"A dynamite explosion, low down in the cellars of the western back-wing. The anterooms of his majesty's private apartments are destroyed. His majesty requests your highness to make every effort to continue the ball. All officers and court-ladies are commanded to dance."
The duchess clutched Othomar's arm, almost fainting. The rumour spread around them. The equerries dragged their partners along half-swooning. Two were seen carried away in a dead faint. The Queen of Syria stood vacantly beside the Archduke of Carinthia, who put his arm round her heavy waist to dance. She did not yet seem able to make up her mind.
Othomar passed his arm round the duchess:
"O God, I can't do it!" she stammered. "For God's sake, highness, don't ask me!..."
"We must," he said. "His majesty wishes it...."
"His majesty wishes...." she repeated.
Her legs trembled beneath her as though with electric thrills. Then she let him take her and they danced.
Every one danced.
The empress had rushed up the stairs and along the galleries to the bedroom-floor. She did not see that two ladies were following her; she thrust back a door:
"Berengar!" she screamed.