"Who but myself, Madame?" said Beaufort, advancing. "And if your Majesties are fully determined to go no further in this business, I will ask leave to withdraw and set out for Courbevoie at once. Every moment is precious, and an hour's delay may mean the loss of many lives."
"No, no, Beaufort, I cannot let you go," cried the King, starting up. "Nom de Dieu, I forbid you!—d'Angrémont is taken from me—there is no one in whom I can confide or trust—we must send another," he went on, incoherently, and raising his hand as if to check Beaufort's departure.
For an instant the Queen swept him a glance of disdain. 'Twas not timidity that made her falter. She could not understand the physical weakness of the King; with her the abandonment of the great undertaking was a matter of expediency, not of fear, and she deserted her friends as relentlessly from interest as he did from cowardice.
"There is no one, your Majesty—no one whom we can send. 'Tis too late to trust others with this great secret—"
"Then I will go," said Adrienne, suddenly stepping forward. "Send me—I am in the secret, I can be trusted! I can put on the disguise intended for your Majesty and go." She turned to the Queen and spoke eagerly and rapidly. "I fear nothing. Let me go, let me go!" She dropped on her knees before the Queen. "I must go—I must," she said, wildly.
"Is there no other?" asked the Queen, turning to Beaufort. "Surely we are not so destitute of friends that we must send this girl upon such a dangerous mission!" she said, sorrowfully.
"I implore your Majesty to let me go," said Adrienne, once more. "'Tis a service I would do myself as well as your Majesty," she went on, her white face suddenly covered with a burning blush.
The Queen looked at her keenly for a moment, and then she put out her hand with a sad, comprehending smile. "You may go," she said.