the town of Vaza, which also has suffered greatly. Then about Altara. He
gives the duchess a long description of the bursting of the Therezia
Dyke. The duchess thinks him a queer boy; for an instant she fancies
that he is posing; then she decides that for some reason or other he is
a little shy; then she thinks that he has fine, soft eyes, looking up
like that under his eyelids, and that he has a pleasant way of telling
things. She turns right round to him, forgets the officers around her,
asks questions and, with her elbows on the table and a goblet of
lycilian in her hand, she listens attentively, hangs on the young
imperial lips and feels an emotion. This emotion comes because he is so
young and august and has those eyes and that voice. She is attracted by
his hands, with their broad, delicate shape, as of an old strength of
race that is wearing out; she notices that he looks now and then at his
ring. And, becoming serious, she talks of the dreadful times, of all
those thousands of poor people without a roof over their heads, without
anything.... This is, however, only the second moment that she has
thought of those thousands; the first was that short half-hour when the
duke's chaplain was asking her for money and how she wished it
bestowed.... She remembers that, at the time of this conversation with
the chaplain, a cutter from Worth's was waiting for her to try on the
very dress which she is now wearing and she thinks that life's accidents
are really most interesting. She knows, in her inner consciousness, that
this philosophy is as the froth of champagne and she herself laughs at
it. Then she again listens attentively to Othomar, who is still telling
of the nocturnal watch in St. Therezia's Church. The officers have grown
quiet and are listening too. His imperial highness has made himself the
centre of conversation and dethroned the duchess. She has noticed this
too, thinks it strange of him but nice, above all does not know what she
wants of him and is charmed.

3

After dinner a cosy gathering in two small drawing-rooms. One of them
contains a billiard-table; and the duchess herself, gracefully pointing
her cue, which she holds in her jewelled fingers, plays a game with
Prince Herman, Leoni and young Thesbia. Sometimes, in aiming, she hangs
over the green table with an incredible suppleness in her heavy lines;
and the beautiful Carrara breast heaves the Venetian lace and the black
velvet up and down at each