In spite of fatigue, there was an immense amount of work to be got through that night; I don't know how many times I put my signature to papers handed me by Mr. Smith, but it seemed millions.
I had sent a telegram to my mother, just a few words, saying that all was well.
At Mr. Smith's suggestion, I had invited some twenty or thirty people to take supper with me, and at eleven o'clock I vowed that I would work no more. At which Mr. Smith and Baron Sluben laughed, and said that they had been wondering when I meant to stop; and only then did I realise that it had been my place to call a halt, not theirs.
Twice, during these hours of writing, I had been obliged to leave the room, and show myself to the people who stood outside the Palace gates, cheering continuously; but, as it grew towards midnight, the crowd had dwindled, and I could feel more at rest.
I think my first supper-party was a success, the late King's chef being one of the best in Europe.
Naturally enough, high spirits reigned supreme, as one and all there, with the single exception of myself, had worked for years for what had happened this day.
The guests were all very great people in the realm; and, when supper was finished, we withdrew to another room to hold a Council of War, to decide what should be done with Prince Alexis and his following.
There were some whose advice was distinctly Machiavellian, desiring to stamp out all of Ivan's race. They had forgotten, perhaps, that I was related to him. There were others, who thought that imprisonment for life was the thing; while the majority, of which I was one, held in favour of exile.
That was for Alexis and his chief advisers; the minor characters would have to live on their estates, under certain conditions, or leave the country, the choice to be theirs. And so, after a somewhat lengthy debate, it was decided.
Perhaps we were too lenient, knowing as we did the kind of men with whom we dealt; but severity was abhorrent to me who had been so short a while King.