"'Let it be as you wish, ma petite.'
"'Then sign this, sire.' And, rising to her feet, she took a paper from her dress and held it before the King, standing beside him, with one white arm round his neck.
"Henri read, and his face fell a little. 'So,' he said, 'you want the goods of all heretics condemned in Paris granted to our most faithful subjects—Diane, Duchess de Valentinois; Simon, Vidame d'Orrain; and Antoine, Sire de Mouchy, Inquisitor of Faith! Madame, this is a matter for the council.' And, in his weak way, the King tried to put off the matter.
"Diane removed her arm from his neck. 'As you please, sire,' she said coldly; and then: 'But remember the Châtillons are making head in the north, and tomorrow they may break the peace with Spain. Remember how full Paris is of these traitors to their King and Holy Church! Never mind my request; but, sire,' and her voice sank to the tenderest note, 'think of those who love you and fear for you—and—let the council to-day be firm.'
"'Oh, it will be that. I will see to that.'
"'Thank Heaven! And now, my King, my King! for the last time!' And she knelt and kissed his hand, and there were tears—tears, Orrain!—in her eyes.
"Henri was much moved. 'What does this mean, Diane?' And he raised her gently to her feet.
"'It means, sire'—her eyes refused to meet his, and her voice shook—'that the time has come for me to go. To-morrow I leave Paris; but, wherever I go, my sorrow will be with me, and my memory of——' And once more she kissed his hand.
"'Diane!'
"She made no answer except to sob, and he put his arm round her, and tried to comfort her, but she gently withdrew herself.