“Then you will not fly?” demanded the Queen, with some degree of impatience.
“He is in the right, Madam,” said the Bishop. “As a good subject, he is bound to obey the laws of his country; and in duty to himself, he ought not to give weight to the charge against him by seeming afraid to meet it.”
Anne of Austria turned away with a look of angry disappointment. “Well, at all events,” said she, “let us conclude the ceremony which has been thus interrupted, and afterwards the Count can act as he pleases.”
De Blenau hesitated. He felt that what the Queen proposed, if carried into effect, would be the only consolation he could receive under the new misfortune that had befallen him; but he felt also that it was a selfishness to wish it, and he looked towards the Bishop who had so well supported his first resolution. But Potier bent his eyes gravely on the ground, disapproving the proposal, yet unwilling farther to oppose the Queen.
“It shall be as Pauline decides,” said De Blenau, taking her hand and raising it gently to his lips. “Pauline,” he continued, “you know how deeply I love you; you know how I have longed for the hour that should give me your hand. But I fear that I should be cruelly selfish, were I to ask you to become the bride of one whose fate is so uncertain—Speak, dear Pauline.”
Mademoiselle de Beaumont spoke not, but she raised her eyes to De Blenau with an expression which told that every feeling of her heart was given to him. The Marchioness, however, interposed. “No!” said she: “Claude, you are right; it is better to wait. The time will come, I feel sure, when you will be able to claim Pauline in the midst of smiles and happiness, instead of tears and danger. Does not your Majesty think this delay advisable?”
“My opinion has been expressed already,” replied Anne of Austria peevishly. “But it is not my affair—act as you think fit. But were I Pauline, and my lover gave me up so calmly, I would seek another in his absence to console me.”
De Blenau, deeply hurt, bit his lip, and by a strong effort forced himself to silence: but Pauline placed her hand in his, and raising her eyes to his face: “Fear not, Claude,” she said; “in life and in death, I am yours. None other shall ever possess the hand of Pauline de Beaumont.”
“You are a noble girl, Pauline,” exclaimed the Queen. “De Blenau, I was wrong; but it vexes me to see that you will always be more in the right than I am. Do not look so sad, Pauline. The more I think of it, the more I feel sure that De Blenau’s innocence will stand him in good stead yet, in spite of the meager Cardinal: and I begin to reckon also somewhat on my own influence with Louis; he is far kinder than in former days; and I will make it a point of earnest prayer, that De Blenau be fairly used. Besides, they have now no plea against him. There are no secret letters to be discovered—no correspondence with the public enemy.”
Pauline shook her head mournfully. A cloud had come over the sun of her days, and she fancied that he would never beam brightly again.