on for weeks at Altseeborgen. What had been the use of it then!

The rumour ran through the palace, the town, the country, through
Europe, that the Duke of Xara was keeping his room because of a slight
indisposition. The physicians issued a simple and very reassuring
bulletin.

However, in the afternoon Othomar got up and even dressed himself, but
not in uniform. He had had some lunch in his bedroom and now went to
Princess Thera's apartments. She sat drawing; with her was a
lady-in-waiting, the young Marchioness of Ezzera.

The princess was surprised to see her brother:

"What! Is that you? I thought you were in bed!..."

"No, I'm a little better...."

He bowed to the marchioness, who had risen and curtseyed.

"Won't you go on with the portrait?" asked Othomar.

Thera looked at him:

"You're looking so pale, poor boy. Perhaps I'd better not. It tires you
so, that sitting, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sometimes, a little...."

They were now standing before the portrait; the marchioness had retired,
as she always did when the brother and sister were together. The
painting was half-covered with a silk cloth, which Thera pulled aside:
it was already a young head full of expression, in which life began to
gleam behind the black, melancholy eyes, and painted with broad, firm
brushwork, with much reflection of outside light, which fell upon one
side of the face and brought it into relief, throwing it forward out of
the shadow in the background.

"Is it almost finished?" asked Othomar.

"Yes, but you've kept me waiting awfully long for the final touches:
just think, you've been away for four months. I haven't been able to
work at it all that time. But, you know ... you've changed. If only I
shan't have to leave it like this. It's no longer like you...."

"It'll begin to be like me again, when I'm looking a little better!"
answered Othomar.

But the princess became rather nervous; she suddenly drew the silk cloth
over it again....

Othomar did not appear at dinner; he went to bed early. The next day the
doctors found him very listless. He was up but not dressed; he lay in
his dressing-gown on the sofa in his room, with the collie at his feet.
He complained to the empress that he had such a queer feeling in his
head, as though it were about to open and pour out all its contents.

For days this condition remained unchanged: a total listlessness, a
total loss of appetite, a visible exhaustion.... The empress sat by his