III
"I hate being forced into a marriage!" Monsieur repeated for the third time, as he cast lowering looks upon the bowed head of M. de Montigny.
'There is no question of force, Monseigneur,' rejoined the latter firmly. 'M. d'Inchy, speaking in the name of our provinces, had the honour to propose a bargain, which Monseigneur will accept or reject as he thinks fit.'
'But this Jacqueline—er—Jacqueline——?' queried Monsieur disdainfully.
'Jacqueline de Broyart, Dame de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramose, d'Espienne et de Wargny,' broke in Messire de Montigny with stern pride, "is as beautiful and pure as she is rich and noble. She is worthy to be the consort of a King.'
'But I have never seen the lady!' argued Monsieur irritably.
'Jacqueline de Broyart,' retorted de Montigny curtly, 'cannot be trotted out for Monseigneur's inspection like a filly who is put up for sale!'
'Who talks of trotting her out?' said Monsieur. 'Mon Dieu, man! Can I not even see my future wife? In matters of beauty tastes differ, and——'
'You will admit, Messire,' here interposed Marguerite quickly, seeing that at Monsieur's tone of thinly-veiled contempt frowns of anger, dark as thunder-clouds, were gathering on Messire de Montigny's brow. 'You will admit that it is only just that my brother should see the lady ere he finally decides.'
'Jacqueline, Madame la Reyne,' riposted de Montigny gruffly, 'is wooed by every rich and puissant seigneur in four kingdoms. Princes of the blood in Germany and Austria and Spain, noble lords of England and of France are at her feet. She is a mere child—scarce nineteen years of age—but she has a woman's heart and a woman's pride. She is my cousin's child; d'Inchy and my brother are her guardians. They would not allow an affront to be put upon her.'
'An affront, Messire?' queried Marguerite coldly. 'Who spoke of an affront to the Duc d'Alençon's future wife?'
'If Monseigneur sees the child,' argued de Montigny stiffly, 'and then turns against her, she is quite old enough to look upon that fact as an affront.'
'The devil take you for a stiff-necked Fleming, Messire!' quoth the Duke angrily.
'Then Monseigneur refuses?' was de Montigny's calm retort, even though his rough voice was shaking with suppressed choler.
'No, no, Messire!' once more broke in Marguerite hastily. 'Did Monseigneur say that he refused?'
'Monseigneur seems disinclined to accept,' rejoined de Montigny. 'And so much hesitation is a slur cast upon the honour of a noble Flemish lady who is my kinswoman.'
'Believe me, Messire,' said Marguerite gently and with unerring tact, determined to conciliate at all costs, 'that we of the house of Valois hold all honour in high esteem. Meseems that you and my brother do but misunderstand one another. Will you allow a woman's wit to bridge over the difficulty?'
'If you please, Madame,' replied de Montigny stiffly.