André bowed. “The Comte de St. Benôit will make the necessary arrangements,” he said quietly, “with the gentleman whom you will name.”
The room slowly emptied. André paced to and fro. The curtain was sharply flung aside, and he saw Denise pale and trembling.
The curtain was sharply flung aside, and he saw Denise.
“You will not fight?” she pleaded.
“I have no choice, Mademoiselle.”
“Oh, why did you say it?” she questioned passionately.
“It is surely very simple. Mademoiselle la Marquise has no father, husband, nor brother to maintain her honour. To me as Captain of the Queen’s Guards belongs by right the duty of defending her Majesty’s ladies from insults and lies.”
“But it was true,” she whispered brokenly.
“No,” he answered. “What was said and implied was not true. It was a lie, and you, Mademoiselle, please God, know it as I hope to do.”