"No, my lord, no," replied the king. "Of the manner of this gentleman's death she knows nothing, but in regard to your preceding conduct she does anything but exculpate you. She says, or I am mistaken, that she had good reason to know a scheme had been formed for compelling her to marry the Count de Meyrand, and also for bearing her far away beyond the possibility of rescue or deliverance. Call you this exculpating you?"
"But I deny that this is the case, sire," replied the Lord of Masseran. "How could she tell what were my schemes or what were my plans? These are but vague suspicions, engendered by disappointment and anger."
"No, my lord, they are not," replied Isabel de Brienne. "They are not vague suspicions: they are certainties which I have never yet fully told to any one, no, not even to him I loved, because you are my mother's husband; but may I put you in mind of a German courier who was with you secretly on the twenty-ninth of last month—not the first that came that day—ay, and of the Spaniard who came two days afterward—"
The Lord of Masseran turned paler than his ruff, and clasped his hands together as if about to pray for mercy; but Isabel went on, "With his majesty's permission, I will first tell you in your ear, my lord, what I know of those couriers. Then, if you will have it so, and still deny the fact, I will speak aloud, and call on those who can prove it."
The king bowed his head in token of consent; and, while Isabel spoke for a few moments with the Lord of Masseran apart, he said to Vieilleville, with a thoughtful look, "You see Brissac's information was good."
"Might it not be better, sire," said Vieilleville, "to send this man for a few days to the Bastile, in order to ascertain how the case now stands?"
"It is not worth while," replied the king, in the same under voice; "the treaty will so soon be concluded that he can do no mischief, especially while we keep him about the court. On the contrary, Vieilleville, I hope and trust he will not drive this poor girl to say any more; for I suspect, if she were to tell all, I should be obliged to punish him; and that same sword of justice is the heaviest and most unpleasant one to wield I know. Well, fair lady, does your penitent admit the facts?"
"He does not deny, my lord," replied Isabel de Brienne, "that I had good cause for suspicion; and he has moreover promised me, both in his own name and in that of my mother, that I shall never be farther pressed to give my hand to any one, but shall be permitted to do the only thing that now remains for me to do in life—to retire from a world where I have known little but sorrow, and vow myself to the altar for ever."
"Nay, nay," said the king. "Not so, fair lady, not so. We will have you think of this better. Such charms as yours were never made for the cloister. At all events, let the first shadow of this grief pass away: you know not what may happen to change your views."
"Nothing can ever do so, sire," replied Isabel de Brienne. "Your majesty must not forget, that with him who is gone I have been brought up all my life. The sweet years of childhood, the happiest period that I have ever known, are in remembrance full of him and of his affection. To him all my thoughts have been given, all my wishes linked from childhood until now: the thoughts so nurtured have become part of my being. His glory I have felt as my glory, his happiness I have prayed for before my own, and his praise has been to my heart the most tuneful of all sounds. I can never think otherwise than I have thought, sire; and I will beseech your majesty not to give this good Lord of Masseran any motive to withdraw the word that he has plighted to me."