"I know all about that, Uncle Jack. But I bet I do something wrong. This thing of receiving grand dukes is no joke. 'Specially when we're so terribly upset. Really, I ought to be looking after the men who are wounded, attending to the funerals of—"
"Now, Bobby, don't flunk like that! Be a man!"
Bobby promptly squared his little shoulders and set his jaw. "Oh, I'm not scared!" He was thoughtful for a moment. "But, I'll tell you, it's awful lonesome up in that big chair, so far away from all your friends. I wish Uncle Caspar would let me sit down with the crowd."
The Grand Duke, with all the arrogance of a real personage, was late. It was not for him to consider the conditions that distressed the Court of Graustark. Not at all. He was a grand duke and he would take his own time in paying his respects. What cared he that every one in the Castle was tired and unstrung and sad and—sleepy? Any one but a grand duke would have waited a day or two before requiring a royal audience. When he finally presented himself at the Castle doors, a sleepy group of attendants actually yawned in his presence.
A somnolent atmosphere, still touched by the smell of gunpowder, greeted him as he strode majestically down the halls. Somehow each person who bowed to him seemed to do it with the melancholy precision of one who has been up for six nights in succession and doesn't care who knows it.
No one had slept during the night just passed. Excitement and the suffering of others had denied slumber to one and all—even to those who had not slept for many days and nights. Now the reaction was upon them. Relaxation had succeeded tenseness.
When the Grand Duke entered the great, sombre throne room, he was confronted by a punctiliously polite assemblage, but every eyelid was as heavy as lead and as prone to sink.
The Prince sat far back in the great chair of his ancestors, his sturdy legs sticking straight out in front of him, utterly lost in the depths of gold and royal velvet. Two-score or more of his courtiers and as many noble ladies of the realm stood soberly in the places assigned them by the laws of precedence. The Grand Duke advanced between the respectful lines and knelt at the foot of the throne.
"Arise, your Highness," piped Bobby, with a quick glance at Count Halfont. It was a very faint, faraway voice that uttered the gracious command. "Graustark welcomes the Grand Duke Paulus. It is my pleasure to—to—to—" a helpless look came into his eyes. He looked everywhere for support. The Grand Duke saw that he had forgotten the rehearsed speech, and smiled benignly as he stepped forward and kissed the hand that had been extended somewhat uncertainly.
"My most respectful homage to your Majesty. The felicitations of my emperor and the warmest protestations of friendship from his people."