b....

To do what was most just, this seemed to him the most difficult thing
for a sovereign.

But the emperor's monarchic triumph had this result, that, clearly as
Othomar saw his own weakness, a reflex of strength and determination was
cast upon him from his father himself, by whose side he stood. Moreover,
he had not much time for brooding. Each day brought its special duties.
Scarcely was he able to allow himself one hour of solitary repose. He
was accustomed to this life of constant movement, of constant public
appearances, now here, now there, so thoroughly accustomed to it that he
did not feel the fatigue which was already exhausting him before his
tour in the north and which had now eaten into his nerves and marrow. He
gave this fatigue no thought, regarded it perhaps as an organic languor,
a transitory symptom, which was bound to pass. And each day brought its
own fatigue. Thus he had grown accustomed to rise early, at seven every
morning; Lipara then still lay white and peaceful in its rosy slumber of
the dawn; he rode out on his thorough-bred Arab, black Emiro, with his
favourite collie close behind him, galloping with him, its pointed nose
poked out, its shaggy collar sticking up; unaccompanied by equerries, he
rode through the park of the Imperial to the Elizabeth Parks, in the
afternoon the resort of elegant carriages and horsemen, but in the
morning peaceful, wide and deserted, with barely a solitary early rider,
who made way respectfully for the prince and took his hat off low. Then
he rode along the white quays with their villas and palm-trees, their
terraces and aloes; and the incomparable harbour lay before him, always
growing an intenser blue beneath the pink morning light, which became
cruder. Higher up, the docks, the ships, the hum of industry already
audible. Slowly he walked his horse along the harbour; in the porticoes
of the villas he sometimes caught a glimpse of a woman's figure, saw her
eyes following him through roses and clematis. He loved this ride
because of the soft, fresh air, because of his horse, his dog, because
of his solitude with these two, because of the long, silent quays, the
wide, silent sky, the distant horizon still just enveloped in latest
morning mist. The morning breeze blew against his forehead under his
uniform cap; thoughts wandered at random through his brain. Then he
shook himself free from this voluptuousness, rode back to the town and
went to the Xaverius Barrac