She held up her hand.
“My Lord–that diamond ring; take it to my brother.”
He drew it from her finger.
“Tell him I regret nothing so much as his grief. Tell the Duke of York–that–also.”
As she said no more the Ambassador drew back into the crowded chamber.
Madame became weaker; an intense chillness had succeeded her heat; her hands and feet were cold; it seemed to her that her heart had almost stopped. With a sudden unutterable pang she remembered her keys. Monsieur would get them; he would read her papers, her letters. If she had only known last night—
Now he would see how she had lied to him—
She strove to put this thought from her; he was the master now and she helpless.
The Capuchin continued his discourse; she prayed him, very sweetly, to leave her in peace for a while.
She received the Holy Eucharist; to her it was a blur of gold vessels, a murmur of words. She fainted three times while they administered it.