“No, no,” she said, “you don’t understand. I mean it can not be he didn’t make the decree.”
“The decree!” Armand exclaimed, though he knew well there was but one she would refer to; and his pulse bounded fiercely and his face grew very hot.
“Yes, dear—the decree—that would have made you Heir Presumptive—and now King.”
“And you think it was drawn?”
“I am sure of it.”
“The King told you so?”
“Not directly, but by inference. I came upon him late last night in his library, with the Laws open before him and a pen in his hand; and when I ventured to voice my curiosity, he smiled and closed the book, saying, ‘You may see it to-morrow, child; after I have told Armand.’”
“Doubtless he intended to tell me after the review.”
The Princess leaned over and put her arm around his neck.
“And now you are the King, dear; as he had always intended you should be,” she whispered. “Thank God, the decree was made in time.”