For his lack of faith, Orpheus was punished, and on the very verge of his triumph.
Alfred was not such a fool; like a good servant, he did not question, and like a pious worshipper, he did not gaze upon the blinding light of miracles for long enough for the eyes of reason to adjust. His queen was with him once more, and only the most vulgar oaf would quibble as to the mean details of such a gift.
The make-up, the dresses, the missing spans of time, the shattered mirrors, the niggling memory of the Antarctic base? Mean details.