the emperor nor the crown-prince saluting; they cheer
away, loving them in spite, perhaps because, of their indifference; they
cheer away like madmen....

Slowly the procession wends its way along the interminable main streets.
The whole city, despite its marble, trembles with the clatter of the
horses' hoofs upon the flagged pavement. Between the front escort and
the endless escort in the rear, the state-carriages, with their
glittering throne-guards, shimmer like a kind of jewel, small, rare,
carefully guarded. The cavalry are at this moment the soul of Lipara,
their echoing step its heart-beat; and between the grenadiers and the
tall houses the massed and cheering populace seems to have hardly room
to breathe.

The procession approaches the Imperial. Along the immense marble
fore-court the lancers and cuirassiers range themselves on three sides,
before the wings and along the front. Outside them the guards are drawn
up in line. The Africans close off the courtyard....

The carriages pull up; and the emperor alights. With the crown-prince by
his side, he goes through the vestibule up the stairs. The corridors of
the palace swarm with gold-laced uniforms; a packed suite crowds up
behind Oscar and Othomar. The master of the robes, with twelve grooms of
the bed-chamber, comes towards the emperor, who takes off his crown, as
does the crown-prince; their robes are unfastened for them.

They go to the great white hall, white with the Corinthian columns with
gilt capitals. The empress and the Princess Thera are there, surrounded
by their ladies. It is a great day: in this sun-apotheosis of the
opening of parliament the monarchy is triumphing over the threats of the
future and deferring that future itself. The empress, in her trailing
pale-mauve velvet, steps towards her spouse and curtseys before him
ceremoniously. The princess, the mistress of the robes, all the ladies
curtsey....

Outside, in front, the square is now filled by the multitude; an excited
popular clamour surges up against the immovable palace, as it were the
sea against a rock. The doors of the centre balcony are opened. The
emperor and the prince will show themselves....

"Only just salute once," whispers the emperor to his son, sternly.

The sun outside rains down gold upon the swarming mass, tinging it with
many-changing, chameleon, southern tints between the white, motionless
wings of the Imperial, whose caryatids look down placidly. The imperial