June, six months after the death of the little prince; but the mourning had been lightened because of the approaching nuptials of the Duke of Xara, which the emperor wished to see celebrated as early as possible. The empress, however, still wore heavy mourning, which she would not lay aside before the day of the wedding; Hélène was in grey; the liveries were grey. Many pedestrians, horsemen, carriages passed along the road and stopped respectfully; the empress bowed to left and right; she received cheers and salutations from the balconies of the villas. In this warm summer weather a mellow welcome, a soft gaiety reigned all along the road; the road, with its villas where the people sat in groups, emitted a friendliness which affected the empress pleasantly and made her heart swell in her breast with a gentle melancholy. Children ran about and played in white summer suits; they stopped suddenly and, like well-bred children, accustomed to seeing members of the imperial family pass daily, they bowed low, the boys awkwardly, the girls with new-learnt curtseys. Then they went on playing again.... And the empress smiled at a large family, old and young people together, who sat on a terrace, doubtless celebrating a birthday, and laughed and drank, with many glasses and decanters before them, the children with their mouths full of cake. So soon as they saw the outrider, they all stood up and waved, some with their glasses still in their hands, and the empress, laying aside her usual stiffness, bowed back with a winning smile. And it was as though she were driving through a huge, luxurious village; for a moment she forgot the light obsession that depressed her, forgot why she was this day going to Valérie and allowed herself to be lulled by her delight in the love that she divined all round her. It was the love of the old Liparian patrician families--noble or not noble--for their sovereigns. It was a caress which she never felt at Lipara. And she remembered Othomar's letter, at the time of last year's inundations: "Why are we not oftener at Altara?" She could not for a moment desist from bowing. But she was now approaching the town: the old houses shifted like the wings at a theatre; the whole town shifted nearer, gay with flags, which threw an air of youth over its old stonework. The streets were full: thousands of visitors, native and foreign, were at Altara; there was not a room to be had in the hotels. And the empress could scarcely speak a word to Hélène; she could do nothing but bow and bow, perpetually.... In the fore-court of the Old Palace, the infantry composing the guard of honour of the Austrian bride were drawn up and presented arms as the empress drove in. The Archduchess Eudoxie was awaiting the empress. "How is Valérie?" Elizabeth at once asked. "Better, calmer," replied the archduchess. "Much better than I dared hope. But she will receive no one...." "Do send to ask whether I can see her...."