The King understood the situation, instantly—­and I could detect a bit of a smile under his grey moustache.

“Be seated, madame,” he said.  “I am interested—­unless, of course, you do not care for us to hear it.”

She dropped him a wonderful courtesy—­acquired, doubtless, in her French Convent school.

“Your Majesty is more than welcome to every word of my story,” she answered, with ready frankness.  “The Grand Duke Armand knows it quite as well as I; though he affects otherwise, because it pleases him to pretend that I am not his wife.”

“My dear madame,” the King said, “you are not to tell me anything.  You are simply graciously permitting me to be present when you carry out the bargain you have just made with the Governor of Dornlitz.”

She smiled very sweetly at the King; then, turned to me.

“Will you begin, Armand,” she said.

I bowed.  “After you, madame,” said I.  “And, perchance, when I have heard your story, I may revoke the order.”

She smiled disdainfully—­then, addressed the King: 

“I consented to this exchange only because Your Majesty would, thus, hear at least some truth as to this marriage.  I confess, however, I am surprised that Major Dalberg permits it to be disclosed.”

She turned to me with affected hesitation.

“Are you quite sure, Armand, you really want me to tell it?” she asked.

I laughed.  “You play it very cleverly, Mrs. Spencer,” I said.

She shrugged her shoulders most expressively.

“On your head be it, then,” she answered.  Then, addressing the King, she went on.  “When it was determined that Major Dalberg was to be the American Military Attache with the Valerian Army, he told me, for the first time, of his kinship to Your Majesty.  On my insistent urging, he then decided to make a bid for your favor, to the end that you might acknowledge his birth and restore to him the lost estates and titles of his ancestor, Prince Hugo.  Apprehending, however, that Your Majesty would look with more kindness upon him as a bachelor than as a married man, it was arranged that I should remain in America.  Then, as soon as the scheme had either succeeded or definitely failed, I was to be sent for.”  She turned and looked at me.  “It is rather needless to say—­in view of Monsieur Armand’s present attitude toward me—­that he never sent for me.  But I saw the accounts, in the daily Press, of the wonderful story of an American Army Officer, Armand Dalberg, being, in truth, a Prince of Valeria; and how he had been so accepted and proclaimed by the King.  I waited two weeks and more—­for word from my husband—­then I came hither—­and met the kind reception he gave me in the Hanging Garden.”

She paused an instant; then spoke to me: 

“Is there anything material that I have omitted?” she asked.

“Naturally, I do not know, Mrs. Spencer,” I answered; “but, judging from your marvellous power of—­invention, I should fancy not.”