"You understand, Maurice?" Fitzgerald asked.
"Yes, John; all the world loves a lover. Besides, it is a
glorious morning for a ride. Up, portcullis, down drawbridge!"
waving his hand to the Colonel.
And away they went through the gateway, into the frosted road.
Maurice felt the spirit of some medieval ancestor creep into his
veins and he longed for an hour of the feudal days, to rescue a
princess from some dungeon-keep and to harry an over-lord. After
all, she was a wonderful woman, and Fitzgerald was only a man.
To give up all for the love of woman is the only sacrifice a man
can make.
"En avant!" cried the Colonel. "A fine day, a fine day for the
house of Auersperg!"
"And a devilish bad one for the houses of Fitzgerald and Carewe.
Woman's ambition, coupled with her deceit, is the root of all
evil; money is simply an invention of man to protect himself
from her encroachments. Eve was ambitious and deceitful; all
women are her daughters. When the pages of history grow dull--"
"Time puts a maggot in my lady's brain," supplemented the
Colonel. "It is like a row of dominoes. The power behind the
throne, the woman behind the power; an impulse moves the woman,
and lo! how they clatter down.
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