“Can my lord doubt for a moment of my eternal gratitude?  Can I forget the favours your Excellency showed me?  Even if I could so lose my reason and my memory, are not my wife and son ever here to remind me that to you we owe all our life, our honour, and our fortune?  I was guilty of an infamous act,” said the notary, lowering his voice, “a crime that would not only have brought upon my head the penalty of death, but which meant the confiscation of my goods, the ruin of my family, poverty and shame for my only son—­that very son, sire, for whom I, miserable wretch, had wished to ensure a brilliant future by means of my frightful crime:  you had in your hands the proofs of this!

“I have them still.”

“And you will not ruin me, my lord,” resumed the notary, trembling; “I am at your feet, your Excellency; take my life and I will die in torment without a murmur, but save my son since you have been so merciful as to spare him till now; have pity on his mother; my lord, have pity!”

“Be assured,” said Charles, signing to him to rise; “it is nothing to do with your life; that will come later, perhaps.  What I wish to ask of you now is a much simpler, easier matter.”

“My lord, I await your command.”

“First,” said the duke, in a voice of playful irony, “you must draw up a formal contract of my marriage.”

“At once, your Excellency.”

“You are to write in the first article that my wife brings me as dowry the county of Alba, the jurisdiction of Grati and Giordano, with all castles, fiefs, and lands dependent thereto.”

“But, my lord—­” replied the poor notary, greatly embarrassed.

“Do you find any difficulty, Master Nicholas?”

“God forbid, your Excellency, but—­”

“Well, what is it?”

“Because, if my lord will permit, because there is only one person in Naples who possesses that dowry your Excellency mentions.”

“And so?”

“And she,” stammered the notary, embarrassed more and more, “—­she is the queen’s sister.”

“And in the contract you will write the name of Marie of Anjou.”

“But the young maiden,” replied Nicholas timidly, “whom your Excellency would marry is destined, I thought, under the will of our late king of blessed memory, to become the wife of the King of Hungary or else of the grandson of the King of France.”

“Ah, I understand your surprise:  you may learn from this that an uncle’s intentions are not always the same as his nephew’s.”

“In that case, sire, if I dared—­if my lord would deign to give me leave—­if I had an opinion I might give, I would humbly entreat your Excellency to reflect that this would mean the abduction of a minor.”

“Since when did you learn to be scrupulous, Master Nicholas?”

These words were uttered with a glance so terrible that the poor notary was crushed, and had hardly the strength to reply—­