Under the Big Dipper

statesman at a terrible disadvantage, perhaps with mind still active and resourceful—but oh, feeble and powerless against fate.”

Count Rondell spoke the last words as if in a trance. He had evidently forgotten the existence of his companion. He seemed to be lost in visions and dreams.

Morton’s cigar had gone out; he stared as if fascinated at the noble face before him, looking so sad and forlorn. He, too, had often wandered into the spheres of empire building. He, too, had had his dreams of being a leader of peoples, of opening up those vast desert spaces of his own country to the influences of civilization. Without knowing what tragedy was to be unfolded to him, he looked at the worn old aristocrat across the desk and felt that failure and disappointment, rather than success, were oftener the reward of great ambitions. He essayed a mental guess at what might be further revealed to him and awaited the rest of the tale

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