"That's quite right," said I; "it is time that we Republicans should agree upon some feudal system. My dear, I drink to the king!" and I raised my wine glass and looked at Lys.
"To the king," said Lys, flushing. She smoothed out the tiny garment on her knees; she touched the glass with her lips; her eyes were very sweet. I drained the glass to the king.
After a silence I said: "I will tell the king stories. His majesty shall be amused."
"His majesty," repeated Lys softly.
"Or hers," I laughed. "Who knows?"
"Who knows?" murmured Lys; with a gentle sigh.
"I know some stories about Jack the Giant-Killer," I announced. "Do you, Lys?"
"I? No, not about a giant-killer, but I know all about the werewolf, and Jeanne-la-Flamme, and the Man in Purple Tatters, and—O dear me, I know lots more."
"You are very wise," said I. "I shall teach his majesty, English."
"And I Breton," cried Lys jealously.