"And he had no other name?"
"No other that I know of, Sire; he was an orphan like me, and no one ever mentioned his father in my presence."
"And you have no other objection to make, Diane, to this projected alliance with Montmorency, except your former affection for this young man? No other at all, have you?"
"That one is enough; so my heart tells me, Sire."
"Very true, Diane; and perhaps I should not undertake to overcome your scruples if your friend were on the spot, where we could know and appreciate him, and although he may be, I can guess, of uncertain parentage—"
"But is there not a bar on my escutcheon too, your Majesty?"
"Yes, but at least you have an escutcheon, Madame; and you will be good enough to bear in mind that the Montmorencys no less than the Castros consider it an honor to receive into their family a legitimatized daughter of mine. Your Gabriel, on the other hand—but then, that is not the question now. The important fact in my mind is that he has not turned up in six years, and that he has probably forgotten you, Diane, and has, it is more than likely, given his heart to another."
"Sire, you do not know Gabriel: his is an untutored and faithful heart, which will burn itself out in love for me."
"Very well, Diane. To you no doubt it seems improbable that he would be unfaithful to you; and you are quite right to deny it. But everything leads you to suppose that this young man went to the wars. And if so, is it not probable that he has died there? I afflict you, my dear child, for your fair brow has grown pale, and your eyes are swimming in tears. Yes, I can see that your feeling for him is a very deeply rooted one; and although it has seldom been my lot to meet with such, and I have got into the habit of being incredulous about these great passions, I have no inclination to laugh at this of yours, but I respect it. But just see, my darling, in what an embarrassing position you place me by your refusal, and all on account of a childish attachment whose object is nothing more than a mere memory and a shadow. The constable, if I insult him by withdrawing my pledged word, will be angry, and not unjustly, my child, and will very probably leave my service; and then it will be no longer I, but the Duc de Guise, who will be king. Think for a moment, Diane, of the six brothers of that family: the Duc de Guise has at his command the whole military power of France; the cardinal all the finances; a third controls my Marseilles fleet; a fourth commands in Scotland; and a fifth is about to take Brissac's place in Piedmont. So that from one extremity of my realm to the other, I, the king, cannot dispose of a soldier or a crown without their assent. I speak gently to you, Diane, and explain these matters to you; I stoop to implore where I might command. But I think it much better to let you judge for yourself, and that it should be the father and not the king who obtains his daughter's consent to his plans. And I shall obtain it, for you are a good and obedient child. This marriage will be my salvation, my dear child; it will give to the Montmorencys that measure of influence which it will withdraw from the Guises. It will equalize the two arms of the balance of which my royal power is the beam. Guise will become less overbearing, and Montmorency more at my devotion. What! you do not answer, dear. Do you remain deaf to the prayer of your father, who does not storm at you or use harsh words, but who, on the contrary, enters into all your thoughts, and asks of you only that you will not deny him the first service which you can do him in return for what he has done, and all that he wishes still to do for your happiness and honor? Come, Diane, my dear daughter, you will consent, won't you?"
"Sire," replied Diane, "you are a thousand times more powerful when your voice sues for something that it might command. I am ready to sacrifice myself to your interests, but only on one condition, Sire."