"If you wish it, highness...."
"Yes, here, at the foot of my bed. I believe I'm not very well, Andro.... Bring your pillow in here."
The man looked at him. He was not much older than his prince. He had waited on him from childhood and worshipped him with the worship of a subject for majesty; he felt wholly bound to him, tied to him; he knew that the prince was not strong, but also that he never complained....
Growing suddenly angry, he turned to go to his room and fetch his pillow:
"No wonder, when they fag and tire you like this!" he cried, unable any longer to restrain his fury. "General Ducardi no doubt thinks that you have the same tough hide as himself!"
Muttering in his moustache, he went away, returned with his pillow and laid it on the step of the bed of state:
"Are you feverish?" he asked.
"No ... yes, perhaps a little. It will pass off, Andro. I ... I am...."
He dared not say it.
"I am a little nervous," he continued; and his eyes went anxiously round the room, where the emperors were once more standing quiet.