Fiction > Book editions > London, 1885 - Prince Otto

I30 PRINCE OTTO
plete and sweeping was langhable, even to him-
self; and he laughed aloud in his wrath. Upon
this mood there followed the sharpest violence
of remorse ; and to that again, as he recalled
liis provocation, anger succeeded afresh. So he
was tossed in spirit ; now bewailing his incon-
sequence and lack of temper, now flaming up
in white hot indignation and a noble pity for
himself.
He paced his apartment like a leopard.
There was danger in Otto, for a flash. Like a
pistol, he could kill at one moment, and the next
he might be kicked aside. But just then, as he
walked the long floors in his alternate humours,
tearing his handkerchief between his hands, he
was strung to his top note, every nerve at tent.
The pistol, you might say, was charged. And
when jealousy from time to time fetched him a
lash across the tenderest of his feeling, and sent
a string of her hre-pictures glancing before his
mind's eye, the contraction of his face Avas even
dangerous. He disregarded jealousy's inventions,
yet they stung. In this height of his anger, he
still preserved his faith in Seraphina's innocence ;
but the thought of her possible misconduct was
the bitterest ingredient in his pot of sorrow.
There came a knock at the door, and the
chamberlain brought him a note. He took it and
oTOund it in his hand, continuinix his march,