weeks with rising insubordination; policemen were cruelly murdered
at the docks in broad daylight.

The Duke of Mena-Doni was the Emperor Oscar's right hand during this
period; and his rough displays of force kept the capital so far in
subjection that no riot burst out, that the everyday life of sunny,
laughing luxury went on, that the elegant carriages continued every
afternoon at five o'clock to stream to the Elizabeth Parks, where the
Empress or the Duchess of Xara still showed themselves daily for a
moment. But thousands of protecting eyes were secretly supervising this
apparent carelessness; the troops were confined to barracks; gleaming
escorts of cuirassiers accompanied the imperial landaus.

The empress also had asked Othomar to abandon his solitary morning rides
and never to show himself unattended. The Duke and Duchess of Xara
inhabited the Crown Palace, a comparatively new building on the quays,
where they kept up an extensive court; and in this palace the emperor
also caused domiciliary visits to be made and it appeared that there
were anarchists lurking among the staff.

This treason within their very palaces kept the empress in a constant
shudder of terror: she lived in these days an unceasing life of dread
whenever she was separated from the emperor. For she was least terrified
when she showed herself by Oscar's side, at exhibitions, at public
ceremonies, at the Opera; and this was strange: she did not at such
times think of him, but, if they were not with her, thought rather of
her children, as though the catastrophe could happen only at some place
where she would not be present.

The empress saw in Othomar so very much her own son that, in the
intimacy of their morning conversations--for the crown-prince still paid
his mother a short visit every morning--she was surprised not to find in
him her own dread, but on the contrary all her own resignation, which
was the reverse side of it. But since his marriage she had found him
altogether changed, no longer, in these short moments of their private
intercourse, complaining, hesitating, searching, but speaking calmly of
what he must do, filled with an evident harmony that gave a restful
assurance to his words, his gestures and even his actions. With this
assurance he retained a quiet, dignified modesty: he did not put his
views forward at all violently; he continued to possess that
receptiveness for the views of others which had always been one of his
mos