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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Puppet Crown"

"
"No, I'll go alone. All I have to do is to march straight up the
Strasse."
"Well, good-night and good luck to you," said Maurice, as he led
the Englishman into the hallway. "Look me up when you have
settled the business. I say, but it gets me; it's the strangest
thing I ever heard." And he waited till the soldierly form
disappeared below the landing.
Then he went back to his chair on the balcony to think it over.
At four o'clock that afternoon he had grumbled of dullness. He
lit a pipe, and contemplated the soft and delicate blues of
earth and heaven, the silvery flashes on the lake, and the slim
violet threads of smoke which wavered about his head. It was
late. Now and then the sound of a galloping horse was borne up
by the breeze, and presently Maurice heard the midnight bell
boom forth from the sleepy spires of the cathedral--where the
princess was to be married.
One by one the lamps of the park went out, but the moon shone on,
lustrous and splendid. First he reviewed his odd adventure in
the archbishop's gardens. He had spoken to princesses before,
but they were women of the world, hothouse roses that bloom and
wither in a short space.


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