‘My Lordship, ha!’ said Crim Tartary, frowning terrifically. ‘That title soundeth strange in the anointed ears of a crowned King. Straightway speak out your message, Knight and Herald!’ Reining up his charger in a most elegant manner close under the King’s balcony, Hedzoff turned to the Herald, and bade him begin. Elephant and Castle, dropping his trumpet over his shoulder, took a large sheet of paper out of his hat, and began to read:-- ‘O Yes! O Yes! O Yes! Know all men by these presents, that we, Giglio, King of Paflagonia, Grand Duke of Cappadocia, Sovereign Prince of Turkey and the Sausage Islands, having assumed our rightful throne and title, long time falsely borne by our usurping Uncle, styling himself King of Paflagonia--’ ‘Ha!’ growled Padella. ‘Hereby summon the false traitor, Padella, calling himself King of Crim Tartary--’ The King’s curses were dreadful. ‘Go on, Elephant and Castle!’ said the intrepid Hedzoff. ‘--To release from cowardly imprisonment his liege lady and rightful Sovereign, ROSALBA, Queen of Crim Tartary, and restore her to her royal throne: in default of which, I, Giglio, proclaim the said Padella sneak, traitor, humbug, usurper, and coward. I challenge him to meet me, with fists or with pistols, with battle-axe or sword, with blunderbuss or singlestick, alone or at the head of his army, on foot or on horseback; and will prove my words upon his wicked ugly body!’ ‘God save the King!’ said Captain Hedzoff, executing a demivolte, two semilunes, and three caracols. ‘Is that all?’ said Padella, with the terrific calm of concentrated fury. ‘That, sir, is all my royal master’s message. Here is His Majesty’s letter in autograph, and here is his glove, and if any gentleman of Crim Tartary chooses to find fault with His Majesty’s expressions, I, Tuffskin Hedzoff, Captain of the Guard, am very much at his service,’ and he waved his lance, and looked at the assembly all round. ‘And what says my good brother of Paflagonia, my dear son’s father-in-law, to this rubbish?’ asked the King. ‘The King’s uncle hath been deprived of the crown he unjustly wore,’ said Hedzoff gravely. ‘He and his axminister, Glumboso, are now in prison waiting the sentence of my royal master. After the battle of Bombardaro--’ ‘Of what?’ asked the surprised Padella. ‘Of Bombardaro, where my liege, his present Majesty, would have performed prodigies of velour, but that the whole of his uncle’s army came over to our side, with the exception of Prince Bulbo.’ ‘Ah! my boy, my boy, my Bulbo was no traitor!’ cried Padella. ‘Prince Bulbo, far from coming over to us, ran away, sir; but I caught him. The Prince is a prisoner in our army, and the most terrific tortures await him if a hair of the Princess Rosalba’s head is injured.’