The twelve strokes sounded, twelve heavy, deep strokes.
A long silence. Nothing happened. Nevertheless, the Emperor waited, as though he were sure that something was going to happen. And Waldemar did not move, stood with wide-open eyes.
Lupin, who had stooped over the clock-face, now drew himself up, muttering:
"That's it . . . I have it. . . ."
He went back to his chair and commanded:
"Waldemar, set the hands at two minutes to twelve again. Oh, no, old chap, not backwards! The way the hands go! . . . Yes, I know, it will take rather long . . . but it can't be helped."
All the hours struck and the half hours, up to half-past eleven.
"Listen, Waldemar," said Lupin.
And he spoke seriously, without jesting, as though himself excited and anxious:
"Listen, Waldemar. Do you see on the f
