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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"The Prisoner of Zenda"

For I am not a slow-blooded man, and
I had not kissed Princess Flavia's cheek for nothing. These thoughts
passed through my head, but, not being sure of my ground, I said
nothing; and in a moment or two the princess, recovering her equanimity,
turned to me.
"Do you know, Rudolf," said she, "you look somehow different today?"
The fact was not surprising, but the remark was disquieting.
"You look," she went on, "more sober, more sedate; you're almost
careworn, and I declare you're thinner. Surely it's not possible that
you've begun to take anything seriously?"
The princess seemed to hold of the King much the same opinion that Lady
Burlesdon held of me.
I braced myself up to the conversation.
"Would that please you?" I asked softly.
"Oh, you know my views," said she, turning her eyes away.
"Whatever pleases you I try to do," I said; and, as I saw her smile and
blush, I thought that I was playing the King's hand very well for him.
So I continued and what I said was perfectly true:
"I assure you, my dear cousin, that nothing in my life has affected me
more than the reception I've been greeted with today."
She smiled brightly, but in an instant grew grave again, and whispered:
"Did you notice Michael?"
"Yes," said I, adding, "he wasn't enjoying himself.


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