Wine flowed in marble fountains and streamers of black and red fluttered from the palace windows. The city throbbed with the pulse of drums and the pounding of dancers' feet against the cobblestone. Soldiers, still in armor, lounged on the battlements, sobriety long forgotten, as everyone but the chefs and the servants were caught up in the merriment. Looking down from the upper balcony the entire square swirled in a kaleidoscope of color. Within the castle the party was more subdued, as the wealthy and powerful made at least a show of decorum. Ladies in beaded and sequined dresses swept by on the arms of gentlemen nearly as brightly decorated. The obligatory speeches were long over. The Minister of Trade had passed out quietly in the antechamber, laid out beside the Minister of Taxes. Nothing left to do but enjoy the victory, Prince Doan-Rau thought, making his way smiling through the press of noblemen. He was dressed in black on this celebratory eve, from his satin cloak, leather vest and high boots.
