While one of his ministers read the terms of the reference aloud to the King, who, of course, was too great a personage to read it himself, I was able to muster my wits sufficiently to mark the most Christian prince. And, good reader, you will doubtless call in question the veracity of my two eyes when I assert that the French King Louis was a small, wizened, pock-marked man, with a face, as became the embodiment of his nation, that was not unlike a frog’s. His hair was red in colour; there was a marked cast in his right eye; the lids were twisted and puckered in a most curious manner; his insignificant person and particularly his puny hands were twitching constantly; his voice was not agreeable; and I could not decide whether the colour of his eyes was brown or grey or dark green--the Count of Nullepart inclined to the latter opinion, Sir Richard Pendragon to the former--yet, good reader, I assure you solemnly that, notwithstanding all these disabilities, the French sovereign was every inch a prince. There were three or four of the King’s ministers present in the room, with ruffs about their necks and short pointed beards. When they had read madam’s communication, the King seemed puzzled to know who his correspondent might be. It appeared that he had not the faintest recollection of his aunt. And, as I conceived, somewhat singularly, the ruler of France showed a livelier concern for this relationship than for the demand that we had come to make upon his friendship. At the command of the King an enormous genealogical chart was brought into the room. Being laid upon the table, it provoked the greatest curiosity. One and all scrutinized it with diligence, King Louis with an even shrewder regard than the rest. And presently he was able to convince himself that in Spain there dwelt an aunt of his of whom he had neither seen nor heard. The King having duly established their kinship, proceeded to ply Sir Richard Pendragon with some pertinent questions, which the Englishman answered in the grave manner of a true ambassador. “A proud and royal lady, good your majesty,” said Sir Richard Pendragon, “every inch a queen. She hath loyal and shrewd advisers, good your majesty, among them these famous gentlemen and one who shall be nameless.” The King desired that the Count of Nullepart and myself should be presented to him. Sir Richard Pendragon undertook this office. With an air of magnificence that nought could surpass he recited our titles and our merit; and had we discovered anything to be lacking in the character he gave us we must have been ambitious men. It seemed that the most noble the Marquis of Fulano was the most accomplished minister in Spain; while I was a great lord, and, in spite of my tender years, by no means the least of its captains. “And may I assure you, sire,” said this extraordinary envoy, “the most excellent queen’s majesty hath a standing army of not less than forty thousand men-at-arms.”