“You ought to be soldiers' wives,” said François, smiling, “and on my return from Italy—if you be not meanwhile wedded—I must find you husbands among my bravest captains. It greatly rejoices me to see you here to-day, for I had heard—much to my grief—that you perished during the explosion of a mine.”
“We narrowly escaped being crushed to death, sire,” replied Marcelline. “But after lying beneath the ruins for some hours, we were fortunately extricated.”
“Heaven designed you for a better fate,” said the king. “I have but imperfectly discharged my obligations to you. Whenever you have a favour to solicit, hesitate not to come to me. Foi de gentilhomme! the request shall be granted.”
“At some future time I may claim fulfilment of your royal promise, sire,” returned Marcelline.
The whole party then retired, charmed with their gracious reception. A sumptuous repast awaited them in the banqueting-chamber, and the rest of the day was spent in festivity and rejoicing.
“Are you prepared to brave the difficulties of the march and accompany me to Italy?” said François to Diane, as the Amazons withdrew.
“No, sire,” she replied; “and I would fain dissuade you from the expedition. You have now an opportunity of making an advantageous peace with the Emperor. Why not profit by it?”
“Honour forbids me,” he rejoined. “My own inclinations prompt me to remain here. But I must requite the affront offered me by Bourbon. I must win back the duchy I have lost.”
“And for this you will quit France—you will quit me?” she added, in a lower tone.
“I must,” he replied. “I have been attacked, and I owe it to myself to chastise the insolent aggressor.”