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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Goose Girl"


Herbeck picked it up and worked out the creases. When he had read to the
final word, his hand, even as the duke's, closed spasmodically over the
stiff paper.
"Well?" The query tingled with rage.
The answer on the chancellor's lips was not uttered. Hildegarde came in.
She blew a kiss at her father, who caught the hand and drew her toward
him. He embraced her and kissed her brow.
"What is it, father?"
Herbeck waited.
"Read," said the duke.
As the last word left Herbeck's lips, she slipped from her father's arms
and looked with pity at the chancellor.
"What do you think of this, Hildegarde?"
"Why, father, I think it is the very best thing in the world," dryly.
"An insult like this?" The duke grew rigid. "You accept it calmly, in
this fashion?"
"Shall I weep and tear my hair over a boy I have never seen? No, thank
you. I was about to make known to you this very evening that I had
reconsidered the offer. I shall never marry his majesty."
"A fine time!" The duke's hand trembled. "Why, in God's name, did you
not refuse when the overtures were first made? The truth, Herbeck, the
whole truth; for there is something more than this."
Herbeck, in few words and without evasion, explained the situation.
"Your Highness, the regent is really not to blame, for his majesty had
given him free rein in the matter; and his royal highness, working as I
have been for the best interests of the two countries, never dreamed
that the king would rebel.


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