orning breeze. As they rode
nearer, they saw carpenters and masons; a whole work-yard came into
view, full of busy movement, with stacks of red bricks and piles of long
planks. Singing was heard, with a pious intonation, as of psalms.

Ducardi, whose custom was always to ride in front, to the left of the
crown-prince, deliberately reined in his horse, allowed the others to
come up with him; Othomar perceived that he did not wish to act on this
occasion. He thought it petty of the general and said to Thesbia:

"Ask if Zanti is here."

The aide-de-camp turned and put the question to a sort of foreman. None
of the workpeople had saluted; the equerries doubted whether they had
recognized the crown-prince. Yes, Zanti was there. Plain "Zanti." Very
well, he would fetch him.

The man went. He was long away. Othomar, waiting with the others on
horseback, already began to find his position difficult, lost his tact,
assumed his stiff rigidity, talked in forced tones to Herman. He found
it difficult to wait when one had never done so hitherto. It made him
nervous and he made his horse, which was tugging at the reins with
skittish movements of its head, nervous too and was already thinking
whether it would not be better to ride on....

But just then Zanti, with the foreman who had called him, approached,
slowly, making no effort to hurry. He looked under his hand from a
distance at the group of officers on horseback, flashing in the
sunlight; stood still; asked the foreman some question or other; looked
again.

"The unmannerly fellow!" muttered Thesbia.

The aide-de-camp rode up to him angrily, spoke in a loud voice of his
imperial highness the Duke of Xara; the duke wished to see the huts.

"They are not huts," said Zanti, in peevish contradiction.

"What then?" asked the aide, haughtily.

"Dwellings," answered Zanti, curtly.

Thesbia shrugged his shoulders with annoyance. But the crown-prince
himself had ridden up and saluted Zanti before the latter had vouchsafed
any greeting:

"Will your excellency give us leave to look at what you are doing for
the victims of the inundations?" he asked, politely, gently, graciously.

"I'm not an excellency," muttered the grey-beard, "but, if you like to
look, you can."

"We should like to," replied Othomar, a little haughtily, "but not
unless we have your entire approval. You are the master on your own
estate; and, if our visit is unwelcome, we will not force our presence
on