“It was something of that sort that I want to discuss with you, if I may,” he said.

“If you may?” I echoed.

He nodded.  “You are a subject of the United States and a representative of its government at my Court.”

“I had forgotten their significance,” I admitted.

“But, with your permission, we can lay aside our officialism and hold a family conference.”

The idea of my holding a family conference with the King of Valeria!  I smiled involuntarily; and Frederick saw it.

“Don’t you feel quite at home in the family, yet, my lad?” he asked.

“It is not Your Majesty’s fault if I don’t,” said I; “but royalty is a bit new and strange to me.”

He laughed heartily.  “You are quite too modest, Armand.  You spoke of a place at Court; would you accept one?”

“Surely, sire, you knew I was only jesting!” I exclaimed.

“Of course,” said he; “but I’m not.  I am entirely serious.”

“I suppose,” said I, “I’m as ambitious as most men.”

“A little more so, if you’re a good Dalberg,” the King interjected.

“But am I a good Dalberg?”

He waved his hand toward a mirror in the wall.  “Use your eyes,” he said.

“I don’t mean physically,” I objected.

“I am very willing to trust Nature.  She didn’t give you old Henry’s body and then mock it with inferior abilities.”

I shook my head.

“Besides,” he went on, “I admit I have had a report on you from my Ambassador at Washington.”

“I trust,” said I, with a laugh, “it has left me a few shreds of repute.”

“It didn’t hurt you much, my lad.”

That was the third time he had called me his “lad.”

“Your Majesty then offers me a title and a place at Court?”

The King smiled.  “Yes,” said he; “a high title and a high place.”

I pulled on my cigar and tried to think.  But, on every cloud of smoke, I seemed to see the Princess; and all my brain knew was the single idea:  “It will bring me within reach of her.”  I got up sharply and paced the room, until I threw off the foolish notion and could look at the matter in its true proportions.

“Tell me, Your Majesty,” I said, “if I accept, will I be regarded as a legitimate descendant of the House of Dalberg or as of a morganatic marriage?”

The King nodded.  “I had anticipated that would be your first question.  You will be legitimate.”

“But,” said I, “if I understand the canons of royalty, my great-grandfather having married one not of royal rank his descendants are, as regards the House of Valeria, illegitimate.”

“As a general proposition that is true; but it happens that your case is a peculiar exception.”

“I am glad,” said I; “otherwise we had reached an end of the matter.”

“That, Major, is one of your American notions,” said the King; “there is no disgrace in morganatic marriages.”