But she knew she could not do that. Too much hung in the balance.
"Sit down!" she said, mustering her dignity with an immense effort. "And I will tell you why I have been writing to you."
"Wouldn't it save trouble to show me the letter?" he suggested, with easy audacity. "Or have you decided--now that you have had a further opportunity of considering my personal charms--that you really can't?"
She flushed at the implied suggestion. "You can read the letter if you like," she said somewhat stiffly. "It is on business."
She held it out to him, and he sank upon one knee to receive it.
"Merci, ma belle reine! Do you wish me to read it in your august presence?"
"Please!" she said.
He sat facing her, and read it.
She watched his mobile brows as his eyes travelled over the page. She saw amusement turn to humour and humour to merriment on his face. When he looked up at her at length he was laughing.
"You write as a serf appealing to a feudal lord," he said. "Did you mean to write like that?"