At this point of the debate Polonaski intervened with a suggestion. He was the Justiciary, and by virtue of his office the highest legal authority in Czernova.
"Since your Highness reigns over Greeks as well as Catholics, would it not be politic to conciliate the former by permitting a Greek prelate to have some share, however small, in your coronation?"
"That is good counsel," replied Barbara. "I trust, my lord," she added, addressing Mosco with a gracious smile, "that you have not viewed with bitterness this setting aside of the ancient privilege attaching to your see? But, indeed, you are welcome to take whatever part you please in my coronation, short of the administration of the Sacrament and of the imposition of the diadem."
Mosco, apparently gratified by this concession, spent a few moments in studying the coronation ritual, a copy of which had been supplied to each member of the cabinet.
"I ask for nothing more," he finally observed, "than for leave to read the Gospel at the beginning of the ceremony."
"It is granted," replied Barbara, wondering why the archpastor should select this, a somewhat humble office, compared with others which were open to him.
Mosco's lips curved into a smile, which, though lasting but a moment, did not escape the quick eye of Zabern, who immediately became full of suspicion.
"As I live," he muttered to himself, "our archpastor is a traitor! Have I got rid of Bora only to find that he has left a successor in the cabinet? That smile means mischief. But what mischief can come from the reading of the Gospel?"
An enigma which was not solved till the actual day of the coronation, and those who witnessed the solution were not likely ever to forget it.
That picturesque personage, accustomed to figure at a coronation, namely, the champion, now became a subject of discussion, Mosco himself having introduced the question.