The King shook his head gravely and a little indulgently.
"My daughter," he said, "you have taken too much on yourself already. And my Viceroy in Catalonia is also to blame——"
"Pardon me," cried Valentine la Niña, "and listen. This is what I came to say. There is in your city of Madrid a convent of the Carmelites, the same which Theresa reformed. It is strictly cloistered, the rule serene, austere. Those who enter there have done with life. Give these two men their liberty, escort them to France, and I promise you I will enter it of my own free will. I will take the Black Veil, and trouble neither you nor your heirs more in this world."
The King did not answer immediately, but continued to turn over the sheaf of papers in his hand.
"And why," he said at last, "will you do for this maid—for the lives of these two men, what no persuasion of family or Church could previously persuade you to do?"
Valentine went hastily up to the King's side who, dwelling in perpetual fear of assassination, moved a little uneasily, watching her hand. But when she bent and whispered softly, none heard her words but himself. Yet they moved him.
"Yes, I loved her—the wife of my youth!" he answered aloud (and as if speaking involuntarily) the whispered question.
"And she loved you?" said Valentine la Niña.
"She loved me—yes—God be her judge!" said the King. "She died for me!"
"Then," continued Valentine la Niña slowly, "you understand why for this young man's sake I am willing to accept death in life! I desire that he shall wed the woman he loves—whom he has chosen—who loves him!"