With due magnificence the preliminary ceremonies of the coronation
proceeded--musty necessities, like oaths and historical truths,
being mingled with the most delicate observances, such as the
naming of the former princesses of the island, from Adija, daughter
of King Abibaal, to Olivia, daughter of King Otho; and such as
counting the clouds for the misfortunes of the regime. This last
duty fell to the office of the lord chief-chancellor, and from an
upper porch he returned quickening with the intelligence that there
was not a cloud in the sky, a state of the heavens known to no
coronation since Babylon was ruled by Assyrian viceroys. The lord
chief-chancellor and Cassyrus themselves brought forth the crown--a
beautiful crown, shining like dust-in-the-sun--and Cassyrus, in a
voice that trumpeted, rehearsed its history: how it had been made of
jewels brought from the coffers of Amasis and Apries, when King
Nebuchadnezzar wrested Phoenicia from Egypt, and, too, of all manner
of precious stones sent by Queen Atossa, wife of Darius, when the
Crotoniat Democedes, with two triremes and a trading vessel, visited
Yaque before they went to survey Hellenic shores, with what
disastrous result.
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