Canolles' brow was bedewed with icy sweat; a sort of mist came before his eyes; he detained Claire, as she was about to leave him, and pretending that he had something to whisper to her, drew her to his heart, and said in her ear:—
"Entreat without servility; I wish to live for you, but you should wish me to live honored."
"I will entreat in such fashion as to save you," she replied; "are you not my husband in God's sight?"
Canolles, as he released her, found a way to touch her neck with his lips, but so cautiously that she did not feel it, and the poor creature, mad with apprehension, left him without returning his last kiss. As she was about to leave the court-yard she turned, but there was a line of guards between her and the prisoner.
"Where are you, my friend? I cannot see you; one word, one word I pray, so that I may go with your voice in my ears."
"Go, Claire," said Canolles. "I await your return."
"Go, go, madame," said a kind-hearted officer; "the sooner you go, the sooner you will return."
"Monsieur Lenet, dear Monsieur Lenet," cried Claire's voice in the distance, "I rely upon you; you will answer to me for him."
And the door closed behind her.
"Good!" muttered the philosophical duke; "that was not over pleasant; but at last we are in the realm of the possible once more."