"Is this a jest?" demanded the King.
"No; on my honor." For once I forgot court etiquette, and left off
"Your Majesty."
"Let me see the letter," said the Chancellor, with a pacific purpose. "There is some misunderstanding here." He read the letter and replaced it on the table—and went back to his window.
"Well?" cried the King, impatiently.
"I forgot, Your Majesty," said the Chancellor.
"Forgot what?"
"The letter was written by a woman. I remember when I was a boy," went on the Chancellor tranquilly, "I used to take great pleasure in drawing pictures on frosted window panes. Women always disturbed me."
"Perhaps, Your Majesty," said I, "it is possible that Her Highness . . . the likeness between her and her sister . . . perhaps, knowing that I have known Her Highness Phyllis . . . that is, the Princess Elizabeth . . . she may believe that I . . ." It was very embarrassing.
"Continue," said the King. "And please make your sentences intelligible."
"What I meant to say was that Her Highness the Princess Hildegarde, believes that I love her sister instead of herself . . . I thought . . . she has written otherwise . . ." And then I foundered again.