The Republic had been tried and had miserably failed.

There was yet a Don Carlos, a direct descendant of the brother whom Ferdinand the beloved cheated out of his throne.

There was a Don Carlos.

Why not Don Carlos, since we seek a king?
the men in the Phrygian caps were saying to each other.

And that was what Mon wanted them to say.
After dark he came out into the streets again, cloaked to the lips against the evening air.