“I have sent for you to demand the return of your seals of office,” the Queen repeated, her head higher, her inflection haughtier than ever.
“Does your Majesty mean that I am to consider myself dismissed from her service?” he asked, with undiminished sweetness.
“It is my desire that you should deliver up your seals of office,” said she.
Tsargradev’s lips puckered in an effort to suppress a little good-humoured deprecatory laugh. “But, your Majesty,” he protested, in the tone of one reasoning with a wayward school-girl, “you must surely know that you have no power to dismiss a constitutional Minister.”
“I must decline to hold any discussion with you. I must insist upon the immediate surrender of your seals of office.”
“I must remind your Majesty that I am the representative of the majority of the Soviete.”
“I forbid you to answer me. I forbid you to speak in my presence. You are not here to speak. You are here to restore the seals of your office to your Sovereign.”
“That, your Majesty, I must, with all respect, decline to do.”
“You refuse?” the Queen demanded, with terrific shortness.
“I cannot admit your Majesty’s right to demand such a thing of me. It is unconstitutional.”