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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"The Prisoner of Zenda"


Then the lady with the pale face and the glorious hair, her train held
by two pages, stepped from her place and came to where I stood. And a
herald cried:
"Her Royal Highness the Princess Flavia!"
She curtsied low, and put her hand under mine and raised my hand and
kissed it. And for an instant I thought what I had best do. Then I
drew her to me and kissed her twice on the cheek, and she blushed red,
and--then his Eminence the Cardinal Archbishop slipped in front of Black
Michael, and kissed my hand and presented me with a letter from the
Pope--the first and last which I have received from that exalted
quarter!
And then came the Duke of Strelsau. His step trembled, I swear, and
he looked to the right and to the left, as a man looks who thinks on
flight; and his face was patched with red and white, and his hand shook
so that it jumped under mine, and I felt his lips dry and parched. And
I glanced at Sapt, who was smiling again into his beard, and, resolutely
doing my duty in that station of life to which I had been marvellously
called, I took my dear Michael by both hands and kissed him on the
cheek. I think we were both glad when that was over!
But neither in the face of the princess nor in that of any other did I
see the least doubt or questioning.


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