They were awaiting us. Roquefort seemed much stronger. He was supported on a pile of pillows, and but for the fever-glare in his eyes would not have appeared ill. The eyes brightened as we entered and a vivid flush sprang to either cheek.
“Come hither, Claire!” he cried, and she went to him, glorious in her loveliness. Even he seemed startled by it, and gazed at her a moment without speaking.
“I have come to the end of the path, Claire,” he said at last. “They tell me I may live a day, perhaps—no longer. And before the end I am going to ask you to keep a pledge you made me. See, I have kept mine”—and he made a little gesture towards me—“so far as with me lay.”
Not till then did I understand, and my heart grew cold at thought of it.
“You know I have loved you, Claire,” he went on, looking up into her eyes. “Nay, do not speak—do not protest! I have loved you! Had I not—had I not hungered for your love in return—I should have made you mine long ere this. But now, at the end, you must be mine! You have already promised, Claire! You cannot break your promise to a dying man!”
He paused—a cough choked him—and again there was blood upon his lips. I trembled to hurl myself upon him—to drag her away—but what could I say?—what plea could I offer? Oh, why did not she herself answer him?
But she did not answer—she did not draw away, as I, who stood there with starting eyes, watching her every movement, thought she must. She only knelt with her face buried in the cushions, shaken by sobs. But pity could go too far!
“You cannot deny a dying man, Claire,” he repeated in a fainter voice, and I saw how little his strength was. “It means more to me than you can guess. I am dying without issue—without heir. I want Roquefort to be yours, Claire—every stone of the castle, every rood of the land. It must not go to that scoundrel in Valladolid.”
I remembered Fronsac’s story of his hate for his next of kin, and ceased to wonder at him. But she—she—why did not she put him from her? I know the price would tempt most women, yet I had not thought it would tempt her. But a moment since she had told me—there!—why recall it? For now she stood suddenly upright and looked down into his eyes quite calmly.
“If you really wish it, M. le Duc,” she said. “If you think it will make you happier, I am ready!”