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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Puppet Crown"

He had never
witnessed a battle in the open, man to man, in bright,
resplendent uniforms. A ragged, dusty troop of brown-skinned men
in faded blue, with free and easy hats, irregular of formation,
no glory, no brilliancy, skirmishing with outlawed white men and
cunning Indians, that was the extent of his knowledge by
experience. True, these self-same men in dingy blue fought with
a daring such as few soldiers living possessed; but they lacked
the ideal picturesqueness which made this army so attractive.
The sharp edges of his recent fatigue were not yet dulled, but
his cuirass sat lightly upon him, the sound of the dangling
saber at his side smote pleasantly his ear, and the black
Mecklenberg under him was strong and active. To return to
Madame's chateau in the guise of a conqueror was a most engaging
thought. She had humbled his self-love, now to humble hers! He
no longer bothered himself about Beauvais, whose case he had
placed in the hands of the Austrian ambassador.
Gay and debonair he rode that late September afternoon. No man
around him had so clear an eye nor so constant a vivacity. Since
he had nothing but his life to lose, he had no fear.


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