Wearied to the very top of his bent, Messire did his best to bring the interview to an end.
'And now, Messeigneurs,' he said at last, 'I will, by your leave, bid you farewell. My Maître de Camp, Messire de Balagny, has, as you know, arrived in Cambray. He will represent me here the while I go to rejoin my armies.'
'Your Highness would leave us?' exclaimed d'Inchy with a frown. 'So soon?'
'Only to return in triumph, Messire,' replied Gilles, 'at the head of my armies, after I have brought the Spaniard to his knees.'
'But Madame Jacqueline,' protested de Lalain. 'The betrothal—'
'While Cambray is starving, Messire, and the Duke of Parma is at her gates, there is no time for public festivities. You will convey to Madame Jacqueline de Broyart my earnest desire that she should confer the supreme honour upon me by consenting to be my wife.' Then, as the two men appeared wrapt in moody silence, he added quickly, with I know not what faint ray of hope within his heart: 'You are doubtful of her consent?'
'Doubtful? Oh, no, Monseigneur,' replied d'Inchy. 'Jacqueline de Broyart is, above all, a daughter of Flanders. She is ready to give her fortune, herself, all that is asked of her, to the man who will free her country from its oppressors.'
'Then the sooner I go ... and return to claim my bride,' rejoined Gilles dryly, 'the better it will be for us all.'
'Yes, Monseigneur—but——'
'But what?'