It was all very well to feel a great
sympathy for St. George, but the sight was more than journalistic
flesh and blood could look upon with sympathetic calm.
"An American girl!" he breathed in spite of himself. "Why, St.
George, if we can leave this island alive--"
"Well, _you_ won't," St. George explained, with brutal directness,
"unless you can cut that."
Before silence had again fallen, the prime minister, all his fever
of importance still upon him, once more faced the audience. This
time his words came to St. George like a thunderbolt:
"In three days' time, at noon, in this the Hall of Kings," he cried,
letting each phrase fall as if he were its proud inventor,
"immediately following the official recognition of Olivia, daughter
of Otho I, as Hereditary Princess of Yaque, there will be
solemnized, according to the immemorial tradition of the island last
observed six hundred and eighty-four years ago by Queen Pentellaria,
the marriage of Olivia of Yaque, to his Highness, Prince Tabnit,
head of the House of the Litany, and chief administrator of justice.
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