Markus paid not the slightest heed to the increasing unrest and nervousness, nor to the commanding gestures of the irritated master of ceremonies that he cease speaking; instead, he now raised his voice until it reverberated from the high vaultings: "Where is he, that King of men? "Where is the people's King? Where is the people's Queen--his peer--who supports and supplements him? "Seek them, ye unhappy ones! Never so much as now have you had need of them. "Seek them in every land; for misery and ugliness and barrenness and confusion are not much longer to be endured. "Seek them in the city and in the country. Seek them also in the alleys and in the hovels. Yes, seek them in the prisons and in the places of execution. For even so great is your confusion." Then, bending his head toward the royal pair below, and fastening upon them and the surrounding group of splendid notables his flashing glance, Markus shouted in vehement, resounding tones: "But seek them not here. Has the light of the grace of God pointed hither? "Has the grace of God become here evident to all, like a shining aureole of wisdom and love and beauty? "What children and mischief-makers you are--you there, with your robes of state, and your badges of dignity,--that you think to create a king without the manifestation of the grace of God! "Deluded by an empty sound, by a dynastic name, you in your ignorance would proclaim, 'Here is a king, and here therefore must God's grace be manifested, for even so we wish it to be.' "Would you, like mischief-makers and frivolous bugle-blowers, dictate to your God, and show Him where to bestow His grace? "Who has beheld in this pair of wretched human beings the wisdom, beauty, love, and power which are the visible tokens of God's elect? "Do you not tremble, then, at the fearful responsibility you take upon yourselves, and put also upon these two pitiable people, by this blasphemous child's-play?" * * * * * The excitement now became more serious. That the King and Queen, counts and barons, generals, court marshals, state counselors and ministers should be called mischief-makers and frivolous bugle-blowers, was not to be tolerated. The King grew red, coughed in his glove, and looked angrily at the master of ceremonies. The Queen, on the contrary, grew pale, and nervously fingered the folds of her heavy, white-satin train. Half turning round, a quick-witted courtier beckoned to the organist, and shouted: "Music!" A general--Johannes recognized him as one of the "Pleiades"--in an attempt at guarding his Rulers, cried out with all the dramatic importance and bluffness of a war-charge: "Silence, miscreant!"