“She honours you, my father, by a sweet, good life, and by marriage into an honourable family, and at your word she gives her hand to Monsieur Auguste de la Darante. She marries to your pleasure, therefore she has peace and your love. I marry a man of my own choosing, a bitterly wronged gentleman, and you treat me as some wicked thing. Is that like a father who loves his child?”
“The wronged gentleman, as you call him, invaded that which is the pride of every honest gentleman,” he said.
“And what is that?” asked I quietly, though I felt the blood beating at my temples.
“My family honour, the good name and virtue of my daughter.”
I got to my feet, and looked my father in the eyes with an anger and a coldness that hurts me now when I think of it, and I said, “I will not let you speak so to me. Friendless though I be, you shall not. You have the power to oppress me, but you shall not slander me to my face. Can not you leave insults to my enemies?”
“I will never leave you to the insults of this mock marriage,” answered he, angrily also. “Two days hence I take command of five thousand burghers, and your brother Juste serves with General Montcalm. There is to be last fighting soon between us and the English. I do not doubt of the result, but I may fall, and your brother also, and, should the English win, I will not leave you to him you call your husband. Therefore you shall be kept safe where no alien hands may reach you. The Church will hold you close.”
I calmed myself again while listening to him, and I asked, “Is there no other way?”
He shook his head.
“Is there no Monsieur Doltaire?” said I. “He has a king’s blood in his veins!”
He looked sharply at me. “You are mocking,” he replied. “No, no, that is no way, either. Monsieur Doltaire must never mate with daughter of mine. I will take care of that; the Church is a perfect if gentle jailer.”