Except amongst pathless
deserts or barbarous nomads, it was impossible to find even a transient
sanctuary from the imperial pursuit. If he went down to the sea, there he
met the emperor: if he took the wings of the morning, and fled to the
uttermost parts of the earth, there also was the emperor or his
lieutenants. But the same omnipresence of imperial anger and retribution
which withered the hopes of the poor humble prisoner, met and confounded
the emperor himself, when hurled from his giddy elevation by some
fortunate rival. All the kingdoms of the earth, to one in that situation,
became but so many wards of the same infinite prison. Flight, if it were
even successful for the moment, did but a little retard his inevitable
doom. And so evident was this, that hardly in one instance did the fallen
prince _attempt_ to fly; but passively met the death which was inevitable,
in the very spot where ruin had overtaken him. Neither was it possible
even for a merciful conqueror to show mercy; for, in the presence of an
army so mercenary and factious, his own safety was but too deeply involved
in the extermination of rival pretenders to the crown.
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