Louis rose from the arm-chair on which he was seated. He knelt on the floor by her side. He again took her in his arms, and laying her head upon his breast, he soothed her like a child. Big tears rolled down his cheeks. He called her by every endearing name to comfort her. He did all, save consent to her marriage.
Mademoiselle was drowned in tears. Vainly did she, turning her swollen eyes upon the King, who soothed her so fondly, strain her ears to hear that one little word which was to dry them. She listened in vain; that word was never to be spoken. At last, faint with emotion, she signed to the King to raise her up, which he did, placing her on a chair. He kissed her burning forehead, and pressed her dry hands in his.
"My cousin," he said, "do not blame me. Rather blame yourself. Why did you not take my advice? I told you to lose no time. To marry at once. You should have done so. Why did you give me time to reflect—time for others to reflect? You ought to have obeyed me."
Mademoiselle dared not confess that it was Lauzun's fault she had not done so, but at this recollection a fresh burst of grief choked her utterance.
"Alas, Sire," she moaned at last, "when did you ever break your word before? Could I believe you would begin with me? To break your word, too, in such a manner!"
As Louis listened to her, he knit his brows, and looked gloomy and embarrassed.
"I am not my own master," he replied coldly, "in affairs touching my house and the honour of my race."
"Sire, if I do not marry Lauzun," groaned Mademoiselle, almost inaudibly, "I shall die. I never loved any other man. I ask my life of you, cousin. Do not take my life. You are sacrificing me to a court intrigue," she added faintly, catching at his hand, for she was fast losing heart; "but believe me, and let others know, that much as I love and respect your Majesty, and desire to obey you, I will never, never marry another man." Holding the King's hand, she kissed it, and gazed imploringly at him.
"Dear cousin, do not be so unhappy," he replied, at a loss what answer to make to such a home-thrust, which he knew to be so true. "Believe me, your obedience in this matter of Lauzun will make you doubly dear to me. You can command me in all other ways."
"Nothing—nothing can give life a value without Lauzun!" broke in Mademoiselle vehemently.