"Yes."
Evidently Berengar at this moment failed to understand the order of the universe; he suspected for an instant that the revolution had broken out:
"But, mamma, I can't do that!"
"You must, Berengar, and at once."
"But, mamma, will papa approve of it?"
"Certainly, Berengar," said Othomar. "Whatever mamma tells you to do papa of course approves of."
The boy looked up at Othomar helplessly; his little face grew long, his sturdy little fists quivered. Then he burst into a fit of desperate sobbing.
"Come, Berengar, go," the empress repeated.
The child was still more dismayed by her severity: that was how he always saw her stare at the crowd, but not at her children. And he threw himself with the small width of his helpless little arms into her skirts, embraced her and sobbed, with great, gulping sobs:
"I can't do it, mamma, I can't do it!"