Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 21, 2025
From the inside of the room there came the sound of big convulsive sobs and passionate Samavian words of prayer and worshipping gratitude. "Let us wait," Marco said, trembling a little. "He will not want any one to see him. Let us wait." His black pits of eyes looked immense, and he stood at his tallest, but he was trembling slightly from head to foot.
Every detail connected with the astonishing episode, from beginning to end, was romantic even when it was most productive of realistic results. When it is related, it always begins with the story of the tall and kingly Samavian youth who walked out of the palace in the early morning sunshine singing the herdsmen's song of beauty of old days.
"We are of those who must live for Samavia working day and night," his father had answered; "denying ourselves, training our bodies and souls, using our brains, learning the things which are best to be done for our people and our country. Even exiles may be Samavian soldiers I am one, you must be one." "Are we exiles?" asked Marco. "Yes," was the answer.
He looked at him a few moments longer and then waved his hand kindly. "You are a fine Samavian," he said. "I am glad of that. You may go. Good night." Marco bowed respectfully and the man with the tired face led him out of the room. It was just before he left him in the small quiet chamber in which he was to sleep that the Prince gave him a final curious glance. "I remember now," he said.
He had gone out into the world, and visited other countries and their courts. When he returned and became king, he lived as no Samavian king had lived before. He was an extravagant, vicious man of furious temper and bitter jealousies. He was jealous of the larger courts and countries he had seen, and tried to introduce their customs and their ambitions.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking