But just then Zanti, with the foreman who had called him, approached, slowly, making no effort to hurry. He looked under his hand from a distance at the group of officers on horseback, flashing in the sunlight; stood still; asked the foreman some question or other; looked again.
"The unmannerly fellow!" muttered Thesbia.
The aide-de-camp rode up to him angrily, spoke in a loud voice of his imperial highness the Duke of Xara; the duke wished to see the huts.
"They are not huts," said Zanti, in peevish contradiction.
"What then?" asked the aide, haughtily.
"Dwellings," answered Zanti, curtly.
Thesbia shrugged his shoulders with annoyance. But the crown-prince himself had ridden up and saluted Zanti before the latter had vouchsafed any greeting:
"Will your excellency give us leave to look at what you are doing for the victims of the inundations?" he asked, politely, gently, graciously.
"I'm not an excellency," muttered the grey-beard, "but, if you like to look, you can."
"We should like to," replied Othomar, a little haughtily, "but not unless we have your entire approval. You are the master on your own estate; and, if our visit is unwelcome, we will not force our presence on you."