"
The secretary made no reply, and went on with other matters awaiting
his attention.
At a few minutes before two o'clock the Marquis entered his carriage,
and was driven to the palace. There he learned that the King was
receiving, more or less unofficially, certain foreign ambassadors and
noblemen of repute in the Throne-room. A fine band was playing military
music in the great open quadrangle in front of the palace, where
pillars of rose-marble, straight as the stems of pine-trees, held up
fabulous heraldic griffins, clasping between their paws the country's
shield. Flags were flying,--fountains flashing,--gay costumes gleamed
here and there,--and the atmosphere was full of brilliancy and gaiety,
--yet the Marquis, on his way to the audience-chamber, was rendered
uncomfortably aware of one of those mysterious impressions which are
sometimes conveyed to us, we know not how, but which tend to prepare us
for surprise and disappointment. Some extra fibre of sensitiveness in
his nervous organization was acutely touched, for he actually fancied
he saw slighting and indifferent looks on the faces of the various
flunkeys and retainers who bowed him along the different passages, or
ushered him up the state stairway, when--as a matter of fact,--all was
precisely the same as usual, and it was only his own conscience that
gave imaginary hints of change.
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