"By command of the governor of the capital. An aide-de-camp came and told us that a detachment of infantry was coming as a guard-of-honour." "Was that aide-de-camp also from the Imperial?" "No, from the governor's palace...." Ducardi shrugged his shoulders; an angry growl fluttered his great, grey moustache. He walked straight up to the crown-prince: "Is your highness aware that there is a detachment of infantry outside?" he said, interrupting the mayor's long sentences. The governor heard him and drew nearer. "A detachment?... No," said Othomar, in astonishment. "Did your highness not command it, then?" Ducardi continued. "I? No," Othomar repeated. The governor bowed low; the general's loud, gruff voice unnerved him. "I thought," said the governor, urbanely, but mumbling, stammering--and he tried to be at once humble before the prince and haughty towards the general--"I thought it would be well to safeguard your highness against possible ... possible unpleasantness, especially as your highness desired ... desired that the platform should remain open to the public...." Othomar looked out as Ducardi had done; he saw the infantry drawn up and the crowd behind; angry, murmuring, drab, threatening: "But, excellency," he said, aloud, to the governor, "in that case it would have been better to shut off the platform entirely. This is quite wrong. The police would have been sufficient to prevent any crowding." "I was afraid of ... of unpleasantness, highness. Troubled times, the people so discontented," he whispered, fearing to be overheard by the equerries. "Quite wrong," repeated Othomar, angrily, nervously excited. "Let the infantry march off." "That's out of the question now," Ducardi hastened to say, with an unhappy smile. "You understand that that can't be done." The conversation had been carried on aside, in a half-whispering tone; yet everybody seemed to listen. All eyes were gazing on the group surrounding the princes; the others were silent. "Then let us prolong this regrettable situation as little as possible; we may as well go," said Othomar; and his voice quivered high, young and nervous in his clear throat. The doors were opened; Othomar, in his hurry, stepped out first; the equerries and aides-de-camp did not follow him at once, as they had to make way for Prince Herman, who happened to be a little behind. Herman hurried up to Othomar; the others followed. The princes made a movement of the head to left and right as though to bow; but their eyes met the fixed, round eyes of the soldiers, who had presented arms with a flash; they saluted and walked on to their compartment a little quickly, with an unpleasant feeling in their backs. Under the colossal glass roof of the station, behind the files of soldiers, the crowd stood as still as death, for the humming had almost ceased; there was no curse nor scornful word heard, but also no cheer, no loud, loyal hurrah sweet to the ears of princes.