He opened the
doors carefully and stood back, peering
into the darkness. Out past him rushed
the figure of a man in tattered, scanty
clothes, with unkempt hair and white,
wild face. The sexton did not know that
he had ever seen him before, but he looked
long after him, wondering at his wildness
and his haste.
In his fluttering rags, without hat or
cloak, not knowing what strange thing
had happened to him, King Robert rushed
to his palace gates, pushed aside the
startled servants, and hurried, blind with
rage, up the wide stair and through the
great corridors, toward the room where
he could hear the sound of his courtiers'
voices. Men and women servants tried to
stop the ragged man, who had somehow
got into the palace, but Robert did not
even see them as he fled along. Straight
to the open doors of the big banquet hall
he made his way, and into the midst of
the grand feast there.
The great hall was filled with lights and
flowers; the tables were set with everything
that is delicate and rich to eat; the courtiers,
in their gay clothes, were laughing
and talking; and at the head of the feast,
on the king's own throne, sat a king. His
face, his figure, his voice were exactly like
Robert of Sicily; no human being could
have told the difference; no one dreamed
that he was not the king.
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