And when I,
as spokesman of the party, asked him if we might convey a request of His
Majesty that he would honour us by attending the ceremony of making known
formally the Balkan Settlement, he answered that the King had authorized
him to say that he would, if such were wished by us, gladly come; and
that if he should come, he would attend with a fleet as an escort. The
Chancellor also told me from himself that it might be possible to have
other nationalities represented on such a great occasion by Ambassadors
and even fleets, though the monarchs themselves might not be able to
attend. He hinted that it might be well if I put the matter in train. (He evidently took it for granted that, though I was only one of several,
the matter rested with me--possibly he chose me as the one to whom to
make the confidence, as I was born a stranger.) As we talked it over, he
grew more enthusiastic, and finally said that, as the King was taking the
lead, doubtless all the nations of the earth friendly to him would like
to take a part in the ceremony. So it is likely to turn out practically
an international ceremony of a unique kind. Teuta will love it, and we
shall all do what we can. JANET MACKELPIE'S NOTES. _June_ 1, 1909. Our dear Teuta is full of the forthcoming celebration of the Balkan
Federation, which is to take place this day month, although I must say,
for myself, that the ceremony is attaining to such dimensions that I am
beginning to have a sort of vague fear of some kind. It almost seems
uncanny. Rupert is working unceasingly--has been for some time. For
weeks past he seems to have been out day and night on his aeroplane,
going through and round over the country arranging matters, and seeing
for himself that what has been arranged is being done. Uncle Colin is
always about, too, and so is Admiral Rooke. But now Teuta is beginning
to go with Rupert. That girl is simply fearless--just like Rupert. And
they both seem anxious that little Rupert shall be the same. Indeed, he
is the same. A few mornings ago Rupert and Teuta were about to start
just after dawn from the top of the Castle. Little Rupert was there--he
is always awake early and as bright as a bee. I was holding him in my
arms, and when his mother leant over to kiss him good-bye, he held out
his arms to her in a way that said as plainly as if he had spoken, "Take
me with you." She looked appealingly at Rupert, who nodded, and said: "All right. Take
him, darling. He will have to learn some day, and the sooner the
better." The baby, looking eagerly from one to the other with the same
questioning in his eyes as there is sometimes in the eyes of a kitten or
a puppy--but, of course, with an eager soul behind it--saw that he was
going, and almost leaped into his mother's arms. I think she had
expected him to come, for she took a little leather dress from Margareta,
his nurse, and, flushing with pride, began to wrap him in it. When
Teuta, holding him in her arms, stepped on the aeroplane, and took her
place in the centre behind Rupert, the young men of the Crown Prince's
Guard raised a cheer, amid which Rupert pulled the levers, and they
glided off into the dawn. The Crown Prince's Guard was established by the mountaineers themselves
the day of his birth. Ten of the biggest and most powerful and cleverest
young men of the nation were chosen, and were sworn in with a very
impressive ceremony to guard the young Prince. They were to so arrange
and order themselves and matters generally that two at least of them
should always have him, or the place in which he was, within their sight. They all vowed that the last of their lives should go before harm came to
him. Of course, Teuta understood, and so did Rupert. And these young
men are the persons most privileged in the whole Castle. They are dear
boys, every one of them, and we are all fond of them and respect them. They simply idolize the baby. Ever since that morning little Rupert has, unless it is at a time
appointed for his sleeping, gone in his mother's arms. I think in any
other place there would be some State remonstrance at the whole royal
family being at once and together in a dangerous position, but in the
Blue Mountains danger and fear are not thought of--indeed, they can
hardly be in their terminology. And I really think the child enjoys it
even more than his parents. He is just like a little bird that has found
the use of his wings. Bless him! I find that even I have to study Court ritual a little. So many
nationalities are to be represented at the ceremony of the "Balkan
Settlement," and so many Kings and Princes and notabilities of all kinds
are coming, that we must all take care not to make any mistakes. The
Press alone would drive anyone silly. Rupert and Teuta come and sit with
me sometimes in the evening when we are all too tired to work, and they
rest themselves by talking matters over. Rupert says that there will be
over five hundred reporters, and that the applications for permission are
coming in so fast that there may be a thousand when the day comes. Last
night he stopped in the middle of speaking of it, and said:

"I have an inspiration! Fancy a thousand journalists,--each wanting to
get ahead of the rest, and all willing to invoke the Powers of Evil for
exclusive information! The only man to look after this department is
Rooke. He knows how to deal with men, and as we have already a large
staff to look after the journalistic guests, he can be at the head, and
appoint his own deputies to act for him. Somewhere and sometime the
keeping the peace will be a matter of nerve and resolution, and Rooke is
the man for the job." We were all concerned about one thing, naturally important in the eyes of
a woman: What robes was Teuta to wear? In the old days, when there were
Kings and Queens, they doubtless wore something gorgeous or impressive;
but whatever it was that they wore has gone to dust centuries ago, and
there were no illustrated papers in those primitive days. Teuta was
talking to me eagerly, with her dear beautiful brows all wrinkled, when
Rupert who was reading a bulky document of some kind, looked up and said:

"Of course, darling, you will wear your Shroud?" "Capital!" she said, clapping her hands like a joyous child. "The very
thing, and our people will like it." I own that for a moment I was dismayed. It was a horrible test of a
woman's love and devotion. At a time when she was entertaining Kings and
notabilities in her own house--and be sure they would all be decked in
their finery--to have to appear in such a garment! A plain thing with
nothing even pretty, let alone gorgeous, about it! I expressed my views
to Rupert, for I feared that Teuta might be disappointed, though she
might not care to say so; but before he could say a word Teuta answered:

"Oh, thank you so much, dear!