Little would one suspect him of being the
descendant of a long and distinguished line of princes, save for the
unmistakeable though indefinable something in his eye that exacted
rather than invited the homage of his fellow man. His laugh was a
free and merry one, his spirits as effervescent as wine, his manner
blithe and boyish; yet beneath all this fair and guileless exposition
of carelessness lay the sober integrity of caste. It looked out
through the steady, unswerving eyes, even when they twinkled with
mirth; it met the gaze of the world with a serene imperiousness that
gave way before no mortal influence; it told without boastfulness a
story of centuries. For he was the son of a princess royal, and the
blood of ten score rulers of men had come down to him as a heritage
of strength.
His mother, the beautiful, gracious and lamented Yetive, set all
royal circles by the ears when she married the American, Lorry, back
in the nineties. A special act of the ministry had legalised this
union and the son of the American was not deprived of his right to
succeed to the throne which his forebears had occupied for centuries.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30