Word: bourbon
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Underground Prince. On Paris streets, wispy old women still peddled literature advocating a return to Bourbon rule, but the royalist cause has been as good as dead for years. By tacit consent of the government itself, 36-year-old Prince Louis Napoleéon, the Bonapartist pretender, had been calmly ignoring the Law of Exile ever since World War II. A well-heeled young businessman, Prince Louis Napoléeon was made a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor for his leadership in the French underground during the war. Since then he has spent a good part of every year...
...legitimate" pretender, Henri d'Orleans, Comte de Paris, was less fortunate. Moustached Henri, who looks as all French counts should in fiction and many French garage mechanics do in fact, is the great-great-grandson of King Louis Philippe. As the Bourbon-Orleéans* pretender to the throne, Henri has spent most of his 41 years hovering in expectant exile just outside the boundaries of France. In 1931 he married Isabelle d'Orleéans-Bragance, the doe-eyed, lovely daughter of a pretender to the throne of Brazil. Fearing that the line might become extinct, Henri...
They were taken to Chinese plays and once saw a newsreel-of a May Day parade in Moscow. When the Communists celebrated a victory they even got native corn whisky. "Wow," said Bender. "We had some bourbon the other night and it tasted like water." But after months of escorted wandering about the village they became hopeless and depressed...
...young Emperor continued his Chinese lessons, studied Annamite chronicles, browsed through French history, literature and economics. He was especially fond of books on Henry IV, the dynast from Navarre who began the Bourbon rule in France with the cynical remark, "Paris is worth a Mass," and the demagogic slogan, "Every family should have a fowl in the pot on Sunday." Bao Dai put his money in Swiss banks (and thereby saved it from World War II's reverses), collected stamps, practiced tennis with Champion Henri Cochet, learned ping-pong, dressed in tweeds and flannels, vacationed in the Pyrenees, scented...
This week, with assorted governors, senators, mayors, newsmen and Denverites on hand, Emperor Hoyt formally opens his new court-a gleaming $6,000,000 plant in downtown Denver. The 5,000 guests will wash down Rocky Mountain trout with a river of bourbon, admire the electrically heated sidewalks (guaranteed to melt snow in a jiffy), and watch as cosmic rays start the giant new presses rolling off copies of the Post...