"Few women ever so see their lovers," rejoined the priest; "love is the greatest of all hypocrites."
"Perhaps that is true," said Rose; "yet time, if a woman's eyes be unblinded by her own feelings, does generally, soon or late, draw back the covering of the heart, so far as to show her some of the features. I have seen little: I would see more; for what I have seen makes me doubt."
"Indeed!" exclaimed her companion, "what have you perceived to raise suspicions? Some casual word, some slight jest, I warrant you; such as he spoke just now about his cousin. Idle words, daughter! idle words, upon which you must put no harsh interpretation."
"How often idle words betray the spirit within!" said Rose. "They are the careless jailers which let the prisoner forth out of his secret dungeon. They have cost many a king his crown, if history be true; many a woman reputation, aye, and perhaps, many a lover his lady's hand. But what I wish is to hear more than idle words, to see more than a masked face; and, I do beseech you, aid me to delay this marriage for a time. Why was I not told earlier? Why was all arranged without my knowledge? Louis de Montigni has been summoned back more than a month, and yet I have had but one week, one poor week, allowed me to prepare my thoughts, to nerve my heart for the great change of woman's existence. Marriage, to man, is but a pageant, a ball, a festival. To us, it is one of the sole events. It is birth or death to woman. I do beseech you, father, if you have ever loved me, if you have watched over my youth, counselled me rightly, enlightened and instructed my mind, led me on in honour, virtue, faith--I do beseech you, aid me but to delay this ceremony. I feel not rightly here," and she laid her hand upon her bosom.
"I cannot promise to do so, my sweet child," replied the priest. "The marriage is decided; your guardian's word is given; and I cannot but think it may be well for all, that the final seal be put to the engagement as soon as may be."
"Do you?" said Mademoiselle d'Albret; but there she stopped, for at that moment Chazeul appeared again at a little distance; and Walter de la Tremblade advanced towards him. The next moment, however, she murmured to herself, "They have gained him; and I am alone!"
A change came over her from that instant, and when, after speaking a word together, the other two rejoined her, she was cheerful if not gay.
"The Count declares it is some loose party stealing the deer," said Chazeul, as he approached; "and thought it needless to send out to see, as, in these days, when one can hardly secure the corn of one's fields, or the fruits of one's vineyard, it were a vain hope to keep the game of one's woods."
"Well, he knows best," replied Rose d'Albret; "and now, good cousin of Chazeul, do tell me, what is to be the fate of France? How often is your great friend the Duke to be defeated, before he succeeds in crushing heresy, excluding the King from the throne, and putting some one on that thorny seat instead?"
"He will be defeated, as you term it, no more, fair lady," answered the Marquis; "for if report speaks true, he is even now marching against Henry of Bourbon with a force that shall crush him and his apostates, as men tread down an ants' nest."