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قراءة كتاب The Puppet Crown
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THE PUPPET CROWN
by Harold MacGrath
TO THE MEMORY OF THAT GOOD FRIEND
AND
COMRADE OF MY YOUTH
MY FATHER
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. THE SCEPTER WHICH WAS A STICK
CHAPTER II. THE COUP D'ETAT OF COUSIN JOSEF
CHAPTER III. AN EPISODE TEN YEARS AFTER
CHAPTER IV. AN ADVENTURE WITH ROYALTY
CHAPTER V. BEHIND THE PUPPET BOOTH
CHAPTER VI. MADEMOISELLE OF THE VEIL
CHAPTER VII. SOME DIALOGUE, A SPRAINED ANKLE, AND SOME SOLDIERS
CHAPTER VIII. THE RED CHATEAU
CHAPTER IX. NOTHING MORE SERIOUS THAN A HOUSE PARTY
CHAPTER X. BEING OF LONG RIDES, MAIDS, KISSES AND MESSAGES
CHAPTER XI. THE DENOUEMENT
CHAPTER XII. WHOM THE GODS DESTROY AND A FEW OTHERS
CHAPTER XIII. BEING OF COMPLICATIONS NOT RECKONED ON
CHAPTER XIV. QUI M'AIME, AIME MON CHIEN
CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH FORTUNE BECOMES CARELESS AND PRODIGAL
CHAPTER XVI. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE AND AFTER
CHAPTER XVII. SOME PASSAGES AT ARMS
CHAPTER XVIII. A MINOR CHORD AND A CHANGE OF MOVEMENT
CHAPTER XIX. A CHANCE RIDE IN THE NIGHT
CHAPTER XX. THE LAST STAND OF A BAD SERVANT
CHAPTER XXI. A COURT FETE AT THE RED CHATEAU
CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH MAURICE RECURS TO OFFENBACH
CHAPTER XXIII. A GAME OF POKER AND THE STAKES
CHAPTER XXIV. THE PRISONER OF THE RED CHATEAU
CHAPTER XXV. THE FORTUNES OF WAR
CHAPTER XXVI. A PAGE FROM TASSO
CHAPTER XXVII. WORMWOOD AND LEES
CHAPTER XXVIII. INTO THE HANDS OF AUSTRIA
CHAPTER XXIX. INTO STILL WATERS AND SILENCE
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire
Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's desire!
—Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
CHAPTER I. THE SCEPTER WHICH WAS A STICK
The king sat in his private garden in the shade of a potted orange tree, the leaves of which were splashed with brilliant yellow. It was high noon of one of those last warm sighs of passing summer which now and then lovingly steal in between the chill breaths of September. The velvet hush of the mid-day hour had fallen.
There was an endless horizon of turquoise blue, a zenith pellucid as glass. The trees stood motionless; not a shadow stirred, save that which was cast by the tremulous wings of a black and purple butterfly, which, near to his Majesty, fell, rose and sank again. From a drove of wild bees, swimming hither and thither in quest of the final sweets of the year, came a low murmurous hum, such as a man sometimes fancies he hears while standing alone in the vast auditorium of a cathedral.
The king, from where he sat, could see the ivy-clad towers of the archbishop's palace, where, in and about the narrow windows, gray and white doves fluttered and plumed themselves. The garden sloped gently downward till it