“Nonsense,” she replied, “I’m but a woman—you are the Dalberg and a King.... Colonel Moore, bring your package to the library, and summon all our friends.”
When they had come, the Princess took the bundle, still wrapped in its black cloth, and handed it to Armand.
“Sire,” said she, “the Laws of the Dalbergs—found this night in Lotzen Castle.”
Without a word he bent and kissed her hand,—then, laying the package on the desk, he cut the strings and removed the cloth, exposing the big, leather-covered, brass-bound volume.
“Read the decree, Sire!” she exclaimed.
He opened the book—stopped—turned a page—then slowly closed it.
“Suppose we wait, Your Highness, until the Royal Council is present,” he said.
But something in his voice alarmed her—she sprang forward, pushed aside his restraining arm, and seized the book. One glance inside—an exclamation of bewildered incredulity; another glance—and the book dropped to the floor.
“False!” she cried, “false!” and flung herself across the desk in an hysteria of tears.
Instantly Courtney turned and quitted the room, and the rest after him, leaving her and the Archduke alone together.