“Because you are not acquainted with our people, milord,” was the studiously mild reply of M. Drakovics. “They would not recognise any king not crowned on that spot, and with that crown. Moreover, in an emergency like the present, when our actions are certain to be jealously scrutinised in order to discover the least flaw in the legality of our proceedings, we must be doubly careful to do everything in the very strictest order.”
“Then why not clear away the ruins and hold the ceremony in the open air, or in a tent pitched on the site of the chapel?” cried Cyril. “There must be jewellers in Bellaviste, who would not take more than a day to knock together out of your lump of gold something sufficiently like a crown for all practical purposes. Take my word for it, M. Drakovics, if we lose the day finally, it will be owing to delay now.”
“You must allow me to differ from you, milord,” was the answer. “In my opinion, the day is far more likely to be lost through undue precipitation. But after all, the matter is entirely in his Majesty’s hands. Is it your wish, sir, that the coronation should take place immediately or not?”
“Well,” said Caerleon, “you ought to know best,—and naturally it would be a very good thing to begin the reign with full recognition from Roum.”
“Your reign has begun,” said Cyril. “The coronation only puts a seal upon it, half-sentimental, half-religious.”
“Still,” said Caerleon, “we are not the best judges, Cyril. If M. Drakovics, who is better acquainted with Thracia than we are, thinks that it will be more serviceable to the country to delay the coronation, I have no objection.”
“That’s all very well,” thought Cyril. “You are calculating that in a month or two you ought to be able to break down Miss O’Malachy’s scruples. I am sorry to be under the painful necessity of putting a spoke in your wheel, my dear fellow.”
“If your Majesty is pleased to delay the coronation,” said M. Drakovics, “may I ask you to visit the Hôtel de Ville with me this morning? The people have been gathering together from all the country round to witness the ceremony, and it will be necessary to explain to them what has occurred. There is another thing I was anxious to know. Your Majesty mentioned a few days ago that your brother had some idea of offering himself as your private secretary. I see that correspondence is already beginning to pour in, and as the office is a very delicate and important one, I venture to ask whether Milord Cyril is still in the same mind?”
“M. Drakovics means me to earn my board and lodging,” said Cyril, who was conscious of a grudge against the statesman for rejecting his counsel.
“I am quite sure that M. Drakovics means nothing of the kind,” said Caerleon, sharply. “He knows very well that you are here as my guest.”