t at the Grand Marshal's table; and there
were Chamberlains and Secretaries of Ceremony and Aides. Many
surreptitiously peeped into a monster volume as they rode. It was not a
mass book nor a materia medica. It was the Ritual.

The Sixth Grand Dignitary of Cabellerizo Mayor helped His Majesty to
descend from His coach. He did it mid vociferous cheering and waving of
boughs and agitation of handkerchiefs on bamboo poles. Aides and Deputy
Dignitaries worked industriously driving back the simple Inditos.

"'The General Aide de Camp,'" Jacqueline quoted reverently, "'will keep
the people from the Imperial coach, but without maiming them.'"

CHAPTER XVI

HE OF THE DEBONAIR SCEPTRE

"And let us make a name."--_Genesis._

The flame of lofty resolve burned with a high, present heat in
Maximilian's dreamy eyes. But the thing was not statesmanship. The
danger dial pointed to some latest darling phantasy.

When the young prince--he was but thirty-three--descended from his
carriage, he signed that the Cortege should not form as yet. And instead
of mounting the colonnade steps, he turned and mingled with his humble
subjects. A pleased murmur arose among the Indians. "Que simpatico!"
they breathed in little gasps of admiring awe.

The unusually tall and very fair young man, in the simplicity of black,
with only the grand cross of St. Stephen about his neck, moved about
among the ragged peons. Now and again he spoke to one and another,
questioning earnestly. Anxious orderlies were quick to brush aside the
touch of an elbow, but to those outside the circle, watching what he
would do, he seemed alone with his people. And in thought, he really
was. There was a great pity upon his face, and it was the more poignant
because these timorous children could not comprehend the wretchedness
which so appealed to him.

"And thou?" he demanded of an aged man whose tatters hung heavy in
filth.

A look of poor simple craft came into the Indian's face. "I, senor?
Maria purisima, I am cursed of heaven. But the rich senor wishes to
know--see!" and ere Monsieur Eloin could prevent, he bared a limb of
rotting flesh. "If it were not for my leg, Your Mercy----"

"_Animal_," snarled Eloin in his ear, "can't you say 'Your
Majesty'?"

"Your--Majesty, or if I had children, I could make my debt--oh, grande,
grande, twenty reales, maybe. And then, and then I should have a red and
purple scrape, with a green eagle, like my nephew Felipe