. Then the steward appears, while the doors open out and the table is
revealed brightly glittering, and bows before his mistress as a sign
that she is served. The duchess takes the crown-prince's arm; the
gentlemen follow.

The dinner is very lively. They are an intimate circle, people
accustomed to meet one another every day. The duchess sees that an easy
tone is preserved, one of light familiarity, which restrains itself
before the crown-prince, yet gives a suggestion of the somewhat cavalier
roughness and _sans-gene_ that is the fashionable tone at court. The
Gothlandic officers are evidently not in the secret; Von Fest, a giant
of a fellow, looks right and left and smiles. For the rest, the duchess
possesses this smart, informal manner in a very strong degree, but
moderates herself now, although she does sometimes lean both her shapely
elbows on the table. The crown-prince once more has that indescribable
stiffness which makes things freeze around him; the ease which he
displayed at Altara has again made way for something almost constrained
and at the same time haughty; his smiles for the duchess are forced; and
the handsome hostess in her heart thinks her illustrious guest an
insufferable prig.

Possibly Othomar behaves as he does because of the conversations, which
all focus themselves about the duchess and concern the gossip of the
Imperial; the inundations are hardly mentioned, hardly either the state
of siege in the capital; only a single word now and again recalls them.
But for the greater part all this seems to be forgotten here, in these
delightful surroundings, at this excellent dinner, under the froth of
the soft gold lycilian from the duke's private vineyard. This lycilian
is celebrated and they also celebrate it now: even the crown-prince
touches glasses with the duchess with a courteous word or two, which he
utters very ordinarily, but which they seem to think a most witty
compliment, for they all laugh with flattering approbation, with glances
of intelligence; and the duchess herself no longer thinks him so
insufferable, but beams upon him with her full and radiant laugh. But
what has he said? He is astounded at himself and at their laughter. He
intended nothing but a commonplace; and....

But he remembers: it is always like that; and he now understands. And he
thinks them feeble and turns to Ducardi and Von Fest; he forces the
conversation and suddenly begins to talk volubly about the condition of