amplitude; but it did not realize their historic pride so effectively as
this exquisite work of the court ironsmith. It related itself in its
aerial beauty to that of the Tiepolo frescoes which the travellers knew
were swimming and soaring on the ceilings within, and from which it
seemed to accent their exclusion with a delicate irony, March said. "Or
iron-mongery," he corrected himself upon reflection.




LIV.

He had forgotten Kenby in these aesthetic interests, but he remembered
him again when he called a carriage, and ordered it driven to their
hotel. It was the hour of the German mid-day table d'hote, and they would
be sure to meet him there. The question now was how March should own his
presence in time to prevent his wife from showing her ignorance of it to
Kenby himself, and he was still turning the question hopelessly over in
his mind when the sight of the hotel seemed to remind her of a fact which
she announced.

"Now, my dear, I am tired to death, and I am not going to sit through a
long table d'hote. I want you to send me up a simple beefsteak and a cup
of tea to our rooms; and I don't want you to come near for hours; because
I intend to take a whole afternoon nap. You can keep all the maps and
plans, and guides, and you had better go and see what the Volksfest is
like; it will give you some notion of the part the people are really
taking in all this official celebration, and you know I don't care. Don't
come up after dinner to see how I am getting along; I shall get along;
and if you should happen to wake me after I had dropped off--"