"Ask yourself, but not now, highness: to-morrow, to-morrow.... After the saddest nights ... the mornings come again...."
The professor rose and mixed a powder in a glass of water:
"Drink this, highness...."
Othomar drank.
"And now lie quiet and close those wide eyes."
"I shall not be able to sleep though...."
"That is not necessary, only close those eyes...."
Barzia stroked them with his hand; the prince kept them closed. His hand again lay in the hand of the professor.
A hush descended upon the room. Outside, in the corridors and galleries, perplexed steps approached at times, from the distance, in futile haste; then they sounded away, far away, in despair. A world of sorrow seemed to fill the palace, there, outside that room, until it held every hall of it with its dark, tenebrous woe. But in this one room nothing stirred. The professor sat still and stared before him, absorbed in thought; the crown-prince had fallen asleep like a child.