“What does she want of me?”

Quickly, with the noise of a spring door, the silver panel, with the golden crown chased on it, opened.  A compartment of a shaft, lined with royal blue velvet, appeared, and on a golden salver a letter.  The letter, broad and weighty, was placed so as to exhibit the seal, which was a large impression in red wax.  The bell continued to tinkle.  The open panel almost touched the couch where the duchess and Gwynplaine were sitting.

Leaning over, but still keeping her arm round his neck, she took the letter from the plate, and touched the panel.  The compartment closed in, and the bell ceased ringing.

The duchess broke the seal, and, opening the envelope, drew out two documents contained therein, and flung it on the floor at Gwynplaine’s feet.  The impression of the broken seal was still decipherable, and Gwynplaine could distinguish a royal crown over the initial A. The torn envelope lay open before him, so that he could read, “To Her Grace the Duchess Josiana.”  The envelope had contained both vellum and parchment.  The former was a small, the latter a large document.  On the parchment was a large Chancery seal in green wax, called Lords’ sealing-wax.

The face of the duchess, whose bosom was palpitating, and whose eyes were swimming with passion, became overspread with a slight expression of dissatisfaction.

“Ah!” she said.  “What does she send me?  A lot of papers!  What a spoil-sport that woman is!”

Pushing aside the parchment, she opened the vellum.

“It is her handwriting.  It is my sister’s hand.  It is quite provoking.  Gwynplaine, I asked you if you could read.  Can you?”

Gwynplaine nodded assent.

She stretched herself at full length on the couch, carefully drew her feet and arms under her robe, with a whimsical affectation of modesty, and, giving Gwynplaine the vellum, watched him with an impassioned look.

“Well, you are mine.  Begin your duties, my beloved.  Read me what the queen writes.”

Gwynplaine took the vellum, unfolded it, and, in a voice tremulous with many emotions, began to read:—­

“MADAM,—­We are graciously pleased to send to you herewith, sealed and signed by our trusty and well-beloved William Cowper, Lord High Chancellor of England, a copy of a report showing forth the very important fact that the legitimate son of Linnaeus Lord Clancharlie has just been discovered and recognized, bearing the name of Gwynplaine, in the lowest rank of a wandering and vagabond life, among strollers and mountebanks.  His false position dates from his earliest days.  In accordance with the laws of the country, and in virtue of his hereditary rights, Lord Fermain Clancharlie, son of Lord Linnaeus, will be this day admitted, and installed in his position in the House of Lords.  Therefore, having regard to your welfare, and wishing to preserve for your use the property and estates of Lord Clancharlie of Hunkerville, we substitute him in the place of Lord David Dirry-Moir, and recommend him to your good graces.  We have caused Lord Fermain to be conducted to Corleone Lodge.  We will and command, as sister and as Queen, that the said Fermain Lord Clancharlie, hitherto called Gwynplaine, shall be your husband, and that you shall marry him.  Such is our royal pleasure.”