When he came back to the front, he saw that in the great entrance court
within the high iron railings an elegant but quiet-looking closed
carriage was drawing up before the doorway. Marco stood and watched with
interest to see who would come out and enter it. He knew that kings and
emperors who were not on parade looked merely like well-dressed private
gentlemen, and often chose to go out as simply and quietly as other men.
So he thought that, perhaps, if he waited, he might see one of those
well-known faces which represent the highest rank and power in a
monarchical country, and which in times gone by had also represented the
power over human life and death and liberty.

"I should like to be able to tell my father that I have seen the King
and know his face, as I know the faces of the czar and the two
emperors."

There was a little movement among the tall men-servants in the royal
scarlet liveries, and an elderly man descended the steps attended by
another who walked behind him. He entered the carriage, the other man
followed him, the door was closed, and the carriage drove through the
entrance gates, where the sentries saluted.

Marco was near enough to see distinctly. The two men were talking as if
interested. The face of the one farthest from him was the face he had
often seen in shop-windows and newspapers. The boy made his quick,
formal salute. It was the King; and, as he smiled and acknowledged his
greeting, he spoke to his companion.

"That fine lad salutes as if he belonged to the army," was what he said,
though Marco could not hear him.