“Promises made by princes under such circumstances are rarely kept,” replied Bourbon. “I can never be really restored to the king's favour.”
“You wrong him,” she said. “He is the soul of loyalty and honour.”
“He loyal!” echoed Bourbon. “He is perfidious as his mother. I will not trust him.”
“That is your determination?”
“My fixed determination,” he rejoined.
“Then we shall never meet again—never, Charles,” she said.
Bourbon made no reply, and his head sank upon his breast. At this moment the king turned round.
“Have you prevailed upon him, fair Diane?” he asked. “Yes, yes, he will come, sire,” she answered, hastily. “You will?” she added to Bourbon, with an entreating look that ought to have been irresistible.
“You have said it,” he rejoined.
“That is well,” observed the king. “I knew you could not resist her persuasion.”