Mark Twain's Burlesque Autobiography eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 18 pages of information about Mark Twain's Burlesque Autobiography.

Conrad was speechless.  Constance hesitated a moment, and then, misinterpreting his silence, a wild gladness flamed in her eyes, and she flung her arms about his neck and said: 

“You relent! you relent!  You can love me—­you will love me!  Oh, say you will, my own, my worshipped Conrad!’”

Conrad groaned aloud.  A sickly pallor overspread his countenance, and he trembled like an aspen.  Presently, in desperation, he thrust the poor girl from him, and cried: 

“You know not what you ask!  It is forever and ever impossible!” And then he fled like a criminal and left the princess stupefied with amazement.  A minute afterward she was crying and sobbing there, and Conrad was crying and sobbing in his chamber.  Both were in despair.  Both save ruin staring them in the face.

By and by Constance rose slowly to her feet and moved away, saying: 

“To think that he was despising my love at the very moment that I thought it was melting his cruel heart!  I hate him!  He spurned me—­did this man—­he spurned me from him like a dog!”


The awful revelation.

Time passed on.  A settled sadness rested once more upon the countenance of the good Duke’s daughter.  She and Conrad were seen together no more now.  The Duke grieved at this.  But as the weeks wore away, Conrad’s color came back to his cheeks and his old-time vivacity to his eye, and he administered the government with a clear and steadily ripening wisdom.

Presently a strange whisper began to be heard about the palace.  It grew louder; it spread farther.  The gossips of the city got hold-of it.  It swept the dukedom.  And this is what the whisper said: 

“The Lady Constance hath given birth to a child!”

When the lord of Klugenstein heard it, he swung his plumed helmet thrice around his head and shouted: 

“Long live.  Duke Conrad!—­for lo, his crown is sure, from this day forward!  Detzin has done his errand well, and the good scoundrel shall be rewarded!”

And he spread, the tidings far and wide, and for eight-and-forty hours no soul in all the barony but did dance and sing, carouse and illuminate, to celebrate the great event, and all at proud and happy old Klugenstein’s expense.


The frightful catastrophe.

The trial was at hand.  All the great lords and barons of Brandenburgh were assembled in the Hall of Justice in the ducal palace.  No space was left unoccupied where there was room for a spectator to stand or sit.  Conrad, clad in purple and ermine, sat in the premier’s chair, and on either side sat the great judges of the realm.  The old Duke had sternly commanded that the trial of his daughter should proceed, without favor, and then had taken to his bed broken-hearted.  His days were numbered.  Poor Conrad had begged, as for his very life, that he might be spared the misery of sitting in judgment upon his cousin’s crime, but it did not avail.

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Mark Twain's Burlesque Autobiography from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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