Part 10 (2/2)

Again Von Fest shrugged his shoulders:

”Nevertheless I should not dissuade him any longer, general. If the prince wants a thing, let him have it, it will do him good.... And, if he gets blown up by his father afterwards, that will do him good too, by way of reaction.”

Ducardi looked him straight in the face:

”What do you think of our prince?” he asked, point-blank.

Von Fest returned the general's glance, smilingly, looking straight into his searching eyes. He was honest by nature and upright, but enough of a courtier to be able to dissimulate when he thought necessary:

”A most charming lad,” he replied. ”But life--or rather he himself--will have to change him very much if he is to hold his own ... later on.”

The officers understood each other. Ducardi heaved a deep sigh:

”Yes, there are difficult times coming,” he said, with an oath.

”Yes,” answered the Gothlandic colonel, simply.

The princes mounted their horses in the courtyard; they took the same road along which Othomar had driven with the d.u.c.h.ess the previous afternoon past Zanti's castle. Leoni had learnt where the huts lay; the mountains began to retreat, the road wound curve after curve beneath the trampling hoofs of the horses. Suddenly the Zanthos spread itself out on the horizon: the wide expanse of flooded water, one great lake under the broad, gleaming, vernal sky.

”That must be they,” said Leoni.

His finger pointed to a hamlet of long wooden buildings, evidently newly built, smelling of fresh timber in the morning breeze. As they rode nearer, they saw carpenters and masons; a whole work-yard came into view, full of busy movement, with stacks of red bricks and piles of long planks. Singing was heard, with a pious intonation, as of psalms.

Ducardi, whose custom was always to ride in front, to the left of the crown-prince, deliberately reined in his horse, allowed the others to come up with him; Othomar perceived that he did not wish to act on this occasion. He thought it petty of the general and said to Thesbia:

”Ask if Zanti is here.”

The aide-de-camp turned and put the question to a sort of foreman. None of the workpeople had saluted; the equerries doubted whether they had recognized the crown-prince. Yes, Zanti was there. Plain ”Zanti.” Very well, he would fetch him.

The man went. He was long away. Othomar, waiting with the others on horseback, already began to find his position difficult, lost his tact, a.s.sumed his stiff rigidity, talked in forced tones to Herman. He found it difficult to wait when one had never done so hitherto. It made him nervous and he made his horse, which was tugging at the reins with skittish movements of its head, nervous too and was already thinking whether it would not be better to ride on....

But just then Zanti, with the foreman who had called him, approached, slowly, making no effort to hurry. He looked under his hand from a distance at the group of officers on horseback, flas.h.i.+ng in the sunlight; stood still; asked the foreman some question or other; looked again.

”The unmannerly fellow!” muttered Thesbia.

The aide-de-camp rode up to him angrily, spoke in a loud voice of his imperial highness the Duke of Xara; the duke wished to see the huts.

”They are not huts,” said Zanti, in peevish contradiction.

”What then?” asked the aide, haughtily.

”Dwellings,” answered Zanti, curtly.

Thesbia shrugged his shoulders with annoyance. But the crown-prince himself had ridden up and saluted Zanti before the latter had vouchsafed any greeting:

”Will your excellency give us leave to look at what you are doing for the victims of the inundations?” he asked, politely, gently, graciously.

”I'm not an excellency,” muttered the grey-beard, ”but, if you like to look, you can.”

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