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The Lost Prince Frances Hodgson Burnett

XXIII The Silver Horn


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``If we have your Highness's permission to retire,'' he said, ``we will leave you and go to bed. We go down the mountain at sunrise.''

``Where next?'' asked the hunter, looking at him with curious intentness.

``To Vienna, Highness,'' Marco answered.

His questioner held out his hand, still with the intent interest in his eyes.

``Good night, fine lad,'' he said. ``Samavia has need to vaunt itself on its Sign-bearer. God go with you.''

He stood and watched him as he went toward the room in which he and his aide-de-camp were to sleep. The Rat followed him closely. At the little back door the old, old woman stood, having opened it for them. As Marco passed and bade her good night, he saw that she again made the strange obeisance, bending the knee as he went by.

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The Lost Prince
Frances Hodgson Burnett

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