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"Why, the devil's in it! Shave him, and he'd be the King!"

The idea seemed whimsical enough for a dream: by the sacrifice



of my heavy moustache and carefully pointedimperial, I was to be

transformed into a monarch! I was about to kiss the princess" target="_blank" title="n.公主;王妃;亲王夫人">princess again,



when I arrived (very reluctantly) at the conclusion that I was awake.

I opened my eyes, and found two men regarding me with much curiosity.



Both wore shooting costumes and carried guns. One was rather short

and very stoutly built, with a big bullet-shaped head,



a bristly grey moustache, and small pale-blue eyes,

a trifle bloodshot. The other was a slender young fellow,



of middle height, dark in complexion, and bearing himself

with grace and distinction. I set the one down as an old soldier:



the other for a gentleman accustomed to move in good society,

but not unused to military life either. It turned out afterwards



that my guess was a good one.

The elder man approached me, beckoning the younger to follow.



He did so, courteously raising his hat. I rose slowly to my feet.

"He's the height, too!" I heard the elder murmur, as he surveyed



my six feet two inches of stature. Then, with a cavalier touch

of the cap, he addressed me:



"May I ask your name?"

"As you have taken the first step in the acquaintance, gentlemen,"



said I, with a smile, "suppose you give me a lead in the matter of names."

The young man stepped forward with a pleasant smile.



"This," said he, "is Colonel Sapt, and I am called Fritz von Tarlenheim:

we are both in the service of the King of Ruritania."



I bowed and, baring my head, answered:

"I am Rudolf Rassendyll. I am a traveller from England; and once



for a year or two I held a commission from her Majesty the Queen."

"Then we are all brethren of the sword," answered Tarlenheim,



holding out his hand, which I took readily.

"Rassendyll, Rassendyll!" muttered Colonel Sapt;



then a gleam of intelligence flitted across his face.

"By Heaven!" he cried, "you're of the Burlesdons?"



"My brother is now Lord Burlesdon," said I.

"Thy head betrayeth thee," he chuckled, pointing to my



uncovered poll. "Why, Fritz, you know the story?"

The young man glanced apologetically at me. He felt a



delicacy which my sister-in-law would have admired.

To put him at his ease, I remarked with a smile:



"Ah! the story is known here as well as among us, it seems."

"Known!" cried Sapt. "If you stay here, the deuce a man



in all Ruritania will doubt of it--or a woman either."

I began to feel uncomfortable. Had I realized what a very plainly



written pedigree I carried about with me, I should have thought

long before I visited Ruritania. However, I was in for it now.



At this moment a ringing voice sounded from the wood behind us:

"Fritz, Fritz! where are you, man?"



Tarlenheim started, and said hastily:

"It's the King!"



Old Sapt chuckled again.

Then a young man jumped out from behind the trunk of a tree



and stood beside us. As I looked at him, I uttered an astonished cry;

and he, seeing me, drew back in sudden wonder. Saving the hair on my face



and a manner of consciousdignity which his position gave him,

saving also that he lacked perhaps half an inch--nay, less than that,



but still something--of my height, the King of Ruritania might have been

Rudolf Rassendyll, and I, Rudolf, the King.



For an instant we stood motionless, looking at one another.

Then I bared my head again and bowed respectfully. The King



found his voice, and asked in bewilderment:

"Colonel--Fritz--who is this gentleman?"



I was about to answer, when Colonel Sapt stepped between

the King and me, and began to talk to his Majesty in a low growl.



The King towered over Sapt, and, as he listened, his eyes now and again

sought mine. I looked at him long and carefully. The likeness was



certainly astonishing, though I saw the points of difference also.

The King's face was slightly more fleshy than mine, the oval



of its contour the least trifle more pronounced, and, as I fancied,

his mouth lacking something of the firmness (or obstinacy)






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