"Indeed he will not. At least, if he does see us, he will give no sign,
for this is too solemn and important an occasion for him to relax his
dignity."

On state occasions Ki Pak could look as sedate and dignified as the most
serious official in all Korea; and that is saying a good deal, for in
no country do the officials appear more solemn than in this "Land of the
Morning Radiance."

Now along came more soldiers, followed by the great nobles of the
kingdom, and finally, amid a most terrific beating of drums, a fearful
jangling of bells, and a horrid screaming of pipes, the guard of the
king himself appeared.

Suddenly all was silent. Drum-beating, pipe-blowing, and shouting all
died away. The sound of hurried footsteps alone was heard. All at once
into sight came the imperial chair of state. In this chair was the king,
but not yet could Yung Pak get a glimpse of his royal master. Yellow
silken panels hid him from the view of the curious crowd, and over the
top was a canopy of the same description, ornamented with heavy, rich
tassels.

This gorgeous chair was much heavier than those used by officials and
ordinary citizens, and it took thirty-two men to carry it quickly and
safely past the throng to the entrance of the temple. Only a few minutes
were necessary for this journey, for the temple was but a short distance
from the palace gate, and both were in plain sight of Yung Pak and Kim
Yong.