‘That is as Madame may choose to fit the cap,’ he said, with a bow; ‘I accuse her of nothing,’ but there was an ironical smile on his thin lips which almost maddened her.
‘Speak out; oh, sir, tell me what you dare to mean!’ she said, with a stamp of her foot, clasping her hands tightly. He only bowed again.
‘I know there are evil tongues abroad,’ said Margaret, with a desperate effort to command her voice; ‘but I heeded them no more than the midges in the air while I knew my lord and husband heeded them not! But—oh! say you do not.’
‘Have I said that I did?’
‘Then for a proof—dismiss and silence that foul-slandering wretch, Jamet de Tillay.’
‘A true woman’s imagination that to dismiss is to silence,’ he laughed.
‘It would show at least that you will not brook to have your wife defamed! Oh! sir, sir,’ she cried, ‘I only ask what any other husband would have done long ago of his own accord and rightful anger. Smile not thus—or you will see me frenzied.’
‘Smiles best befit woman’s tears,’ said Louis coolly. ‘One moment for your sisters, the next for yourself.’
‘Ah! my sisters! my sisters! Wretch that I am, to have thought of my worthless self for one moment. Ah! you are only teasing your poor Margot! You will act for your own honour and theirs in sending out to seek them!’
‘My honour and theirs may be best served by their being forgotten.’