“Who is she?” said the Queen.
“Her name,” said Gorman, “is Ypsilante, Madame Corinne Ypsilante.”
“She told me that much. But I want to know what is she?”
The question was an awkward one to answer. Gorman did the best he could.
“A friend of the King’s,” he said.
“Well,” said the Queen. “He’ll be able to marry her now. The poor thing was in dreadful distress. She thought he was going to marry me. And she’s engaged to him. She told me so herself.”
I am sure that Gorman did not smile; but there must have been a twinkle in his eyes which betrayed him. The Queen is extremely quick at reading such signs. She turned on him sharply.
“Aren’t they engaged to be married?” she asked.
“Kings,” said Gorman, “are in a peculiar position with regard to these matters. Their matrimonial arrangements are not made in what we regard as the normal way. To speak of a king as being ‘engaged’ is——”
“I’m a queen.”