It is nine o'clock; the crown-prince is not yet expected. The duke and duchess, however, are already receiving their guests; the duchess sent out numerous invitations when Othomar announced his visit. The spacious reception-rooms fill up: almost the whole of the diplomatic corps is present, as are some of the ministers and great court-officials with their wives, old Countess Myxila and her daughters and a number of officers. They form the intimate circle of the Imperial. A jaunty familiarity prevails among them, with the _sans-gêne_ in vogue. Near the duchess stands Lady Danbury, the wife of the British first secretary, and the Marquis of Xardi, the duke's son. They are talking busily about the Dazzaras: "I've seen them," says Lady Danbury. "It's shocking, shocking. They're living at Castel Dazzara, that old ruin in Thracyna, with their five daughters, poor things! The ceilings are falling in. Three crooked old men in livery; and the liveries even older than the servants. And debts, according to what I hear, debts! I was astonished to see how old the marchioness had grown; she has taken it terribly to heart, it seems." "Grown old?" asks the duchess. "I thought she looked quite young still, last time I saw her...." She detests Lady Danbury, who is tall, thin and sharp-featured, her appearance rather suggesting that of a graceful adder. And she continues: "She still looked so well; she is slender, but she has a splendid neck and shoulders.... I really cannot understand how she can have grown so old...." And, as though brooding over this puzzle, the duchess stares at the lean shoulders of Lady Danbury. Xardi's eyes glitter; he expects a skirmish. "They say that the marquis _used_ to be one of your intimates, don't they?" the Englishwoman insinuates. But that hateful "used to be" grates on Xardi's nerves. "I am very fond of the Dazzaras," says the duchess; "but"--and she laughs mysteriously and meaningly--"he was always an unlucky bird...." "His excellency the Duke of Mena-Doni," the butler announces. "The rising sun!" Xardi whispers to Lady Danbury. Mena-Doni bows before the duchess, who smiles upon him. Lady Danbury, standing by Xardi's side, continues: "And the lucky bird?" "Oh no!" says Xardi, with decision. "At least, not altogether...." They look at each other and laugh: "Imperial eagles are the finest birds, after all, don't you think?" says Lady Danbury, jestingly. "What do you know about it?" "Alas, I am too unimportant to know anything! Before I get so far in my zoological studies...." "But what have you heard?" "What everybody hears when Dutri can't hold his tongue." "What about?" "About a certain tender parting at Castel Vaza...." The Marquis of Xardi bursts out laughing. Lady Danbury suddenly clutches his arm: "I say, Xardi, I know less slender people than the Marchioness of Dazzara who would fall into a decline if they lost the imperial favour. _Et toi?_" The marquis laughs loudly and: