“Madam,” I stammered, “you ask a great matter;” for indeed, since I had been in her presence again, I had wavered in my intentions of departing, as my lord had foreseen I should do.
“I don’t ask it—I command it,” and she stamped her foot. “What! the reward of dishonour is then too great to be refused?”
“My lord marquis knows, madam, that no reward but the greatest could avail in this matter,” quoth I boldly, looking at her the while in a way she might not mistake.
She drew herself up mighty proudly, and for one instant there was a smile as of disdain upon her lips, the next she saith slowly—
“Alas, my poor friend! I fear that you have deceived yourself very grievously. It is now three years that I am betrothed to my father’s cousin, the Viscount Eugene de Galampré.”
“Madam!” I cried, too heavily stricken at first to say more, but presently recovering myself a little, “perchance my lord marquis hath it in his mind to break off the match.”
“Not with my consent!” she cried quickly, and I saw all my folly. I knew that the lady that I worshipped loved me not a whit, for that all her heart was given to this Frenchman. All those signs of love, which I, in my blind foolishness, had interpreted for myself, were caused by the thought of him! I bowed my head on the railing with a groan, feeling verily that now I had lost all.
“Hush, sir!” cried Madam Heliodora; “will you ruin yourself and me both? Dry these unmanly tears, and tell me, what have you ever seen in Heliodore de Tourvel that should make you think that she would consent to be used as a bribe to repay a dishonourable action?”
“Alas, madam!” I cried, “you see me humbled to the very dust at your feet. Sure death is the only remedy for misery so great as mine.”
“Rise, sir,” says she angrily, “and let me hear no more of such heathen foolishness. Are you prepared for death, you that have meditated such treason not only against your employers, but also against that unhappy lady in England, your cousin?”