Tsargradev's lips puckered in an effort to suppress a little good-humoured deprecatory laugh. "But, your Majesty," he protested, in the tone of one reasoning with a wayward school-girl, "you must surely know that you have no power to dismiss a constitutional Minister."
"I must decline to hold any discussion with you. I must insist upon the immediate surrender of your seals of office."
"I must remind your Majesty that I am the representative of the majority of the Soviete."
"I forbid you to answer me. I forbid you to speak in my presence. You are not here to speak. You are here to restore the seals of your office to your Sovereign."
"That, your Majesty, I must, with all respect, decline to do."
"You refuse?" the Queen demanded, with terrific shortness.
"I cannot admit your Majesty's right to demand such a thing of me. It is unconstitutional."
"In other words, you refuse to obey my commands? Colonel Karkov!" she called.
Her eyes were burning magnificently now; her hands trembled a little.
Colonel Karkov, the Marshal of the Palace, stepped forward.
"Arrest that man," said the Queen, pointing to Tsargradev.
Colonel Karkov looked doubtful, hesitant.
"Do you also mean to disobey me?" the Queen cried, with a glance . . . . oh, a glance!
Colonel Karkov turned pale, but he hesitated no longer. He bowed to Tsargradev. "I must ask you to constitute yourself my prisoner," he said.
Tsargradev made a motion as if to speak; but the Queen raised her hand, and he was silent.
