Then she signed to the two maids, who were apparently preparing to withdraw, to remain in the room; and as Lord Wentworth, lost in admiration, said nothing, she determined to break the silence herself.
"It is to Lord Wentworth, governor of Calais, that I am speaking, I believe?" said she.
"Lord Wentworth, Madame, your obedient servant, awaits your commands."
"My commands!" She repeated his words bitterly. "Oh, my Lord, do not say so, or I must think that you mock me! If my prayers and my supplications, in no sense commands, had been listened to, I should not be here. You know who I am, my Lord, and of what family?"
"I know, Madame, that you are Madame de Castro, the beloved daughter of King Henri II."
"Why, then, have I been made a prisoner?" asked Diane, whose voice faltered rather than became stronger as she put the question.
"For the very reason that you were a king's daughter, Madame," Wentworth replied; "because by the terms of the capitulation agreed to by Admiral de Coligny, it was stipulated that fifty prisoners should be placed in the hands of the victors, to be selected by them from all ranks, and of any age or either sex, and because they very naturally chose the most illustrious, the most dangerous, and if you will permit me to say so, those who could afford to pay the heaviest ransom."
"But how was it known," Diane rejoined, "that I was in hiding at St. Quentin under the name and in the garb of a Benedictine nun? Besides the superior of the convent, only one person in the whole town knew my secret."
"Very well! then it must have been that person who betrayed you,—that's all," said Lord Wentworth.
"Oh, no, indeed; I am sure it was not!" cried Diane, with such earnest conviction that Lord Wentworth felt stung to the heart by jealousy, and could find nothing to say in reply.