"No," answered the page; "and I do not think she will till she is very hungry; for she seemed afraid of something."
"Then she shall be hungry enough," muttered Madame de Chazeul. "But come, Philip, give me the key."
The boy delivered it unwillingly, and his mistress proceeded, "Now run, wash your face and hands, and put on your gay satin pourpoint as quick as may be; for the marriage is to take place in ten minutes, and I shall want all my people with me in the hall."
Philip thought to himself, "I will contrive to slip away, however," and proceeded to his own chamber, while Madame de Chazeul retired to put the key by, and then sought her brother the Count, to speak with him once more before the last trial of his resolution with Rose d'Albret.
The Count was in a different frame of mind, however, from that in which his sister expected to find him. He had employed the time during her absence in working himself up to the necessary pitch of determination, and had, as is not uncommon, gone even beyond the point. He talked loud and high of the privileges and power of guardians, and spoke angrily of those who ventured to oppose them.
"I have always understood, Jacqueline," he said, in a sharp tone, as if the Marchioness herself had been one of those who sought to prevent him from exercising his proper authority, "I have always understood, that a guardian stands exactly in the position of a parent; and who ever heard of a daughter daring to object to the man whom her father has chosen for her?"
"Never that I have heard of," replied Madame de Chazeul; "nor of a ward objecting either, when her guardian has provided for her a suitable alliance."
"Never! never!" cried the Count vehemently. "I have suffered myself to be set at nought by this girl too long, Jacqueline; and I will do it no longer. Even if I had not sworn as I have. I would not suffer this to go on another hour. The notary has arrived, and the contract is drawn up correctly, except the names.--I will go to her at once.--I have seen Chazeul, too, and spoken to him seriously on his conduct."
"What did he say?" demanded the Marchioness, with an eager look. "He was penitent, I am sure."
"Yes," replied the Count. "I have nothing to find fault with in his demeanour. He expressed his sorrow for what he had done, assured me that he had never considered it in the light of an insult to me, and that he had no bad intentions at all; but merely wished to speak to Rose in private for a short time, to persuade her to yield calmly to all our wishes this day, as he had every reason to believe, that her inclinations were really not opposed to him, and he knew that, if she did attempt to resist, it would give me pain."