"Me lord," said he, "I should like to ask ye now, quite infarrumally, what there is to prayvint a raycognition by your governmint av our claims an' our rights. We are winnin' our way back to the throne an' crown av our ancistors. A lawless mob howlds our capital, but they'll be kicked out afore a month av Sundays. I should like to make a frindly agraymint through you, me lord, wid your government. Whin I git to be king, I agray to cling to an alliance offinsive an' dayfinsive wid your governmint. There's one common inimy, the raypublic av America, an' it's ayqually hostile to both av us. We, as sole repraysintative av Conservatism an' the owld proimayval order, will ally ourselves wid you agin the common inimy for paice an' for war. What do ye say to that? Begorra, it's a fine offer intoircly! Ye'll not find another livin' potentate that 'll make it. Bismarck won't. M'Mahon—Irishman though he is—won't. The Czar won't. Franz Joseph won't. So there's only us. If ye don't accept our proposals we'll go over to the inimy. We'll buy President Grant. We'll make a dayscint on Ireland. I know a man that 'ud be proud to take command av the invadin' armies. His name's O'Toole, that's now in the Carlist camp, an' a divil av a feller he is. He'd sweep Ireland from one ind av it to the other. Give me O'Toole, says I, an' I'll bate the worruld in arrums, says I. Begorra, I would. An' now fill yer glass, me boy."
"His Majesty" mixed another tumbler for Russell.
"Drink, me lord," said he, "to the fairest av the fair."
And with these words he swallowed another tumblerful, while Russell did the same.
"By 'the fairest av the fair,'" explained "His Majesty," as he proceeded to mix another drink, "I mean yer daughter—the pairless Lady Katie."
"My ward, 'Your Majesty,'" said Russell, correcting him.
"All the same, me lord," said "His Majesty;" "it was a slip av the tongue. It was me heart that spoke. Listen to me now. I've somethin' to tell ye. It's a proposal."
"His Majesty" paused for a moment, then took a fresh drink, then laid down the glass, then sighed heavily, and then took another drink.
"Me lord," said he, in a solemn tone, "ye know, no doubt, that we are a bachelor. Ye don't know it? Well, we are. I say, we are a bachelor. We've been lookin' all around for ages afther a partner—a r'y'l consort. All the iligible faymales av all the coorts av Europe have been solicitin' our alliance. But none av thim wor shuitable. No. Without love, we won't marry—we won't adopt the infernal system ay state marriages. Where our heart isn't concerned our r'y'l hand don't go—not a bit av it. Now, we niver saw the woman yet that we'd be willin' to raise to the throne av Spain ontil we saw yer ward—the lovely, the charrumin, the baywitchin' Lady Katie. Nay, me lord, start not, an' don't suspect us av onjue praycipitation. We haven't addhressed the Lady Katie yet on that point. We've acted in accardence wid r'y'l usage, an' now make a farrumal offer av our alliance to the parents an' gyarjians av the lovely being. What do ye say, me lord? Will ye give yer consint to our proposal, an' allow yer ward to become the Quane av Spain?"
At this Russell was quite overwhelmed. He had listened with open mouth to this last address of "His Majesty," and at length, when it all culminated in this direct and unmistakable proposal, he was so astounded that he didn't know what to say. He therefore sat silent and staring with open mouth, until at length, not knowing anything better to do, he mechanically raised the tumbler of toddy and poured the whole of it into that open mouth.