"You will do as you like," he answered in a hard, decisive tone, "as to telling the Empress; but," and he paused to emphasize what he was saying, "in that case, our marriage will not take place."
His cold, impassive tones sent an icy chill to his hearer's heart. His words seemed to admit of no appeal.
"Charles!" the girl faltered, "Oh! you must; I have your promise. After having taken advantage of my love, in a moment's weakness, and robbed me of that which a maiden holds most dear, you could not be so cruel, so dishonorable as to desert me, after what I have told you."
She shook with her emotion and burst into a flood of tears. Then she threw her soft white arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, as though to coax from him the concession that was her right.
For all his selfishness, the man was touched by this exhibition of despair and, to console her for the moment, he replied:
"There, there; don't weep, chérie. It shall be as you wish. I will give you the shelter of my name; it is your due. So dry your eyes, my darling; they do not become your pretty face. Trust your Charles. I will see that no one shall speak lightly of you."
His words were fair enough, but whether he would make them good the future should decide. All that he cared for now was to make her amenable to his will, with as little fuss as needs be. She was in his power, and he knew that she was bound to yield.
And she, poor trusting fool, believed, and the smiles broke through her tears.
"No, no," she said, "the world must never say that Hermionie de Vannes is less virtuous than she should be. And I never really doubted you, my Charles; I knew you were a man of honor and would be true to me. Kiss me, dearest, and say you are not angry with me, and forgive me that I ever seemed to doubt you; I will be guided wholly by you. I will do anything you wish, and say nothing to the Empress."
"Now you're my own little girl again," he said condescendingly, and he kissed her warmly.