The young prince's bedroom was lighted. The boy had half-risen, in his little shirt, from his camp-bed. His valet and a chambermaid stood in dismay in the middle of the room.
"Berengar!" the empress gasped out, rejoicing when she saw him unharmed.
She threw her arms around him, pressed him to her bosom.
"Oh, mamma, you're hurting me!" cried the boy, indignantly.
Her jewels had brought a drop of blood from his little bare chest. She now embraced him more gently, with nervous sobs that choked in her throat. A spray of diamond ostrich-feathers fell to the ground; the maid picked them up with awkward fingers.
"Mamma, are they blowing up the palace?"
"No, Berengar, no, it's nothing...."
"Mamma, I want to go and look! I must see what's happening!"
"Berengar...."
The door had been left open; the emperor entered, calmly. The ladies stood in the corridor, waiting for the empress....