The door at the end of the room was thrown open; the valet entered, alarmed, in his night-clothes. The reality of his presence broke through the enchantment of the night and exorcized the ghosts back into portraits.
"Highness!..."
"Andro, come here...."
"Highness, what's the matter?... How you frightened me, highness! What is it?... I thought...."
"What, Andro?"
"Nothing, highness. Your voice sounded so terribly hoarse! What's the matter?..."
"I don't know, Andro: I am ill, I think; I can't sleep...."
The man wiped Othomar's clammy forehead with a handkerchief:
"Will your highness have anything to drink? A glass of water?..."
"No, thank you, thank you.... Andro, can you come and sleep in here?"