There was just the proper touch of dignified indignation and feminine pathos.  Indeed, I never saw this rather remarkable woman act her part better than in that short speech.

The King looked at her, for a bit, in silence—­though, whether he was admiring her as a beautiful woman or as an artistic impersonator, I could not make out.  Doubtless, it was something of both.

“As simple abstract propositions, my dear madame,” he said, presently, “your questions, as put, are entitled to negative replies.  But, when they are applied to the actual facts in the case, as just given by you, there is a vast difference.  If you are the lawfully wedded wife of the Grand Duke Armand, there is nothing illegal in the order you complain of.  In Valeria, the husband has lawful authority, upon proper cause, to restrain his wife within even smaller limits than are prescribed for you.”

“But, where, in my case, is there any proper cause?” she demanded.  “Besides, he avers I am not his wife—­therefore, he can have no authority over me.”

The King smiled.  “My dear madame, you forget that it is you who insist upon submitting yourself to his authority.”

“That may be, Sire; yet, I appeal to your sense of fairness.  Should he be permitted to exercise a husband’s authority to imprison me, and, at the same time, deny that he is my husband?”

Of course, theoretically, she was in the right.  My action was, in that particular, utterly inconsistent with my position and protestations.  For a moment, I was a trifle uneasy as to the King’s answer.

But he brushed it lightly aside.

“The circumstances of the case are so extraordinary, madame, that I fear it cannot well be judged by the usual standard.”

She smiled very sweetly.  “Which means that I am to be held to the strict obligations of my position, but that the Grand Duke Armand can perpetrate any inconsistency he choose.”

The King smiled back at her.  “I do not doubt that His Royal Highness will be most happy to be relieved of the necessity for being inconsistent,” he said.

“Good!” she exclaimed.  “I am ready to leave Dornlitz and Valeria this very day.”

The King turned to me, interrogatingly.

“Then, you admit you are not Madeline Dalberg?” I asked.

“On the contrary, I re-affirm it; but, I offer you a divorce.”

I shrugged my shoulders and made no reply.

“You see, Sire,” she said, “how reasonable he is.  He condescends to be consistent only if, by forcing me to perjure myself, he can further his—­schemes”—­and she deliberately turned and looked at the Princess.

I stepped quickly between them.

She laughed scornfully.

“How like you, Armand,” she said.  “It’s only a short while since you were just as thoughtful for me.”

I was too angry to reply, but she could read my thoughts in my eyes. 
And she answered them with a taunting smile and a toss of her head.