DOI article:
Harland, Henry: The Queen's pleasure
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27806#0063
By Henry Harland 59
it’s awful, awful, awful ! ” And her voice failed her in a sob ; and
she hid her face in her hands, and wept. So the King had to
drop the subject again, and to devote his talents to the task of
drying her tears.
I don’t know how many times they renewed the discussion, but
I do know that the Oueen stood firm in her original refusal, and
that at last it was decided that the King should go without her,
and excuse her absence as best he might on the plea of her preca-
rious state of health. It was only after this resolution was made
and registered, and her husband had brought himself to accept it
with some degree of resignation—it was only then that her
Majesty began to waver and vacillate, and reconsider, and change
her mind. As the date approached for his departure, her alterna-
tions became an affair of hours. It was, “ Oh, after all, I can’t
let you go alone, poor Theo. And besides, I should die of heart-
break, here without you. So—there—I’ll make the best of a bad
business, and go with you”—it was either that, or else, “No,
after all, I can't. I really can’t. I’m awfully sorry. I shall miss
you horribly. But, when I think of what it means, I haven’t the
strength or courage. I simply can’t ”—it was one thing or the
other, on and off, all day.
“ When you finally know your own mind, I shall be glad if
you’ll send for me,” said Theodore. “ Because I’ve got to name
a Regent. And if you’re coming with me, I shall name my uncle
Stephen. But if you’re stopping here, of course I shall name
you.”
There is a bothersome little provision in the Constitution of
Monterosso to the effect that the Sovereign may not cross the
frontiers of his dominions, no matter for how brief a sojourn,
without leaving a Regent in command. Under the good old
regime, before the revolution of 1868, the kings of Tcherm-
nogoria
it’s awful, awful, awful ! ” And her voice failed her in a sob ; and
she hid her face in her hands, and wept. So the King had to
drop the subject again, and to devote his talents to the task of
drying her tears.
I don’t know how many times they renewed the discussion, but
I do know that the Oueen stood firm in her original refusal, and
that at last it was decided that the King should go without her,
and excuse her absence as best he might on the plea of her preca-
rious state of health. It was only after this resolution was made
and registered, and her husband had brought himself to accept it
with some degree of resignation—it was only then that her
Majesty began to waver and vacillate, and reconsider, and change
her mind. As the date approached for his departure, her alterna-
tions became an affair of hours. It was, “ Oh, after all, I can’t
let you go alone, poor Theo. And besides, I should die of heart-
break, here without you. So—there—I’ll make the best of a bad
business, and go with you”—it was either that, or else, “No,
after all, I can't. I really can’t. I’m awfully sorry. I shall miss
you horribly. But, when I think of what it means, I haven’t the
strength or courage. I simply can’t ”—it was one thing or the
other, on and off, all day.
“ When you finally know your own mind, I shall be glad if
you’ll send for me,” said Theodore. “ Because I’ve got to name
a Regent. And if you’re coming with me, I shall name my uncle
Stephen. But if you’re stopping here, of course I shall name
you.”
There is a bothersome little provision in the Constitution of
Monterosso to the effect that the Sovereign may not cross the
frontiers of his dominions, no matter for how brief a sojourn,
without leaving a Regent in command. Under the good old
regime, before the revolution of 1868, the kings of Tcherm-
nogoria