“You have then settled the end and object of your journey,” said Quentin, approaching his horse to that of Isabelle, and speaking French, which their guide did not understand.
“Surely,” replied the young lady, “for, situated as I now am, it must be of no small detriment to me if I were to prolong a journey in my present circumstances, even though the termination should be a rigorous prison.”
“A prison,” said Quentin.
“Yes, my friend, a prison, but I will take care that you shall not share it.”
“Do not talk—do not think of me,” said Quentin. “Saw I you but safe, my own concerns are little worth minding.”
“Do not speak so loud,” said the Lady Isabelle, “you will surprise our guide—you see he has already rode on before us,”—for, in truth, the good natured Fleming, doing as he desired to be done by, had removed from them the constraint of a third person, upon Quentin's first motion towards the lady.
“Yes,” she continued, when she noticed they were free from observation, “to you, my friend, my protector—why should I be ashamed to call you what Heaven has made you to me?—to you it is my duty to say that my resolution is taken to return to my native country, and to throw myself on the mercy of the Duke of Burgundy. It was mistaken, though well meant advice, which induced me ever to withdraw from his protection, and place myself under that of the crafty and false Louis of France.”
“And you resolve to become the bride, then, of the Count of Campobasso, the unworthy favourite of Charles?”
Thus spoke Quentin, with a voice in which internal agony struggled with his desire to assume an indifferent tone, like that of the poor condemned criminal, when, affecting a firmness which he is far from feeling, he asks if the death warrant be arrived.
“No, Durward, no,” said the Lady Isabelle, sitting up erect in her saddle, “to that hated condition all Burgundy's power shall not sink a daughter of the House of Croye. Burgundy may seize on my lands and fiefs, he may imprison my person in a convent, but that is the worst I have to expect, and worse than that I will endure ere I give my hand to Campobasso.”