Had I done wisely to accept this new burden?
Would not my lot have been more abundantly blessed with happiness had I put aside ambition and refused the crown, like Cæsar is reported to have thrice done?
Now that the thing had been carried through, I was sorry, and wished to be free—free to go where I willed with my sweet Hildegarde, and leave these regions of plots and counterplots, of uprisings and revolutions, and presidents who were made in an hour.
Would the city of Bolivar ever quiet down again, I wondered.
It was just as noisy as before, and to all appearances the people meant to make a full night of the change in dynasty; revolutions only occur periodically, and must be taken advantage of.
The inhabitants were a queer set.
Would I ever understand them?
When the novelty had worn off, would their old-time prejudices, fanned into a flame by the sly padres, arouse a storm which might threaten to overwhelm me and my mushroom fortunes?
But there was sagacious Robbins to stand between, to swing the army to my side, and quench the rising fires.
Bah! what need of worry, and on the first night too.