Jacqueline stood before him, stung from her speechless trance by fury. Behind narrowed lids the gray eyes hardened as points of steel.
“You shall know, mademoiselle,” he answered softly. “It is a boon I ask of you, the greatest, and the only one before I go––”
“Why? Tell me why!”
“Because it is the boon a true knight may crave. It is to right before the world the noblest woman a knight can ever know––”
“Sire!”
The word was rage and supplication both. It was a hurt cry, piteous to hear. Then the glint dying from her eyes blazed to tempestuous life in those of the Missourian. But the priest’s hand touched his arm, and the priest’s voice, low and gentle, stayed him.
Maximilian, though, had seen the outburst. “Ah yes, señor, I remember,” he said, and smiled, “one may be slapped upon the mouth, yes, yes, for even breathing my lady’s name when one talks of rumor.”
Jacqueline darted at them a puzzled glance. She did 478not understand at first. Then she divined. And then, wide and gloriously, her eyes opened on Driscoll, her defender. But in the instant they sought a safer quarter. She could not, and would not, forgive him for being there at all.
“However,” the obdurate prince continued, “our witness must bear with me this time, for I will–will, I tell each of you–speak plainly. The false scandal does exist. Deny it, dear lady, if you can.–Nay, señor, you believe it, or did. So, now, as the world’s deputy here, you must be armed to foil those venomous tongues. But there is only one way. You shall tell them that they talk of Maximilian’s widow––”
“But––”