“Well, M. de Bragelonne, I have reflected over the matter since; if the king did not, in fact, fix your return, he begged me to render your sojourn in England as agreeable as possible; since, however, you ask my permission to return, it is because your longer residence in England is no longer agreeable to you.”
“I do not say that, sire.”
“No, but your request, at least,” said the king, “signified that another place of residence would be more agreeable to you than this.”
At this moment Raoul turned towards the door, against which Miss Grafton was leaning, pale and sorrow-stricken; her other hand was passed through the duke’s arm.
“You do not reply,” pursued Charles; “the proverb is plain enough, that ‘silence gives consent.’ Very good, Monsieur de Bragelonne; I am now in a position to satisfy you; whenever you please, therefore, you can leave for Paris, for which you have my authority.”
“Sire!” exclaimed Raoul, while Mary stifled an exclamation of grief which rose to her lips, unconsciously pressing Buckingham’s arm.
“You can be at Dover this evening,” continued the king, “the tide serves at two o’clock in the morning.”
Raoul, astounded, stammered out a few broken sentences, which equally answered the purpose both of thanks and of excuse.
“I therefore bid you adieu, Monsieur de Bragelonne, and wish you every sort of prosperity,” said the king, rising; “you will confer a pleasure on me by keeping this diamond in remembrance of me; I had intended it as a marriage gift.”
Miss Grafton felt her limbs almost giving way; and, as Raoul received the ring from the king’s hand, he, too, felt his strength and courage failing him. He addressed a few respectful words to the king, a passing compliment to Miss Stewart, and looked for Buckingham to bid him adieu. The king profited by this moment to disappear. Raoul found the duke engaged in endeavoring to encourage Miss Grafton.