"Well, do you deny it?"
"Not the love, but the offence of it. Palpably you might do much worse than dispose of the lady to my heir."
"I might do much better than bestow my time on you if that is all you have to say."
"We have hardly opened the subject, M. de Mayenne—"
"I have no wish to carry it further."
"Monsieur, the king's ranks afford no better match than my heir."
"No maid of mine shall ever marry a Royalist."
"I swore no son of mine should ever marry a Leaguer, but I have come to see the error of my ways, as you will see yours, Mayenne. It is for you to choose where among the king's forces you will marry mademoiselle."
A vague uneasiness, a fear which he would not own a fear, crept into Mayenne's eyes. He studied the face before him, a face of gay challenge, and said, at length, not quite confidently himself:
"You speak with a confidence, St. Quentin."