The Lady of the Shroud - Bram Stoker (phonics reader txt) 📗
- Author: Bram Stoker
- Performer: -
Book online «The Lady of the Shroud - Bram Stoker (phonics reader txt) 📗». Author Bram Stoker
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
Comments (0)