He clenched his fist and raised it threateningly,—and gathering his cloak about him tried to walk on,—but there was a black mist before his eyes . . . he could not see—he stumbled forward blindly, and would have fallen, had not a strong arm caught him and held him upright. He turned a dazed and wondering look on the man whose friendly grasp supported him,—then, with an exclamation, made a trembling attempt to raise his hat.
"Il Re!" he murmured feebly—"Il Re!"
King Humbert—for it was he—held him still more closely.
"Courage, amico!" he said kindly—"Courage!—yes—yes!—I know—I have heard the news! All Italy will give you vengeance for your child! We will spare no pains to discover her murderer. But now—you are ill—you are weary—do not try to speak—come with me! Let me take you home—come!"
A great sob broke from the old man's breast as he yielded to his Sovereign's imperative yet gentle guidance, and before he could realize the situation, he was in the King's own carriage, with the King beside him, being rapidly driven back to his own house. Arrived at the Palazzo Sovrani, a strange sight greeted them. The great porte-cochere was wide open, and, pressing through it, and surrounding the stately building at every point was a vast crowd,—densely packed and almost absolutely silent. Quite up to the inner portico these waiting thousands pressed,—though, as they recognised the Royal liveries, they did their best to make immediate way, and a low murmur arose "Evviva il Re!" But there was no loud shouting, and the continued hush was more distinctly recognisable than the murmur. Prince Sovrani gazed bewilderedly at the great throng as the carriage moved slowly through, and putting his hand to his head murmured—
"What—what is this! I do not understand—why are these people here?"
The King pressed his hand.
"All the world honours and loves your daughter, my friend!" he said, "And Rome, the Mother of Nations, mourns the loss of her youngest child of genius."
"No—no, not loss!—she is not dead—" began Sovrani stammeringly,—"I should have told your Majesty—she is grievously wounded—but not dead . . ."
At that moment the carriage stopped. The door of the Sovrani palace was open, and in the centre of a group of people that had gathered within, among whom were Aubrey Leigh, Sylvie Hermenstein, and the Princesse D'Agramont, stood Cardinal Bonpre and Manuel. Manuel was a little in advance of the rest, and as the King and Prince Sovrani alighted, he came fully forward, his eyes shining, and a smile upon his lips.