"One does not wipe out the devotion of years in a moment. My father served yours, your grandfather, your uncle, your father. I am still"—he threw up his head proudly as he made the confession—"your man."
"But the title——"
"What is a title? Your uncle is in England. He does not purpose to come back to France unless he whom he calls his rightful king again rules the land. Should that come to be, my poor patent of nobility would not be worth the parchment upon which it was engrossed."
"And the lands?"
"In any case I would but hold them in trust for the Marquis——"
"My uncle is old, childless. I am the last of the long line."
"Then I will hold them for you, mademoiselle. They are yours. When this war is over, and France is at peace once more, I will take my father's place and keep them for you."
"I could not accept such a sacrifice."
"It would be no sacrifice."
"I repeat, I cannot consent to be under such obligation, even to you."