“You cannot mean this, Pomperant?” she rejoined, in alarm. “You will not detain me against my will. My brother's life is at stake. You will be answerable for his fate should he be put to death.”
“Have no fears about your brother,” said Pomperant. “I will find a faithful messenger to take the warrant to Duprat.”
“Pomperant,” said Marcelline, “you will not dishonour your knightly character by detaining me against my will?”
“No,” he replied, after a great effort, “Ï will not hinder you. You are free. But do not return to the French camp,” he added, perceiving she was about to ride in that direction. “I will send Hugues with you. He is amongst yon troop of reiters. Take him with you to France.”
“I have a servant at Novara, and shall be safe when I arrive there,” she rejoined. “This conduct is worthy of you, Pomperant.”
“It has been a misfortune to me that I have ever loved you, Marcelline,” he rejoined, sadly. “I must try to banish all thoughts of you in the strife. If I fall, bestow a tear on me. If I escape, we may meet again.”
“Perhaps so,” she replied. “Heaven only knows what is in store for us.”
Without a word more, Pomperant called to Hugues, who instantly obeyed the summons and rode towards them.
“Attend this lady to Novara,” he said, “and then return as best you can to Pavia.”
Hugues bowed assent, and Pomperant, drawing near to Marcelline, said, in a low, deep voice, “Are we to part thus?”