"I am a little nervous," he continued; and his eyes went anxiously round the room, where the emperors were once more standing quiet. "Would you like a doctor fetched from Vaza?" "No, no, Andro, by no means. What are you thinking of, to make such a disturbance in the middle of the night? Go to sleep now, down there...." "Will you try to sleep also then, my 'princie'?" he asked, with the endearing diminutive which in his language sounded like a caress. Othomar nodded with a smile and suffered him to shake up his pillows after the manner of a nurse. "What a bed!" muttered Andro. "It might be a monument in a cemetery!..." Then he lay down again, but did not sleep; he stayed awake. And, when Othomar asked, after an interval: "Are you asleep, Andro?" "Yes, your highness," he answered, "nearly." "Is there anything murmuring in the distance? Is it water or ... or is it my fancy?" The man listened: "I can hear nothing, highness.... You must be a little feverish." "Take a chair and come and sit by the head of the bed...." The man did as he was told. "And let me feel you near me: give me your hand, so...." At last Othomar closed his eyes. In his ears the buzzing continued, still continued.... But under the very buzzing, while the lightness in his head lifted like a mist, the Crown-prince of Liparia fell asleep, his clammy hand in the hard hand of his body-servant, who watched his master's restless sleep in the quivering round the mouth, the jerking of the body, until, to quiet him, he softly stroked the throbbing forehead with his other hand, muttering compassionately, with his strange, national voice of caress: "My poor princie!..." The dawn rose outside; the daylight seemed to push the window-curtains asunder. 5 The next morning the duchess was to preside at the breakfast-table: she was in the dining-room with all the gentlemen when Othomar entered, as the last, with Dutri. His uniform of blue, white and silver fitted him tightly; and he saluted, smilingly, but a little stiffly, while Herman shook hands with him and the others bowed, the duchess curtseying deeply. "How pale the prince looks!" Leoni said to Ducardi. It was true: the prince looked very pale; his eyes were dull, but he bore himself manfully, ate a little fish, trifled with a salmi of game. Yet the prince's fatigue was so evident that Ducardi asked him, softly, across the table: "Is your highness not feeling well?..." All eyes were raised to Othomar. He wished to give the lie to their sympathy: "I'm all right," he replied. "Did your highness have a bad night?" continued Ducardi. "Not very good," Othomar was compelled to acknowledge, with a smile. The conversation continued, the duchess gave it a new turn; but after breakfast, on the point of departure--the horses stood saddled in the courtyard--Ducardi said, bluntly: "We should do better not to go, highness." Othomar was astonished, refused to understand.