The Lady of the Shroud by Bram Stoker (book series for 10 year olds .txt) 📕

the Voivode Peter Vissarion sat

with them, but well back, so that at first his presence was hardly

noticeable. After the necessary preliminaries had been gone through,

they requested the presence of the Gospodar Rupert—Mr. Rupert Sent

Leger—who was reported as waiting in the “Chamber of the High

Officers.” He at once accompanied back to the Hall the deputation

sent to conduct him. As he made his appearance in the doorway the

Councillors stood up. There was a burst of enthusiasm, and the

handjars flashed. For an instant he stood silent, with lifted hand,

as though indicating that he wished to speak. So soon as this was

recognized, silence fell on the assembly, and he spoke:

 

“I pray you, may the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has accompanied

me hither, appear with me to hear your wishes?” There was an

immediate and enthusiastic acquiescence, and, after bowing his

thanks, he retired to conduct her.

 

Her appearance was received with an ovation similar to that given to

Gospodar Rupert, to which she bowed with dignified sweetness. She,

with her husband, was conducted to the top of the Hall by the

President, who came down to escort them. In the meantime another

chair had been placed beside that prepared for the Gospodar, and

these two sat.

 

The President then made the formal statement conveying to the

“Gospodar Rupert” the wishes of the Council, on behalf of the nation,

to offer to him the Crown and Kingship of the Land of the Blue

Mountains. The message was couched in almost the same words as had

been used the previous day in making the offer to the Voivode Peter

Vissarion, only differing to meet the special circumstances. The

Gospodar Rupert listened in grave silence. The whole thing was

manifestly quite new to him, but he preserved a self-control

wonderful under the circumstances. When, having been made aware of

the previous offer to the Voivode and the declared wish of the

latter, he rose to speak, there was stillness in the Hall. He

commenced with a few broken words of thanks; then he grew suddenly

and strangely calm as he went on:

 

“But before I can even attempt to make a fitting reply, I should know

if it is contemplated to join with me in this great honour my dear

wife the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has so splendidly proved

her worthiness to hold any place in the government of the Land. I

fain would … “

 

He was interrupted by the Voivodin, who, standing up beside him and

holding his left arm, said:

 

“Do not, President, and Lords all, think me wanting in that respect

of a wife for husband which in the Blue Mountains we hold so dear, if

I venture to interrupt my lord. I am here, not merely as a wife, but

as Voivodin of Vissarion, and by the memory of all the noble women of

that noble line I feel constrained to a great duty. We women of

Vissarion, in all the history of centuries, have never put ourselves

forward in rivalry of our lords. Well I know that my own dear lord

will forgive me as wife if I err; but I speak to you, the Council of

the nation, from another ground and with another tongue. My lord

does not, I fear, know as you do, and as I do too, that of old, in

the history of this Land, when Kingship was existent, that it was

ruled by that law of masculine supremacy which, centuries after,

became known as the Lex Salica. Lords of the Council of the Blue

Mountains, I am a wife of the Blue Mountains—as a wife young as yet,

but with the blood of forty generations of loyal women in my veins.

And it would ill become me, whom my husband honours—wife to the man

whom you would honour—to take a part in changing the ancient custom

which has been held in honour for all the thousand years, which is

the glory of Blue Mountain womanhood. What an example such would be

in an age when self-seeking women of other nations seek to forget

their womanhood in the struggle to vie in equality with men! Men of

the Blue Mountains, I speak for our women when I say that we hold of

greatest price the glory of our men. To be their companions is our

happiness; to be their wives is the completion of our lives; to be

mothers of their children is our share of the glory that is theirs.

 

“Therefore, I pray you, men of the Blue Mountains, let me but be as

any other wife in our land, equal to them in domestic happiness,

which is our woman’s sphere; and if that priceless honour may be

vouchsafed to me, and I be worthy and able to bear it, an exemplar of

woman’s rectitude.” With a low, modest, graceful bow, she sat down.

 

There was no doubt as to the reception of her renunciation of Queenly

dignity. There was more honour to her in the quick, fierce shout

which arose, and the unanimous upward swing of the handjars, than in

the wearing of any crown which could adorn the head of woman.

 

The spontaneous action of the Gospodar Rupert was another source of

joy to all—a fitting corollary to what had gone before. He rose to

his feet, and, taking his wife in his arms, kissed her before all.

Then they sat down, with their chairs close, bashfully holding hands

like a pair of lovers.

 

Then Rupert arose—he is Rupert now; no lesser name is on the lips of

his people henceforth. With an intense earnestness which seemed to

glow in his face, he said simply:

 

“What can I say except that I am in all ways, now and for ever,

obedient to your wishes?” Then, raising his handjar and holding it

before him, he kissed the hilt, saying:

 

“Hereby I swear to be honest and just—to be, God helping me, such a

King as you would wish—in so far as the strength is given me.

Amen.”

 

This ended the business of the Session, and the Council showed

unmeasured delight. Again and again the handjars flashed, as the

cheers rose “three times three” in British fashion.

