"'Orders'?" repeated Zabern with contempt. "My orders should be, 'Consider yourself cashiered for incompetence.' How many Russians do you suppose there are in the convent?"
"I cannot state the number, marshal—sufficient evidently to overpower the monks, and to hold the place in case of siege."
"And the rest of the Czar's forces?"
"Are abiding quietly in their camp on the other side of the frontier."
"Gladly would I come, Nikita, to direct operations, but that I dare not leave the side of the princess, for there is more danger to be apprehended here than before the convent. Dorislas shall see me with all speed as soon as the coronation is over. Meantime here are his orders."
And the marshal wrote upon a slip of paper: "Maintain cordon till my arrival. Do nothing unless attacked.—ZABERN."
Taking the note, Nikita rode off, his breakneck pace along the boulevard again exciting the wonder of the populace.
"This holding of the coronation while the foe is on Czernovese ground might seem a jest to some," murmured Zabern; "yet if, as I am hoping, the ceremony should tempt the Czar to come forward personally to oppose the princess's rights, then all may yet be well. Since Nicholas has chosen to make an armed raid upon our territory, let him not complain if he should find himself a prisoner of war. And with the Czar in our hands we shall be masters of the game."
On turning to enter the porch, Zabern was met by the chief court official, to whom had been committed all the arrangements connected with the coronation.
"Marshal, the cathedral is full to overflowing, and yet there are hundreds at the northern porch clamoring for admittance, and all provided with proper orders."