“Majesty?” exclaimed the girl. “Don Fernando–Majesty?” Yet a third time she repeated it, as by rote; and, very slowly, understanding grew into the words, and with understanding, terror. The dark innocent eyes went appealingly from one to the other, and the lids began to flutter wildly in a kind of spasm. “Majesty? Majesty?” Then, suddenly, she flung both hands to her face, and a piteous shivering racked her body.
“Catch her, stupid!” cried Jacqueline. “Don’t you see, the child is fainting!”
But it was into Jacqueline’s readier arms that she fell, and it was Jacqueline who let her slip gently into the high-back chair that was the imperial throne en voyage, under the claws of the oaken Hapsburg griffins.
“Get water! quick–Majesty, you–your cologne flasks!”
“MARIA DE LA LUZ”
“The tapestry behind them parted and fell”
147A mist was in the prince’s eyes. “Pobrecita, pobrecita,” he muttered helplessly.
On Jacqueline depended what was next to be done. She ran to the door by which the girl had entered. “See, there’s a corridor here,” she cried, “and that must be her room, there at the end, where the door is open. Help me carry her–unless,” and she deliberately punctuated her scorn, “unless Your Majesty desires to call for aid?”
But His Majesty was so far from desiring anything of the kind that he nodded gratefully, impatiently. So to her own room they bore her between them, and laid her on the bed there. A pewter waiter with napkin and coffee service was on a little table. But the tiny loaf of pan de huevo lay untouched. Her thoughts rather than appetite had possessed the girl when she awoke that morning, and they had kept her until she emerged to stumble upon an emperor in her father’s house.