“From her grandfather?”
“From the throne itself, Your Majesty,” I replied fervently.
Again the Queen smiled.
“Enough, Monsieur,” she said, rising; “I have exerted myself in your favor. I had an order from the King to bring you here. I have requested the Duc de Rivau-Huet to consign Mademoiselle to my care. I wished to thank you for the service you have done me—to ask you to wear this in memory of my gratitude.”
She drew a rarely beautiful diamond ring from her finger and extended it to me. I kissed the hand and slipped the ring upon my little finger.
“Your Majesty overwhelms me,” I said.
“The reward scarcely equals your merit, Monsieur, and it does not even approach your assurance.”
“Mademoiselle would make a craven bold, Madame.”
“Doubtless,” said the Queen. “And now we have the honor to wish you a safe return to America.”
I looked at Mademoiselle. She had turned deathly pale. Her eyes were filled with tears. Before my glance she lowered her head. My resolution was taken at once.