The Prime Minister turned to Ferdinand.
“We would be glad to hear Your Royal Highness,” he said.
The Duke laughed softly in sneering amusement. He was still standing behind his chair, and now he tilted it forward and leaned across it, his arms folded on the rail.
“Small chance have I against such a Portia,” he answered. “Yet I would remind the Council that, where kingdoms are concerned, a pretty woman is a dangerous advocate to follow—and thrice dangerous when against her is the written Law and with her only—conjecture.”
“Our cousin of Lotzen does not mean to question my veracity?” the Princess asked quickly.
“Your veracity?—never, I assure you—only your inferences.”
“And yet, sir, what other inferences can be drawn?”
He shrugged his shoulders and turned to the Prime Minister.
“I reiterate my claim to the Crown,” he said; “and the only Law of the Dalbergs that is before you confirms it. I cannot conceive that the Royal Council of Valeria will arrogate to itself the right to annul a decree of Henry the Third.”
“His Highness of Lotzen misses the point,” said Armand. “I do not ask the Council to annul that decree, but only to assume from Her Royal Highness’ story that it was duly and legally annulled by Frederick the Fourth.”