There was a craning of necks. The soldiers made no concealment of their surprise, but in their gratitude for the king’s pardon shouted their acceptance.
The king laid his hand on Lentala’s head.
“I now make this proclamation: I am old and broken, and the grief of this day has brought me near the end. To this one, true and wise, brave and devoted, so deeply loved and trusted by us all, I resign the ruler-ship of my people.” He removed his crown and cloak, and placed them on her. “Obey her as you love her, and peace and security will abide with you. This is your ruler henceforth.” He raised both arms, and, after a pause, cried, “Obeisance and greetings to Queen Lentala!”
A thrill ran through the gathering, and all sank to the ground. I was on my knees at her feet, pressing her fingers to my lips and trying to speak.
“Joseph!” she scolded under her breath, giving my hand a little squeeze; “don’t do that! How can I cry when you are so absurd!” Tears were falling from her lashes. She turned, put her arms on the king’s shoulders, and bowed her head, while mighty salvos of huzzas rent the skies.
CHAPTER XXII.—Wit and Dash to the Fore.
The New Sovereign Assumes Charge. Our Plans for Escape Go Awry. Victims Taken to the Sacrificial Altar. A Bold Act Turns a Tragic Event.
IT was some time before Lentala could lift her face to her subjects. The king’s renunciation—the finishing touch to the bold diplomacy with which he had turned the crisis—had come to her as a bolt from heaven. I wondered how it would affed her deeply laid plans for the rescue of the colony; for, though it would give her extraordinary power, it would abruptly check her irresponsible freedom of movement. Furthermore, it had thrust upon her the necessity for swift rearrangement. Her hold on neither the people nor the army had been firmly secured. I knew that her quick understanding apprehended the new complications, and that she understood the king’s wisdom fitted to the hour’s need. She gave me a frightened look, and brightened under my smile.