He rose and walked to the face of the clock, standing two feet away, at most, with his eyes fixed, with every nerve attentive.
The twelve strokes sounded, twelve heavy, deep strokes.
A long silence. Nothing happened. Nevertheless, the Emperor waited, as though he were sure that something was going to happen. And Waldemar did not move, stood with wide-open eyes.
Lupin, who had stooped over the clock-face, now drew himself up, muttering:
"That's it . . . I have it. . . ."
He went back to his chair and commanded:
"Waldemar, set the hands at two minutes to twelve again. Oh, no, old chap, not backwards! The way the hands go! . . . Yes, I know, it will take rather long . . . but it can't be helped."
All the hours struck and the half hours, up to half-past eleven.
"Listen, Waldemar," said Lupin.
And he spoke seriously, without jesting, as though himself excited and anxious: