“I’d like to know if you have anything against it? Perhaps it may occur to you that you are my constitutional Minister and it is your business to know what the seal is to be put upon. Narciz you are becoming childish.”
“O Your Majesty!—Your Majesty—what can you be thinking of? I am the humble servent of the best of kings.”
King Morus graciously patted old Narciz on the shoulders, then took the paper and placed it in the inner pocket of his coat of gold.
“Now, Old Man, I have the genuine, constitutional feeling within me. By Heaven, I have it, and I don’t mind telling you—in confidence—what I am about to do with this death sentence.”
“Most glorious King!” murmured Narciz.
“I am trying to win the favor of a very beautiful lady—and she asked me for this trifle. You see of course I couldn’t refuse her a little thing like this.”
“Your Majesty is too gracious!”
“I am wise, Narciz! The pity is the poor woman has no power, but she has a husband. I give her the power and she gets rid of the husband. Sh—sh—Narciz—Not a word to any one—”
“It is sweeter to kiss than to kill,” flattered Narciz.
“Right you are, Old Man! I am going to carry this little piece of paper to her now, because the favor of the King is a fruitful seed. Write that sentence down in the Golden Book of the realm. Have you already written down what I said yesterday about the reckoning of the ground-rent?”
