"My sister, well beloved: I live, I live; the hand of your brother directs these words; disregarding court etiquette, I assure you of my love—"
Here two timid raps sounded on the door and a gentle voice called: "Your Grace!"
The lady hastily replaced the paper and buttoned her bodice with an unsteady hand. By a strong effort of the will, she assumed the impenetrable mask she put on habitually and opened the door, with a look of cold surprise on her face. The attendant apologized profusely for the interruption.
"His—his—Royal Highness wishes urgently to speak with you. He has ordered me to—"
Without moving a muscle of her face, the Duchess bowed in assent and, with the gait of an automaton, passed on to meet her husband, who awaited her in the visitors' room, a small apartment, containing a desk, some books of devotion and a few classics.
On her entry, the Duke saluted gravely as tho at an official ceremony. She seated herself, but he continued standing. He was tall and of patrician and martial bearing. She addressed him a mute interrogatory. The absence of cordiality between them was at once apparent.
"Thérèse, I come to trouble you and this I regret infinitely. But 'tis indispensable. I come to talk of state matters, that is of matters closely related to the state. Some time ago we banished this topic from our conversation, Thérèse, because—we happen to differ in our views. You find me somewhat—what phrase shall I use?—well, liberal. I find you obstinate,—opposed to making concessions and blind to the exigencies of the times. I am inclined to adopt the opinion of the King and Ferdinand; you, like our good father—but Thérèse, think as we individually may, we both desire the same accomplishment. At bottom there is harmony between us. I could not bear to believe otherwise."
"At bottom there is indeed harmony," she answered. "Neither could I bear to believe otherwise. We are united, as is the entire family, in the faith that the Restoration is genuine—a victory over the dragon of the Revolution. You employ hidden weapons; I am less astute; I fight unarmed, or, as better said, I do not fight. I resist the foe, arms folded on my breast, and I should not retreat. I should face him to the last tho he advanced upon me with an overpowering host."
"The Corsican did not err when he said you were the only man of the family."
"Do not repeat that absurd speech. Each prince of the House is a man, a paladin, worthy of the race. Neither you nor your brother Ferdinand, notwithstanding his delinquencies respecting women, has given the lie to the proud blood which flows through your veins. I am a weak woman, whose only refuge, in hours of trial, is religion—the religion which has taught me to suffer resignedly, but never to yield. Much have I suffered; much am I yet to suffer."