A crash of music reminded them of those who still waited to bow before the King. So they passed out into the great ballroom, and mounting the dais, Marie stood on the King’s left hand. The room was a blaze of light, of brilliant uniforms and beautiful dresses. At ten o’clock, Reist came up with a look of relief upon his face, and a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
“The English Minister and his wife, your Majesty,” he murmured. “It is excellent. The others will follow.”
The news spread. A little flutter of joy rippled through the room. The coming of this dignified, kindly old man, with his grey hair and single decoration, was the one thing needed. Theos had taken to herself a King, asking leave of no one, but the countenance of some at least of the Powers was a vital thing. At the informal coronation, rushed through by Reist and his friends, not one of the Ministers had been present. Domiloff, with smooth face and with many lying regrets, had presented an interdictory note from Russia, but owing to the peculiar conditions prevailing there had not been until after the coronation any properly-appointed person to receive it. The late foreign Minister had refused it with a smile and a polite word of regret, and his example had been followed by every member of the Royalist party. There was, they explained, at the moment no government, no officials, no Minister. Their various appointments were arranged for and would be confirmed immediately after the coronation. Until then they were only private persons. So Domiloff, with a suave jest and a shrug of his shoulders, shut himself up in his house, while the cathedral bells clashed and the cannon roared from the walls.
The English Minister was followed in quick succession by the representatives of France and Austria, and with their coming a certain sense of restraint passed away from the brilliant assemblage. Before there had been a certain sense of unreality in the whole thing. The tone of the rejoicings had been feverish—who could tell but that in a week this thing might not have passed away like a mirage. Now a heartier note altogether prevailed, especially amongst the men. There were no more side glances, or shrugged shoulders—the volcano no longer trembled beneath their feet. Dancing commenced, and the King stood up with Marie of Reist. At supper she remained on his right hand. Many people spoke to Reist of this.
“It is excellent, Duke,” declared old Baron Kolashin, once Commander-in-Chief of the Army. “Theos needs no outside alliance. It means only entanglement. That,” he inclined his head to where Marie and the King were talking, “will send Theos crazy with joy.”
Reist shook his head.
“You anticipate, my dear Kolashin,” he answered. “Our Court circle is, as you know, small, and Marie’s rank entitles her to receive. But this is only their second meeting. I am sure that as yet no such idea has entered the King’s head.”
Kolashin twirled his fierce moustache, and smiled knowingly.
“Eh, but my friend, there is a report that they have drunk together from the King’s cup. How about that?”