An Uncrowned King: A Romance of High PoliticsGrier, Sydney C.
General
An Uncrowned King: A Romance of High Politics
Grier, Sydney C.
British -- Foreign countries -- Fiction; Kings and rulers -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Political fiction
“Sure I thought I heard English voices,” said the Herr Oberst, “and it
struck me that the landlord might be following too rigorously the
orders I gave um. The fact is, gentlemen, that most of the people rich
enough to travel in these parts are Austrian Jews, and me wife has a
great objection to Jews, so that the only way I could get her here was
by engaging to keep out of their reach. But I can assure you that I
had no desire to inconvenience English travellers---- You are English,
gentlemen?”
“We are,” said Caerleon. “I am Lord Caerleon, and this is my brother.”
“I am much honoured, me lord,” said the Herr Oberst, bowing deeply.
“Allow me to introjuce meself. Me name is O’Malachy--The O’Malachy, at
your servus, the representatuv of the ancient kings of Leitrum,--and I
will be much displeased if you go a step farther to-night. Sure me son
has not yet arrived, and what does me daughter want with two rooms?
We’ll just tell some of the landlord’s fellers to bundle our traps out
of the rooms, and you will have them.”
“Pray don’t disturb Miss O’Malachy,” entreated Caerleon in
consternation. “I could not think of turning a lady out of her room.
If you would be so kind as to allow my brother to occupy the room your
son is not using, my servant and I will find quarters elsewhere.”
“Not a bit of ut!” cried the O’Malachy. “Would I turn you away when
there are empty rooms waiting for you? Come, young gentleman,” turning
to Cyril, “just make your brother understand that if he won’t stay
he’ll oblige us all to turn out and leave the place free for um. Is
not a whole hotel big enough for two families?”
“You are very kind,” began Caerleon. But the O’Malachy was in full
retreat up the stairs again. At the top he turned and paused for a
moment, the lamplight shining on his bronzed face and white moustache
and imperial.
“A good night to you!” he called out. “I’ll be pleased to resoom your
acquaintance in the morning, me lord. Now, you don’t leave this
hotel--at least, it’ll be the worse for ut if you do!”
After this hospitable intimation, the travellers held back no longer,
and speedily found themselves established in most comfortable
quarters, for the landlord was delighted not to be compelled to turn
away such promising guests from his door. Nothing was too good for
them, and they went to bed well content, after commissioning the host
to procure horses in the morning for their intended ride to Château
Temeszy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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