"Then I shall hold you responsible."
Mr. Harrison's knees began visibly to tremble, doubtless under the weight of responsibility that rested, like the globe, upon his slightly-rounded shoulders. He said nothing, only bowed once again, badly, as if the mechanism was getting out of order.
The dawn was now beginning to grow bright in the eastern sky above the fir-trees and the pines. The Emperor observed it through the lattice-pane, and knew that the hour was at hand. He called to the Empress:
"Henrietta!"
"Perry!" replied a broken voice, which might indeed almost be described as wet with tears.
"Henrietta, my dear, are you—are you nearly ready?"
"Oh, Perry, is it time? Oh, to think that——"
The Empress appeared in the aperture of the door fully dressed for eviction, wearing a large black bonnet, and carrying in one hand a small but bulging bag. Her face was disfigured, even corrugated, with emotion.
"Is it time? Oh, is it really, really time?" she wailed.
The Emperor was greatly affected. He turned away for a moment and gazed towards the sunrise. Then he said: "Mr. Harrison!"