I glanced at Louise to see how she received this announcement, but seemingly she had not heard it.
“And now, de Brancas,” continued the duke, turning to me, “we must make haste. We have already remained here much too long.”
“True,” I answered. “It is your purpose, then, to forcibly carry away Mlle. de Valois?”
“Since she refuses to accompany me, yes,” and Richelieu looked me in the eyes. “Have you any other course to advise, my friend?”
I paused irresolute, glancing from one to the other. I could not choose but speak, whatever the cost might be.
“If love were the only thing; if there were not heights of honor before which love must bow,” I said, at last, and paused again. I could not go on. Let these two hearts settle the future for themselves. “M. le Duc,” I said, in a firmer voice, “it is not for me to give advice. I will do whatever you command.”
Again Richelieu walked the length of the room, his twitching face telling of the conflict raging in his breast. I went to the window and gazed out upon the night. Louise was sobbing. Only the princess remained composed. I pray heaven that my heart may never again be torn as it was in that moment.
“M. le Duc,” she said, in the same calm tone she had used before, “listen to the voice of your friend and to my voice, which, I am sure, finds an answering chord in your heart. If love were the only thing I would go with you gladly, but honor must ever outweigh love in the hearts of all true gentlemen. Tell me, Louis, I have not been deceived in you,—that you merit honor no less than love.”
Richelieu threw himself at her feet with a sob and caught her hand. I knew he had won the battle.
“Forgive me, Charlotte,” he whispered, in a choking voice; “I have played the coward, not the man. Let it be as you say, your honor and mine before all else.”