WHEN EVERYONE HAD DECLARED himself ready, Talou set the date of the coronation and chose in the Ponukelean calendar the day equivalent to June 25th. On the 24th, the ichthyologist Martignon, who had never ceased his excursions along the coastlines, returned highly agitated by a surprising discovery he’d just made after a deep dive.
He was gingerly carrying in both arms an aquarium entirely concealed by a light plaid blanket, and refused to show us its contents so as not to spoil the effect the next day.
This event caused a notable volatility in the Martignon during the last session of speculation.
On June 25th, at two o’clock in the afternoon, everyone made final preparations for the grand ceremony.
A cruet, standing in for the Holy Ampulla, was borrowed from one of the Lynceus’s salad services and placed on the altar for Talou, whom Juillard had shown how to anoint his forehead.
Next to the flask hung a wide sheet of parchment, a kind of bull, dictated by the emperor to Rao, that contained a solemn proclamation.
Balbet, planning an extraordinary test of marksmanship, drove a long stake trimmed by one of Chènevillot’s workmen into the ground, just to the right of the altar; behind it, standing in the desired axis, a sycamore trunk planed vertically to the architect’s specifications provided a backstop to halt the bullets, thus avoiding troublesome ricochets.
On the upper tip of the stake the celebrated marksman placed a soft-boiled egg, which the ship’s steward, on his instructions, had cooked so as to solidify the white while scrupulously preserving the runniness of the yolk.
The perfectly fresh egg had just been laid by one of the hens loaded onto the Lynceus in Marseille.
Olga Chervonenkhov, her hair and bust decorated with foliage gathered in the Behuliphruen, had decked herself out in a painstakingly improvised dancer’s costume. Hector Boucharessas had given her one of his spare leotards, which, patiently cut open and restitched, now imprisoned the legs and thighs of the imposing matron; several window curtains, chosen from the stock of the upholsterer Beaucreau, had furnished the tulle for her tutu, and the whole was completed by a deeply plunging sky-blue corsage, originally from a formal gown the Livonian had brought to wear at evening balls in the great theaters of Buenos Aires.
In earlier days, when performing The Nymph’s Dance, the then lithe and light Olga would come onstage riding a fawn, amid a deep and untamed forest décor. Wishing to recreate her famous entrance, the ex-ballerina planned to ride in on Sladki; a trial run the previous day had proven that the good-natured animal was strong enough to support its mistress’s enormous girth for a little while.
While awaiting showtime, the tame and faithful elk plodded calmly at the Livonian’s side.
That very morning Bedu had completed the painted filmstrip intended to reawaken Seil-kor’s slumbering memory. Wishing to obtain very clear projections, Darriand decided to try the experiment after nightfall, and to bring in the pillbox hat, mask, and ruff that Nina had once cut out of paper; contact with these three objects, religiously preserved by the precocious suitor, might greatly assist the sudden resurrection of his former faculties.
Thanks to her assiduous efforts, Louise Montalescot had found the solution to the problem she’d sought for so long. By spending the entire night in her laboratory, sufficiently lit by the moon that was now full and extremely bright, the young woman was certain of completing her device, which would be fully operational by daybreak. The poetic glow of dawn would lend itself perfectly to a first attempt at automatic reproduction, and Talou, filled with curiosity, gave his consent to Sirdah, who had been sent to request his permission for a morning experiment.
As for the magpie, it now played its part with infallible sureness, and the emperor had only to choose a time to put it to the test. The helot statue itself was to be moved by the bird over two train tracks that Norbert had just fashioned from a provision of calves’ lungs requisitioned from the ship’s steward.
As four o’clock neared, Mossem, Rul, Gaiz-duh, and Jizme were transferred to the prison that Chènevillot had built.
Rao, who held the key, went to recruit a handful of slaves to help him in his role as organizer, with which the emperor had earlier entrusted him.
Soon Talou appeared in full regalia.
Everyone was present for the performance, including the Ponukelean troops assigned to sing the “Jeroukka.”
Sensing that the solemn moment was nigh, Juillard addressed our group, already gathered at the south of the esplanade.
In awarding the decorations, the historian intended to rely solely on the impressions of the Negro public, whose naïve instincts struck him as more liable to provide a sincere, unbiased judgment.
As our applause could influence the native audience and, more to the point, interfere with the prize giver’s observational duties, we were asked to observe a strict silence after each exhibition.
This recommendation had the added advantage of curbing the self-interested enthusiasm that a given candidate for the great sash of the Delta might inspire in certain of his shareholders.
At the last moment, wishing to make a spectacular entrance, the emperor ordered Rao to organize a procession outside Trophy Square that would advance slowly in a predetermined order.
We all fell silent, and it is now known how the coronation ceremony and gala performances, which Louise Montalescot’s experiment completed after a peaceful night’s rest, were followed by the irritating detention that Carmichael was now serving in my company under the watchful eye of a native sentinel.