“Mademoiselle,” I began, “Claire!” and then stopped—what could I advise? Yet the thought of her in that devil’s arms maddened me.
She looked at me for an instant—at the hard bed on which I lay—at the men ready at the wheel—then her eyes swept back to Roquefort.
“M. le Duc,” she said quite calmly, “I accept. Only, I warn you, you will get no loving wife.”
He bowed to her with infinite politeness. The scoundrel was not without his points. He could meet fire with fire, as he had said!
“All that will come after,” he retorted, with an infernal smile. “I assure you that you will find me a loving husband. As to your lover—I will take care to protect myself from him!”
He looked down at me, the smile still on his lips.
“But the arrangements,” he continued after a moment. “I must acquaint you with them, Mademoiselle. We were to have had a wedding to-morrow morning, only, unfortunately, the bridegroom lies dead yonder. Well, we will have the wedding, only it will be you and I who take the vows. You agree?”
Her face became more livid as she saw how near was her martyrdom, but there was no relenting in his features. She nodded faintly.
“Very well,” he said approvingly, “that is right, Mademoiselle. Make the best of it. I am not such a monster as you seem to think. I am a man, like any other, and have my generous moments. I hasten to order the arrangements. As for Mademoiselle de Cadillac, I must select her another husband from among my followers. Permit me to conduct you to your room, Mademoiselle. As soon as we are safe outside, this fellow will be released and taken back to his tower. Immediately after the wedding he shall be returned to Cadillac unharmed. I swear it on my honor. Does that satisfy you?”
Again she nodded, and Roquefort paused for a moment to look down at me.