“You are ungallant to remind me, my lord,” said she. “My sex, you may have heard, is privileged to change of mind.”
“Then, madame, I pray that you may change it yet again.” His tone was bitter.
“Your prayer will not be heard. This time I am resolved.”
De Quadra bowed. “The King, my master, will not be pleased, I fear.”
She looked him straightly in the face, her dark eyes kindling.
“God’s death!” said she, “I marry to please myself, and not the King your master.”
“You are resolved on marriage then?” flashed he.
“And it please you,” she mocked him archly, her mood of joyousness already conquering her momentary indignation.
“What pleases you must please me also, madame,” he answered, in a tone so cold that it belied his words. “That it please you, is reason enough why you should marry... Whom did your Majesty say?”
“Nay. I named no names. Yet one so astute might hazard a shrewd guess.” Half-challenging, half-coy, she eyed him over her fan.