e foot of my bed. I believe I'm not very well,
Andro.... Bring your pillow in here."

The man looked at him. He was not much older than his prince. He had
waited on him from childhood and worshipped him with the worship of a
subject for majesty; he felt wholly bound to him, tied to him; he knew
that the prince was not strong, but also that he never complained....

Growing suddenly angry, he turned to go to his room and fetch his
pillow:

"No wonder, when they fag and tire you like this!" he cried, unable any
longer to restrain his fury. "General Ducardi no doubt thinks that you
have the same tough hide as himself!"

Muttering in his moustache, he went away, returned with his pillow and
laid it on the step of the bed of state:

"Are you feverish?" he asked.

"No ... yes, perhaps a little. It will pass off, Andro. I ... I am...."

He dared not say it.

"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