He saw him standing on the same spot. He had thrown the pistol away and was covering his face with his hands.
The only one beside him was Lewis.
"Come, Prince! What's this? Be calm! Perhaps a good glass of whiskey." Toledo heard a sob of anguish, the choking of a stifled breast.
Respectfully he drew away one of the Prince's hands leaving his face uncovered. At present it was a dull brick red, shiny with sweat and tears.
Lubimoff was weeping.
The Colonel recalled the dead Princess in her days of stormy humor, when, after an explosion of wrath, she would wring her hands, and ask forgiveness, weeping hysterically.
As he gently took his hand, he felt that the Prince was following him, meekly without any will of his own. Martinez was waiting a few steps away.
"Shake hands. It's all over. Gentlemen are always ... gentlemen."
They shook hands.
And then something unexpected happened which produced a long silence of surprise and amazement.