“I love you so well that I would kill D’Herouville and De Saumaise and Du Cevennes, all of them, rather than that one of them should possess the right to call you his.”

“But can you not see how impossible life with you would be after this night?  I should hold you in perpetual fear.”

“I will find a way to overcome that fear.”

“But each time I look at you would recall this humiliating moment.  I am a proud woman, Monsieur, and I suffer now from humiliation as I never suffered before;” all of which was true.  “I am a Montbazon; it is very close to royal blood.  If I were forced to marry you, you would certainly live to regret it.”

“As I said, I am willing to risk it.”  Then his voice softened.  “Ah, but I love you!  ‘Gabrielle, Gabrielle’!  That name is the ebb and flow of my heart’s blood.  Promise, Madame, promise; for I shall do as I say.  Will you enjoy the dungeon?  I think not.  Do not doubt that there is an element of greatness in this heart of mine.  With you as my wife I shall become great; D’Halluys will be a name to live among those of the great captains.”

Madame locked her hands, her fingers twisting and untwisting . . .  To gain possession of that paper!

“How often I watched you in Paris,” he went on, “wondering at first who you were, and then, knowing, why you were not at court with your brilliant mother.  I have seen you so many times in the gardens, just as twilight dissolved the brightness of day.  I have often followed you, but always at a respectful distance.  And one night the happiness was mine to meet you at the hotel of Monsieur le Comte.  Oh!  I know perfectly well the rumors you have heard regarding certain exploits.  But remember, I have grown up in camps, and soldiers are neither careful nor provident.  Poverty dogged my footsteps; and we must live how we can.  No good woman has ever crossed my path to lighten its shadows, to smooth its roughness.  Environment is the mold that forms the man.  I am what circumstance has made me.  You, Madame, can change all this.”

He leaned over the table, his eyes shining, his face glowing with love which, though half lawless, was nevertheless the best that was in him.  Another woman might have marked the beauty on his face; but madame saw only the power of it, the power which she hated and feared.  Besides, his love in no wise lessened his caution.  His left hand was wound tightly around the paper.

“Monsieur, you are without reason!”

“Love has crowded reason out.”

“Your proposal is cruel and terrible.”

“It is your angle of vision.”

“I had thought to find peace and security; alas!”

“If I were positive that you loved some one else . . .” meditatively.

“Well?”

“I should hunt him out and kill him.  There would then be no obstacle.”

“You will do as you say:  consign me to imprisonment or death?”