 

When Rupert—I am told I must not write him down as “King Rupert”

until after the formal crowning, which is ordained for Wednesday,

October 16th,—and Teuta had withdrawn, the Voivode Peter Vissarion,

the President and Council conferred in committee with the Presidents

of the High Courts of National Law and of Justice as to the

formalities to be observed in the crowning of the King, and of the

formal notification to he given to foreign Powers. These proceedings

kept them far into the night.

 

FROM “The London Messenger.”

CORONATION FESTIVITIES OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.

(From our Special Correspondent.)

PLAZAC,

October 14, 1907.

 

As I sat down to a poorly-equipped luncheon-table on board the

Austro-Orient liner Franz Joseph, I mourned in my heart (and I may

say incidentally in other portions of my internal economy) the

comfort and gastronomic luxury of the King and Emperor Hotel at

Trieste. A brief comparison between the menus of to-day’s lunch and

yesterday’s will afford to the reader a striking object-lesson:

 

Trieste. Steamer.

Eggs a la cocotte. Scrambled eggs on toast.

Stewed chicken, with paprika. Cold chicken.

Devilled slices of Westphalian ham Cold ham.

(boiled in wine). Bismarck herrings.

Tunny fish, pickled. Stewed apples.

Rice, burst in cream. Swiss cheese.

Guava jelly.

 

Consequence: Yesterday I was well and happy, and looked forward to a

good night’s sleep, which came off. To-day I am dull and heavy, also

restless, and I am convinced that at sleeping-time my liver will have

it all its own way.

 

The journey to Ragusa, and thence to Plazac, is writ large with a

pigment of misery on at least one human heart. Let a silence fall

upon it! In such wise only can Justice and Mercy join hands.

 

Plazac is a miserable place. There is not a decent hotel in it. It

was perhaps on this account that the new King, Rupert, had erected

for the alleged convenience of his guests of the Press a series of

large temporary hotels, such as were in evidence at the St. Louis

Exposition. Here each guest was given a room to himself, somewhat

after the nature of the cribs in a Rowton house. From my first night

in it I am able to speak from experience of the sufferings of a

prisoner of the third class. I am, however, bound to say that the

dining and reception rooms were, though uncomfortably plain, adequate

for temporary use. Happily we shall not have to endure many more

meals here, as to-morrow we all dine with the King in the State

House; and as the cuisine is under the control of that cordon bleu,

Gaston de Faux Pas, who so long controlled the gastronomic (we might

almost say Gastonomic) destinies of the Rois des Diamants in the

Place Vendome, we may, I think, look forward to not going to bed

hungry. Indeed, the anticipations formed from a survey of our meagre

sleeping accommodation were not realized at dinnertime to-night. To

our intense astonishment, an excellent dinner was served, though, to

be sure, the cold dishes predominated (a thing I always find bad for

one’s liver). Just as we were finishing, the King (nominated) came

amongst us in quite an informal way, and, having bidden us a hearty

welcome, asked that we should drink a glass of wine together. This

we did in an excellent (if rather sweet) glass of Cliquot ‘93. King

Rupert (nominated) then asked us to resume our seats. He walked

between the tables, now and again recognizing some journalistic

friend whom he had met early in life in his days of adventure. The

men spoken to seemed vastly pleased—with themselves probably.

Pretty bad form of them, I call it! For myself, I was glad I had not

previously met him in the same casual way, as it saved me from what I

should have felt a humiliation—the being patronized in that public

way by a prospective King who had not (in a Court sense) been born.

The writer, who is by profession a barrister-at-law, is satisfied at

being himself a county gentleman and heir to an historic estate in

the ancient county of Salop, which can boast a larger population than

the Land of the Blue Mountains.

 

EDITORIAL NOTE.—We must ask our readers to pardon the report in

yesterday’s paper sent from Plazac. The writer was not on our

regular staff, but asked to be allowed to write the report, as he was

a kinsman of King Rupert of the Blue Mountains, and would therefore

be in a position to obtain special information and facilities of

description “from inside,” as he puts it. On reading the paper, we

cabled his recall; we cabled also, in case he did not obey, to have

his ejectment effected forthwith.

 

We have also cabled Mr. Mordred Booth, the well-known correspondent,

who was, to our knowledge, in Plazac for his own purposes, to send us

full (and proper) details. We take it our readers will prefer a

graphic account of the ceremony to a farrago of cheap menus, comments

on his own liver, and a belittling of an Englishman of such noble

character and achievements that a rising nation has chosen him for

their King, and one whom our own nation loves to honour. We shall

not, of course, mention our abortive correspondent’s name, unless

compelled thereto by any future utterance of his.

 

FROM “The London Messenger.”

THE CORONATION OF KING RUPERT OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.

(By our Special Correspondent, Mordred Booth.)

PLAZAC,

October 17, 1907.

 

Plazac does not boast of a cathedral or any church of sufficient

dimensions