Gustav Klimt The Kiss

Gustav Klimt The Kiss
He was surprised to see how far he had come; the village was away behind him. The king was jogging along in his wake, with his head bowed; for he, too, was deep in plans and thinkings. A sorrowful misgiving clouded Hendon's newborn cheerfulness; would the boy be willing to go again to a city where, during all his brief life, he had never known anything but ill usage and pinching want? But the question must be asked; it could not be avoided; so Hendon reined up, and called out:
Gustav Klimt The Kiss

"I had forgotten to inquire whither we are bound. Thy commands, my liege?"
"To London!"
Hendon moved on again, mightily contented with the answer-but astonished at it, too. The whole journey was made without an adventure of importance. But it ended with one. About ten o'clock on the night of the night of the 19th of February, they stepped upon London Bridge, in the midst of a writhing, struggling jam of howling and hurrahing people, whose beer-jolly faces stood out strongly in the glare from manifold torches-and at that instant the decaying head of some former duke or other grandee tumbled down
Gustav Klimt The Kiss