THE SAME—Continued.

September 10, 1907.

When the National Council met to-day the Voivode Peter Vissarion sat with them, but well back, so that at first his presence was hardly noticeable.  After the necessary preliminaries had been gone through, they requested the presence of the Gospodar Rupert—Mr. Rupert Sent Leger—who was reported as waiting in the “Chamber of the High Officers.”  He at once accompanied back to the Hall the deputation sent to conduct him.  As he made his appearance in the doorway the Councillors stood up.  There was a burst of enthusiasm, and the handjars flashed.  For an instant he stood silent, with lifted hand, as though indicating that he wished to speak.  So soon as this was recognized, silence fell on the assembly, and he spoke:

“I pray you, may the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has accompanied me hither, appear with me to hear your wishes?”  There was an immediate and enthusiastic acquiescence, and, after bowing his thanks, he retired to conduct her.

Her appearance was received with an ovation similar to that given to Gospodar Rupert, to which she bowed with dignified sweetness.  She, with her husband, was conducted to the top of the Hall by the President, who came down to escort them.  In the meantime another chair had been placed beside that prepared for the Gospodar, and these two sat.

The President then made the formal statement conveying to the “Gospodar Rupert” the wishes of the Council, on behalf of the nation, to offer to him the Crown and Kingship of the Land of the Blue Mountains.  The message was couched in almost the same words as had been used the previous day in making the offer to the Voivode Peter Vissarion, only differing to meet the special circumstances.  The Gospodar Rupert listened in grave silence.  The whole thing was manifestly quite new to him, but he preserved a self-control wonderful under the circumstances.  When, having been made aware of the previous offer to the Voivode and the declared wish of the latter, he rose to speak, there was stillness in the Hall.  He commenced with a few broken words of thanks; then he grew suddenly and strangely calm as he went on:

“But before I can even attempt to make a fitting reply, I should know if it is contemplated to join with me in this great honour my dear wife the Voivodin Teuta of Vissarion, who has so splendidly proved her worthiness to hold any place in the government of the Land.  I fain would . . . ”

He was interrupted by the Voivodin, who, standing up beside him and holding his left arm, said:

“Do not, President, and Lords all, think me wanting in that respect of a wife for husband which in the Blue Mountains we hold so dear, if I venture to interrupt my lord.  I am here, not merely as a wife, but as Voivodin of Vissarion, and by the memory of all the noble women of that noble line I feel constrained to a great duty.  We women of Vissarion, in all the history of centuries, have never put ourselves forward in rivalry of our lords.  Well I know that my own dear lord will forgive me as wife if I err; but I speak to you, the Council of the nation, from another ground and with another tongue.  My lord does not, I fear, know as you do, and as I do too, that of old, in the history of this Land, when Kingship was existent, that it was ruled by that law of masculine supremacy which, centuries after, became known as the Lex Salica.  Lords of the Council of the Blue Mountains, I am a wife of the Blue Mountains—as a wife young as yet, but with the blood of forty generations of loyal women in my veins.  And it would ill become me, whom my husband honours—wife to the man whom you would honour—to take a part in changing the ancient custom which has been held in honour for all the thousand years, which is the glory of Blue Mountain womanhood.  What an example such would be in an age when self-seeking women of other nations seek to forget their womanhood in the struggle to vie in equality with men!  Men of the Blue Mountains, I speak for our women when I say that we hold of greatest price the glory of our men.  To be their companions is our happiness; to be their wives is the completion of our lives; to be mothers of their children is our share of the glory that is theirs.

“Therefore, I pray you, men of the Blue Mountains, let me but be as any other wife in our land, equal to them in domestic happiness, which is our woman’s sphere; and if that priceless honour may be vouchsafed to me, and I be worthy and able to bear it, an exemplar of woman’s rectitude.”  With a low, modest, graceful bow, she sat down.

There was no doubt as to the reception of her renunciation of Queenly dignity.  There was more honour to her in the quick, fierce shout which arose, and the unanimous upward swing of the handjars, than in the wearing of any crown which could adorn the head of woman.

The spontaneous action of the Gospodar Rupert was another source of joy to all—a fitting corollary to what had gone before.  He rose to his feet, and, taking his wife in his arms, kissed her before all.  Then they sat down, with their chairs close, bashfully holding hands like a pair of lovers.

Then Rupert arose—he is Rupert now; no lesser name is on the lips of his people henceforth.  With an intense earnestness which seemed to glow in his face, he said simply:

“What can I say except that I am in all ways, now and for ever, obedient to your wishes?”  Then, raising his handjar and holding it before him, he kissed the hilt, saying:

“Hereby I swear to be honest and just—to be, God helping me, such a King as you would wish—in so far as the strength is given me.  Amen.”

This ended the business of the Session, and the Council showed unmeasured delight.  Again and again the handjars flashed, as the cheers rose “three times three” in British fashion.

When Rupert—I am told I must not write him down as “King Rupert” until after the formal crowning, which is ordained for Wednesday, October 16th,—and Teuta had withdrawn, the Voivode Peter Vissarion, the President and Council conferred in committee with the Presidents of the High Courts of National Law and of Justice as to the formalities to be observed in the crowning of the King, and of the formal notification to be given to foreign Powers.  These proceedings kept them far into the night.