“Of course,” he said, to no one in particular. “It is the day. I had forgotten.”
The quay receded, red carpet and all. Only the blare of the band followed them, and with the persistence of sound over water, followed them for some time. The Crown Prince put down the bouquet, and proceeded to stand near the steersman.
“When I am grown up,” he observed to that embarrassed sailor, “I hope I shall be able to steer a boat.”
The steersman looked about cautiously. The royal guests were settling themselves in chairs; with rugs over their knees. “It is very easy, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “See, a turn like this, and what happens? And the other way the same.”
Followed a five minutes during which the white launch went on a strange and devious course, and the Crown Prince grew quite hot and at least two inches taller. It was, of course, the Archduchess who discovered what was happening. She was very disagreeable about it.
The Archduchess was very disagreeable about everything that day. She was afraid to stay in the Palace, and afraid to leave it. And just when she had begun to feel calm, and the sun and fresh air were getting in their work, that wretched funeral band had brought back everything she was trying to forget.
The Countess was very gay. She said brilliant, rather heartless things that set the group to laughing, and in the intervals she eyed Hedwig with narrowed eyes and hate in her heart. Hedwig herself was very quiet. The bouquet had contained lilies-of-the-valley, for one thing.
Miss Braithwaite knitted, and watched that the Crown Prince kept his white gloves clean.
Just before they left the Palace the Archduchesss had had a moment of weakening, but the Countess had laughed away her fears.
“I really think I shall not go, after all,” Annunciata had said nervously. “There are reasons.”