Savrola: A Tale of the Revolution in LauraniaChurchill, Winston
General
Savrola: A Tale of the Revolution in Laurania
Churchill, Winston
Political fiction; Revolutions -- Fiction
It was the greater part of this Guard that Molara, in his heavy need,
was about to send against the invaders. He well knew the danger of
depriving himself of the only troops he could rely on, should the city
itself rise; but the advancing forces must be stopped at all hazards,
and the Guard alone were able and willing to do the work. He would be
left almost alone amid the populace who detested him, in the city he
had ruled so sternly, with mutinous soldiers as his only defenders. It
was not an inviting prospect, yet it presented some chances of success.
It displayed a confidence which, though assumed, might decide the
waverers and disgust his foes; and it dealt with the most pressing
emergency, which was after all the first duty of the Executive. He did
not doubt the ability of the troops he had despatched to disperse, if
not to destroy, the rabble that had crossed the frontier. That danger
at least was removed by his action. In two days the fleet would
return, and under its guns his Government might still continue, feared
and respected. The intervening period was the crisis, a crisis which
he hoped to pass safely through, partly by the force of his
personality, and partly by the ridicule and contempt in which he
intended to plunge his terrible rival.
Punctually at eleven o'clock he left his private office to attire
himself in his full uniform as a general of the army, in order that at
the parade the troops might be reminded that he too was a soldier and
one who had seen much war.
At the door Lieutenant Tiro presented himself, in a great state of
perturbation. "Sir," he said, "you will allow me to go with my
squadron to the front? There will be nothing for me to do here."
"On the contrary," replied the President, "there will be a great deal
for you to do here. You must stay."
Tiro turned pale. "I do beg you, Sir, to allow me to go," he said
earnestly.
"Impossible,--I want you here."
"But, Sir----"
"Oh, I know," said Molara impatiently; "you want to get shot at. Stay
here, and I promise you shall hear bullets in plenty before you have
done." He turned away, but the look of bitter disappointment on the
young officer's face induced him to pause. "Besides," he added,
assuming that charm of manner of which few great men are destitute, "I
require you for a service of difficulty and extreme danger. You have
been specially selected."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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