The emperor rose:
"Do you want to talk to me?"
"Yes, papa."
"Wait a moment, then. I've not been to Berengar yet to-day."
He went out, leaving the door ajar.
Othomar remained alone. He sat down. He looked round the great work-room, which he knew so well from their morning consultations with the chancellor. Lately, however, he had not attended these. He thought over what he should say; meanwhile his eyes wandered around; they fell upon the great mirror with its gilt arabesques; something seemed strange to him. Then he rose and walked up to the glass:
"I was under the impression there was a flaw near the top of it," he thought. "I can't well be mistaken. Has it been renewed?"
He was still standing by the looking-glass, when Oscar returned:
"Berengar is not at all well; the fever is increasing," he said; and the tone of his voice hesitated. "Mamma is with him...."
Absorbed as he was in his own meditations, it did not strike Othomar that the little prince must have become worse for the empress, who was herself ill, to go to him.