He wiped the blood from his ear with his handkerchief and held the cambric, which was at once soaked through, against it.
In the last anteroom he passed the chamberlain and looked at him askance.
Xardi stopped for a moment:
"The Duke of Xara has hurt himself slightly," he said. "He was examining the emperor's revolver when I went in and he started: two shots went off."
"I heard them," whispered the chamberlain, pale as death.
"There might have been an accident...."
They were silent for a moment; their glances were full of understanding; a shudder crept down their backs. The chill night seemed to be descending over the palace as with clouds of evil omen.
"And ... the little prince?..." asked the chamberlain, shivering.
Xardi shrugged his shoulders; his eyes grew moist, through innate, immemorial love for his sovereigns:
"Dying," he answered, faintly.