Rain drizzled upon the great Saski Square at Warsaw, drenched a pitiful old sorrel mare which stood sopping amid a shouting throng. Astride the mare sat a big man in an old and faded uniform. The rain trickled from the drooping ends of his mustache. Now and then he soiled his white gloves by patting the mare's neck. Sometimes he bent down to whisper in her ear and she whinnied in reply. . . .
This Don Quixote upon his sagging, sopping Rosinante was Josef Pilsudski, Marshal and Dictator of Poland, astride the...
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