In the Hall of the Realm in Stockholm's royal palace, the two houses of Parliament waited. The royal brass band struck up the Song of the King. In walked an old gentleman as precariously thin as a Nordic Don Quixote. He bowed right & left, then took his seat on the ermine-draped throne, beside a taboret bearing the crown which he had never actually worn (he disapproves of elaborate ceremonies). Then Gustaf V, King of Sweden, of the Goths and the Wends, began his speech from the throne. It was a comfortable occasion. His Majesty had delivered substantially the...
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