Saving the hair on my face and
a manner of conscious dignity which his position gave him, saving also
that he lacked perhaps half an inch--nay, less than that, but still
something--of my height, the King of Ruritania might have been Rudolf
Rassendyll, and I, Rudolf, the King.
For an instant we stood motionless, looking at one another. Then I bared
my head again and bowed respectfully. The King found his voice, and
asked in bewilderment:
"Colonel--Fritz--who is this gentleman?"
I was about to answer, when Colonel Sapt stepped between the King and
me, and began to talk to his Majesty in a low growl. The King towered
over Sapt, and, as he listened, his eyes now and again sought mine.
I looked at him long and carefully. The likeness was certainly
astonishing, though I saw the points of difference also. The King's face
was slightly more fleshy than mine, the oval of its contour the least
trifle more pronounced, and, as I fancied, his mouth lacking something
of the firmness (or obstinacy) which was to be gathered from
my close-shutting lips. But, for all that, and above all minor
distinctions, the likeness rose striking, salient, wonderful.
Sapt ceased speaking, and the King still frowned. Then, gradually, the
corners of his mouth began to twitch, his nose came down (as mine
does when I laugh), his eyes twinkled, and, behold! he burst into the
merriest fit of irrepressible laughter, which rang through the woods and
proclaimed him a jovial soul.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37