through the hissing of steam, noise of
laughter and talk, mingled with the dense dull sound of truck wheels,
of footsteps, of luggage loading.

Every time a fresh succession of officers thronged the glass doors,
the clang of swords rang sharply; many artillery officers pressed
through, and some infantry among them. All were making for the door
of the same railway carriage, where a tall lady in black, with large,
half-melancholy, half-imperious eyes, was standing and bowing. She bent
her head slowly, a measured inclination, never more. The officers
evidently came from manoeuvres or parade. The King was in the town, as
was indicated by the presence of some of his harbingers, that is to say
Swedish uniforms. Was he here in person? Was he expected? No, for in
that case there would have been others present besides the officers.
But was that lady who stood at the carriage-door the person to whom
they had come to bid farewell? Was she the wife of a cavalry officer
then? No, that lady could scarcely have become what she was in the
midst of a small military circle with horsey surroundings. Besides,
there was only respect in the greeting paid to her. The crowd was round
some one who was standing on the platform and who could with difficulty
be seen. At that moment a white veil was waved aloft by a lady's gloved
hand. Was all this parade in honour of a lady after all?

The long prognosticated war with Russia has not yet broken out. There
is probably time enough for that. Many of these officers wear
decorations in advance. The colonel's manly breast bears at least eight
of them. He has much to make up. Some of them--for instance, the two
stately Swedes with their bland courtier eyes--are looking rather pale;
perhaps they have been wounded as well as decorated in advance?

The throng presses close round the carriage-door. So it is really a
lady who is the object of all this bloodless fray, this pushing and
pressing, this restless motion to and fro, the endlessly shifting
phantasmagoria of necks and epaulettes, of features and bearded faces,
this unanimous laughter to order?

Perhaps it is a princess? Good heavens, no! In that case they would
have kept at a respectful distance; but here they are pressing closer
and closer, until the entrance doors of the station are again crowded
with uniforms and clanging swords, this time exclusively of cavalry,
and a little man, very old, beaming with friendliness, sheer
friendliness, nothing