Pauline trembled, blushed, and hesitated. "I—I—I think I had better go to my father," stammered she after a short pause.
Roderick smiled: "By all means!" said he. "Don't you think so, Edric?"
Edric did not reply; for in fact he did not hear the question; whilst poor Pauline's agitation increased, and her colour changed rapidly every moment: she dreaded Roderick's raillery, and trembled so violently that she could scarcely stand.
At this moment her father returned; he looked at his daughter with some surprise, and then, turning to his guests, he apologized for her abstraction. "My daughter is unused to camps," said he, "and the scenes she has lately gone through have been too much for her nerves."
"She will now have an opportunity of recovering herself," replied Roderick; "my army will move forward to-morrow, and if you will accept the post, I will leave you governor of this city, with a sufficient garrison to keep it on my behalf."
Pauline turned deathly pale as he spoke, and every hope of happiness seemed to fly from her breast for ever.
M. de Mallet, however, was not at all aware of his daughter's anguish; and, thanking the king gratefully for the high honour conferred upon him, his fancy began to revel by anticipation in the delights of governorship; and in ten minutes he had arranged in his mind as many improvements and alterations as it would take fifty years to accomplish.
"Farewell," continued Roderick, "I trust we shall meet again, if not here, at least in another and a better world. Permit me, lady!" continued he, slightly touching with his lips the pallid cheek of Pauline. "To-morrow with the dawn we advance, and we have so much to do ere then, that we must deny ourselves the pleasure of again enjoying your society. Farewell, Governor, you will find the necessary papers to install you here," (giving him a packet) "and the soldiers have orders to obey you as myself. Come, Edric."
Edric advanced, and bowing, took the hand of Pauline and pressed it respectfully to his lips;—his heart was too full to speak. Pauline could scarcely restrain her tears, and shaking hands with the doctor, she hastily retired to a part of the tent enclosed for her use.
"My daughter is not well," said M. de Mallet, "these scenes of blood and war are too much for her nerves; but she will soon recover when you have left us."