“Gentlemen,” I said in their own picturesque tongue, “you are the first of my subjects to welcome me. Not as King will I speak to you now, but as a fellow-worker, for my heart also is dedicated to God and Ertaria.”
That struck some spark into their dull faces.
“Seven centuries of liberty are in our hands,” said I. “The dead fathers of Ertaria have given us this heritage. It is that which I come to preserve—in peace if God wills, but if not, the history of Ertaria tells us how to act.”
Bombast if you will, but it brought life, valor, strength into their faces.
As for the man of granite, his eyes flashed. Ten minutes more and we were galloping up the white ribbon of a road toward Tsalburg, embarked upon as mad a mission as was ever enacted in this Balkan basin of mad missions. Our frock-coated friends remained behind. I kissed each on his scrubby cheek, and told him to guard our frontier. They swore to this with tears in their eyes.
“Well,” said I, “we have played the first act of the farce.”
“You have done well,” my mentor replied. “But this is no farce. It is a perilous game to play.”
“You did not tell me so before, General. A spice of danger gives it a zest.”
“You speak like a soldier.”
“I was a soldier—that was before I became a peer and was a personage. Shall I pass muster? Will they perceive I am no King? Will the people be with me?”