Answer me, and in French, for all
your lives depend on it; yet briefly, for the sound of that tongue
angers my men. For your life, then, how did you come by this?"
"You must find some better argument, Princess," said my father,
stiffly.
"For your son's life then."
I saw my father lift his eyes and scan her beautiful face.
"My son is not a coward, Princess; the less so that--" Here my
father hesitated.
"Quickly, quickly!" she urged him.
He threw up his head. "Yes, quickly, Princess; and in no fear, nor
upon any condition. You are islanders; therefore you are patriots.
You are patriots; therefore you hate the Genoese and love the Queen
Emilia, whose servant I am. As I was saying, then, my son has the
less excuse to be a coward in that he hopes, one day, with the Queen
Emilia's blessing, to wear this crown bequeathed to him by the late
King Theodore."
"_He?_" The girl swung upon me, scornfully incredulous.
"Even he, Princess. In proof I can show you King Theodore's deed of
gift, signed with his own hand and attested."
For the first time, then, I saw her smile; but the smile held no
correspondence with the tone of slow, quiet contempt in which she
next spoke.
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