Ravone, still in his ragged uniform, haggard but eager, was standing

like a gaunt spectre in the sunlight that flooded the terrace. The

vagabond, with the eyes of all upon him, raised and lowered his arms

thrice, and the face of Baldos became radiant.

"Your highness," he cried to Yetive, waving his hand toward the

stranger, "I have the honor to announce the Prince of Dawsbergen."




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