“Yes, mon père, but I require more; I wish for your blessing.”
“You shall have that, my son, my blessing and my constant prayers.”
“That is well, mon père, but I require more; I would have your blessing for another also.”
“For whom?”
“For this lady, mon père. If you wish me to leave for Louisbourg, you will marry me first,” he said, with a laugh.
“Madame de St. Just.”
“No, not 'Madame de St. Just!' But she will then have the right to style herself 'Madame de Sarennes.' Don't attempt any heroics!” he went on, raising his voice angrily, while I shrank close to the priest in terror. “I know all about this pretended Madame de St. Just, perhaps even better than do you. If I choose to give her an honourable name, it is my own affair. Don't prate to me about honour! I am here because it does not weigh with me for the moment. Don't talk to me of the safety of the country; it is in your hands. I tell you plainly I will not go otherwise. Marry me to-day, and I will start to-night; if not, then any blame there may be will lie not on my head, but on yours. Now, monsieur, you have my answer.”
The two men stood facing each other for a moment in silence.
Then the priest turned to me: “Will you marry this man, my daughter?”