And then everything will be over. Meanwhile, if I may
be your guest....' When presently Pestovitch was alone with the king
again, he found him in a state of jangling emotions. His spirit was
tossing like a wind-whipped sea. One moment he was exalted and full of
contempt for 'that ass' and his search; the next he was down in a pit of
dread. 'They will find them, Pestovitch, and then he'll hang us.'
'Hang us?'
The king put his long nose into his councillor's face. 'That grinning
brute WANTS to hang us,' he said. 'And hang us he will, if we give him a
shadow of a chance.'
'But all their Modern State Civilisation!'
'Do you think there's any pity in that crew of Godless, Vivisecting
Prigs?' cried this last king of romance. 'Do you think, Pestovitch, they
understand anything of a high ambition or a splendid dream? Do you think
that our gallant and sublime adventure has any appeal to them? Here am
I, the last and greatest and most romantic of the Caesars, and do you
think they will miss the chance of hanging me like a dog if they can,
killing me like a rat in a hole? And that renegade! He who was once an
anointed king! . . .
'I hate that sort of eye that laughs and keeps hard,' said the king.
'I won't sit still here and be caught like a fascinated rabbit,' said
the king in conclusion.
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