She gave a slight inclination of her head, and he went on.
“You assume danger for the King,—but not danger from the knife of the assassin—or from the schemes of revolutionists! You judge him—as I do—to be in the grasp of the greatest Force which exists in the universe! The force against which there is, and can be no opposition!—a force, which if it once binds even a king—makes of him a life-prisoner, and turns mere ‘temporal power’ to nothingness; upsetting thrones, destroying kingdoms, and beating down the very Church itself in the way of its desires—and that force is—Love!”
She started violently,—then controlled herself.
“You waste your eloquence!” she said coldly; “What you speak of, I do not understand. I do not believe in Love!”
“Or jealousy?”
The words sprang from his lips almost unconsciously, and like a magnificent animal who has been suddenly stung, she sprang upright.
“How dare you!” she said in low, vibrating accents—“How dare you!”
Sir Roger’s breath came quick and fast,—but he was a strong man with a strong will, and he maintained his attitude of quiet resolution.
“Madam!—My Queen!—forgive me!” he said; “But as your humblest friend—your faithful servant!—let me have my say with you now—and then—if you will—condemn me to perpetual silence! You despise Love, you say! Yes—because you have only seen its poor imitations! The King’s light gallantries,—his sins of body, which in many cases are not sins of mind, have disgusted you with its very name! The King has loved—or can love—so you think,—many, or any, women! Ah! No—no! Pardon me, dearest Majesty! A man’s desire may lead him through devious ways both vile and vicious,—but a man’s love leads only one way to one woman! Believe it! For even so, I have loved one woman these many years!—and even so—I greatly fear—the King loves one woman now!”
Rigid as a figure of marble, she looked at him. He met her eyes calmly.