On one occasion he gave a great fête in her honor at which he assembled all the notable English there were in Calais or in France. His invitations even crossed the channel; but Madame de Castro obstinately refused to appear.
Lord Wentworth, being repulsed with such coldness and disdain, said to himself day after day that it would surely be much better for his peace of mind to accept the princely ransom which Henri II. offered, and give Diane her freedom.
But by doing so he would give her up to the welcome embraces of Gabriel d'Exmès, and the Briton could never find in his heart sufficient strength and courage to make so great a sacrifice possible.
"No! no!" he would say to himself, "if she will not be mine, at all events she shall belong to nobody else!"
While he was thus irresolute and suffering, the days and weeks rolled away.
On the 31st of December, 1557, Lord Wentworth had succeeded in making his way into Madame de Castro's apartments. We have said before that he could scarcely breathe elsewhere, although he always left her more melancholy and more in love than ever; but to see Diane, stern though her glance might be, and to hear her voice, however ironical its tones, had become the most imperious necessity for him.
He remained standing while they talked, and she sat before the high chimney-piece.
They talked upon the one harrowing subject which united them and kept them asunder at the same time.
"Suppose, Madame," said the passionate governor, "that at last, beside myself on account of your cruelty, and enraged by your contempt, I should forget that I am a gentleman and your host?"
"You would dishonor yourself, my Lord, but would cast no stain upon me," Diane replied firmly.