"I 've not forgotten, dear lord," she whispered. "Yet I thought-- I 've heard of kingly rights. Is there--was there not a custom that the king might take to himself two wives?"
"By my sword, fair one, you 'd make a Merwing of me! Is it not enough that you have won my love?"
"No, sire, no! It is not enough for me!" cried the girl.
"Then what would you have?" asked Karl, wonderingly.
Before she answered, the girl raised her eyes to his, and flung out her arms.
"Ah, how I love you, dear lord!" she half whispered. "But you forgo your ancient right,--you 'll not seat two with you on your throne. I see only one way that joy may come to me,--ay, and why not? Why should not I have my turn?"
"How then?" demanded Karl. "Speak out."
"Ah, dear lord, do not be harsh! It is my love that forces my lips to speak, and so--and so--I will say it, though it kill me! Dear lord, if you will not make me joint sharer of your throne with the one who now sits beside you, I would--I would that she might give place to me,--as the Lombard's daughter gave way to her--as Himiltrude gave way to the princess--"
"Ha!" cried Karl. He drew back a step, and stood staring at her, overcome with amazement at her audacity.
For a moment the girl straightened before his angry wonder with a gesture almost of defiance. But then her eyes sank, and her whole body drooped forward.