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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"From the Memoirs of a Minister of France"

Drawing one gently aside, as
I turned from the window, he peered in; and saw just what he had
been led to expect--a huddled form covered with dingy bed-clothes
and a grey head lying on a ragged, yellow pillow. The man's face
was turned to the wall; but, as the light fell on him, he sighed
and, with a shiver, began to move. The King dropped the curtain.
The adventure had not turned out as well as he had hoped; and,
with a whimsical look at me, he laid a crown on the table, said a
kind word to the boy, and we went out. In a moment we were in
the street.
It was my turn now to rally him, and I did so without mercy;
asking if he knew of any other beauteous damsel who wanted her
shutter closed, and whether this was the usual end of his
adventures. He took the jest in good part, laughing fully as
loudly at himself as I laughed; and in this way we had gone a
hundred paces or so very merrily, when, on a sudden, he stopped.
"What is it, sire?" I asked.
"Hola!" he said, "The boy was clean."
"Clean?"
"Yes; hands, face, clothes.


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