My father rose as we entered.  “Here is the boy returned,” said he; “and here are the witnesses.”

The prisoner rose also.  “I did not catch his name, or else I have forgotten it,” he said, fixing his eyes on me and motioning me to step forward; which I did.  His eyes—­which before had seemed to me shifty—­were straight now and commanding, yet benevolent.

“His name is Prosper; in full, John Prosper Camilio Paleologus.  Never more than one of us wears the surname of Constantine, and he not until he succeeds as head of our house.”

“One name is enough for a king.”  The prisoner motioned again with his hand.  “Kneel, boy,” my father commanded, and I knelt.

“I ask you, gentlemen,” said the prisoner, facing them and lifting his voice, “to hear and remember what I shall say; to witness and remember what I shall do; and by signature to attest what I shall presently write.  I say, then, that I, Theodore, was on the fifteenth of April, twenty years ago, by the united voice of the people of Corsica, made King of that island and placed in possession of its revenues and chief dignities.  I declare, as God may punish me if I lie, that by no act of mine or of my people of Corsica has that election been annulled, forfeited, or invalidated; that its revenues are to-day rightfully mine to receive and bequeath, as its dignities are to-day rightfully mine to enjoy or abdicate to an heir of my own choosing.  I declare further that, failing male issue of my own body, I resign herewith and abdicate both rank and revenue in favour of this boy, Prosper Paleologus, son of Constantine, and heir in descent of Constantine last Emperor of Constantinople.  I lay my hands on him in your presence and bless him.  In your presence I raise him and salute him on both cheeks, naming him my son of choice and my successor, Prosper I., King of the Commonwealth of Corsica.  I call on you all to attest this act with your names, and all necessary writings confirming it; and I beseech you all to pray with me that he may come to the full inheritance of his kingdom, and thrive therein as he shall justly and righteously administer it.  God save King Prosper!”

At the conclusion of this speech, admirably delivered, I—­standing with bent head as he had raised me, and with both cheeks tingling from his salutation—­heard my father’s voice say sonorously, “Amen!” and another—­I think the parson’s—­break into something like a chuckle.  But my uncle must have put out a hand threatening his weasand, for the sound very suddenly gave place to silence; and the next voice I heard was Mr. Knox’s.

“May I suggest that we seat ourselves and examine the papers?” said Mr. Knox.

“One moment.”  King Theodore stepped to the cupboard and drew out a bundle in a blue-and-white checked kerchief, and a smaller one in brown paper.  The kerchief, having been laid on the table and unwrapped, disclosed a fantastic piece of ironwork in the shape of a crown, set with stones of which the preciousness was concealed by a plentiful layer of dust.  He lifted this, set it on my head for a moment, and, replacing it on the table, took up the brown-paper parcel.