"No doubt they do things like that in Hungary or Bohemia, or where he reigns.

You wouldn't see it here," he added, innocently.
"He's from Austria," Tudor corrected.
"Yes," muttered Crillon, "but whether he's Austrian or whether he's Bohemian or Hungarian, he's a grandee, so he's got the right to do what he likes, eh ?" Eudo looked as if he would intervene at this point and was seeking words.

(Not long before that he had had the queer notion of sheltering and nursing a crippled hind that had escaped from a previous run, and his act had given great displeasure in high places.) So as soon as he opened his mouth we made him shut it.

The idea of Eudo in judgment on princes! And the rest lowered their heads and nodded and murmured, "Yes, he's a grandee." And the little phrase spread abroad, timidly and obscurely.
* * * * * * When All Saints' Day came round, many of the distinguished visitors at the castle were still there.

Every year that festival gives us occasion for an historical ceremony on the grand scale.