infinite tenderness and concern, watched the young Duke
solemnly ascending the Cathedral steps.

In the porch the Bishop waited, impressive as ever in his white and gold
dalmatic, against the red robes of the chapter. Preceded by two
chamberlains Odo mounted the steps amid the sudden silence of the
people. The great bronze portals of the Cathedral, which were never
opened save on occasions of state, swung slowly inward, pouring a wave
of music and incense out upon the hushed sunlit square; then they closed
again, engulphing the brilliant procession--the Duke, the Bishop, the
clergy and the court--and leaving the populace to scatter in search of
the diversions prepared for them at every street-corner.

It was not till late that night that the new Duke found himself alone.
He had withdrawn at last from the torch-lit balcony overlooking the
square, whither the shouts of his subjects had persistently recalled
him. Silence was falling on the illuminated streets, and the dimness of
midnight upon the sky through which rocket after rocket had torn its
brilliant furrows. In the palace a profounder stillness reigned. Since
his accession Odo, out of respect for the late Duke, had lodged in one
of the wings of the great building; but tradition demanded that he
should henceforth inhabit the ducal apartments, and thither, at the
close of the day's ceremonies, his gentlemen had conducted him.

Trescorre had asked permission to wait on him before he slept; and he
knew that the prime minister would be kept late by his conference with
the secret police, whose nightly report could not be handed in till the
festivities were over. Meanwhile Odo was in no mood for sleep. He sat
alone in the closet, still hung with saints' images and jewelled
reliquaries, where his cousin had so often given him audience, and
whence, through the open door, he could see the embroidered curtains and
plumed baldachin of the state bed which was presently to receive him.
All day his heart had beat with high ambitions; but now a weight sank
upon his spirit. The reaction from the tumultuous welcome of the streets
to the closely-guarded silence of the palace made him feel how unreal
was the fancied union between himself and his people, how insuperable
the distance that tradition and habit had placed between them. In the
narrow closet where his predecessor had taken refuge from the detested
task of reigning, the new Duke felt the same moral lassitude steal over
him.