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From the Memoirs of a Minister of France by Stanley John Weyman
page 59 of 297 (19%)

"Well," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "I take that for
granted." I began to think that the traveller was demented.

"And a king?"

"Yes, I suppose so," I answered contemptuously. "I never heard
it doubted."

He leaned towards me, and spoke with the most eager
impressiveness. "A man--and a king!" he said. "Yet neither a
manly king, nor a kingly man! You take me?"

"Yes," I said impatiently. "I see what you mean.

"Neither a kingly man, nor a manly king!" he repeated with
solemn gusto. "You take me clearly, I think?"

I had no stomach for further fooleries, and I was about to answer
him with some sharpness--though I could not for the life of me
tell whether he was mad or an eccentric when a harsh voice
shrieked in my ear, "Bob!" and in a twinkling a red figure
appeared bounding and whirling in the middle of the kitchen; now
springing into the air until its head touched the rafters, now
eddying round and round the floor in the giddiest gyrations. At
the first glance, startled by the voice in my ear, I recoiled;
but a second disclosing what it was, and the secret of our alarm
outside, I masked my movement; and when the man brought his
performance to a sudden stop, and falling on one knee in an
attitude of exaggerated respect held out his cap, I was ready for
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