“Listen, Mademoiselle. Everyone, it seems, including both the King and the Dauphin, have forgotten the ancient Merovingian statute, which provides that a woman sentenced to death may, if the headsman is ‘able and willing’ to marry her, be saved. Now, M. le headsman, if a boor, has at least the temporarily strategic advantage of being a celibate. It remains merely for you to captivate the gentleman’s fancy, and—who knows?”
The Comte now glanced with interest at his beautiful prisoner. She was smiling.
“Very prettily thought M. le Comte,” she said, “and your interest in my cause is flattering. But is not death itself preferable to life with yon crimson-handed churl as a wife whose only contact with her neighbors would be in the night-time, when they came stealing to buy from her horrid amulets with which to curse their enemies?”
“Ah, but who said that Mlle. Bonacieux would be compelled to endure life with a headsman?”
“Surely it is not to be expected,” remarked the woman, “that the headsman would be gallant enough to release me immediately after the ceremony?”
A short laugh broke from the Comte.
“No fear of that. My purpose is to relieve him of his bridegroom embarrassment within ten minutes after he has a wife.”
“Ah! A rescue! You, a King’s Messenger, would dare that for me?”
“And why not?”