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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Memoirs of His Adventures At Home and Abroad and Particularly in the Island of Corsica: Beginning with the Year 1756"

Lines of more brilliant
silver criss-crossed it, and these were the tracks of snails.
"O King of Corsica"--she turned to me--"behold your palace!"
Her eyes were watching me, but in what expectation I could not tell.
I stepped carelessly to the doorway and took a glance around the
interior.
"It might be worse; and I thank you, Princess."
"Ajo, Marc'antonio! Since the stranger approves of it so far, go
carry his friend within."
"Your pardon, Princess," I interposed; "the place is something too
dirty to house a sick man, and until it be cleaned my friend will do
better in the fresh air."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Your subjects, O King, have left it in
this mess, and they will help you very little to improve it."
I walked over to the palisade and looked across it upon an unsightly
area foul with dried dung and the trampling of pigs. For weeks, if
not months, it must have lain uninhabited, but it smelt potently even
yet.
"My subjects, Princess?"
"With Giuse lying sick, the hogs roam without a keeper: and my people
have chosen you in his room." She paused, and I felt, rather than
saw, that both the men were eyeing me intently.


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