The rightful heir to my father’s dominion is my stepbrother Alphege, but he has disappeared and is now thought to be dead. I wear the crown now, but it would appear that the kind people who raised Alphege are plotting against me. My mother thinks I should have them put to death, but it’s hardly probable that a quiet widow and a young girl would be attempting to stage a revolution.
I have taken myself to their house. I knock on the door. The widow answers, and I demand an explanation. Then who steps forward but Prince Alphege himself, who says, “It is from me that you must ask an explanation, brother.” He speaks with such grace and dignity that I respectfully kiss the prince’s hand and give him the throne to which I no longer have a claim.