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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Puppet Crown"

Formerly
they were in the majority. Extraordinary. His Majesty would have
made friends with them, but the archbishop, an estimable man in
his robes, practically ostracized them. Bad, very bad. Had we
been comrades, there might be a different end.
"Faugh! if one of us sticks his head into the city barracks a
breath of ice is our reward. Kronau never attends the receptions.
A little flattery, which costs nothing, and they would have
been willing to die for his Majesty. Now--" He knocked his pipe
on the firedog. "Now, they would not lift a finger. A soldier
will forgive all things but premeditated neglect.
"As for me, when the time comes I shall return to Dresden and
die of old age. Maybe, though, I shan't. When his Majesty dies
there is like to be a clash. The duchess is a clever woman, but
she would make a balky wife; a capillary affection which runs in
the family. Red hair in a man is useful; in a woman it is
unmanageable." He refilled his pipe and motioned toward the
tongs. The soldier nearest caught up a brand and held it out.
The Captain laid his pipe against it and drew. "It's a dreary
watch I have from ten till daylight, in his Majesty's
antechamber, but he will trust no other man at that post.


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