Of the funeral ceremony itself I will say but little. Its grandeur and pomp could not have been excelled. I did my best to bear myself as a man should, but as I looked at the coffin, and thought of what it contained, my feelings well-nigh overcame me. When all was over, I left the cathedral and entered the carriage that awaited me at the foot of the steps. The great square was crowded, till it resembled one vast sea of heads, upon which a gleam of wintry sunshine played as if with a caressing hand. Slowly I drove along to the accompaniment of the respectful salutations of the people, though, wrapt as I was in my own thoughts, I was scarcely conscious of their presence. We were not half-way across the square, however, before my feelings underwent a complete change. Looking from the carriage I saw among the multitude of faces one that stung me to instant action. I could scarcely believe the evidence of my own eyes. I looked again, only to become doubly certain that there was no mistake. To the best of my belief, there, looking up at me, was the man we suspected, the individual who had cannoned into Bertram at Zaarfburg, and to search for whom Bertram had returned to the scene of Max's death. A moment later it had disappeared, and I was left wondering what I should do. To stop the procession and to go in search of the man was out of the question, and yet to continue our journey to the palace would be to run the risk of allowing him to escape. Situated as I was, there was nothing for it but to go on and to trust to Providence for the rest. One thing, however, was quite certain. A message must be sent to Bertram telling him to return to Pannonia at once. Drawing Strekwitz aside as soon as we reached the palace, I told him what had happened, and gave him the necessary instructions.
For the remainder of the day the memory of the face I had seen in the crowd haunted me like that of a ghoul. Please God, Bertram would not be too late to catch him after all.
I was well aware that, even should my telegram have the good fortune to catch him at once, Bertram could not reach the capital in less than twenty-four hours. During that time, however, I had not much leisure to think of him; I was kept incessantly busy, bidding my guests farewell, and attending to the various important matters of state, which had perforce been neglected under the stress of the last few days. Busy as I was, however, the face of the man I had seen in the crowd was continually before my eyes. Whenever I went abroad, I scanned the countenances of the people I met, in the hope that I might discover him again. But I was not successful. Look as I would I could find no trace of him. Could I have been mistaken? No! I felt certain I had not. The man's image had printed itself so firmly upon my memory that I could entertain no doubt upon the matter. I was still thinking of this when word was brought to me that my father-in-law elect, the Prince of Lilienhöhe, had reached the palace and desired an audience. On the previous day, that is to say, the day of the funeral, I had only time to salute him. Having received no letter from Ottilie that morning, his presence was the more welcome. I bade them conduct him to my presence.