In dire consternation de Proballe, now much agitated, fell back to his place, and both were again silent.
“Denys, Denys, what madness is it that brings you from your sick bed thus?” cried Gabrielle, in surprise and some alarm for him. “You are risking your life.”
“It is no madness, mademoiselle, and my life would be cheaply spent in such a case,” answered Denys, speaking with great labour and seeming even to breathe with difficulty.
“I could not stay him, Gabrielle,” said Lucette, in response to Gabrielle’s look of reproach.
“You would not come to me when I sent for you, mademoiselle,” said Denys slowly, when he had found breath. “So I came to you.”
“I could not come then, and did but delay, good Denys. But what is this matter that could not wait?”
“That man is the matter—Gerard de Cobalt. I know the truth of his coming hither and his treachery, and not another hour was to be lost before I told you.”
“Denys! How dare you speak thus? You presume upon my good will. It was M. de Cobalt who saved your life yesterday.”
“Would God I had lost it rather than that it should be saved by him. As Heaven is my witness, I speak but the truth when I say he is a villain; and I can and will prove my words by his own testimony.”
A moment’s tense silence followed this fierce accusation; and in it the Duke whispered under his breath—