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The Emiral had an old comrade in arms, Under-Emiral Vulcanmould, who had served with great distinction, a man as true as gold and as loyal as his sword. Vulcanmould plumed himself on his thoroughgoing independence and he went among the partisans of Crucho and the Minister of the Republic telling both parties what he thought of them.
Prince des Boscenos, after a valiant struggle, fell upon the bloody pavement with a fractured skull. In the enthusiasm of victory, the comrades, mingled with an innumerable crowd of paper-sellers and gutter-merchants, ran through the boulevards all night, carrying, Maniflore in triumph, and breaking the mirrors of the cafes and the glasses of the street lamps amid cries of "Down with Crucho!
Hitherto blinded by fear, incautious and stupid before the bands of Friar Douillard and the partisans of Prince Crucho, the Republicans at last opened their eyes and grasped the real meaning of the Pyrot affair.
The misfortunes of the Penguin Church had not disheartened him. He remained faithful to Prince Crucho and preserved the hope of restoring the heir of the Draconides to the Penguin throne.
The independent press gave utterance to the complaints of the public and indignantly supported them. To justify these arbitrary measures, the ministerial journals spoke darkly of plots and public dangers, and promoted a belief in a monarchical conspiracy. The less well-informed sheets gave more precise information, told of the seizure of fifty thousand guns, and the landing of Prince Crucho.
The devoted band of Dracophils, led by Prince des Boscenos, struck up the august canticle: Vive Crucho, Vaillant et sage, Plein de courage Des le berceau! Behind the wall silence alone replied. This silence and the absence of guards encouraged and at the same time frightened the crowd. Suddenly a formidable voice cried out: "Attack!"
"Yes, it is quiet enough." "You can hear the birds singing." "Sit down, then, dear lady." And he drew up an arm-chair for her. She took a seat with her back to the light. "Emiral, I came to bring you a very important message, a message. . ." "Explain." "Emiral, have you ever seen Prince Crucho?" "Never." She sighed. "It is a great pity. He would be so delighted to see you!
If we let it be seen that we wish to destroy democratic government and restore the Dragon's crest, who will be our partisans? Only the butcher-boys and the little shopkeepers of Alca. And could we even count on them to the end? They are dissatisfied, but at the bottom of their hearts they are Republicans. They are more anxious to sell their cursed wares than to see Crucho again.
At daybreak groups of demonstrators went about the town singing, "It is Chatillon we want," and breaking the windows of the houses in which the Ministers of the Republic lived. That night marked the culmination of the Dracophil movement. The Royalists had no longer any doubt of its triumph. Their chiefs sent congratulations to Prince Crucho by wireless telegraphy.
The Republic or Public Thing produced them at first from among the nobles who had been despoiled of their ancient privileges. These looked with regret and hope to Prince Crucho, the last of the Draconides, a prince adorned both with the grace of youth and the melancholy of exile.
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