But when dinner was over (and it was finished in a remarkably short time, being, as it were, but the trumpet sound calling to greater things), the friends and upholders of each candidate spoke in turn. No names were mentioned—views only were put forward, facts also. Each speaker was allowed fifteen minutes and no more.
The speeches began in earnest, and they revolved round the two chief men of those chosen—for and against.
Now it was plain that the unfortunate episode of the lost handkerchief, or rather found one, still rankled deeply in people’s minds. A debt of gratitude was still due to the man who discovered and made known this scandalous piece of information. Affairs in the temple had for centuries been kept too close. A Great High Priest was needed whose actions would be as light as day, and character above reproach.
So on the speeches went, all interesting and conclusive, because they all pivoted on one concrete thing, a handkerchief with a rose in the corner. The thing itself was never mentioned, for that would scarce have been diplomacy. Like the Serpent, the handkerchief was hidden out of sight.
And so on one little lie, or piece of misunderstanding, one man was gaining a position which clearly was too good for him. So at least thought Rosalie. She studied the faces of the two candidates, and took a sudden fancy to that of Phillipus. He came from a line of uncrowned kings. The speeches were going against him; he bore it with dignity and polite attention to every speaker.
At last one speaker, bold with champagne, ran full tilt at the red rag, rose, or whatever else it can be called. He spoke of it openly, and the result was—fatal.
For suddenly the frog said to Rosalie, “Speak!” and being obedient, she spoke.
She rose to her feet with one deep spot of colour flaming into either cheek, the rest white as snow. A curious silence fell on the room, which had been silent before.
“I think there has been a little misunderstanding about the handkerchief,” she said, in a voice that ceased to tremble. “It belongs to me. I never saw the Great High Priest in my life, but I did go into the most sacred place three years ago, with—with a petition, and by mistake I left it there.”
Now there was a certain purity in Rosalie’s voice and simplicity in the words that carried conviction.