For the moment your news has
unhinged me, and you will help my recovery by allowing me to talk a
little faster than I can think. . . . I loved your father, Cavalier.
. . . But our tale, just now, is of--"
"THE GRAND DUCHESS AND HER THREE WOOERS."
"Once upon a time, in Carinthia, there lived a Grand Duchess, of
marriageable age. Her parents had died during her childhood, leaving
her a fine palace and an ample fortune, which, however, was not--to
use the parlance of the Exchange--easily realizable, because it
consisted mainly in an avenue of polished gold. By this avenue,
which extended for three statute miles, the palace was approached
between two parallel lines of Spanish chestnuts. It ran in an
easterly direction and was kept in a high state of polish by two
hundred retainers, so that it shone magnificently every morning when
the Grand Duchess awoke, drew her curtains, and looked forth towards
the sunrise.
"Her name was Sophia, and the charms of her young mind rivalled those
of her person. Therefore suitors in plenty presented themselves, but
only to be rejected by her Chancellor (to whom she left the task of
preliminary inspection) until he had reduced the list to three, whom
we will call Prince Melchior, Prince Otto, and Prince Caspar.
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