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Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"Taquisara"


"You are Christians," she said to a little crowd that gathered round her
one day, while she was watching the setting-up of a new door. "You shall
live like Christians. When you have been clean for a month, you will
never wish to be dirty again."
"That is true," answered an old man, shaking his head thoughtfully.
"But, in the name of God, who has ever thought of these things? It
needed this angel from Paradise."
Veronica laughed. They were docile people, and they soon found out that
the young princess was as absolute a despot in character as ever
terrorized Rome or ruled the Russias. At the merest suggestion of
opposition, the small aquiline nose seemed to quiver, the little head
was thrown back, the brown eyes gleamed, the delicate gloved hand either
closed upon itself quickly or went out in a gesture of command.
But then, they sometimes saw another look in her face, though not often,
and perhaps it was less natural to her though not less true to her
nature. They had seen the brown eyes soften wonderfully and the small
hands do very tender things, now and then, for poor children and
suffering women when, no one else was at hand to give aid. Yet, at most
times, she was quiet, cheerful, natural, for it happened more and more
rarely that any one opposed her will.
She became to them the very incarnation of power on earth. She would
have been thought rich in any country; to their utter wretchedness her
wealth was fabulous beyond bounds of fairy tale.


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